How much more can I take? You’ve been at it for hours, swinging between giving me the most succulent tickle torture of my life, and the cruelest orgasm denial ever wrought. My cunt is dripping for you, Master. I have to piss so badly; I’m trying so hard to hold it. Your cock is harder than diamond; I can see it throbbing through your jeans, huge and ready for me. You edge me again, assaulting my poor overstimulated pussy with a high vibration Hitatchi wand. I’m begging and screaming before twenty seconds has even passed. I’m on the edge of cumming, my cunt is pleading for just a tiny push over the edge. And like that, the vibrator is gone, replaced with still air. Then, my assailants are feathers; all over my soles, across my belly, under my arms. You flick and tease my dusky nipples, my clit is begging for release. I can’t stop laughing; I can’t breathe. I don’t know if I’m going to pass out or piss myself first. “PLEASE MASTER I HAVE TO GO S-S-SO BADLY!” I scream, cackling from your tickles the entire time. Then, you pose the impossible question as you flick a feather across my clitty. “Do you want to cum, or piss?” I always choose piss. Your punishments are too harsh. And this is how I haven’t cum since Christmas; all I know is this torture, day in and day out. Please, Master, let me cum!
Tracy
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