I lay there, my body a canvas for The Collective’s desires, time becoming irrelevant. My nipples, hardened by the hot wax, begged for attention, but I remained still, an obedient slave. I wanted to please the crowd, my exhibitionist tendencies itching to put on a show. The energy in the room was palpable, and I could sense their eagerness.
A pair of soft hands caressed me, unfamiliar yet exciting. I held my breath, determined to follow instructions. Then, those teasing fingers danced around my clit, igniting a fire within me. I bit my lip, fighting the urge to move, my body buzzing with anticipation.
“You’re doing so well, Deja,” a voice whispered. “Let’s take it further.”
My nerves sang as those fingers explored my slick folds, while lips joined the dance, tormenting my inner thighs. I panted, my pussy throbbing with desire. A splatter of wax on my chest reminded me of my task—to remain still.
The fingers and lips worked in unison, bringing me closer to the edge. My body tremed with pleasure, resisting the urge to climax. The anticipation was killing me, but I craved their command.
“Do you want to come, Deja?” Master asked, reading my mind. “Show them how you obey.”
I smiled, relief washing over me. “Yes, Master,” I whispered, my body tensing.
“Then, when I count down, you will climax.”
Anxiety gripped me, but the pleasure was too intense. The fingers inside me quickened, my body on fire. Another pair of hands pulled my hair, teasing my collarbone. Lips kissed and nibbled, driving me wild.
Wax dripped onto my body, pain mixing with pleasure. Every sensation heightened, bringing me closer to the precipice. I moaned, unable to hold back, my body writhing.
“Now, Deja. Come for us.”
My orgasm hit like a tsunami, my body bucking wildly. I surrendered to the pleasure, letting them witness my raw, unrestrained release. The room erupted in approval, their desire mirrored in my satisfaction.
I was exhausted yet exhilarated. My Master freed me from my restraints, guiding me to a chair. I sat, blindfolded, as hands brushed my hair and removed my bonds.
“You did exceptionally well, Deja,” Master said, pride in their voice.
My blindfold was lifted, revealing a room full of onlookers, their eyes hungry. I had passed the test, and now, I truly belonged to The Collective.
Torture phone sex is one way to get your whore moaning. As shown above clothes pins lots of them are on my sopping wet pussy. Pussy all wet, me moaning, and begging you for more. Torture me just a little bit more. Oh, I need it, I want it. Fuck me. Abuse me.\
