Total pages in book: 138
Estimated words: 125077 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 625(@200wpm)___ 500(@250wpm)___ 417(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 125077 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 625(@200wpm)___ 500(@250wpm)___ 417(@300wpm)
“I can do this,” I whispered to myself, focusing on the rough texture of the stone wall in front of me. “I can endure this.”
But my body betrayed me. First came the subtle burn in my quadriceps, a warning of fatigue to come. Then the deeper ache as my muscles began to exhaust their reserves. Five minutes? Ten? I had no way to mark the passage of time in this windowless cell, no reference point beyond the mounting distress in my straining limbs.
My right leg buckled first, just a slight give in the knee, but it was enough. My pussy brushed against the saddle, just the lightest, briefest contact. The device hummed to life instantly, vibrations pulsing against my sensitized flesh for a heartbeat before I could lift myself away again.
“No,” I gasped, redoubling my efforts, ignoring the screaming protest of my muscles.
But it was too late. That fleeting touch had awakened nerves already primed by Marmareus’ earlier attentions. My body remembered pleasure, craved more of it, even as my mind recoiled from the manipulation. I felt wetness gathering between my legs, my treacherous arousal making the next accidental contact slicker, more electric.
Another few minutes passed in desperate resistance. My calves began to cramp, sharp pain shooting up the backs of my legs. My thighs shook more violently, muscles failing despite my determination. Each time I slipped, each inadvertent brush against the saddle, the vibrations seemed to grow more insistent, more precisely targeted to my most sensitive spots.
“Please,” I whispered to the empty room, to whatever gods might be listening. “Please help me.”
But no help came. No vision of Yggdrasil appeared to rescue me from this torment. There was only the cell, the posts, the restraints, and the saddle waiting patiently below.
When the collapse finally came, it wasn’t gradual. My legs simply gave out, muscles surrendering all at once after being pushed beyond endurance. I dropped onto the saddle with a strangled cry, my full weight pressing my pussy against the vibrating leather surface.
The sensation was overwhelming. The device responded instantly to the increased pressure, the vibrations intensifying, patterns shifting to target my clit with merciless precision. The central ridge of the saddle parted my labia, pressing directly against the entrance to my aching sheath, while the forward portion buzzed against my swollen bud.
“Oh, God,” I moaned, my hips jerking involuntarily over the saddle. I couldn’t stop myself. The vibrations consumed every rational thought, reducing me to pure sensation, pure need. My hips began to move of their own accord, grinding down against the humming leather, seeking more pressure, more friction, more of the diabolical pleasure that made my mind fragment like shattered glass.
“No, no, no,” I chanted, the words dissolving into incoherent moans as the saddle’s vibrations found a new rhythm, pulsing against my clit in perfect counterpoint to the throbbing of my inner walls.
The leather grew slick beneath me, coated with my shameful arousal. Each shift of my weight, each involuntary rock of my hips changed the pattern of stimulation, as if the saddle were learning my body’s responses, adapting to maximize my pleasure whether I wanted it or not. The central ridge pressed insistently against my entrance, not penetrating but teasing, promising a fullness it withheld.
I tried to focus on something—anything—beyond the mounting tension in my core. The rough texture of the stone. The cool air against my sweat-dampened skin. The distant hum of ventilation systems. But the saddle’s vibrations seemed to travel through my entire body, making concentration impossible, fragmenting my thoughts before they could fully form.
“I won’t,” I gasped, even as my hips circled faster, pressing harder against the leather. “I won’t give in.”
But I was already giving in, had been from the moment I’d collapsed onto the saddle. My body knew what it wanted, what it needed, even as my mind rebelled against the forced pleasure. The first orgasm was building inexorably, a tsunami I could neither stop nor control.
When it crashed over me, I screamed, the sound echoing off the stone walls of the cell. My entire body convulsed, my vagina clenching rhythmically around emptiness as surge after surge of pleasure radiated outward from my belly. I pulled desperately at the restraints that held my wrists, my back arching, toes curling as the climax seemed to go on forever.
In that moment of release, I felt it—the familiar rushing quasi-sound that preceded a journey to Yggdrasil. My consciousness began to expand, to rise up and out of my trembling body. For a heartbeat, I glimpsed the cosmic branches, the vast expanse of the world tree stretching through dimensions I could barely comprehend.
But before I could fully enter that state, before I could receive whatever vision awaited me there, the saddle changed its rhythm again. The vibrations intensified, focusing with laser precision on my oversensitive clit. The pleasure was so acute it bordered on pain, yanking me brutally back into my physical form.