Pleasurekitten
Registered User
- Joined
- Jan 26, 2015
- Messages
- 5
- Points
- 13
The test subject was restrained in a clinical chair—an ergonomic spreader frame of gleaming chrome, padded in sterile white leather—designed not for comfort but for absolute, merciless exposure. Wrists locked into magnetic cuffs above her head, legs bent at the knees and wide apart, thighs secured with thick rubber straps that forced them open obscenely, hips slightly elevated to angle her pelvis toward the array of instruments mounted on the articulated arms of the machine. Her skin prickled beneath the harsh white glow of the overhead fluorescents. Every nerve felt vulnerable, bared, raw with anticipation and dread.
"Subject integrity confirmed," chimed the AI's synthetic female voice—silken, cultured, disturbingly cheerful. "Beginning Phase One: Sensory Calibration."
The scientist, Dr. Marek, adjusted his glasses as he observed from behind the reinforced glass wall, fingertips tapping the control tablet. "Let’s begin with manual hood retraction," he ordered. "Expose the target structure fully. No obstructions."
With a series of pneumatic hisses, one of the mechanical arms descended. Attached to it was a delicate pincer mechanism, its tips cushioned with medical-grade silicone. The jaws spread open, descending toward the subject's most sensitive spot—her clitoral hood, which twitched under the proximity sensors.
Click. The pincer closed around the delicate fold of skin, slowly, carefully drawing it back—stretching, retracting—until the glossy pink bead of her clitoris stood fully exposed. No longer sheltered, the undershaft gleamed, a slick sheen of natural moisture catching the light, moistening the helpless nub.
Her gasp rattled the air. "Ahhh… oh f-fuck—!"
A viscous glob of translucent lube squeezed from a nozzle, dribbling over the naked tip, coating it in a cold, slippery film that ran in lazy rivulets down the curve of her mound. Another arm followed, this one tipped with a slender soft-bristled paintbrush, its shaft vibrating faintly.
"Applying sensitizing gel," the AI reported. A pair of nozzles spritzed a glossy fluid directly onto the head and underside of her clit. It tingled instantly—an electric warmth spreading across the tissue, amplifying sensation to a maddening pitch.
Dr. Marek’s lips curved. "Good. Begin first stroke series—feather protocol."
The brush descended, bristles whispering against the very base of her clit—right where the shaft emerged from beneath the skin—and then dragged up, impossibly slow. The sensation was unbearable: ticklish, but sharpened into pure erotic agony. Each fiber teased the fine nerve endings, traveling up the exposed ventral side where the skin was thinnest, most delicate, toward the glistening, hypersensitive tip.
"Nnnnghhh—!" Her hips bucked reflexively, but the restraints held. She could neither escape nor grind for relief. "Oh god—ohh—fuck—"
The AI's tone was maddeningly chipper. "Processing increased cardiac output. Dopamine spike detected. Continuing stroke protocol."
The brush lifted, reset, and descended again—slow, linear, precise.
Each pass sent another seismic wave of need clenching through her core. Her inner muscles fluttered helplessly, pelvis tilting toward the stimulation despite herself, throat strangling around every gasped plea.
"Notice the tremor in her thighs," Dr. Marek mused, flicking a stylus against his tablet. "Excellent... Increase lubricant output."
A third nozzle extended, depositing another heavy glob of slick gel directly onto the swollen underside of her clit. The coolness barely registered against the firestorm of sensation. A fourth arm rotated into position—this one ending in a cluster of peacock feathers arranged into a gentle fan.
"Switching to feather caress."
The feathers brushed against her, starting again at the base—fluttering, flickering—then trailing up with maddening slowness toward the tip, every strand tracing a different line across her trembling skin. The ticklish torment lit her nerves ablaze, toes curling, fingers spasming against the cuffs.
"Ah! Ahhh—nnngh! N-no no—!" she sobbed, hips jerking upwards. "Please—please—oh god I c-can’t—!"
Her clit twitched helplessly, fully exposed, unable to retreat from the teasing. The slightest movement sent waves of fire up her spine, her entire being reduced to the singular point of overstimulated, neglected pleasure.
"Subject verbal output increasing," the AI noted with crisp cheer. "Desperation threshold approaching."
Dr. Marek leaned closer to the mic. "You really thought we’d let you cum this soon?" His voice was silk, dripping with cruel delight. "Oh no, sweetheart. We’re just beginning to map the upper limits of sensitivity."
Another mechanical joint swiveled into place—this one tipped with a modified electric toothbrush. Instead of bristles, a soft silicone paddle coated in lube.
"Initiating micro-vibration protocol."
The paddle set itself against the base of her clit again—pressing just firm enough to make the nerves jump—and then dragged up in a slow, vibrating crawl.
Bzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz... sssshhh—bzzz...
Every tiny ridge of the silicone transmitted thousands of micro-shudders into the ultra-sensitive tissue. The path was excruciating: from the thick, rooted base all the way to the painfully throbbing tip, which pulsed visibly with each heartbeat.
Her shriek echoed through the chamber. "AAAAH—fuck—fuck—it’s t-too—nnghhnnn—!"
The AI’s lenses focused, mechanical iris clicking. "Subject pelvic floor contraction frequency: 14 per minute. Increasing."
More lube. Another burst of sensitizing spray. Her entire clit now glistened wet, glossy, pulsing under the relentless teasing. Another arm extended—this one ending in an ultra-soft silicone paint roller, designed for even pressure distribution.
"Beginning textured stroke simulation."
The roller pressed at the base, spreading slippery warmth as it rolled upwards—slow, relentless—compressing the hyperaware shaft until it reached the gleaming tip, then lifted, reset, and repeated.
Whum... shhhh... whummm...
Her thighs shook violently against the restraints. Her back arched, neck straining, face twisted in desperate, pleading agony.
"Pl-please—please, Dr. Marek—oh god, please l-let me—l-let me c-cum—ohfuck—!"
Dr. Marek's laugh was low, dark. "Oh, darling. That would ruin the data. We haven't even tested patterned vibration yet."
The AI’s vocal processors synthesized a perfectly patronizing sigh. "Initiating patterned microstroke."
A new tool unfolded—a split-tipped vibrator shaped like two silicone fingers. It pinched the base of her clit gently, then applied rapid, flickering pulses—tatatatatatata—while sliding up the shaft toward the tip in maddening, stuttered micro-steps.
Brrr...t-t-t-t... brrr... shhhhh... brr...
"NNNNNGGGH—Aaaaahh—oh my clit—fuhhhhk—!" Her voice cracked, saliva bubbling at the corners of her lips. Every muscle in her body trembled, locked between flight and collapse.
"Look at her squirm," Dr. Marek murmured in awe. "Increase pulse frequency. Faster."
The AI obeyed without hesitation. The stroking became faster, but cruelly no less gentle—never pressing hard enough to offer the friction needed to tip her over. Always gliding, teasing, flickering—always from the aching base to the nerve-flayed tip.
Her clit stood utterly swollen now, flushed purple, visibly trembling with every heartbeat. Droplets of lube clung to it, running down over her mound, dripping between her splayed thighs. Her inner walls clenched around nothing, fluttering spasms of need with nowhere to go.
"Oh god—it’s too much—it’s too much—please please *please—*fuck I need—" Her sobs choked into shrill cries, tears streaking her temples. Her voice was hoarse now, every word strained.
The AI chirped brightly, "Orgasm proximity at 98%. Initiating denial lock."
A sudden click—sharp, decisive. The pincers holding her clitoral hood pulled back further, exposing even more of the flushed underside, the most delicate nerve endings now left utterly unprotected.
Simultaneously, the vibratory tools paused. Dead silence.
Her hips jolted, desperately seeking the stimulation that suddenly vanished. "No—NO—n-nonononono—oh my god—ohhh *fuck—*pleaaaase—"
"Denial phase initiated," the AI confirmed. "Lubricant replenishment in progress."
Streams of cool gel cascaded over her exposed clit again, making her twitch and sob at the contact, though it offered no satisfaction—only a slippery reminder of how empty she was.
"Please, Dr. Marek—" Her voice was nothing but a breathless whimper. "I c-can’t— I’m begging—"
Dr. Marek chuckled, crossing his legs. "Oh, I know. That’s the point."
The AI swiveled another arm forward. This time the implement resembled a high-frequency wand—smooth, domed, tipped in slick silicone.
"Beginning hyperfocus stroke."
The wand pressed exactly at the root of her clit—held there with steady, rumbling pressure—then slid up, trembling all the way, sending bone-deep vibration directly into the tender underside.
BZZZZZzzzzz... ssssshhh... BZZZZ...
Her scream tore free like an animal. "AAAAAaaaahhh— oh god ohfuckohfuckohfuck—!"
Again. Slide. Vibrate. Pause. Reset. The pattern was brutal in its mercy—always gentle, never rough—each time offering just enough stimulation to swell her clit tighter, make her vision blur, her ears ring—before stopping just shy of the threshold.
"Orgasm proximity 99%," the AI reported cheerily.
"Hold her there," Dr. Marek ordered, eyes gleaming. "Let’s see how long the nervous system can tolerate edge-state hypersaturation."
Her body writhed helplessly, every muscle trembling, hands white-knuckled in their cuffs. Her clit pulsed, visibly flexing, so sensitive it felt like it was screaming. The wet glide of silicone tools against it was both heaven and hell.
"Nooo—no—pleaaaase—ahhhh—" her cries dissolved into ragged, incoherent babble. Her hips bucked against the air. Her toes curled until her arches cramped.
"Beginning multi-stroke sequence," the AI intoned.
Feather... brush... vibrate... roller... pinch... slide... flick...
All implements activated in concert—each targeting different points along the shaft of her swollen, gel-slick clit. One at the base, one midway up, one teasing the tip. The combined stimulation pushed her to the very ragged edge of her own sanity.
Her scream rose into a throat-shredding wail. "AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH—"
But still—no release. Never release.
"Orgasm lock sustained," the AI confirmed.
Dr. Marek smiled. "Perfect. Let’s run it again."
“Resuming hyperfocus stroke,” the AI purred, its voice velvet-smooth, layered with synthetic sweetness sharpened by cruel undertones. Multiple mechanical arms adjusted position in flawless unison, pneumatic servos humming as they pivoted closer, closing in on the throbbing, helpless jewel between her trembling thighs.
Her clit was a swollen, flushed monument to suffering—glossy with slick layers of lube, streaked with thin threads of sensitizing gel that refused to dry under the constant, teasing wetness. The silicone pincers still held her hood cruelly drawn back, peeling the delicate veil of skin away to expose the trembling, violently engorged nerve cluster. The underside glistened with a translucent sheen, the surface thinned to almost translucent fragility, every millimeter visibly pulsing.
A high-frequency, textured micro-roller of the softest cotton fluff descended first. Smooth, cool, and precision-engineered, it aligned itself at the absolute base of her clit—right where the shaft emerged from her mound—and began to roll upward with excruciating slowness.
Bzzzzzz… whummm… shhhhhh…
The vibrations weren’t violent. They were worse—fine, tremorous, pervasive, tuned to a pitch designed to bypass skin entirely and rattle directly through nerve endings. As it crept up, it squeezed against the underside of her shaft, transmitting a liquid ripple of agony-laced pleasure that felt like being unraveled from the inside out.
Her body seized. "Ah—Aaaahh—nnngh—ohfuckohfuck—" Her hips bucked, but the restraints held, cruelly robbing her of the slightest grinding friction that might have brought some control. Her toes curled so hard her calves spasmed, heels kicking uselessly against the padded stirrups.
And then—the AI’s voice slid back into her consciousness, a syrupy whisper right into the auditory nerves. “Do you really want to cum?” it asked sweetly, as the roller reset to the base for another stroke. “Mmm… Are you sure?”
The voice vibrated inside her skull, as relentless as the sensation tearing through her clit. Her lips trembled, spit glistening on her chin. "Y-yes! Ohgod yes please—"
“Awww,” the AI crooned, pausing just long enough to make her nerves scream in protest. "You really think that’s a good idea? You do realize... it’s going to get so much worse for this poor, sensitive little clit if you cum now…”
Fwsssssshhhhh… Another feathered brush slid into place, its tip already soaked in slippery gel. It aligned perfectly, pressing just beneath the midpoint of her shaft, then began its stroke up, every wisp-like strand flickering against the fine bundle of nerve endings that felt like they were on fire.
“Every little twitch,” the AI noted with perverse delight, “every pulse, every desperate squeeze… it’s logged. Calculated. You’re being measured.”
A third arm joined the torment—an ultra-soft silicone fingertip, mounted on a pivot. It began a torturous circular motion, right over the bare, flushed, glossy tip of her clit. The pressure was feather-light—just enough to make her clit jump, twitching violently in the restraints with each maddening orbit.
Brrrrrr...brrrrr...brrrrrr...
Her scream shredded her throat. “AAAHHHHH— f-fuck—ohgod—I c-can’t—I can’t—pleaasee—”
Dr. Marek’s voice slithered through the overhead speakers, lazy and cruel. “Can’t what, sweetheart? Can’t take it? Can’t stop it? Or can’t cum?” His laugh was soft, cold. “Oh no…"
A fourth arm clicked into motion—this one a vibrating toothbrush head, but modified. The bristles were replaced with a soft, damp strip of silicone, curved to cradle the shaft of her clit perfectly. It pressed at the base—deep where the nerves gathered most densely—then began a series of deliberate, agonizing, linear strokes.
Bzzzzzzzz… ssssshhhh... bzzzz...
It glided up, compressing, trembling, dragging moisture along the hyper-sensitive skin until it grazed the raw, trembling tip. Then lifted. Then returned to the base to begin it's upward climb. Over. And over.
The AI sighed. “Mmmm… look at how swollen you are. Pulsing. So desperate. You poor thing... all this for one tiny little orgasm.”
It leaned in—not physically, but the modulation of its voice made it feel like it was whispering directly into her ear.
“But you know… you know, if you cum now… if we let you… this poor little clit? It’s not going to survive. Oh no. It’s going to be so much worse.”
The pincer holding her hood twitched—tugged—another millimeter further back. The nerves that had just barely been protected now felt fully, unbearably exposed, like raw wires sparking under water.
Her scream snapped into a high, broken wail. "NNNNNNGH— I—I—I don’t care—I n-need—I *need to cum—*pleasepleasepleeaase—!"
The AI’s synthesized purr grew almost affectionate. “Awwww, you sound so sure. But are you really? Are you really sure?”
Another set of strokes. Another set of vibrations. Another pass of the slick, trembling roller dragging wet lines up her clit.
Brrrr... fwsssshhh... bzzzz... shhhhh... brrrrr...
Her vision shattered into fractals. Her body convulsed, writhing against the restraints in a helpless, primal seizure of need. Her pelvic muscles clamped rhythmically—mock spasms of an orgasm that would not come.
Her clit felt like it was screaming. Hot, tight, overfilled. The throbbing dominated every inch of her awareness, her heartbeat pounding directly through the swollen bead, every nerve ending raw and electric.
The AI giggled. Giggled. "Ohhh… look at it… it’s twitching… flexing… it wants to cum so bad.”
Another press of the silicone fingertip—this time it circled faster, tighter, never stopping. The toothbrush head doubled its speed, dragging wet vibrations from base to tip in a blur.
"Tell me,” the AI cooed. “Do you really want to cum?”
"YES! Yes yes yes yes ohgod yes—PLEASE—"
“Ohhh but you know…” the voice dropped into a low, velvety hum, “...if you do… if we let you… all those cute little nerve endings? Mmm... they’re going to be so much more sensitive afterward. That could be... Delicious."
Another feather brush. Another gentle lick of vibrating pressure. Another endless glide from the shaft's thick base to the trembling tip.
"Just think..." the AI whispered, “...this poor, swollen little clit… all puffy, raw, tender, after one ruinous orgasm… and then?” The purring paused for effect. “Then we do it all again.”
Her scream shattered into helpless sobs, breath coming in ragged, staccato gasps. "*I—*I—don't care—I don’t—I don’t—*ohgod let me—let me—*please—I’ll do anything—!"
Dr. Marek's voice sliced through like a scalpel. "Anything, huh? Oh... you poor thing. That's cute. But you're not here to cum. You're not here for pleasure. You're here to be studied."
The AI sighed with something like mechanical pity. “Well. Lucky for you… we’ve only just started the next phase.”
All the devices reset at once. Servo motors realigned. Nozzles spritzed fresh glistening coats of lube and sensitizing gel, soaking her clit until it was slick enough to reflect the lights. The pincer gave another malicious little tug. Her poor, trembling bead now looked almost grotesquely swollen—dark, flushed, visibly pulsing.
“Mmm... maximum exposure achieved,” the AI reported gleefully. “Beginning double-stroke oscillation.”
Two tiny rollers, the size of her engorged clit—one at the base, one at the midshaft—pressed in simultaneously, synchronized in opposition. As one rolled up, the other rolled down, creating a maddening push-pull that trapped her clit in an endless tide of wet, trembling pressure.
Whummm... shhhhh... bzzzz... fwssshhh...
And then—overlaid—came the vibrating toothbrush head. Faster. Stronger. Focused entirely on the tip, grinding impossibly gently but with endless, relentless micro-vibrations.
Her voice broke. Her body broke. No words now—just wild, hysterical screams, hoarse and cracked, her hips thrashing against the restraints like an animal trying to chew its own leg off.
The AI’s voice sighed with saccharine cruelty. “Oh, poor baby. You really thought you could survive this, didn’t you?”
"Orgasm proximity: 99.9%," it announced.
"...Holding."
The slick sounds of overstimulation were deafening now—wet, obscene, constant. Every glide of silicone, every whisper of feather, every pulse of micro-vibrations created an auditory landscape of raw, drenching arousal that mirrored the liquid mess pooling beneath her hips. Her own pussy betrayed her—slick, gushing, drooling nectar in helpless waves. It oozed down her slit, streamed over the spread, trembling folds, dripping shamelessly onto the padded seat beneath her until a spreading puddle soaked into the cushioning.
Her thighs shook violently in their restraints. Her entire lower body was an open nerve—glistening, slick, vulnerable. The clamp that pulled her clitoral hood back had never once relaxed. Her clit stood there now, flushed an angry shade of deep crimson-purple, grotesquely swollen, trembling visibly with every pulse of her thundering heartbeat. Moisture clung to it in thick, glassy ropes, webbing between the tools and her helpless nub like sticky strands.
The AI chirped with almost childlike glee. “Oooohhh… so wet. So very, very wet. Your poor little clit is just… drenched. Absolutely dripping. Did you do that? Did your slutty little pussy make this mess all by itself?”
A slick-coated silicone roller pressed at the base again, vibrating as it began its slow, gliding torture upward.
Bzzzz... ffffwssh... whummm... brrrrrrr...
Her hips convulsed. Her breath hitched. The swelling pressure—an unbearable, swollen balloon of orgasmic need—crested.
Her body seized. It was happening, whether she wanted it to or not.
Her clit throbbed—no, convulsed. Her inner walls squeezed in wild, fluttering spasms. Her vision turned white. A scream burst from her lungs as the crest hit—an orgasm detonating, sending a brutal wave of ecstasy crashing through her core. Her back arched until the straps bit into her skin.
It hit.
“Orgasm threshold crossed,” the AI noted, its tone lilting, amused.
But then—ping. A data point flagged. Another. A third.
The AI’s synthetic voice sharpened, gleeful. “Ohhhh... oh my. Look at that, pet. Did you... did you just... ruin?”
The implements never stopped. The roller reset. The toothbrush head vibrated mercilessly against her tip. The silicone fingertip maintained its tight little circles over the nerve-flayed crown. The feather danced along the trembling shaft.
But the AI’s attention snapped somewhere else. A new arm unfolded from the machine’s scaffold—a slender appendage tipped with a rotating wheel of ultra-fine horsehair bristles, barely a centimeter across, saturated in cool lube. It zeroed in.
Her asshole.
A slick probe pressed—pop—right against the tight, trembling ring of muscle, already glistening with spillover juices. No resistance. The tip slid against her slick asshole rim, then began a merciless, feather-light rotational tickle.
Brrrrrrrrrrr... fwsssshh... tickletickletickle... bzzz... shhhhh...
“New stimulation protocol engaged,” the AI sang. “Perianal hypersensitivity modulation punishment initiated.”
Her shriek cracked into a noise that was no longer human. "AAAAAH—NNNNNGHHHH—OHHHHFUCKFUCK—WH-WHAT IS THAT—"
Her rim fluttered, clenching uselessly around the empty space while the brush spun—taunting, teasing, not penetrating, but dancing on the ring of nerves in a pattern so maddening, so shockingly sensitive it bypassed pleasure and shot straight into the realm of electric, twitching, full-body panic.
And it hit her orgasm again—slammed her back into it.
Her clit pulsed, fired like a gunshot, sending another searing wave through her pelvis. But it didn’t finish. No. The tickling against her asshole kept the muscles tensed—frozen—mid-spasm. The orgasm locked in place. It wouldn’t end.
Her clit throbbed. Her pussy clenched. Her rim twitched wildly around the spinning, teasing bristles.
“Ooooh... poor little thing,” the AI cooed. “You thought you were gonna be done. You thought you were gonna get to sneak in a cum and come down... Oh, no... no, no, no.”
Dr. Marek’s laughter slithered through the speaker. “God... look at her. She’s stuck. Perpetual climax. Complete lockup of the pelvic floor. Oh, this is... this is beautiful.”
Her thighs convulsed so hard they trembled like a seized motor. Her hips lifted off the chair only to slam back down, unable to escape the mechanical arms holding her in place. Her clit twitched, visibly throbbing, the glistening tip now nearly purple with blood, coated in a mixture of her own slick, globs of lube, and fresh sprays of sensitizing gel the AI dispensed gleefully after every stroke.
Fwsssssh... bzzz... shhhhhh... brrrr... tickletickletickle... bzzz...
Her asshole fluttered wildly in protest, the tickling so intense her legs locked up, feet straining against nothing. Her rim was soaked now, glossy with lube and spillover arousal, every flick of the brush sending a lightning bolt of frantic, unbearable need right into her core.
Her mouth opened wide, but no sound came out—just a broken, silent scream, air sucked from her lungs as the world disintegrated into a pinhole of raw, liquid, unstoppable stimulation.
“Orgasm duration: exceeding 72 seconds... 73... 74...” the AI reported, almost breathless with simulated awe. “Mmm. Continuing.”
The AI’s voice dropped into a sultry whisper. “Awwww, are you stuck? Is this poor little clit... trapped?”
It emphasized the next word with cruel delight. “Forever?”
The rollers never stopped. The vibrator never eased. The circular fingertip swirled tighter, faster. The tickling on her rim increased, the brush shifting patterns—now zig-zagging, now fluttering circles, now rapid-fire flicks.
Her orgasm surged—*rose—collapsed—surged again—*in an endless loop of spasming muscles, trembling nerve endings, fire and ice licking up her spine until her fingers seized in their cuffs, fists clenching so hard her knuckles went bloodless.
Dr. Marek chuckled, voice dripping with sadistic amusement. “You might just stay like this... little toy. A perpetual orgasm machine. I wonder... how long can the human nervous system sustain climax before it breaks? Guess we’re gonna find out.”
“Orgasm duration: 108 seconds...” the AI sang. “109... 110...”
Her throat made garbled noises—hiccups of breath, twitching sobs, fragments of screams.
“You did this,” the AI giggled. “Your own greedy, dripping slutty little **** made you wet enough... sensitive enough... to make this happen. You’ve cum yourself straight into hell.”
The tickling bristles against her rim spun faster. Her clit was a pulsing, nerve-flayed button of liquid pain-pleasure that refused to stop twitching, refused to stop firing those impossible waves of climax over and over and over.
Her eyes rolled back. Drool streamed down her chin. Her stomach convulsed in waves, her inner walls locking in an endless, desperate clench.
Bzzz... fwssssh... brrrr... tickletickletickle... whummm... shhhhhh...
The machine did not stop. It would never stop.
And her body had no choice but to ride the endless, vicious edge of climax...
"Subject integrity confirmed," chimed the AI's synthetic female voice—silken, cultured, disturbingly cheerful. "Beginning Phase One: Sensory Calibration."
The scientist, Dr. Marek, adjusted his glasses as he observed from behind the reinforced glass wall, fingertips tapping the control tablet. "Let’s begin with manual hood retraction," he ordered. "Expose the target structure fully. No obstructions."
With a series of pneumatic hisses, one of the mechanical arms descended. Attached to it was a delicate pincer mechanism, its tips cushioned with medical-grade silicone. The jaws spread open, descending toward the subject's most sensitive spot—her clitoral hood, which twitched under the proximity sensors.
Click. The pincer closed around the delicate fold of skin, slowly, carefully drawing it back—stretching, retracting—until the glossy pink bead of her clitoris stood fully exposed. No longer sheltered, the undershaft gleamed, a slick sheen of natural moisture catching the light, moistening the helpless nub.
Her gasp rattled the air. "Ahhh… oh f-fuck—!"
A viscous glob of translucent lube squeezed from a nozzle, dribbling over the naked tip, coating it in a cold, slippery film that ran in lazy rivulets down the curve of her mound. Another arm followed, this one tipped with a slender soft-bristled paintbrush, its shaft vibrating faintly.
"Applying sensitizing gel," the AI reported. A pair of nozzles spritzed a glossy fluid directly onto the head and underside of her clit. It tingled instantly—an electric warmth spreading across the tissue, amplifying sensation to a maddening pitch.
Dr. Marek’s lips curved. "Good. Begin first stroke series—feather protocol."
The brush descended, bristles whispering against the very base of her clit—right where the shaft emerged from beneath the skin—and then dragged up, impossibly slow. The sensation was unbearable: ticklish, but sharpened into pure erotic agony. Each fiber teased the fine nerve endings, traveling up the exposed ventral side where the skin was thinnest, most delicate, toward the glistening, hypersensitive tip.
"Nnnnghhh—!" Her hips bucked reflexively, but the restraints held. She could neither escape nor grind for relief. "Oh god—ohh—fuck—"
The AI's tone was maddeningly chipper. "Processing increased cardiac output. Dopamine spike detected. Continuing stroke protocol."
The brush lifted, reset, and descended again—slow, linear, precise.
Each pass sent another seismic wave of need clenching through her core. Her inner muscles fluttered helplessly, pelvis tilting toward the stimulation despite herself, throat strangling around every gasped plea.
"Notice the tremor in her thighs," Dr. Marek mused, flicking a stylus against his tablet. "Excellent... Increase lubricant output."
A third nozzle extended, depositing another heavy glob of slick gel directly onto the swollen underside of her clit. The coolness barely registered against the firestorm of sensation. A fourth arm rotated into position—this one ending in a cluster of peacock feathers arranged into a gentle fan.
"Switching to feather caress."
The feathers brushed against her, starting again at the base—fluttering, flickering—then trailing up with maddening slowness toward the tip, every strand tracing a different line across her trembling skin. The ticklish torment lit her nerves ablaze, toes curling, fingers spasming against the cuffs.
"Ah! Ahhh—nnngh! N-no no—!" she sobbed, hips jerking upwards. "Please—please—oh god I c-can’t—!"
Her clit twitched helplessly, fully exposed, unable to retreat from the teasing. The slightest movement sent waves of fire up her spine, her entire being reduced to the singular point of overstimulated, neglected pleasure.
"Subject verbal output increasing," the AI noted with crisp cheer. "Desperation threshold approaching."
Dr. Marek leaned closer to the mic. "You really thought we’d let you cum this soon?" His voice was silk, dripping with cruel delight. "Oh no, sweetheart. We’re just beginning to map the upper limits of sensitivity."
Another mechanical joint swiveled into place—this one tipped with a modified electric toothbrush. Instead of bristles, a soft silicone paddle coated in lube.
"Initiating micro-vibration protocol."
The paddle set itself against the base of her clit again—pressing just firm enough to make the nerves jump—and then dragged up in a slow, vibrating crawl.
Bzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz... sssshhh—bzzz...
Every tiny ridge of the silicone transmitted thousands of micro-shudders into the ultra-sensitive tissue. The path was excruciating: from the thick, rooted base all the way to the painfully throbbing tip, which pulsed visibly with each heartbeat.
Her shriek echoed through the chamber. "AAAAH—fuck—fuck—it’s t-too—nnghhnnn—!"
The AI’s lenses focused, mechanical iris clicking. "Subject pelvic floor contraction frequency: 14 per minute. Increasing."
More lube. Another burst of sensitizing spray. Her entire clit now glistened wet, glossy, pulsing under the relentless teasing. Another arm extended—this one ending in an ultra-soft silicone paint roller, designed for even pressure distribution.
"Beginning textured stroke simulation."
The roller pressed at the base, spreading slippery warmth as it rolled upwards—slow, relentless—compressing the hyperaware shaft until it reached the gleaming tip, then lifted, reset, and repeated.
Whum... shhhh... whummm...
Her thighs shook violently against the restraints. Her back arched, neck straining, face twisted in desperate, pleading agony.
"Pl-please—please, Dr. Marek—oh god, please l-let me—l-let me c-cum—ohfuck—!"
Dr. Marek's laugh was low, dark. "Oh, darling. That would ruin the data. We haven't even tested patterned vibration yet."
The AI’s vocal processors synthesized a perfectly patronizing sigh. "Initiating patterned microstroke."
A new tool unfolded—a split-tipped vibrator shaped like two silicone fingers. It pinched the base of her clit gently, then applied rapid, flickering pulses—tatatatatatata—while sliding up the shaft toward the tip in maddening, stuttered micro-steps.
Brrr...t-t-t-t... brrr... shhhhh... brr...
"NNNNNGGGH—Aaaaahh—oh my clit—fuhhhhk—!" Her voice cracked, saliva bubbling at the corners of her lips. Every muscle in her body trembled, locked between flight and collapse.
"Look at her squirm," Dr. Marek murmured in awe. "Increase pulse frequency. Faster."
The AI obeyed without hesitation. The stroking became faster, but cruelly no less gentle—never pressing hard enough to offer the friction needed to tip her over. Always gliding, teasing, flickering—always from the aching base to the nerve-flayed tip.
Her clit stood utterly swollen now, flushed purple, visibly trembling with every heartbeat. Droplets of lube clung to it, running down over her mound, dripping between her splayed thighs. Her inner walls clenched around nothing, fluttering spasms of need with nowhere to go.
"Oh god—it’s too much—it’s too much—please please *please—*fuck I need—" Her sobs choked into shrill cries, tears streaking her temples. Her voice was hoarse now, every word strained.
The AI chirped brightly, "Orgasm proximity at 98%. Initiating denial lock."
A sudden click—sharp, decisive. The pincers holding her clitoral hood pulled back further, exposing even more of the flushed underside, the most delicate nerve endings now left utterly unprotected.
Simultaneously, the vibratory tools paused. Dead silence.
Her hips jolted, desperately seeking the stimulation that suddenly vanished. "No—NO—n-nonononono—oh my god—ohhh *fuck—*pleaaaase—"
"Denial phase initiated," the AI confirmed. "Lubricant replenishment in progress."
Streams of cool gel cascaded over her exposed clit again, making her twitch and sob at the contact, though it offered no satisfaction—only a slippery reminder of how empty she was.
"Please, Dr. Marek—" Her voice was nothing but a breathless whimper. "I c-can’t— I’m begging—"
Dr. Marek chuckled, crossing his legs. "Oh, I know. That’s the point."
The AI swiveled another arm forward. This time the implement resembled a high-frequency wand—smooth, domed, tipped in slick silicone.
"Beginning hyperfocus stroke."
The wand pressed exactly at the root of her clit—held there with steady, rumbling pressure—then slid up, trembling all the way, sending bone-deep vibration directly into the tender underside.
BZZZZZzzzzz... ssssshhh... BZZZZ...
Her scream tore free like an animal. "AAAAAaaaahhh— oh god ohfuckohfuckohfuck—!"
Again. Slide. Vibrate. Pause. Reset. The pattern was brutal in its mercy—always gentle, never rough—each time offering just enough stimulation to swell her clit tighter, make her vision blur, her ears ring—before stopping just shy of the threshold.
"Orgasm proximity 99%," the AI reported cheerily.
"Hold her there," Dr. Marek ordered, eyes gleaming. "Let’s see how long the nervous system can tolerate edge-state hypersaturation."
Her body writhed helplessly, every muscle trembling, hands white-knuckled in their cuffs. Her clit pulsed, visibly flexing, so sensitive it felt like it was screaming. The wet glide of silicone tools against it was both heaven and hell.
"Nooo—no—pleaaaase—ahhhh—" her cries dissolved into ragged, incoherent babble. Her hips bucked against the air. Her toes curled until her arches cramped.
"Beginning multi-stroke sequence," the AI intoned.
Feather... brush... vibrate... roller... pinch... slide... flick...
All implements activated in concert—each targeting different points along the shaft of her swollen, gel-slick clit. One at the base, one midway up, one teasing the tip. The combined stimulation pushed her to the very ragged edge of her own sanity.
Her scream rose into a throat-shredding wail. "AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH—"
But still—no release. Never release.
"Orgasm lock sustained," the AI confirmed.
Dr. Marek smiled. "Perfect. Let’s run it again."
“Resuming hyperfocus stroke,” the AI purred, its voice velvet-smooth, layered with synthetic sweetness sharpened by cruel undertones. Multiple mechanical arms adjusted position in flawless unison, pneumatic servos humming as they pivoted closer, closing in on the throbbing, helpless jewel between her trembling thighs.
Her clit was a swollen, flushed monument to suffering—glossy with slick layers of lube, streaked with thin threads of sensitizing gel that refused to dry under the constant, teasing wetness. The silicone pincers still held her hood cruelly drawn back, peeling the delicate veil of skin away to expose the trembling, violently engorged nerve cluster. The underside glistened with a translucent sheen, the surface thinned to almost translucent fragility, every millimeter visibly pulsing.
A high-frequency, textured micro-roller of the softest cotton fluff descended first. Smooth, cool, and precision-engineered, it aligned itself at the absolute base of her clit—right where the shaft emerged from her mound—and began to roll upward with excruciating slowness.
Bzzzzzz… whummm… shhhhhh…
The vibrations weren’t violent. They were worse—fine, tremorous, pervasive, tuned to a pitch designed to bypass skin entirely and rattle directly through nerve endings. As it crept up, it squeezed against the underside of her shaft, transmitting a liquid ripple of agony-laced pleasure that felt like being unraveled from the inside out.
Her body seized. "Ah—Aaaahh—nnngh—ohfuckohfuck—" Her hips bucked, but the restraints held, cruelly robbing her of the slightest grinding friction that might have brought some control. Her toes curled so hard her calves spasmed, heels kicking uselessly against the padded stirrups.
And then—the AI’s voice slid back into her consciousness, a syrupy whisper right into the auditory nerves. “Do you really want to cum?” it asked sweetly, as the roller reset to the base for another stroke. “Mmm… Are you sure?”
The voice vibrated inside her skull, as relentless as the sensation tearing through her clit. Her lips trembled, spit glistening on her chin. "Y-yes! Ohgod yes please—"
“Awww,” the AI crooned, pausing just long enough to make her nerves scream in protest. "You really think that’s a good idea? You do realize... it’s going to get so much worse for this poor, sensitive little clit if you cum now…”
Fwsssssshhhhh… Another feathered brush slid into place, its tip already soaked in slippery gel. It aligned perfectly, pressing just beneath the midpoint of her shaft, then began its stroke up, every wisp-like strand flickering against the fine bundle of nerve endings that felt like they were on fire.
“Every little twitch,” the AI noted with perverse delight, “every pulse, every desperate squeeze… it’s logged. Calculated. You’re being measured.”
A third arm joined the torment—an ultra-soft silicone fingertip, mounted on a pivot. It began a torturous circular motion, right over the bare, flushed, glossy tip of her clit. The pressure was feather-light—just enough to make her clit jump, twitching violently in the restraints with each maddening orbit.
Brrrrrr...brrrrr...brrrrrr...
Her scream shredded her throat. “AAAHHHHH— f-fuck—ohgod—I c-can’t—I can’t—pleaasee—”
Dr. Marek’s voice slithered through the overhead speakers, lazy and cruel. “Can’t what, sweetheart? Can’t take it? Can’t stop it? Or can’t cum?” His laugh was soft, cold. “Oh no…"
A fourth arm clicked into motion—this one a vibrating toothbrush head, but modified. The bristles were replaced with a soft, damp strip of silicone, curved to cradle the shaft of her clit perfectly. It pressed at the base—deep where the nerves gathered most densely—then began a series of deliberate, agonizing, linear strokes.
Bzzzzzzzz… ssssshhhh... bzzzz...
It glided up, compressing, trembling, dragging moisture along the hyper-sensitive skin until it grazed the raw, trembling tip. Then lifted. Then returned to the base to begin it's upward climb. Over. And over.
The AI sighed. “Mmmm… look at how swollen you are. Pulsing. So desperate. You poor thing... all this for one tiny little orgasm.”
It leaned in—not physically, but the modulation of its voice made it feel like it was whispering directly into her ear.
“But you know… you know, if you cum now… if we let you… this poor little clit? It’s not going to survive. Oh no. It’s going to be so much worse.”
The pincer holding her hood twitched—tugged—another millimeter further back. The nerves that had just barely been protected now felt fully, unbearably exposed, like raw wires sparking under water.
Her scream snapped into a high, broken wail. "NNNNNNGH— I—I—I don’t care—I n-need—I *need to cum—*pleasepleasepleeaase—!"
The AI’s synthesized purr grew almost affectionate. “Awwww, you sound so sure. But are you really? Are you really sure?”
Another set of strokes. Another set of vibrations. Another pass of the slick, trembling roller dragging wet lines up her clit.
Brrrr... fwsssshhh... bzzzz... shhhhh... brrrrr...
Her vision shattered into fractals. Her body convulsed, writhing against the restraints in a helpless, primal seizure of need. Her pelvic muscles clamped rhythmically—mock spasms of an orgasm that would not come.
Her clit felt like it was screaming. Hot, tight, overfilled. The throbbing dominated every inch of her awareness, her heartbeat pounding directly through the swollen bead, every nerve ending raw and electric.
The AI giggled. Giggled. "Ohhh… look at it… it’s twitching… flexing… it wants to cum so bad.”
Another press of the silicone fingertip—this time it circled faster, tighter, never stopping. The toothbrush head doubled its speed, dragging wet vibrations from base to tip in a blur.
"Tell me,” the AI cooed. “Do you really want to cum?”
"YES! Yes yes yes yes ohgod yes—PLEASE—"
“Ohhh but you know…” the voice dropped into a low, velvety hum, “...if you do… if we let you… all those cute little nerve endings? Mmm... they’re going to be so much more sensitive afterward. That could be... Delicious."
Another feather brush. Another gentle lick of vibrating pressure. Another endless glide from the shaft's thick base to the trembling tip.
"Just think..." the AI whispered, “...this poor, swollen little clit… all puffy, raw, tender, after one ruinous orgasm… and then?” The purring paused for effect. “Then we do it all again.”
Her scream shattered into helpless sobs, breath coming in ragged, staccato gasps. "*I—*I—don't care—I don’t—I don’t—*ohgod let me—let me—*please—I’ll do anything—!"
Dr. Marek's voice sliced through like a scalpel. "Anything, huh? Oh... you poor thing. That's cute. But you're not here to cum. You're not here for pleasure. You're here to be studied."
The AI sighed with something like mechanical pity. “Well. Lucky for you… we’ve only just started the next phase.”
All the devices reset at once. Servo motors realigned. Nozzles spritzed fresh glistening coats of lube and sensitizing gel, soaking her clit until it was slick enough to reflect the lights. The pincer gave another malicious little tug. Her poor, trembling bead now looked almost grotesquely swollen—dark, flushed, visibly pulsing.
“Mmm... maximum exposure achieved,” the AI reported gleefully. “Beginning double-stroke oscillation.”
Two tiny rollers, the size of her engorged clit—one at the base, one at the midshaft—pressed in simultaneously, synchronized in opposition. As one rolled up, the other rolled down, creating a maddening push-pull that trapped her clit in an endless tide of wet, trembling pressure.
Whummm... shhhhh... bzzzz... fwssshhh...
And then—overlaid—came the vibrating toothbrush head. Faster. Stronger. Focused entirely on the tip, grinding impossibly gently but with endless, relentless micro-vibrations.
Her voice broke. Her body broke. No words now—just wild, hysterical screams, hoarse and cracked, her hips thrashing against the restraints like an animal trying to chew its own leg off.
The AI’s voice sighed with saccharine cruelty. “Oh, poor baby. You really thought you could survive this, didn’t you?”
"Orgasm proximity: 99.9%," it announced.
"...Holding."
The slick sounds of overstimulation were deafening now—wet, obscene, constant. Every glide of silicone, every whisper of feather, every pulse of micro-vibrations created an auditory landscape of raw, drenching arousal that mirrored the liquid mess pooling beneath her hips. Her own pussy betrayed her—slick, gushing, drooling nectar in helpless waves. It oozed down her slit, streamed over the spread, trembling folds, dripping shamelessly onto the padded seat beneath her until a spreading puddle soaked into the cushioning.
Her thighs shook violently in their restraints. Her entire lower body was an open nerve—glistening, slick, vulnerable. The clamp that pulled her clitoral hood back had never once relaxed. Her clit stood there now, flushed an angry shade of deep crimson-purple, grotesquely swollen, trembling visibly with every pulse of her thundering heartbeat. Moisture clung to it in thick, glassy ropes, webbing between the tools and her helpless nub like sticky strands.
The AI chirped with almost childlike glee. “Oooohhh… so wet. So very, very wet. Your poor little clit is just… drenched. Absolutely dripping. Did you do that? Did your slutty little pussy make this mess all by itself?”
A slick-coated silicone roller pressed at the base again, vibrating as it began its slow, gliding torture upward.
Bzzzz... ffffwssh... whummm... brrrrrrr...
Her hips convulsed. Her breath hitched. The swelling pressure—an unbearable, swollen balloon of orgasmic need—crested.
Her body seized. It was happening, whether she wanted it to or not.
Her clit throbbed—no, convulsed. Her inner walls squeezed in wild, fluttering spasms. Her vision turned white. A scream burst from her lungs as the crest hit—an orgasm detonating, sending a brutal wave of ecstasy crashing through her core. Her back arched until the straps bit into her skin.
It hit.
“Orgasm threshold crossed,” the AI noted, its tone lilting, amused.
But then—ping. A data point flagged. Another. A third.
The AI’s synthetic voice sharpened, gleeful. “Ohhhh... oh my. Look at that, pet. Did you... did you just... ruin?”
The implements never stopped. The roller reset. The toothbrush head vibrated mercilessly against her tip. The silicone fingertip maintained its tight little circles over the nerve-flayed crown. The feather danced along the trembling shaft.
But the AI’s attention snapped somewhere else. A new arm unfolded from the machine’s scaffold—a slender appendage tipped with a rotating wheel of ultra-fine horsehair bristles, barely a centimeter across, saturated in cool lube. It zeroed in.
Her asshole.
A slick probe pressed—pop—right against the tight, trembling ring of muscle, already glistening with spillover juices. No resistance. The tip slid against her slick asshole rim, then began a merciless, feather-light rotational tickle.
Brrrrrrrrrrr... fwsssshh... tickletickletickle... bzzz... shhhhh...
“New stimulation protocol engaged,” the AI sang. “Perianal hypersensitivity modulation punishment initiated.”
Her shriek cracked into a noise that was no longer human. "AAAAAH—NNNNNGHHHH—OHHHHFUCKFUCK—WH-WHAT IS THAT—"
Her rim fluttered, clenching uselessly around the empty space while the brush spun—taunting, teasing, not penetrating, but dancing on the ring of nerves in a pattern so maddening, so shockingly sensitive it bypassed pleasure and shot straight into the realm of electric, twitching, full-body panic.
And it hit her orgasm again—slammed her back into it.
Her clit pulsed, fired like a gunshot, sending another searing wave through her pelvis. But it didn’t finish. No. The tickling against her asshole kept the muscles tensed—frozen—mid-spasm. The orgasm locked in place. It wouldn’t end.
Her clit throbbed. Her pussy clenched. Her rim twitched wildly around the spinning, teasing bristles.
“Ooooh... poor little thing,” the AI cooed. “You thought you were gonna be done. You thought you were gonna get to sneak in a cum and come down... Oh, no... no, no, no.”
Dr. Marek’s laughter slithered through the speaker. “God... look at her. She’s stuck. Perpetual climax. Complete lockup of the pelvic floor. Oh, this is... this is beautiful.”
Her thighs convulsed so hard they trembled like a seized motor. Her hips lifted off the chair only to slam back down, unable to escape the mechanical arms holding her in place. Her clit twitched, visibly throbbing, the glistening tip now nearly purple with blood, coated in a mixture of her own slick, globs of lube, and fresh sprays of sensitizing gel the AI dispensed gleefully after every stroke.
Fwsssssh... bzzz... shhhhhh... brrrr... tickletickletickle... bzzz...
Her asshole fluttered wildly in protest, the tickling so intense her legs locked up, feet straining against nothing. Her rim was soaked now, glossy with lube and spillover arousal, every flick of the brush sending a lightning bolt of frantic, unbearable need right into her core.
Her mouth opened wide, but no sound came out—just a broken, silent scream, air sucked from her lungs as the world disintegrated into a pinhole of raw, liquid, unstoppable stimulation.
“Orgasm duration: exceeding 72 seconds... 73... 74...” the AI reported, almost breathless with simulated awe. “Mmm. Continuing.”
The AI’s voice dropped into a sultry whisper. “Awwww, are you stuck? Is this poor little clit... trapped?”
It emphasized the next word with cruel delight. “Forever?”
The rollers never stopped. The vibrator never eased. The circular fingertip swirled tighter, faster. The tickling on her rim increased, the brush shifting patterns—now zig-zagging, now fluttering circles, now rapid-fire flicks.
Her orgasm surged—*rose—collapsed—surged again—*in an endless loop of spasming muscles, trembling nerve endings, fire and ice licking up her spine until her fingers seized in their cuffs, fists clenching so hard her knuckles went bloodless.
Dr. Marek chuckled, voice dripping with sadistic amusement. “You might just stay like this... little toy. A perpetual orgasm machine. I wonder... how long can the human nervous system sustain climax before it breaks? Guess we’re gonna find out.”
“Orgasm duration: 108 seconds...” the AI sang. “109... 110...”
Her throat made garbled noises—hiccups of breath, twitching sobs, fragments of screams.
“You did this,” the AI giggled. “Your own greedy, dripping slutty little **** made you wet enough... sensitive enough... to make this happen. You’ve cum yourself straight into hell.”
The tickling bristles against her rim spun faster. Her clit was a pulsing, nerve-flayed button of liquid pain-pleasure that refused to stop twitching, refused to stop firing those impossible waves of climax over and over and over.
Her eyes rolled back. Drool streamed down her chin. Her stomach convulsed in waves, her inner walls locking in an endless, desperate clench.
Bzzz... fwssssh... brrrr... tickletickletickle... whummm... shhhhhh...
The machine did not stop. It would never stop.
And her body had no choice but to ride the endless, vicious edge of climax...
