You must be throbbing by now, aren't you? Feeling those pulses spread from between your thighs to the rest of your body, aching for relief. How your muscles tremble, sweat prickling down your spine, cheeks flushed and lips parted as you bring yourself right to the very edge. Your whole body clenching, tightening up as it prepares for an orgasm that will make you see stars, so very needy and desperate and ready---

But you're not going to give in. You're going to wrench your hand away and dig your fingers into the sheets as you feel yourself balancing on the precipice, riding a wave that you won't let crest, the lust inside you surging and swelling without any hope for release. You'll be panting and grinding your hips against the air, just needing something, please, anything. Whimpering as the tension hits unbearable levels, every inch of you at the mercy of your own insatiable craving for pleasure. The urge only growing stronger when you get told no.

That's it. Let the edge ebb away, leaving you high on the denial but so unfulfilled, tears in your eyes as your body begs for what you're not allowed to have. The hot pressure between your legs, the moan caught in your throat. You were so close. You feel like you could explode, like you could combust. You can't think. You can't focus on anything except the dire need for more.

Slowly now. Your fingertips tickle up your inner thighs, tracing up the creases of your legs, teasing over your hips. They travel higher, taunting you as they caress over your stomach and chest. Your thumbs brush over your nipples, feeling how achingly hard they've become, pulling tighter as you draw circles around them, a small pinch making the heat shoot down to your core. It reminds you just how urgently you need to be touched.

As if you could forget.

Down, your hand falls back to its spot between your legs. You're not going to appease the hunger, not quite yet. A few gentle touches, so soft they're barely there, a ghost of a touch. Feeling yourself twitch in anticipation. You can't keep your hips from squirming. The ache is so strong you could burst.

Touch yourself for me. Mmhm, all the way. It won't take long to climb back up the peak, not with how sensitive and needy you already are. You only get a few seconds of glorious pleasure before your body is tightening again, greedy in its pursuit of release, rushing as it tries to make you tumble over the edge.

No. Not yet.

You can whimper and whine and moan, but you can't come. You can writhe around as the feeling of denied pleasure floods through you. You can scratch your nails down your thighs and grab on tight, trying to anchor yourself as your whole body shakes, but you're going to stay right there, right on the very edge, until you deserve release. Again and again and again. Hitting the moment right before there's no return and then painstakingly forcing yourself away until you're about to lose your mind, your thoughts overcome with pure need.

Do you think you deserve to come? Have you earned it?

Go on. Convince me. You're cute when you beg.