Clit Torture by Step-Bro

He didn’t give me time to breathe.

The door had barely clicked shut before he was on me. One hand locked around my throat, while the other ripping my shirt straight up and over my head. The fabric tore at the seams. He spun me hard, slammed me face-first into the wall, and kicked my feet apart so wide my inner thighs burned. Cool air hit my still-soaked pussy. I was dripping from earlier, swollen, aching, and unfinished.

His fingers dragged through the wetness and he let out a low, ugly laugh against my ear.

“Someone already had you,” he muttered. “I can smell it. You’re fucking soaked and it’s not for me.”

He yanked my arms behind my back, then forced them up high between my shoulder blades until the joints screamed. Rough rope bit into my wrists tight, fast, with no mercy. He dragged me backward by the bindings, spun me, and threw me onto the bed.

My back hit the mattress hard as he hauled me up by the rope until my head hung off the top edge of the bed, then pulled my arms higher still and lashed the rope to the headboard so tight my shoulders felt like they would pop. My tits pointed straight up, nipples already tight and dark. My legs were free for only a few seconds before he grabbed both ankles, wrenched them wide, and tied each one to the opposite corners of the bedframe. Spread completely. Ass barely touching the sheets. Suspended in open air by the tension in the ropes.

I couldn’t close my legs. I couldn’t cover myself. I couldn’t do anything except lie there and take whatever he decided to do.

Tyler stood at the foot of the bed, naked, cock thick and heavy against his stomach, the head already shiny and leaking. He looked at me the way someone looks at a thing they own and plan to break.

“You let some random fuck leave you like this,” he said, his voice quiet and mean. “Walking around dripping, marked up, still hungry. I’m going to punish every inch of you for it.”

He climbed onto the bed between my forced-open thighs. No softness. No build-up. His mouth slammed onto my cunt.

He sucked my clit like he was trying to rip it off, sucking hard but wet, giving relentless suction that made my hips jerk violently against the ropes. The sound was filthy and loud, obscene sounds.

Then he switched to long, slow, disgusting licks, tongue smooth and broad, dragging from my dripping hole all the way up over my clit and back down again, over and over, tasting his dad inside me earlier. When my moans got louder he bit down on my clit. Not a playful nip. Real teeth. Sharp. He clamped the swollen nub between them and held the bite while I screamed and thrashed, the ropes creaking with every desperate twist of my body. He kept the pressure for several long seconds before releasing and sucking even harder, like he was rewarding himself for making me cry out.

My wrists were already raw. My shoulders burned. My clit felt like it was on fire.

He pulled back only long enough to grab something from the nightstand. A thick, veined dildo, was longer and thicker than I wanted. He dragged the fat head through my folds, coating it in my mess, then shoved it inside me in one continuous, brutal push. The stretch forced a broken sound out of my throat. I cried, I carried out.

He fucked me with it hard and fast for maybe fifteen strokes, the wet slap of it filling the room, then left it buried to the hilt and reached for the roll of silver duct tape.

He wrapped the tape tightly around my hips and between my legs, locking the dildo deep inside me so I couldn’t push it out no matter how hard I clenched. The tape dug into my skin. Every tiny shift made the toy move just enough to torment me and never enough to satisfy.

Tyler picked up his phone, turned the camera on, and pointed it straight at my spread, stuffed, rope-bound body.

“I’m recording every second,” he said, almost casual. “When I’m done I’m going to leave this video somewhere in the street -- Bus stop bench, bathroom stall. Maybe the student center. For Whoever lucky fellow to watch--watch you like this; tied open, full of plastic cock, crying and dripping.

Sound fair for a dirty little slut who lets strangers use her?”

I shook my head hard, tears already sliding into my hairline. He only smiled and hit record.

Then the real torture began.

He put his mouth back on my clit while the dildo stayed locked inside me. He sucked until my thighs trembled violently. Flicked the tip of his tongue over the swollen nub in rapid, vicious strokes. He bit it again harder, until I was sobbing and trying to twist away from the super sensation.

Every time the pressure built and my cunt started clenching helplessly around the taped toy, he stopped completely. Pulled his mouth off, and waited until the orgasm died. Then started over.

Clit sucking, clit biting. Long, slow, wet licks that ended with another sharp desperate bite. The dildo stayed buried, the tape keeping it from giving me any real rhythm. I was suspended in pure, vicious need. My clit felt twice its size, raw, and oversensitive, throbbing in time with my pulse. Drool ran from the corner of my mouth. My nipples were so hard they ached at the tip.

The ropes went even deeper every time my body jerked.

He kept going until I was a shaking, incoherent mess, voice wrecked from begging.

“Please—Tyler—please I can’t take anymore—”

“You can.” He bit my clit again and held it between his teeth while he spoke, the words vibrating against the abused flesh. “You’ll take it until I say you’re done.”

I could feel his breathing through his nose as he bit and sucked every dripping sticky juice.

He went back to sucking harder than before, two fingers prying my folds wide open so he could get more of the swollen, dark-red clit into his mouth.

The dual sensation of the locked dildo stretching me open and his mouth destroying my clit finally snapped something inside me. The orgasm ripped through me without permission—violent, gushing, uncontrollable. I squirted hard, clear fluid pulsing out around the tape and the base of the toy in thick spurts, soaking his chin, his mouth, his neck, the sheets beneath me.

Tyler didn’t pull away.

He drank it all.

Mouth sealed over my cunt, tongue pushing against my spasming hole, swallowing every pulse while I sobbed and shook through the forced violent climax.

He didn’t waste a drop. When the last tremor faded he crawled up my bound body, face still shiny and wet with me, and kissed me nasty and deep. I tasted myself on his tongue, tasting salty, musky, and thick—mixed with his spit. He forced the kiss harder, grinding his soaked chin against mine, making me take every bit of what he’d just swallowed from my own cunt.

When he finally pulled back I was gasping, wrecked, ropes still holding me wide open, tears drying on my temples.

Tyler reached down and ripped the duct tape off in one brutal yank. The dildo came free with a loud, wet sound and a fresh gush of fluid. He tossed it aside, knelt between my spread thighs, and dragged the thick, hot head of his cock through the dripping mess of my just-destroyed cunt.

He lined himself up.

The blunt, heavy pressure of him resting right against my entrance was the last thing I felt—him poised to push in, dark blue eyes locked on mine, the promise of more already written across his face.