Is it bad that I want to be ruined

Is it bad that I crave total ruin? Don't get me wrong, I know I don't even deserve an orgasm ever, but I ache to be tied down, helpless, while she edges my throbbing cock for hours, denying me the sweet release I don't even deserve. wrists and ankles bound tight to the bedposts, my body spread eagle, balls heavy and aching from days of denial. She's in control, smirking as she strokes my shaft slow at first, building that unbearable pressure until my hips buck wildly, precum leaking like a waterfall. But right at the edge, when my cock twitches and swells, ready to erupt, she stops. Cold. Her fingers clamp around the base like a vice, squeezing hard, forcing the orgasm to fizzle out. I feel the cum pulse weakly from my slit, dribbling out in pathetic spurts onto my stomach, no bliss, just frustration and that hollow ache. She laughs, scoops it up, and licks it off her finger humiliatingly. "Not yet, loser."



She doesn't stop there. Round two, she mounts my face first, grinding her wet pussy on my tongue until she cums, flooding my mouth while I strain against the ropes, my cock untouched and leaking. Then she slides down, impales herself on my rock hard dick, riding me reverse cowgirl so I can watch her ass bounce. The heat, the tightness, fuck, I'm so close. But as my balls tighten, she lifts off completely, my cock slapping wet against my belly. She grabs my balls, yanks them down hard, ruining it again. Cum oozes out in ruined ropes, wasted on my skin, my body convulsing in denied agony. She milks every drop manually after, her grip relentless, draining my prostate dry while I whimper and beg.



Or what about ice cubes on my overheated cockhead, numbing the sensitivity just enough. She jerks me furiously with lubed and slick hands, twisting at the frenulum until I'm screaming at the brink. Then, pop!, she pinches the urethra shut with her nails, blocking the flow. Pressure builds to explosion, but only a few drops escape, the rest backed up inside, leaving me bloated and blue balled. Or a vibe, a powerful wand pressed to my balls while she sucks my cock deep, throat, fucking herself on it. I hit the point of no return, but she yanks the wand away and slaps my shaft sideways, ruined again, cum oozing out feebly as she drains the rest by prostate massage, her finger hooked deep in my ass, forcing out load after load without a single wave of pleasure.



She could loop this forever, feather teasing my inner thighs and taint until I'm humping air, then a quick pump pump squeeze ruin. Or tie a string around my cock base like a tourniquet, loosening only to edge and retie. Edging marathons with poppers inhaled through a mask, my mind melting as she ruins five, ten times in a row, each one weaker, my cum turning to clear fluid, balls shriveled and spent. By the end, I'm a drained husk, cock raw and hypersensitive, every touch agony.



And the hottest part? She whispers she'll never let me cum for real again. Ever. Just endless ruins, keeping me her denied cum factory, perpetually horny, forever broken.