No, I stop her first

I decided to follow Marissa after all, and I stop when she hands out the edging sign to a lovely young woman with black hair halfway down her back. I enjoy the consternation on her face along with everyone else watching as she, outwardly anyway, enthusiastically helps her friend edge her to distraction. I can also tell when, true to the language on the card, she loses her fight and wants to beg. Of course, she can't because financial bets are some of the ones she will, and must, win. I can even see that she doesn't want to take the money, probably because of how humiliating she finds the whole situation, but she must and will adhere to all the bets she makes, win or lose.

When she expresses her wish to escape and get to lunch, I step forward and say, "I'd like to try next, please," and wait for the programmed response.

"I've competed one time and won ten dollars. What do you want to bet?" She'll tell everyone what she's done so far, and people will alternate between betting how much money they can afford to lose -- she will always win money -- and ways to add to her predicament. I, of course, can read the *language* on the sign directly since I made myself immune to it. So I could bet her money, but where would the fun in that be?

"If I make you beg, when you masturbate, you will edge for half an hour instead of making yourself cum."

"OK," she says, relaxing and opening to me physically, but I can see the slight widening of her eyes that reveals how much she wanted to refuse instead. I start by placing my hands on the outside of her hips and slowly running them up her sides to lift her shirt.

"Th-that isn't edging, is it?" she asked, actually able to bring her hands down and exert pressure on mine. The poor dear must be almost as inexperienced as her friend who just took a turn before me. I must educate her!

"Your whole body, especially with how aroused you already are, is erogenous. Any sensual touch can arouse you and therefore be sexual. And if it's sexual it can be used to edge you." The feeling of my hands on her skin, and the fact that I'm about to expose more of her body to the public, must arouse her. Against her will she relents and allows my hands to continue. She bites her lip unable to stifle a moan as I push her shirt up past her breasts and then push her bra up to join it. She flinches at the feel of the stretchy fabric brushing against her nipples, still hard from just being edged after all.

She looks around at all the people watching her get molested, naked except for some fabric bunched up beneath her armpits, covering no more than her shoulders and the bottom of her neck, and she moans and arches her back. In addition to everything else, her sign had rendered her unable of hiding her reactions to sexual stimulation. It's how her friend had been able to judge how to turn her on, and back off before going too far after all.

I rub her chest, avoiding her breasts until she helplessly begins seeking more contact. I'm selfish, but before getting access to the language, I had to learn how to get pleasure from women a slightly more normal way. My hypnotic and NLP skills were good for getting in the door, as it were, but repeat opportunities come when she wants to do it again. Not a problem for this poor girl, of course, but it's still good experience for teasing her. I repeat the process, this time caressing and gently squeezing her breasts until I can tell her body is aching for me to play with her nipples as well.

To my surprise, her legs spread a little wider and she begins to lift her hips. She doesn't quite lift her ass off the bench, but it's the start of her programmed sign that she's getting close to orgasm. If her ass is lifted in the air, she's aroused enough that keeping her this close will break her, but she won't cum unless you get her six inches off what she's sitting or lying on. That's why she'll always sit or lie down for her challenges. I leave her breasts to run my hands over her arms, lift her right hand to kiss the inside of her wrist and suck sensually on her fingers. She watches me do it with distressed eyes, her breath catching with each finger I capture in my mouth.

I release her arms and place my hands on her left knee, the one closer to me. I run my hands up her legs, stopping just short of my left hand touching her sex. I see her juices escaping her pussy and heading for the bench. I repeat the process with her right leg, and then I place my hands on her hips again. She gasps for air with her need, and I caress her hips and stomach for a few seconds before finally dipping my left hand between her legs to rub her swollen and aroused lip.

"The five minutes starts now," she says as her hips lift two inches off the bench.