Pleasure.

She knew that she was at her limit, that any more and she wouldn't be able to hold the climax back. And still, time felt so slow she could feel the pleasure in her mind slowly make it's way to her eagerly throbbing pussy. So, she pleaded with herself, pleaded in a sad **** panic to stop the inevitable.

"No! S-Stop! I can't cum! Not in front of him! Not in front of Mack! Stop it! No! Why won't my body listen!? What's going on!? Stop feeling so good! This shouldn't feel good! No! Don't cum! PLEASE! DON'T!"

It changed nothing. As soon as the pleasure reached her body, all of her senses were overloaded by a blinding blaze that burned her whole body, only truly comprehending the pure ecstasy coursing through her. She felt her own body wrestle control of itself away from her, every muscle tightening in arousal. Her back arched, her toes scrunched, and she just barely felt the scream escape her throat. Her cunt clenched and spasmed as it drenched the pants she put on mere moments ago.

Mack watched as the proud, cruel Stacy convulsed on the carpet, hedonistic moans permeating the air. And yet, he still effortlessly kept time with his fingers, snapping away in tune with the clock. The timer made him focused, relaxed, helped him deal with the worries of life. But every time Stacy was around, she made sure he couldn't enjoy himself, timer or anything else he wanted to do, nagging and poking him, sometimes even going as far as to smother him with a pillow from behind for a moment, as a sick joke.

So, seeing the one that deprived him of everything he loved writhing about on the floor brought him even more satisfaction then the clock's ceaseless ticking. She looked as though to be in the middle or an exorcism, which perhaps in a certain way, she was. To that thought, a sadistic yet entirely genuine grin overtook his face. Before him was the beginning of the end of her antagonistic ways, and he was loving every second. He watched the debauched spectacle with glee, developing a slight chuckle that quickly evolved into joyous laughter. At that moment, her body stopped thrashing around, her back lowered to the ground, and her moaning calmed. The orgasm was over. At least, it should've been.

As Stacy came down from what was without a doubt the hardest orgasm of her life, she had the misfortune of hearing Mack's laughter and seeing his merciless expression. What should've been a descent from the peak, the bask of a radiant afterglow, was not. Instead, her body kicked back into gear even worse then before, fueled by the degrading mockery. Her mind was still so disoriented from the first, it didn't notice the second until, once again, she couldn't notice anything except the euphoria cascading through her body.

She felt like her whole body was melting into a puddle, consumed by warmth. Despite how desperately her mind tried to say otherwise, her body screamed out in pleasure, shaking as if struggling to contain itself. If she could think, she would've died from shame twice, once from cumming in front of him, and once from the way her face contorted with a pathetic expression of bliss. The disgraceful look of felicity was quite complementary to the eager moans filling the room. She was enjoying every little spark of pleasure flowing through her, and there wouldn't be a doubt about in any witnesses's mind.

One such witness, unfortunately for her, was Mack. Nerdy Mack. Weirdo Mack. 'Mr. Cheese'. It was a twist of fate, not cruel as such a thing often is, but an act of mercy by the universe that he now had to power to fight back against her. She might call it ****, but he knew better. He knew that the golden watch sitting on the nightstand beside the couch was a nothing short of a miracle. He didn't know who gave it to him, or why, or how, nor did he care. What he did know, what he did care for, was the fact that Stacy was coming down from her third orgasm in less then a half-hour.

Like most people, Stacy wasn't used to cumming thrice in such a short period or time, especially after not cumming for months, and certainly not at this sheer magnitude. It was just too much for her mind to bear. So, as her constant twitching began to slow, and her prominent shaking was reduced to light trembling, as the world faded from blinding white to reality, reality began to fade to silent black. Where before, she was too blinded by pleasure to see the world, now it was like she senses had simply given up. She was glad, somehow. She couldn't hear Mack's laugh, or the clock's eternal clicking. Her body was so numb, so limp, she couldn't feel the growing stain in her pants, nor did she realize her eyes were closing. It was nice in a certain way.

As her consciousness began to slip away, something shifted, clicked into place, somewhere in the recesses of her mind. A line had been crossed. A bridge that burned down the moment she got to the other side. And yet, she wasn't disturbed, or annoyed, or ashamed of herself, or even particularly scared.