My name is Miranda. I'm thirty-two, with brown hair and eyes, olive skin, and an athletic physique with medium-sized breasts. I've loved the feeling of orgasm ever since I discovered masturbation. It's only gotten better since meeting my husband, Corey. In the six years we've known each other, he's learned everything about my body and knows exactly where to touch to give me the most pleasure possible.

I can cum three, four, or even five times in a row. I think my record is fifteen, but who's counting, really? Here's the thing, though, whether it's three, four, or fifteen, my body eventually gives out and says 'no more', and all of my most erogenous spots become too sensitive to continue.

Not that it hurts, mind you; it's quite the opposite, actually. It feels good. Too good. Like my entire body is tingling and I'm going to pass out from the overload of pleasure. But I want that pleasure. It always feels like I'm just on the cusp of the most mind-blowing orgasm, if I can just overcome the feeling of needing to stop. That's where my dilemma began.

How do I force myself to keep stimulating when my body is sending all the signals that it's too much?

I've tried many things over the years. I bought my first vibrator when I was eighteen, and tried to force myself to keep holding it there, even after the overwhelming point. No good, I could never stop myself from pulling it away.

I once got desperate enough to try duct-taping it in place. The less said about that disaster, the better. Nope, never trying THAT again.

I've tried the rotating bristles of an electric toothbrush. I've tried numbing my clit with ice first. I've tried positions where I'm on top of whatever toy I'm trying to use so that it's harder to move it away. Though all of those things feel good, (especially the ice, which I didn't expect). I always end up losing my resolve and pulling away once the sensations begin to overwhelm me.

Before Corey, I'd had a few other lovers. Over the years, I'd tried telling each of them to lick or rub my clit without stopping. Most had been too damned attentive for my own good, and noticed on their own when it was becoming too much for me. And even the one or two who had failed to do so, eventually elicited a "Wait, stop now," from me.

It was almost as if I was of two minds. Regular Miranda (aka. Horny Miranda) wanted to be completely overwhelmed by sensation, at least until the moment that very sensation was present. Then suddenly, Overstimulated Miranda would take over, doing whatever it took to deny Regular Miranda what she so desperately needed.

One experience I vividly recall was a year or two after Corey and I had begun occasionally experimenting with light bondage and domination. Nothing too extreme, to be sure, just a little bit of each of us being tied up and letting the other have their way for a while, just to spice things up.

On that particular occasion, Corey had me tied, face up, to the dining room table, one limb to each leg. He'd already released his first load of cum inside me and had shifted his focus to my pleasure for a bit.

It seems to me that most guys are turned off by the idea of going down on a woman with cum dripping from her pussy, but Corey absolutely revels in cleaning me up right after filling me. He often tells me, "You take my cum in your mouth all the time, so why should I have a problem taking it in mine?" I've always loved that about him.

His fingers had been expertly rubbing and pinching my nipples exactly the way I liked as his mouth worked down below. He'd licked up everything he'd previously pumped into me, making sure to get all of it by pressing his tongue as deep inside as he could. My clit had become desperate for attention in the process. The mischievous smile he wore revealed that he knew exactly what I wanted, but wasn't done teasing me yet; his tongue continued to run up and down inside the valleys between the outer and inner labia on each side of my opening.

Finally, a desperate, involuntary whimper escaped my lips.

He stopped licking and looked up at me, wet around the lips, the playful expression still on his face.

"Hmm? Something you want?" he feigned ignorance.

The fingers on my nipples had reduced their activity to a single flick every second or two, which was driving me crazy, making me even more desperate than the continuous stimulation had.

"Yes! I want you... to rub me... and lick me... and not... stop... even when--"

The rest of my request was cut off as he returned his fingers to full speed and proceeded to alternately lick and suck my clit frantically.

It didn't take long before I felt the warm release spread through my body. My thighs vibrated as I gasped and writhed and strained against the soft ropes holding me in place, arching my back, pressing myself harder against the stimulation he was giving me.

Finally, I fell back, flat against the table, breathing heavily. "You know... that feeling... I get... after... I cum?" I panted. "Where it's... too much... and I... can't take... any more?"

"Yeah, sorry," he apologized, fully pulling away from me and withdrawing his hands.

"No... wait... come back," I gasped. "I'm not even at that point yet."

He looked bewildered. "Huh? Then why did you--"

"Because I don't want you to stop," I cut him off. "Even if-- ahhh yesss, that's... better-- don't stop... even... if I... ask you to."

He had resumed giving full stimulation to my three nubs, and I could feel another orgasm building again. As I finally completed my thought, he slowed his movements and looked up at me questioningly, making an inquisitive sound.

"I've wanted to... be overwhelmed by... pleasure... for a long time. Please... don't stop. Don't... ever stop... Don't... ever stop... Don't... ever stop... Don't... ever-- ohhhhh!"

I came, partly from his ministrations, partly from the thought of how good it would feel if he got me past that point, which, as I realized on the way down from my second orgasm, was right then.

It was unusual for it to happen after only two, but then, perhaps the brief break between them had accelerated my body's overwhelming response. Whatever the reason, my nipples and clit were filling my body with burning pleasure and begging for the stimulation to stop.

My repeated pants of, "Don't ever stop, don't ever stop" had morphed into pleas of, "Stop, stop, please stop," but he was still rubbing and licking, as I had asked.

"Please stop! It's too much!"

My nerves were ablaze with sensation. I was whimpering and writhing, pulling against the ropes for what was probably only about five seconds, but felt much longer. Once again, Overstimulated Miranda took over completely.

"ANTIQUING!" I cried, using the safe word we'd previously established, a reference to an episode of a certain animated comedy series we'd both enjoyed in our youth.

Corey immediately stopped, and I immediately regretted it. I had never actually needed to call safety before. I was instantly filled with frustration and longing. I briefly considered asking Corey to resume before looking at him.

He seemed relieved that I'd called it off. I don't know what he had been thinking or feeling as he'd tried to overstimulate me, but I have no doubt that he would have been aware of how physically uncomfortable my body was. He was probably unsure if I had truly wanted that discomfort.

It was aggravating to be left so unsatisfied, but I would have to discuss it with him more fully before trying again. He'd need to understand my feelings on the matter, and how much I truly, deeply, wanted it.

That occasion concluded the way similar experiences usually did, with him fucking me one more time before untying me. It was far from unpleasant, (not that having such a beautiful cock from a man I love so much inside me could EVER be unpleasant,) but it also wasn't exactly what I'd been craving right then.

I had, once again, failed. I was angry at myself for chickening out, and also felt some shame whose source I couldn't quite identify. Perhaps it had something to do with the fact that I had involved him, asked him to give me what Regular Miranda wanted, only to lose the determination to follow through when I became Overstimulated Miranda. Whatever it was, I was getting more and more disappointed with myself.

We discussed it afterward and I explained to him everything that I've just told you. We tried it again a few times after that, but it always ended the same way, with me calling the safe word.

Finally, I brought up the idea of doing this one thing, and only this one thing, without a safe word. That as long as it was pleasure, and not pain, that he would be giving me, to ignore the safe word.

He was, to say the least, uncomfortable with the idea. Said that without a safe word, he would have no way to know that I really wanted to continue in that moment, no way to know he wouldn't be causing me harm.

I tried begging. I tried pleading. I tried explaining to him about the two Mirandas. I tried clarifying that I, as me, wanted it, and that he would not and could not harm me, even if, in the moment, my body overwhelmed my heart and mind into wanting to stop.

It was no use. He flat out refused. Dammit, sometimes I wish he weren't so damned considerate. That conversation ended with me telling him that if he ever found himself reconsidering at an opportune moment, he had blanket permission to take up the offer. He thanked me, but said that he didn't think it would ever happen.

All of that changed yesterday.

Corey and I don't fight often, but when we do, it can get bad. Yesterday was one of those. I had inattentively ended up ruining his Saturday plans without having remembered we'd made them.

The details aren't important, what matters is that there were a lot of slammed doors, yelling, and barely contained intrusive thoughts; the sort of thoughts that the one doing the thinking didn't truly believe, but could never be taken back if shouted in anger. Thankfully, we were both at least mature enough to not get to that point, but even the thoughts themselves still hurt.

The mood shifted the moment he finally said, "Don't you remember when we were sitting on the sofa and I told you..." in just the right way to trigger the memory, and I profusely apologized. Then came the usual releases of tension: the crying, the hugging, the tearfully laughing at ourselves for how stupid the fight had been, the reaffirming our love for each other, the apologizing for not handling it better, and of course, the make-up sex.

Feeling guilty both for ruining his plans and for unfairly claiming we'd never discussed them in the first place, I offered to take the submissive role again.

There was a mischievous gleam in his eyes as he responded, "Well, it's not like I have anything else to do today... anymore."

Not quite emotionally settled again yet, I felt another rush of guilt. "I know, I'm so sorry."

"Hey, hey, Mira," he soothed, "don't worry about it, I was just joking."

"So we're good then?" I asked with a tentative smile on my face.

"Yeah, we're good." He grinned back genuinely. "We're already rebooked for next week."

"So... where do you want me?" I asked, returning to the topic of offering myself to him.

"Right here." He gestured, indicating the table where we'd both sat down once the fight had begun to subside.

The moment the curtains were closed, we were on each other, kissing, touching, caressing. He guided me wordlessly to the table and into a sitting position on it, my legs dangling off the edge to either side of him, our still-clothed crotches pressed against each other. He bit my lower lip softly as his hands went to my chest, rubbing over the hard nipples through my shirt and bra.

Trailing his hands downward to the hem of my shirt, he ran them back up underneath it. I thought he was going to take it off, but instead, they slid up my back to release the clasp on my bra, causing me to shudder in the process. The hands came out and his fingers went into my sleeves next, smoothly hooking the straps and pulling them out and over my arms. Finally, he reached back under my shirt to pull the entire garment out from underneath, tossing it to the floor.

Pushing me gently to lie back on the table, he lifted the hem of my skirt and effortlessly yanked off my panties in a single motion. They quickly joined their counterparts in a small heap in the corner.

This was unusual, I thought, as he began caressing my now-vulnerable breasts through the fabric of my shirt. He usually preferred me completely naked, but he seemed, at that moment, to want me fully dressed, sans undergarments. This new approach excited me.

He was continuing to rub and squeeze my boobs, working closer and closer to the nipples, but never quite touching them. Finally, he let them go, kneeling down and beginning to rub and lick all around my already wet pussy, again teasing close to its sensitive nub, but never quite touching it.

I was whimpering now, letting him know his teasing was making me desperate.

"You want me to touch them?" he taunted me savagely.

"Uh-huh," I whined, nodding. "Please! I need it!"

"Not until I come back," he scolded, as he began heading toward the stairs, "and you'd better not touch them yourself while I'm gone, either."

He was only gone for about thirty seconds or so, but it was still a massive effort to keep my hands off my body as he'd instructed. I tried to remind myself how good it would feel when he finally returned and did touch me.

When he came back, he was carrying the ropes again.

"Miss me?" he inquired, placing the bundle of rope onto one of the chairs.

I whimpered again.

"Gooood," he crooned, once again running his hands everywhere but where I desperately needed them.

Picking up one rope, he moved around the table and slowly, lovingly, tied it around my left wrist, sliding his hands up the arm toward my left breast. Once again stopping just shy of the point at its tip that really wanted contact, he took the other end of the rope and tied it to the table leg.

Next, he tied my left ankle, again pausing to run his hands up my leg, under my skirt, and toward my pussy, stopping just at the fold of my thigh and going no further. He repeated the same teasing as he tied my right leg, and then my right arm.

By that point, I was begging. "Please! I need you, I need your touch so bad."

He ignored me, now running his fingers delicately along and around my chest while he kissed and licked my inner thighs and outer labia. He was using his hands and mouth to alternate stimulating just close enough to where I really needed them to drive me insane with backing off again, leaving me with no stimulation at all, before doing it all over again.

"Please, please, please, please, please!" I wailed.

"Promise me you won't forget how this moment feels, how desperate they are for contact," he demanded, the next time he took his mouth off of my body.

"So desperate. So desperate. So desperate. Can't forget. Won't forget. Please. Please. Please," I begged.

"Good," he declared, before finally giving me what I wanted.

His fingers gently pinched and rolled my nipples through the fabric of my shirt as he pressed his tongue firmly against my clit, its rough surface grating against my most sensitive spot over and over. With my skirt blocking his face, I couldn't really see what he was doing, but I could definitely feel it.

I threw my head back, sighing with relief, then moaning with pleasure.

"Oh god, Corey," I purred, "this feels soooo good after you've teased me like that. Especially when we--"

His teeth lightly nipped at one of my fleshy outer labia, not enough to hurt, just enough to grab my attention, before his tongue resumed its work. He knew me well enough to know that I'd been about to mention the fight we'd had, and I knew him well enough to know that the bite meant "I'm over it and want to just focus on THIS now." He'd always processed his feelings faster than I could.

He continued to pleasure me for several minutes, alternately rolling, rubbing, and flicking his fingertips across the fabric covering my nipples, as his tongue never ceased its lashing. The only sounds were my heavy breathing and the gentle squishy slurping. The room was filled with the smell of my arousal and I had no doubt that there would be a large puddle of my juices on the smooth lacquer of the table, maybe even dripping to the floor.

Finally, I sensed my orgasm approaching, and, with the subtle change in my breathing, so did Corey. He moved his hands under my shirt, grabbing my nipples directly and tugging more aggressively than he had before. Simultaneously, he took my clit fully into his mouth, still assailing it with his tongue, while also providing the added suction he knew would drive me past the point of no return.

Stars exploded in my head as the tingling waves of ecstasy spread through me. Every orgasm is a little different, and this one seemed to come with a release of the last of the tension from earlier, a peaceful bliss and pure love for the man who knew me so well.

I came down from it wanting more, and my wonderful husband didn't disappoint. Without stopping his licking, he withdrew one hand from beneath my shirt. I couldn't tell what he was doing, but the next moment, I felt something hard and round press against my very wet opening before sliding easily into me. As my labia closed back up around it, I realized that it was the egg vibrator, a relatively recent addition to our collection, but one which never failed to give me a series of follow-up orgasms. He must have had it in his pocket when he'd returned with the ropes.

He left it turned off for now, seemingly holding the remote with that hand while the other continued to fondle, tug, and grab first one, then the other, of my soft mounds. He went back to sucking more aggressively on my clit and, as my orgasm built, I found myself wishing that I had at least one hand free to play with the nipple that the single hand he was using couldn't.

Nearly reading my mind, or perhaps sensing how near another orgasm was, Corey finally turned the vibrator on, then let go of the controls. The sudden tremors deep inside me caused my body to thrust upward, and before it had settled back into place, his hand was beneath my shirt, pulling and rubbing and grabbing in exactly the way I needed.

I came instantly, this time feeling my walls pressing not-quite-painfully against the hard plastic of the device inside me, Corey never letting up on the exquisite movements spurring the orgasm onward. It finally began to fade and before it had completely done so, he switched back from tugging and sucking to flicking and licking, which triggered a third, nearly immediately.

He continued to alternate full pressure during orgasm with intermittent contact while they faded, sending me through orgasms number four, five, and six; the vibrator inside me was happily humming away throughout the entire thing. After the seventh, I finally began feeling fully satisfied, and within a moment, I was getting that 'too much' feeling.

"Okay... I'm... done..." I panted.

Corey just shook his head, and returned to the same movements he'd been doing all along. The fire started, and Overstimulated Miranda took over, as usual.

"It's... too... much now. Please... stop."

He ignored me.

"At least... take... the vibrator... out!" I pleaded.

He removed one hand from one nipple, a moment of relief for which I was grateful. His hand moved down toward the cable protruding from my pussy and, for a moment, I thought he might be acquiescing to my request. The next, I felt the intensity of the vibration increase.

"ANTIQUING!"

This time, he did stop for a moment. His hands rested where they were on my breasts as his head came out from beneath my skirt to where we could see each other. The vibrator was still buzzing too intensely for me, but compared to the full-body overstimulation, it was infinitely more tolerable.

As he gazed at me, it looked like he was considering what to do next. Then, he seemingly reached a decision. An expression had come over his face: one that I recognized, but never thought I'd see in this context. It was similar to the one he got when we fought, the one that always told me he was too wrapped up in his own emotions to care what I wanted right then. It scared me, especially at that moment. The next thing I knew, he was diving back under my skirt, his hands resuming their full intensity as well.

"No! No! No! I made... a mistake! Please stop! I don't... want it... right now! Another time! Not right now! Please!"

I knew I'd given him permission to do this, but, based on his responses, I hadn't really expected it to ever happen. Why was THIS the moment he had to pick? I was still not entirely over my shaky feelings from the fight earlier!

Of course, I realized later that that was just an excuse, yet another of Overstimulated Miranda's justifications for backing out of what the rest of me truly wanted. Yet, at that moment, I couldn't remember the rest of me, I just wanted out.

I strained against the ropes, trying in vain to pull away from the impossibly unbearable pleasure I was receiving. We had specifically bought those ropes because of how soft they were, wanting something that would hold us in place firmly, yet without chafing or hurting. Right then, I was wishing they were a little rougher and more painful, anything to give me some other sensation to distract from the breathtaking agony.

"Stop! Please! It's too much! Stop! Stop! Not now! Stop! Not now! Please, not now! Not now! Antiquing! Plea-- AIEEEE!!!"

He had raised the vibration level yet again and sucked harder on my clit at that moment, causing me to screech and arch my back in pleasured torment.

"Stop! Stop! Stop! STOP! STOP!!!" I was screaming, louder and louder, no longer coherent enough for words any more elaborate than that. My entire existence was overwhelmed with sensation, and I could think of nothing but getting away from it.

Over and over, I tried to pull away, and over and over he stayed with me, licking, sucking, pulling, and pinching. I cried. I whined. I screamed. I think I even laughed at some point. I had no perception of anything going on outside of my body, and no coherent thoughts going on anywhere inside of it.

I lost all sense of the concept of time. It felt like it had been hours, it felt like it had been seconds, it felt like exhilarating anguish was the only existence I'd ever known. On and on and on the torment went. I thought it would never end, until...

I was aware of the orgasm hitting before I knew that it was coming. It wasn't exactly that it happened suddenly, though. The only way I can describe it is that the awareness of it building DID consciously hit me, but only AFTER the awareness of the orgasm itself did. It was as if my mind had somehow reversed time and swapped the order of events.

Oh god, oh god, it's happening! I thought to myself, though probably not in so many words. It was more of a feeling, really, the return of Regular Miranda and the awareness that the intensity she'd been craving for so long was finally here. She and Overstimulated Miranda blended together inside my mind; at that moment, for the first time ever, I was whole, albeit a maelstrom of contradiction. I needed this intolerable satisfaction, which was why I wanted it to end, which was why I hoped it would last forever.

This was how I was meant to feel. I had no body, no surroundings, no corporeal existence of any kind. The universe was made of pure pleasure, and I was that universe. There was nothing outside of the light, except the beckoning darkness.

The next thing I knew, I was opening my eyes with the most profound sense of contentment I've ever felt. As I regained my senses, I realized that I must have blacked out. I didn't know for how long, but it must have been at least a good minute or three. My arms and legs were free, the ropes presumably in tangles on the floor at each corner of the table. The vibrator, though inactive, was still inside me.

Corey was holding my head up with one hand and pressing a glass of water to my lips with the other. I sipped gratefully as I looked up at him.

"That was... amazing, thank you," I rasped, realizing that I was still regaining my breath.

"Never seen anything like it," he responded, tipping the cup for me to take another sip.

"Mm. You'll have to tell me sometime... what it looked like," I panted playfully, even if still shakily. "How long was I out?"

"Just a couple of minutes. You doing okay?"

I smiled as I thought back on how good it had felt right at the end.

"Better than," I replied, some of my strength returning, "thanks. How about you?"

"As long as you're safe, that's all I need," he soothed, gently.

"You haven't cum yet," I observed after a moment, noticing that he was still clothed, and that his cock was straining at his jeans.

"That wasn't my goal this time. I'll take care of it myself after I know you're okay."

"I'm okay. But please, don't take care of it yourself. I want it inside me."

"Are you sure? You seem pretty wiped out."

"I won't be moving much, but yes. I love you and I could really use some gentle loving for aftercare."

While that was true, it was only a small part of my motivation. I was extremely grateful to him, not only for having finally given me what I'd craved for so long, but also for taking such good care of me afterward. The idea of him stroking one out in the bathroom to follow up on all of that just didn't seem right.

Once I finished the glass of water, he lowered my head gently back to the table then moved around to the foot of it, slowly and carefully extracting the vibrator. Opening just the top of his jeans, he lined himself up between my legs. Pausing, he looked at me questioningly once more, wordlessly asking, "Are you sure you're up for this?".

Seeing my feeble-yet-unhesitating nod, he began to push forward. He made love to me caringly, gently, slowly, each of us whispering tender phrases of affection to each other throughout. Finally, with a small grunt and a big smile, he pressed himself deep and began to twitch and spurt.

After a moment or two, he helped me up and then supported me for the eight steps it took to get to the living room couch, both of us collapsing onto it to hold each other close and rest. As we did so, I again considered just how grateful I was to have finally experienced an overstimulation orgasm, and how grateful I was to Corey for finally being willing to give me one.

Despite both of our discomfort in getting me there, I have to say that it had been worth pushing through. I'd truly loved the feeling it had led to.

I'll probably want to try it again sometime in the future, but for now, I'll need a while to recover. And maybe, just maybe, now that I know how amazing it will be if I just endure it, I'll even succeed in not trying to beg out. Only time will tell.

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Author's note: Thanks so much for reading. Please comment or message me directly to let me know what you think, but I ask that people refrain from criticizing my work based on details that don't align with their sexual preference rather than for the quality and style of the writing itself.

This is my first post on Lush, but not my first story. It was originally posted elsewhere, and has been reposted here with minor edits and improvements. I'm trying out the story-posting experience here, and if I feel like it goes well, I'll continue to post my backlog, as well as new stories as I write more.

I write a variety of styles, kinks, and topics, and most of my stories don't fit neatly into a single category, or conform to specific established norms or expectations, even within those categories. If you liked this one, please let me know, and I hope see you in my next post.

Spoiler description: Woman wants to be pleasurably stimulated past her overwhelm point, but keeps failing to endure the discomfort. She eventually decides that the only way to do so is to have her husband tie her up and ignore their safe word. No pain, only intense pleasure beyond what she can normally tolerate. Includes bondage, teasing, nipple play, cunnilingus (including post-coital), and mostly-clothed sex. Also includes a brief description of a typical (nonviolent) marital argument, with the main focus being on the calm reconciliation and make-up sex that follows.