I am not planning to touch myself but my fingers slip underneath the edge of my knickers and I am gently playing with the small rectangle of hair that he has me keep there, stroking back and forth subconsciously with the back of my fingernail nail. It makes me think of him. It is the weekend and the thought of having an orgasm flits across my mind. I toy with the idea for a minute as I lie there, and then I send him a message asking if I have permission to use the wand.
I continue to stroke my skin and feel its response, knowing that I will not venture any further until I hear back from him. Soon my phone vibrates and I check to see what he has said. Initially I am surprised that the message on my phone is in a group chat and isn’t him. I feel a little disappointed and then I realise what he has done. He has answered in the group chat we share with another couple.
Missy wants to use the wand to masturbate. Yes missy you can use it. Tell us when you have finished.
I am mortified and conflicted. Part of me wishes I had never asked and no longer wants to do it, but something in the other part fizzes and crackles with excitement. There is a shift deep within me as I wonder what they will think. It seems tame really, so I don’t think they will be surprised or shocked, but the fact that they know what I am doing, just as I am doing it, adds another layer to the experience in the way that he knew it would. I feel as if I am being watched and it adds an uneasy sort of thrill.
The conflict he has created pushes one of those embarrassed smiles onto my face and I am glad that he is not there to make more of it by teasing me, or by telling them. I remove my knickers and get the wand from where he has left it plugged in. The initial thought of lazy masturbation has passed, and there is a deeper need inside me. I don’t bother with a build up, switching the wand on to the lowest setting and letting it touch straight onto my clit.
My legs are open wide, like he would have them, and I hold myself apart with the first two fingers of one hand while I let the wand dip and tease the most sensitive spots. I use it differently to him. It always feels like things move and change as the area responds, so I tend to chase the sensation finding the most sensitive spots and pushing up into the feeling. Where he applies more pressure to a wider area, for me that is too intense and I use the wand more like a proboscis, licking and touching the tip of my clit and caressing and swirling the area around it.
My eyes close and my thoughts and back to them, the three of them. He is telling them what I like and the way my body works. He is allowing them to touch me and my body jerks in response to it. There are flashes of words and feelings. I wonder if I know which touch belongs to whom, and if I really care.
Do it like this. She likes it like this.
All the time the wand is working on my clit but the rest of my body feels alive under their imagined gaze and their almost touch.
Watch how she responds to being touched here. She loves it.
And I do and my body shows them how much I love what he is doing.
You are putty. You are so easy.
I hear the laugh and the delight prickle in his voice as he goes deeper too and he shows them just how easy I am, and just how much control he had over me. It pushes me further into my desire and me need and my thoughts shift again.
I feel something graze my nipples and then they are squeezed between two fingers. I expect the pressure to stop and be replaced by something else but realise that six hands are able to do more than two and my face flushes again at the thought of what is happening.
Can you pull her cheeks apart for me?
And that is it. I can feel the soles of my feet become cold and am suddenly aware that my whole body is rigid and still, the only movement the wave from the building orgasm which is rising within me.
They are going to see it. They are going to see me lose it and I wonder what they will say and do, the three of them who are in this together now. I am his and he knows it. He has taken me and showed me just how much I am his, and I slip into that space where nothing matters apart from him. The embarrassment is no longer mine. I don’t care about it or about what they think of me as I become lost in the words and the feelings and I let go, giving him the control he had always had anyway.
Afterwards I lie there on my bed for a while enjoying the afterglow of my orgasm. The aftershocks tremble out of me a little still, leaving me feeling flushed by my own heat. My embarrassment returns. I remind myself that they didn’t really see anything, so what they think about what me or about what I have done is only in their own heads. Why should they think anything? And I send a reply to play it down.
Well that was embarrassing. I have finished Sir.
I am alerted to an answer on my phone. I am not sure who it will be from so I check it with caution.
Good girl. I hope you didn’t make a mess.
And there it is again. He has the final word and the seed of humiliation amplifies the impact and pricks at my clit once more, making it twinge with the memory. At least he doesn’t know what’s in my head.