The Internship

I dug through my long-neglected stash of toys. My clit was starting to feel tender from spending so much time with the magic wand and repeatedly edging without release. If I was going to keep playing this game, I knew I needed to add a different kind of stimulation.

Truthfully, I’m a creature of habit when it comes to masturbation. Most of the time, I reach for my magic wand vibrator, as it faithfully does the job. On the occasion I feel in the mood for penetration, I have a couple of tried-and-true favorites.

There’s Olga—or, more accurately, the clearance-bin knockoff of an Olga. That bitch is my ride-or-die, responsible for some of the best orgasms of my life and, possibly responsible for an entire phase where I discovered I apparently had a crying fetish -for brief period of time.

Olga’s made of smooth, polished steel, perfectly curved in all the right places. She was the toy that introduced me to my G-spot, and I’ve been loyal ever since. She’s a hefty girl, pure muscle. Her girth demands a little patience, and there are days when my body simply isn’t interested in accommodating her. But when she does fit, I often don’t even feel the need to move her much. There’s something incredibly satisfying about simply letting her rest there, her full weight creating this deep, constant feeling of heavy fullness. When I do decide to move her though, the thrusting changes the sensation entirely, building into even more intense orgasms.

Her steel also makes for wonderful temperature play. Warming her under hot water feels so luxurious and relaxing, but more often than not I’m too impatient for that. She comes straight out of the drawer, deliciously cold, and I let my body slowly warm the metal as we get reacquainted.

My other dependable option is a purple silicone dildo that’s supposed to resemble a realistic cock and balls—except someone apparently decided realism and bright purple belonged together. I won it at Forbidden Bingo, one of the better prizes to be honest. I felt the embarrassment of winning a sex toy in a bar full people that included friends and coworkers but more so because I knew that this Barney colored toy would be getting used and they probably knew that too. The toy is soft and pliable and has a suction cup for multi purpose use. It’s become my “easy mode” toy. It’s comfortable, uncomplicated, and doesn’t require nearly as much dedication as Olga, good for when I just need to feel a cock in my pussy.

I’ve considered giving it a name. Something like Ol Reliable Rob or Dependable Dan. But honestly, it hasn’t exactly earned that level of affection. It’s dependable and reliable, sure, but it’s hard to develop much emotional attachment to the sexual equivalent of a sensible sedan.

I’d been reaching for those two toys lately, and while they rarely disappoint, I found myself craving something different.

I was digging through my neglected toy stash when I rediscovered one that had always intrigued me but had somehow never made it into regular rotation. I bought it at the same time as Olga—and with Olga stealing the show I didn’t venture much beyond her. So this one had spent most of its life tucked away in a drawer.

It’s also made of polished steel and has this long, thin elegant S-shaped curve that almost looks like a piece of art. Honestly, it’s so twisty that I couldn’t tell whether it was designed to find my G-spot, my H-spot, or just wander around introducing itself to every nerve ending along the way. Both ends can be inserted, making it surprisingly versatile. One end has a large rounded ball that makes it easily massage any part it needs to. The opposite end tapers into three progressively smaller spheres, making it ideal for anal stimulation.

I started with the larger end, letting the smooth steel glide into my wet pussy. The shape made it easy to slowly rotate and explore, discovering how each subtle twist changed where the pressure landed. It felt less like using a toy and more like solving a puzzle, each movement revealing another sensation I hadn’t quite found before.

Eventually I flipped it around to try the opposite end. The smaller spheres seemed almost made for experimentation, but that side does feel much more naturally suited for anal play. I got it wet with my juices and I turned on my side and easily glided in the first ball, then the second and finally the third.

The twisting curve allowed me to adjust the angle with small movements until I stumbled across a spot that created a surprisingly deep sensation, one that seemed to radiate forward in and hit my clitoral button from the inside.

Meanwhile, the story had completely pulled me in.

I lost count of how many times I edged while reading. Every time the tension in the story climbed, I’d find myself following right along with it, only to stop at the last possible moment. It made me realize how much of the appeal lies in anticipation rather than release.

Orgasm control is a huge kink and being told (or heavily suggested!) to edge but not cum till I finished the last part of the story was a huge turn on. I have always enjoyed begging for permission to cum, knowing my orgasms don’t belong to me. Typically I beg and may be told no but only to just to hold off while letting a bigger orgasm build till I am finally given permission. While always happy and excited to orgasm and feel that relief there is always a part of me that wishes I would be told no and have someone stand strong in that conviction. My power exchange hungry heart just wants to be told no and to be held to it. To feel that power and frustration build up in me, to keep riding the edge instead of giving in. I find it hotter to be kept in a state of need and desire. There is such temptation in wanting what I can’t have and it makes me want it that much more. I want to feel the thrill in not knowing if my next orgasm will be that day, that week or even that month, no matter how frustrating it may be. Giving my orgasms to someone else to control to such an extreme is such an arousing fantasy I have long desired.

The kind of arousal that leaves me feeling restless and desperate, an all consuming energy that makes it hard to think about anything else, like my whole body is looking for somewhere to put all that pent-up desire; pillows, the arm of a chair, and my absolute favorite—a well-worn pair of blue jeans. There has always been something about that rough denim texture that has fueled my imagination.

When I was grinding against your leg, the coarse fabric of your jeans consumed me. There’s something unbelievably exciting about becoming such a wanton little slut that I can’t even pretend to be composed anymore, reduced to desperately using your pant leg in a futile attempt to get myself off. It’s embarrassing in the most intoxicating way, knowing I’ve lost enough control that something so simple can leave me completely undone.

Then you pressed your knee against my sex driving home the ultimate sensation of lust and pleasure. The room faded away until all I could focus on was that single point of contact. I was suspended somewhere between anticipation and frustration, silently hoping you’d keep teasing me just a little longer. It felt like if you’d kept the rhythm, striking against my clit I might have completely lost myself and cum right there against your leg. The thought of that possibility, of losing control so completely in front of you was almost as arousing as the sensation itself.

The playful humiliation amplified everything. You joked that if I left a wet spot I’d have to clean it up, then threatened you’d make me grind against your shoe instead. It was hot and embarrassing in the best possible way.

I could feel the loose curls falling across my face, feeling the texture of the wall behind you as my fingers wove between yours and I braced myself to find the best angle, my chest rising and falling with every wave of anticipation and want. I remember looking at you, seeing the quiet confidence in your eyes. There was something incredibly intoxicating about letting go and simply allowing myself to be consumed by my own desire while you watched it unfold. It was seriously so hot and having you watch me give over to lust you created in me turned me on even more.

Nicole repeatedly orgasms for Ms.Henderson as she too watches, (or sometimes doesn’t). The orgasms became such a contrast to my constant edging. Reading along following her pleasure but turning off the vibrator at the last minute before I orgasmed along with her. It left me feeling hot and heavy and the denial made my clit throb and my pussy swell with desire.

At some point I started thinking about my chasity fetish when I remembered my VCH piercing. I never wear jewelry in it and honestly had pretty much forgotten about it all together. Having a ring or barbell in can be hard to use with the magic wand and since my magic wand has always been my primary source of orgasm I tended to just leave the jewelry out.

With all my recent orgasms and constant edging my clit was in a constant state of throbbing and I had a sudden desire to put a captive bead ring back in. I also thought it might encourage me to stop using my hatichi so much and resort to other methods (spoiler alert, it didn’t!)

I dug through my jewelry box and found a simple hoop and ball from my daith piercing that had its jewelry swapped out. I twisted the ring open and gripped a hand mirror between my legs. I parted my lips revealing my clit. It took some trial and error but I found the pierced hole and secured the ring in place. It looked hot seeing my hood adorned with the ring. I twisted it around so the tiny ball fell against my clit.

I then went down a wormworm looking at some Chasity pictures, especially pierced labia and then started reading a post about pubic hair and piercings. This began a long side quest starting with looking into laser hair removal. Seeing the amount of sessions needed and knowing it came with a high cost per session then led me to researching home lpl devices. I have considered it before and done some research but now after watching videos on reviews I found a highly recommended one and saved for later in my online Shopping cart.

I did all this before I opened part 5 of the intern where Nichole is given laser hair removal. It was like I foreshadowed the next act without knowing it was coming.

As I continued to read, I reached for my vibrating dildo, its large and meant to help with dilation. I added lube and tried to ease it in, but my body wasn’t having it. Even with the vibrations on, I could only manage about halfway before the discomfort told me to slow down.

I picked up my magic wand, not sure how it would feel on the new ring but the jewlery seemed small enough to not be affected by the vibrations. Between the vibrations on my clit and the anticipation that had been building all day, my body gradually relaxed until I was finally able to settle the larger toy in place with its full girth and length.

I kept reading.

And I kept edging as Nichole was pushed over the desk and approached by Ms. Henderson wearing a black strap on. Every time the tension built, I’d let myself drift right to the edge before pulling back. Even after switching off the wand, the lingering vibrations were enough to keep my body humming with anticipation. My muscles continued responding even as I forced myself to remain still, and it made me realize the layers of pleasure I’d never really paid attention to before because I always rely on the sensations of the magic wand to carry me through to orgasm and it has a way of overshadowing any other sensation going on.

For most of my life, my orgasms have been almost entirely clitoral. Discovering that even without allowing myself to climax in the way I normally would, there seemed to be another kind of response happening deeper inside. My pelvic walls convulsed pulling the toy further in. It also didn’t leave me feeling depleted the way a full clitoral orgasm usually does, which meant I could continue edging almost immediately.

I lost track of how many times I brought myself to the brink. Each chapter seemed to introduce another fantasy or dynamic that caught my attention. One moment that especially lingered with me was Nichole being instructed to remain quiet as she experienced pleasure, the only indication of her pleasure was her thanking Ms. Henderson after each orgasm.

I’ve always been naturally quiet during sex. I learned to be more vocal because past partners enjoyed it, but reading about her enforced silence making for better orgasms made me realize how appealing that fantasy is to me.

What excites me is the intimacy of sharing something intensely private that no one else realizes is happening. The idea that only one other person knows what’s passing between us feels incredibly intimate. I do have fantasies of discrete public play and this ties in so deliciously.

During our first trance sessions, we experimented with freeze play. It was something I’d fantasized about before, so finally experiencing it firsthand was incredibly exciting. I was surprised by how naturally my body responded. Even when the position should have become slightly uncomfortable, holding perfectly still felt almost effortless.

Later, you had me freeze during a string of orgasms. My body instinctively wanted to respond the way it always had, the way it had only moments before. I could feel the familiar waves moving through me, the involuntary contractions trying to take over and push through yet they remained surprisingly subdued as another part of me stayed focused on following your instruction my body fighting to remain still despite the pleasure coursing through me.

There’s something incredibly compelling about the fantasy of being controlled so intimately. Like a doll with different settings, different triggers, and different versions of herself waiting to be brought to life. A change of clothes, a different frame of mind, and suddenly becoming someone new.

There’s something really comforting about that kind of surrender, where I can just exist in the moment and let someone else take the lead and build me up to become their perfect little doll!