Chapter 18 #2
The orgasm left me limp and gasping, legs splayed, the sheet twisted between my thighs.
But as soon as the aftershocks faded, the need returned—sharper, more insistent than before.
I couldn’t stop. My hand drifted back down, found the seal, the pressure of the plug, the impossible ache inside me.
I squeezed and rocked and let my mind slide deeper into the dark places it had never dared before.
This time, I pictured a vast, glass-walled boardroom.
Mike stood at the head of a long table, flanked by men and women in suits, every face turned toward me as I walked, naked across the polished floor toward my sponsor.
I tried to cover myself, but my hands were cuffed behind my back, leaving my breasts and sealed pussy exposed for all to see.
The plug in my bottom was even more enormous in this vision, a shameful, glittering jewel for the board’s entertainment.
Mike adjusted his tie, and announced to the room, “This is Laura. She’s going to demonstrate our latest discipline protocols.
” I whimpered—in the fantasy, in the real world, maybe both—as he bent me over the table.
The board members leaned in, their polite, professional detachment no match for the carnality of the scene.
My cheek was pressed to the polished wood, my eyes turned to the windows.
I could see the city below, thousands of people who could see in, could see the fuck toy laid over the table.
Someone asked a question about the philanthropy software, and Mike answered while he spread my cheeks and pushed the plug in and out, showing them all how efficient and effective the program could be.
“You see,” he said, voice smooth and certain, “when you close off the primary sensory feedback loop, urges simply relocate. Users adapt. They become more driven, more creative. The energy flows into whatever you direct it toward.” He punctuated his words with a hard thrust of the plug, and I sobbed, my backside on fire, my arousal lighting up the room’s biometric trackers like the Nasdaq in a bull market.
My body tensed and I came again, the orgasm blinding me for a moment, my hand clutching the seal so hard I left nail marks on my own skin. But even as the pleasure reached a crescendo, I was already slipping further into the next layer of the fantasy.
Now it was the company’s annual meeting, a thousand shareholders in the auditorium, every seat filled with expectant faces.
I stood onstage, naked but for kitten heels and the plug, a Selecta-branded ribbon tied in a bow over my sealed slit.
Mike stood behind me, his hands gripping my hips, his cock pressed between my ass cheeks.
He told the crowd that tonight, he would reward the top performer with a live demonstration of ‘total discipline and total reward.’
He pushed me to my knees and made me suck him while the crowd watched, their polite golf applause morphing into wild cheers as I serviced his cock with all the skill I’d learned in my brief, humiliating apprenticeship.
When he pulled me back up, bent me over the podium, he spat in his palm and lined up the head of his cock with my trembling bottom hole.
The plug was gone now; he’d taken it out already, in the green room, and the crowd had been shown the lubricated, shiny object before I’d been led onstage.
The anticipation of what he was about to do had made my hands shake and my knees threaten to buckle, but now that I was bent over the podium, I could only whimper and wait for him to push inside.
He did it slowly, at first—the head of his cock pressing, stretching, invading with dreadful inevitability.
I whimpered for real, seeing my face pressed to the cold plastic of the podium, the stage lights heating my bare skin.
The pain was sharp and instant, but it was the humiliation of being fucked in the ass in front of a thousand people—of being a showpiece for my sponsor’s power—that made my whole body light up.
A camera swooped in from the side, broadcasting the scene on a hundred huge monitors. I could see myself, distorted and larger than life, my mouth open, my eyes wide with shock and ecstasy.
“She’s a little tight, gentlemen,” Mike called to the crowd. “But as you can see, once you’ve closed off a girl’s primary pleasure centers, the alternative channels become highly responsive. Look at her body’s adaptation curve.”
His cock slid deeper, stretching me in a way the plug never had. I sobbed, the pain and the pleasure blurring together until I couldn’t tell which was which. He started to fuck me in earnest, gripping my hips to keep me in place, using me as if I were nothing but a tool for his demonstration.
“She came up with our new philanthropy platform,” Mike went on, not even out of breath as he pumped into my ass. “She’s brilliant, but she needs structure—she needs discipline to keep her focused on the mission. See how she’s squeezing, gentlemen? See the data from the perineal sensor?”
The board members nodded, jotting notes, their faces rapt. On the big screen, a biometrics readout showed my arousal spiking off the chart.
Mike pulled out and spat again, then rammed his cock home, making me scream.
The shame of it, the total loss of control, sent me over the edge; I came again, the orgasm so fierce it made me collapse against the podium.
The crowd went wild, breaking into actual applause as my sponsor fucked me through my convulsions, never losing his rhythm.
“Discipline and reward, ladies and gentlemen,” Mike announced, finishing with a final, brutal thrust. “That’s the Selecta guarantee.”
He came inside me, and the fantasy ended in a dazzling white blur, my whole body racked with spasms. I lay on my back in the real world, the sheets tangled around my legs, my hand pressed to the seal as the plug in my bottom throbbed with each pulse of my orgasm.
I lost track of time. I dozed off, waking sometime later to find my hand still between my thighs, my fingers slick with sweat and need. My nipples ached from how hard I’d squeezed them, and I could feel the wetness leaking from the little hole at the base of my labia.
I lay there, trying to calm myself, to find sleep again.
I thought I was done—I’d come so hard, so many times, that my hand was exhausted and my thighs ached from pressing together.
The plug in my bottom felt enormous now, its presence a kind of molten ache that pulsed with every heartbeat.
My breasts throbbed from overstimulation, and my thighs were slick with the evidence of my own need, my own shame.
But the moment I shifted on the sheet, the sensation of raw soreness against the soft cotton made me gasp, and a fresh wave of arousal rolled through me, just as intense as before.
My hand slid down again almost involuntarily, drawn by the instinct that had driven me all night, the one that refused to let me rest even when my whole body screamed for mercy.
I pressed my palm flat against the seal, the way I’d done in the shower, and rocked my hips.
The frictionless pressure was so hot, so urgent, it made me want to scream.
In my mind, Mike’s voice echoed: “Remember, sweetheart, you only get to feel this because I let you. You’re sealed until I say otherwise.
All that desperation is for my pleasure, not yours. ”
My other hand grasped behind me, twisting the plug, and the feeling shot through me, overwhelming and immediate.
I imagined Mike standing over me, watching through the camera, his phone in hand, reading the real-time spikes on the sensor with a little smile on his face.
He’d know exactly how much I needed him, how badly I wanted the thing I could never have until he said I could have it.
I came again, this time crying out helplessly, the sound muffled by the pillow I’d pulled over my face.
It was so intense that my vision went black for a second, the world reduced to the pounding of my heart and the relentless clenching of my core.
I felt something wet on my cheek, realized I was crying for real now, sobbing into the pillow as I worked myself through the aftershocks.
But another layer of fantasy rose up to meet me, darker and deeper than before.
I imagined Mike finally deciding I was ready, unlocking the seal with a little vial of solvent, peeling it open with his own hands while I whimpered and begged him to be gentle.
In my mind, he didn’t wait—he pushed me back on the bed and drove into me, hard and deep, splitting me open with the cock I’d already learned to worship.
I could feel the pain, the stretch, the impossible fullness, and I screamed, both in the fantasy and in the real world, feeling my whole body seize up around the plug.
And then the orgasm hit me, wave after brutal wave. I clawed at the sheets, my legs thrashing, my voice gone hoarse from crying out. The plug in my ass seemed to anchor the feeling, to amplify it, turning my whole body into a single trembling muscle of pleasure and shame.
When it was over, I curled into a ball, my hands between my thighs, my face turned to the wall. Tears kept coming, but now they felt clean, like I’d finally wrung out every last drop of need. My mind floated free, and I fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.