What did she think was gonna happen? 😏

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He told me before we left: wearing the toy out would make the sex later indescribably hot. I laughed at him, called him a perv with a power fantasy. But I still put it in, and I still let him slip the remote into his pocket. Maybe I wanted to prove him wrong. Maybe I just wanted to see that smirk he gets when I indulge his fantasies and say yes to something reckless.

Fast forward to me, stuck in a post office queue that moved slower than death. Him off to the side, remote in his hand, idly playing like it's a fidget toy, giving the dial a little flick whenever I started to steady myself. I was gripping my bag so hard I nearly broke a strap and gnawed up the inside of my cheek to keep from making sounds. My thighs were burning from clenching, my face so hot I knew people were staring. I hated it. I loved it. I hated that I loved it.

He never said a word, just wore a lazy smirk like the cat that got the cream. Just kept clicking it higher, like he was testing how much I’d take before I broke. I kept thinking: I’m not a person to him right now, I’m just some kind of horny clown he gets to mess with for some spank bank performance. I wanted to wipe that smug look off his face. I wanted him to stop. I wanted him to never stop. I couldn't bear the thought of admitting that I liked it, that when the pulses went away I wanted them back, even when I was face to face with the cashier.

By the time we finally got home, I was raw with frustration, humiliated to the bone, convinced this was the dumbest game I’d ever agreed to. And then he pushed me onto the bed, still smirking, the vibe came out and I couldn't spread my legs fast enough for his cock to replace it. We fucked. For hours. I came so hard I thought I was going to pass out. Describable? No. He was right. He usually is... And that might be the most humiliating part of all.