My Horny Place

Melli doesn't know the last time she had a real orgasm.

She hasn't been able to examine its inner workings, but the whole thing is automated--a state-of-the-art fucking-machine-meets-chastity-belt with a combination of a vibrator and a clit sucker and a dildo that work in perfect harmony to bring her right to the edge--and then ruin every single orgasm.

For weeks? Or months?

It's hard to get a clear enough handle on the time--it's hard to get a clear enough handle on most things--to remember when she came last, really came, when Joyce said, "I think you care a little too much about cumming," and made it so Melli couldn't cum at all, not for real.

And she knows she's being trained like this. She knows that two ruined orgasms a day--one in the morning and one at night--is the standard, and any more than that is a punishment, a reminder not to do whatever it is that she's doing that Joyce doesn't like.

And she hardly begs for orgasms anymore, because Joyce will smile and give her another ruined one and make her thank Joyce for giving it to her.

She knows.

"That's because it is," Marissa says, a little condescending. "The only people who insist they need orgasms are teenagers, so if you're going to make me let you cum, you're going to have to at least recognize what you are. So if you want an orgasm, you're going to need to ask me for some cummies."

At nineteen, Jade is technically still a teenager, but she doesn't feel like she's that sort of teenager. But sometimes being with Marissa makes her feel young and immature and so desperate she can't control herself, especially when Marissa--at almost twenty-nine--is so poised and polished.

Marissa gets aroused. Jade gets horny.

But the word cummies, that feels--

Jade squirms with embarrassment. "Can't I just--I mean--"

Marissa arches a pointed brow at her.

"Please, Marissa," Jade mumbles. "Can I--can I have some--can I cum? Please?"

"I've told you the rules," Marissa scolds. She looks down at Jade's bare cunt, which is clenching around a thick pink dildo. Jade's puffy clit twitches. 'We can stop," she tells Jade, reaching down towards the dildo. "If you don't want to cum today, we can just move on with our day."

"No, no," Jade protests. She bites her lip. "Can I have some cummies, please, Marissa?"

Marissa's hand stops at the base of the dildo, but instead of pulling it out, she instead taps on the base, hard. Jade whimpers. "Are you sure?" Marissa asks. "You don't sound very certain that that's what you want, Jade."

"It is," Jade insists. "I want some big messy cummies. I need--I need cummies, please, Marissa. Please, let me--let me--"

The maid service comes highly recommended by every one of Ella's friends who has used them, which is good, because her house is fucking huge, and it's not like she's going to clean it herself.

The stupid electronic contract signature website keeps glitching out on her, but eventually she manages to get the contract signed, and then she schedules a time for them to come on a probationary basis, just to see how they do.

She'll stay, she decides, to make sure they do a good job, and to make sure no sticky fingers take any of her stuff.

The woman who comes to her door is pretty, she thinks, in a classic black-and-white maid's outfit, and Ella is glad she isn't married yet because she thinks this is the sort of woman who would fall in bed with a rich husband in the hopes of stealing him away.

Ella brings her into the house and gives her a quick tour, and at the end of it the woman says, "This should be no problem at all," and hands Ella a vibrator, and Ella...

Takes it.

And slips it into her panties.

Melli doesn't know the last time she had a real orgasm.

She hasn't been able to examine its inner workings, but the whole thing is automated--a state-of-the-art fucking-machine-meets-chastity-belt with a combination of a vibrator and a clit sucker and a dildo that work in perfect harmony to bring her right to the edge--and then ruin every single orgasm.

For weeks? Or months?

It's hard to get a clear enough handle on the time--it's hard to get a clear enough handle on most things--to remember when she came last, really came, when Joyce said, "I think you care a little too much about cumming," and made it so Melli couldn't cum at all, not for real.

And she knows she's being trained like this. She knows that two ruined orgasms a day--one in the morning and one at night--is the standard, and any more than that is a punishment, a reminder not to do whatever it is that she's doing that Joyce doesn't like.

And she hardly begs for orgasms anymore, because Joyce will smile and give her another ruined one and make her thank Joyce for giving it to her.

She knows.

ben pulling your glasses right from the bridge of your nose while you suck him off. ignoring the way you whine with his tip in your mouth and simply setting them to the side with his arm strewn over the back of the couch.

“aww c’mon. you don’t want those things getting smudged, kid.” he reasons. there's a fatherly quality to his voice. something warm, and deeply deceptive that sends a chill up your spine. you want to believe that he cares, that he's looking out for you in his own way, but you know ben. you know he likes it better when the only thing in your field of vision is his dick.

“can you see?” he asks quietly, thumbing over the cute swell in your cheek. he lets you suckle his tip one last time before pushing you off with a palm smack dab to the middle of your forehead. the force stings.

you squint as your eyes adjust to the lack of correction, blinking both eyes hard to try and shake off the impending headache forming behind your temples. ben raises a brow, his patience dwindling low.

“no, not really.” you hum.