#kinktober reader insert

It was a brand new, extremely experimental, highly sensitive project. The kind you certainly didn’t write home about, and the kind that definitely found its way into your consideration for the promised cash payment. All you had to do post-signing-up was show up, let them say a spell or two, and then you’d simply say yes or no if you could feel each test they administered. 

So you sat in the cold, white research room while over half a dozen of those working on the project milled about. You knew what the project was for. Knew exactly what the $10,000.00 cash tucked into the envelope in your purse was for. But it was just a few tests. Easy, fully clothed, verbal confirmation tests.

They rolled the sterilized metal table to face you more, the objects neatly aligned on their stands. The spells they'd said were distant words you couldn't recall, but you'd already nodded when they'd asked if you could feel the tingling connection when they'd finished. You could–it was a warm hum underneath your clothing that already had a bit of sweat forming at your brow. But that could've also been the anticipation. 

The silicone facing you was highly detailed. Granted, for what they were, toys had already gotten far in looking real. They were soft and giving, and they replicated what they generically needed to replicate. Breasts, nipples, vagina, clit, an asshole, and a mouth. Still, you swallowed hard listening to the murmured conversation, and you gripped the edge of that metal table they'd seated you on. 

“You will be blindfolded to prevent any phantom sensations by merely watching,” one said before a thick black strip of fabric was tied over your eyes. “We will begin momentarily, so we just need you to speak when you begin to feel something. We have a series of tests to run through, some a bit more invasive to test the maintained connection, then you will be finished. Okay?”

“Okay,” you breathed.

And you braced yourself against that metal edge warmed by your touch. In blistering, stomach-flipping anticipation, you waited. $10,000.00. You swallowed hard. It was so worth it for $10k cash.

Just a few tests. Ones that might not even work–

Beneath your thick sweater, underneath your bra, you felt it. The warm, gloved touch. A brush of fingers underneath your breast, following the curve up. A jolt at the touch had you pulling back from nothing. Nobody was in front of you, magically slipping underneath your shirt. It wasn't lifted. Your bra didn't magically vanish. No, as you leaned back from nobody's touch, the gloved fingers went higher, and they brushed over both nipples.

“Yes,” you stuttered, eyes wide behind the blindfold. Not that you didn’t think it was possible–surely if they were offering so much money, they had some semblance of a success they needed to recreate, but still. Actually experiencing the slow connection of their fingers pinching your nipples without actually touching you? “Yes, I feel that.”

“Good, human contact is successful. We need to test artificial,” he stated.

Artificial…? 

Oh.

Oh.

The actual coldness of the metal was somehow there and faraway at the same time. It didn’t entirely make sense how you were able to process it. But magic was magic, so. One tight metal clamp closed around one nipple, and the rip of pinching pleasure shot through to your spine and went lower.

“Yes–”

A second clamp closed on your other nipple. 

Tight, there, but not. A low throbbing bullied its way beneath your shirt. It was…strange. The sensation of the sharp pinching that was there but wasn’t. Squeezing the table’s edge, you fought the urge to reach up just to feel yourself through your sweater. The throbbing acted in tandem with the clamps, but there was more to it. A necessity you couldn’t fully put to words–that you wouldn’t put to words for them–that you ached to touch yourself beyond the means of just…checking. Your nipples ached, that’s as plain as it got, and they ached for contact.

“Yes, I can…I can feel both,” you breathed.

“Good.”

The clamps released. 

The ache remained.

The metal was a soft clack on the table, and with a little tilt of your head to listen to what the blindfold was now painfully keeping hidden, there was a brush against your lips. A gloved finger, unmistakably. It was a subconscious response. Again, you reared back from nothing. There wasn't anyone or anything but you and the air around you. But there, again, fingers touched your lips, pushed past with just a little bit of force, and you could feel two pressing down on your tongue.

“Mhm,” was all you managed to get out. Muffled yet…not. They weren’t actually in there, but the pressure kept your tongue down and mouth closing around their fingers.

“Okay,” came as a distant murmur, and then fingers retreated. 

There was only a half-second pause before your mouth went from swallowing empty to taking in a wooden tongue depressor, pushing your tongue down as the fingers had. The woody taste was flat and bitter, but not entirely direct. You made the same muffled mhm sound as best as you could, fighting back the urge to push up on what wasn’t actually there. 

It retreated. 

"We will be moving on," someone else said. Her voice came in from the left as adjustments were made to your right. The soft scratching from pencils carried across papers. More papers rustled, and your pulse was through the roof. With a held breath, you waited for what exactly moving on meant.

A quiver in your thighs traveled down to your toes. 

It’d be just a few more tests.

Sensitive ones, but $10k. Yeah.

You fought the subconscious need to nod.

In all but seconds, as you listened to the air conditioning run through the vents above you, while pencils scratched against papers, you felt it underneath your jeans. Beyond the thick seam and the awkward inadvertent touch of your thighs together. Past your belt, button, and zipper. Underneath your underwear came the warm, gloved touch over you. Just a stroke over your folds. Like the graze of a paintbrush on a canvas. 

Tension shot through from your hitched breath down to your curling toes.

“I can feel that.”

You breathed through your teeth.

Higher up the finger went. Light as a feather still, parting your folds in the process, you sat in wait. A heart-stopping, grip-tightening wait. They were going to test every spot, weren’t they? It was important. It was about making sure the pleasure connections were there. What good would it serve if there was just minimal connection? They had to test–

The finger brushed over your clit.

“Yes,” you cracked out. It was a rash reaction, but the pad of their finger ran over your clit directly. Back and forth. They were idle touches and nothing more, but sweet hell. It continued. With a bit more pressure behind the strokes. “Yes, yes, I…I can feel that.”

The touch retreated. The air conditioning hum battled with the flicker of your pulse. The thrumming in your ears found your head. They were just tests. Important tests. This was what you signed up for. You knew it was coming. You’d prepped yourself for it.

Still, when the cold silicone touched your clit, you jolted so hard you gasped. It was a perfect circle that came with a soft touch at first, then a second long brought more pressure. Not hard or even remotely uncomfortable, but as you nodded, the person applying it seemed to settle it firmer against you. 

“We will conduct a quick test just to test external stimulation success,” one said. 

The words drowned in the sea of ambiguity that suddenly made a whole lot of sense when that firm press wasn’t just a tongue depressor equivalent. A near-silent click caught your attention before it was suddenly eviscerated. All focus fell into a pinpoint on your clit. Where the hum of the air conditioning and the thrum of your heart had been in your head, all that encapsulated it was an abrupt vibration against your clit. Low in intensity, but it was still a vibrator to your clit. Directly to your clit.

“Oh my god.”

A quiet laugh echoed out to your right.

“I would say she can feel it,” someone said.

“We need to test the varying levels, but we can return to that,” another said. Click. The vibrations kicked off just as your clit began to ache. Not that general ache of stimulation, but when the sensations cut, you felt the slight release in tension that only came in slight. The seam of your jeans pressed up against your clit, and it pulsed against the thick material to ask for more attention. A pulsing that sank deeper than just surface level.

Your cunt clenched. A dampness in your underwear turned your senses up a notch.

“We will conduct another external test, and then two internal ones,” someone said. “Then, the general testing will be complete.”

“Okay,” you muttered.

One more external and then two internal?

A flash of the objects laid out on the table came up.

One more external and two internal…that could only mean….

There was a gentle pressure against your asshole. Warm, gloves, and slick with lube. It was just one slender finger running slow circles. Careful, delicate circles. Much like the touch against your clit. Just rubbing. Yes, you could feel that. You started nodding frantically, hardly able to find the single word yes. But the scratching pencils told you they'd gotten your answer. The pressure still pushing against your asshole, however, came with a gradual increase. More and more and more. 

Oh.

Your breath caught in a sharp gasp.

Their finger pushed into you. Stretching. Bit by bit, you gave way with an ease only possible with the toy they had their finger in. It seemed to correlate with you, even if you weren't lubed. Knuckle by knuckle, they pushed in. Oh, god. You didn’t mean to clench around them, but you could feel their hand against your bottom. Bottomed out. Wiggling–Jesus Christ–they wiggled their finger.

“Yes. I…. Yes, yes, I can…feel…that,” you said through careful breaths. 

“Good,” some said, her voice static and unaffected. 

A gradual pull left you empty and feeling partially gaping. But it wasn't a long sensation. Cold and lube silicone roughly the same size as the finger came to replace it. As gradual as the finger had entered and left, the thin rod-like thing pushed into you. Deeper–it went deeper than the finger, and you…. Keeping still and casual was a fight. How were you supposed to sit on that table, nodding your head and sputtering that you could feel it not be anything but awkward? 

A part of you wanted to fall back, but it was general testing!

So you gripped the edge of the table until your knuckles went white and clenched your jaw until it hurt. Casual. Professional. Click. The rod hummed to life, and your gasp brought more notes to pages. Wait. Pages fluttered. The rod stayed on and pulled out, then pushed back in. Oh, god. You nodded. And nodded. And nodded.

“Good.”

Click.

Off.

Out.

Empty.

The darkness of the blindfold blurred. How, you had no idea. But when the tension released from your shoulders and you slumped, everything felt a little blurry and off-kilter. No hair stood on end. No discomfort. But your asshole pulsed and you were…so empty. Tests, they were just tests. Ones meant to simulate sex and foreplay, so it made sense to get a little aroused. It…it was fine.

It was totally and completely fine.

One warm, gloved finger was back on your cunt. A pass over your clit made you twitch, and the path lower was a mark for the final test. A light ringing hit your ears as more fingers spread you, and the tip of one finger touched your entrance. Pushing back to get a better position on the exam table, right as you sank down to really sit, the finger sank into you.

Just like in your ass, knuckle by knuckle, it pushed in. So, so slowly. Filling you up with a curl. A nice, careful curl. A curl that brushed right over your sweet spot. Oh, fuck. It wasn’t stagnant. While you sat there, thighs spreading involuntarily, it pumped. And curled. And pumped and curled in slow, almost teasing strokes.

“Yes,” you threw out there on a cracked moan. You hadn’t said you could feel it. “Yes, yes, I can feel that. Yes.”

Their finger pressed all the way back in, and there was a quiet hum. 

“Good.”

Then, you were empty again.

Then, the cold, roundish tip of something silicone touched your entrance.

It was wider than the finger, but nothing abhorrent. Lubed up, it pushed into you and filled you right on up. The slight stretch was a sudden tease, and you couldn't help it. Your elbows hit the table with a thud. Equilibrium was off, and for a moment, you worried you might tumble to the floor. Just for insertion! This was bad. But the scribble of pencils said they took that as the necessary answer. 

You were fine.

This was just research.

Click.

“Oh, my–”

That vibration test echoed to life in your cunt. Right against your sweet spot, your head fell back, and you had to grit your teeth and bear the pleasure. Couldn't moan. Couldn't gasp. Just had to bite the bullet that you'd already thrown your head back, you couldn't do more than that. Had to fight it. Had to face it. Had to nod your head. 

“I can feel that, yes.”

In and out. 

They pulled the toy in and out, practically fucking you on it.

“Yes,” you pushed out. 

In and out. In and out, all the way to the vibrating tip. And….

Click.

“Good,” someone said.

“Great,” from another.

That tension faded into obscurity and embarrassment. Shaking like a leaf in the breeze, you just lay there. Your underwear was soaking wet and your cunt…. Parts of you were throbbing that shouldn't still be throbbing and clenching that shouldn't be clenching. But it…they…. Whatever. That was the preliminary testing done. 

You managed to get back upright like normal after a minute or so, the blindfold still intact. Pencils scribbled down notes. Papers fluttered. Footsteps came closer, but not entirely near. 

“Given how well you’ve reacted to the tests and the success with each, we would like to offer you another $5,000.00 to advance the next set of tests we were already going to complete. They will just be a bit more…intensive than originally planned. Nothing will be confirmed without prior consent. We just have not had a compatible subject with such success yet, and we wish to take advantage of such a case. If you are willing.”

Your hands twitched on the table’s edge. An extra $5k? For…a higher intensity, huh?

“What do the tests entail?” you asked softly. There was a rough edge in your voice that hadn’t been there at the start. What were you doing? You didn’t let yourself answer the question.

“Well, we need to essentially test that all connections remain intact while in use. Simple touch tests can provide the simple responses, yes. But it would be great to test higher intensity activities together to make sure all can remain working properly without conflict. We would hate for connection to be lost during the moment.”

…

You swallowed hard.

Incense activities?

“We will have to simulate various activities in repeated tests to check the maintained connection. We will require verbal confirmation throughout to make sure all is correct. Really, it is not much different. The initial tests are simple finger stimulation and insertion. This would be additional stimulation of a higher intensity, that is all.”

So…it…. Okay….

“We will offer $7,000.00 if you are willing to strip for the tests so we can see any bodily reaction,” someone said behind the woman talking to you. 

$7,000.00? $7k. You’d be walking away from the tests with $17,000.00. Sweet fuck. 

What else were you supposed to say to that? Seriously. Seriously, $17,000.00. 

That would cover multiple months of rent and help you pay off the last of your car. So then…. Then.

Then, you cleared your throat and nodded slowly.

“Okay. $7,000.00. I consent.”

Behind the blindfold, you could still see the room light up.

“Fantastic,” the woman said. “I will help you out of your clothes and back onto the table.”

****

Truthfully, the tests were simple but invasive. You were laid out stark naked on the metal table, blindfolded, and shaking uncontrollably. Stripping you down was nothing but necessary for the tests. But eyes still wandered. Seeing the peaks of your nipples in the cold air and the glistening over your cunt was definitely a great sign. And sight.

You kept your thighs together and scrunched up a little, but it wouldn’t last. 

If the tests remained successful, you’d be begging them to keep running them.

But $17,000.00 was an okay price to pay for success. 

They’d all be making ten times that when this hit the market.

The group of researchers watched you with eagerness. Anticipation was a curse upon the room amongst them and you, but patience had to be called for. The next cart was wheeled in, and more gloves were pulled onto the hands of assistants. They'd be stimulating every sensitive part of your body for the next…three hours? Maybe more. They couldn't just jump up to the highest intensity just to make sure it worked. Longevity was part of it.

There was already another stack of $10,000.00 waiting for you when this was over to allow them to check for distance after you left. Within that testing, yes, there came another intensity level check. If they sent you on your way with a thrusting dildo in you and a vibrator on your clit, would the sensations remain just as strong a step outside the building as it would while you slept in bed? Would it remain for hours on end, or would it eventually fade into the background to be ignored?

And more importantly, as these tests in-house would also test, would the participant cum?

If yes, would they be able to repeatedly? Would they be overstimulated if their body wasn't actually experiencing the direct contact, or would the sixth orgasm feel as incredible as the first?

What if there was stimulation on the toys and on the person? If someone was fucking your cunt through means of the toy and in-person, what would you feel? What if a vibrator was strapped to the clit on the toy and someone knelt between your legs and sucked it into their mouth? Questions. Endless questions. And you were the perfect guinea pig; you just had to be worked up to the point of agreeing to work with them. But those were such intense tests…. These early ones had to be conducted first.

So, with everyone gathered in the proper places, it was time to begin.

Test One: simply touching. In your mouth, where you muffled around the two fingers. On your nipples, where they were pinched just enough. Down where one finger pushed into your asshole while one entered your cunt. Then, up on your clit, pressure. Just a little bit of pressure on the silicone bud.

Notes were written as you seemed to stall out a little on the table. It was quite a lot to endure at once. But as your hands fell to the sides of the table to squeeze, your thighs pressing and rubbing together, it was obvious before you even muffled a yes. 

Good.

Test Two: All fingers retreated, and the same was recreated without pause with the silicone toys.

The arch in your back came through nicely. The researchers all reacted in tandem. The clamps added to your nipples were tugged, and the toys between your legs all clicked on at the same time.

Test Two already made you moan. Much like a broken, gasping sound, it cut through the silent research room with success written all over it.

The lead researcher held up her hand. The way your back continued to arch said you could orgasm if they simply decided to leave you like that. But this wasn’t about that yet. And any denial prior to then was considered helpful, so she just gave you those few extra teasing seconds before lowering her hand.

All were removed. More notes were written.

“Tests from this point forward will be with movement,” she said plainly. They would be. This wasn’t some malicious research study. They had to run each test to be sure. You’d agreed. You’d taken the payments. “And repeated penetration. May we continue?”

A hitch in your breath was all that the next pause was, then you nodded.

Test Three: Fingers closed around your nipples in place of the clamps and pinched hard. Not painfully, but as you gasped at the touch, three fingers pumped into your mouth. Two found your cunt and pushed in very, very slowly, two found your asshole and did the same, and up on your clit, attention was given. Light and slow, in gentle circles. Barely there, but looking back….

One hand went over your head, and your thighs parted. Enjoyment was a positive sign. Not inherently an important one, so long as the stimulation was noted, but enjoyment worked in their benefit. Your cunt was dripping onto the table, and you outright writhed as more pressure was applied to your clit.

“Contractions,” two said one right after the other as their fingers pumped into you.

“Oh, so you can feel them?” the lead asked. You breathed through your teeth behind them, and out came a whine. “Good. That’s really good.”

Test Four: Was the same with merely added intensity. You propped your feet up on the table and let your legs fall wide open for everyone to see you jerk with every thrust of the fingers into you. Taking them like someone was practically fucking you right there on the table. Your initial awkwardness upon arrival dripped out of you right down onto that table. Good. Comfort made this better.

The lead researcher nodded, and more attention was given to your clit. Direct, unrelenting attention. Tight, faster circles that made your hips lift up off the table. Your orgasm impending. But not yet. It wasn’t the right time just yet. But that meant you could cum quickly, and that was also perfect. Just short of walking into the research building and offering yourself up naked and willing to do it for free, you were turning out to be the perfect participant. 

Test Five: Silicone returned. A small dildo was pushed past your lips and you choked on nothing but air behind them. Vibrating clamps closed around your nipples. A thick vibrating plug was pushed in right to the thickest part, pulled out, pushed in, pulled out, and then pushed right back into your ass while you writhed on the table. On your cunt, the circular vibrator was pressed back to your clit directly, and lower, lubed up, an average-sized vibrator gradually pushed inside of you.

“We will run the next test with simulated sex with these,” the lead researcher said upon your initial consent. You nodded to both.

Click. You had to be held down. None moved inside of you outside of the low vibrations, but the way you jerked, four assistants had to rush over and pin you to the table. Hands back by your head, ankles and legs held against their stomachs, they pinned you properly so others could take the necessary notes. The position provided the perfect view for such required notes. There was a physical reaction. There was no hint beyond your arousal that you had every hole filled. Your clit didn’t so much as twitch when the vibrator was lifted and someone rolled it between their thumb and forefinger. 

Yes, you lurched and lashed. Yes, your cunt dropped and clenched. But as they moved onto Test Six–thrusting the toys in every hole–you were subsequently empty in your sudden squirming. 

The lead researcher stood over you, watching. How you pulled and whined, rocking your hips before stopping, clearly trying to act professional. The test would only last about another ten seconds, but she could see it. You could feel her watching you, and you knew as well as she did that you were close to climaxing. 

But….

Click.

You threw your head back. Sweat sheened, and your body went limp. 

She walked around to stand beside you, bending over with new ideas popping in at a dangerous speed and with questionable ethics.

“Can we apply dual stimulation?” she asked beside your ear. “For an extra $10,000. In accordance with our testing the distance between here and your home, I want to apply stimulation to the toys directly and to you.” She looked over your aching nipples. “Think about it. While we finish this round of testing.”

Test Seven: Before you could answer, she held up her hand to begin. Click. The next level of intensity shot through the toys. Pumping in and out of you, the lube squelched like you yourself were getting fucked in both holes. Your scream was partially muffled, and your hips lifted again. Tried to, at least.

“Can you feel it in your mouth?” the lead researcher asked, pointlessly. She knew you could.

You still nodded.

“Can you feel it on your nipples?”

Again, you nodded.

“Your clit?”

Your whine said yes.

“Your asshole? Do you feel the vibrators inside your asshole? Inside your cunt?”

Two more whines that said yes, yes. You did. You most certainly did. You did because there, pulling at those pinning you down, you started squirming again. Pulling and pushing, back and forth, trying to get yourself back to wherever you were trying to go, but there you were arching your back off the table and choking on a dildo that wasn't actually in your mouth.

There, you screamed out a broken moan, and your orgasm came over you violently. The exact way they’d needed it to. Violent, unforgiving, and just perfectly. The pleasure erupted improperly because nobody was actually touching you, and your body twitched and shifted. You took the thrusts of the toys with your head back and pussy dripping. Fucked in all holes–barely, they’d barely started giving you real thrusts and strength–you clenched empty and aching. And yet?

Yet, you still came.

Click.

“Test Eight,” the lead researcher declared with a hint of amusement in her voice.

You flinched at the words, but there was no denial.

Click.

The next of five intensity levels. The lead researcher bent over the table and whispered in your ear. We have so many more tests we need to run. Will you help us? Seeing how many ways we can reach an orgasm with these is imperative. If you’re willing. 

Test Nine.

The penultimate intensity was locked in. You came again. Thrashing on the table, more were called in to hold you down. The lead researcher watched from between your legs when your climax hit. Hardly any evidence that you were being fucked senseless. If you could keep yourself together, nobody would know. A good selling point for the exhibitionists. Sort of.

Interesting.

Test Ten.

Test Ten was quite a lot for you. The toys drilling into you harder than before whilst on the highest settings? The one on your clit was turned on last out of courtesy, and when that click came through, it was immediately silenced by your shriek. 

It only took seconds.

Literal seconds. Successful seconds. 

Whatever words you'd been aiming to speak were immediately torn to smithereens. Your cunt gushed empty and aching in the sudden burst of your orgasm. It ripped through you as violently as your first one had, but this one…. The lead researcher didn't hold up their hand, and the panic came across your face immediately when the stimulation didn't stop. It was a good testing point.

The way you fell into the pleasure was visible. From the rush of your orgasm into the mind-shattering pleasure that remained, it was a partial answer. You were overstimulated, but differently. Sobbing, but barely begging, your hips lifted and your back arched, and just like that, you came. Again.

Came with another shriek and came with such a successful force, it was fantastic.

All while you lie completely untouched. Your poor clit was swollen, but it wasn't from touch. It wanted. 

How fascinating. You were multiple orgasms in, and your body technically hadn’t had a real one yet. Just a brush against your clit said you’d cum. But at the wave of her hand, the test finished. It was unethical to touch you without permission. And the way you collapsed when the clamps were removed and the toys were pulled out, you were in need of a break she didn’t entirely want to give. But….

She walked over to you slowly. Everyone took the notes she didn't need to take. Left in a sweaty, gushing mess, she just bent over you. Your chest heaved, and tears dampened the blindfold just enough to be visible, but she was undeterred.

“Will you walk out of here $27,000.00 richer for just a few extra tests?” She paused. You wanted that $27k. Badly. But…. “We need to test simultaneous stimulation. I will raise it to $30,000.00 if you roll onto your knees and chest and allow us to penetrate you.”

$30,000.00. Holy…. It….

Your chest stuttered on your next breath.

Notes were still written. Your body still hadn’t fully relaxed.

$30k. 

Fuck it. 

Fuck it!

Your nod was barely there, but it was a nod.

And with a careful, moaning roll, the tests continued.

****

They had to tie you down. You drooled onto the metal table, the minutes ticking by into hours. How a little stimulation test turned into this, you had the answer as cash in your purse, but sweet fuck. They’d started with the toys first, pushing beads one by thickening one into your ass there and using the same toy on you. Literally on you. Lubing you up and working you open with a slender finger first, then giving them to you.

In together. Out together. Then alternating. Magically, they were pushed in, while literally, they came out. Being stretched at different sizes while being filled and emptied at the same time made no sense, but it felt so out of the world incredible, you couldn’t breathe.

They did the same with their fingers in your cunt. Gloved fingers pushed into the toy, then out, then two more ran over your aching cunt like a torturous tease before pushing in. And when they pushed in, sweet hell, it was a whole other ballgame. The difference between the toys and the real thing was felt then. Prominently. 

But as they pulled out of your cunt and pushed back in whilst those in the toy did the same, there was no time to linger on such a thought. They fucked you together, making you whine onto the table. 

The tests weren’t stated anymore. They just started touching and didn't stop until you were quivering and clenching. The bindings on your ankles and wrists kept you pinned clean to the table. One strap went higher over the backs of your knees to keep you steady, and another went over your shoulders. 

They gave you earplugs so you couldn't hear any comments or commands. 

Blindfolded and deafened, you just listened to the beat of your pulse while you drooled and moaned. Gloved fingers alternated in fucking your cunt with a not-so-gradual increase in intensity. 

You didn’t hear them when the lead researcher said to rub your clit on you while directing one of the assistants to lick the one on the toy. Didn’t have to, though. You felt their tongue drag over you the second before the finger touched you and rubbed. Pleasure spiked in an instant. Your clit was finally given attention, and it came with a phantom wrap of lips around it and a suck that made you scream.

It happened so fast. Clenching around the fingers. Spasming and twitching. The rush of pleasure rippling from the contact on your clit and the curl of the fingers in your cunt. You sobbed uncontrollably when your orgasm hit you like it was the first of the night, and you gushed. Sprayed. 

All over the table and the person behind you.

You came.

Their fingers, their mouths–they continued without pause. Even literally on you, they continued. It was so much. So, so much. You said as much against the table, but they continued. They pushed and pushed and pushed until you were there again. Again! Tears dampened the blindfold in your second, powerful, overwhelming orgasm.

You dripped down your thighs.

The tests continued.

When a signed contract to act as their official test subject for $30.50/hr was in your purse with your messy signature on it, your throat was raw and scratchy as hands gripped your hips. The table was lowered, and your position was changed just enough to fit someone underneath you. The hours ticked by. The earplugs were changed to noise-cancelling headphones, and the blindfold stayed on. Your hands were bound behind your back then, with a harsh grip holding onto the rope keeping them together.

On the table, alternating thrusts, two assistants fucked you, and one stood next to the table with her skirt up. Both holes were stuffed full with alternating rough thrusts. Out of sight, your orgasms were tallied on a whiteboard for you to see when you were finished. Behind you, however, the test found its second important layer.

Three more assistants and the head researcher stood with the toys. One played with the silicone nipples in varying-strengthed pinches and pulls. Two more mimicked those at the table with you, their pants down, the toys off their stands, fucking into you slow at first, then they matched the rhythm of the other two. A small vibrator was taped to the toy just at your clit.

The mouth one came underneath the head researcher’s skirt, locked there where she felt every motion you did to the assistant standing beside the table.

It was for research. To see if you could really feel everything. When they put their fingers inside the toys, they could feel you warm and wet and clenching. And now they could say that oral could be reciprocated that way. It could even be done so efficiently that orgasm could be reached.

She locked the toy against herself in proof of that.

And….

And orgasm could be reached multiple times while clearly overstimulated with multiple cocks penetrating you. Granted, it was one in each hole, and there was a vibrator on your clit. But you were being fucked senseless in four ways, and you spasmed and screamed with orgasm after orgasm.

Until cum dripped out of both toys, and the assistants were pulling their pants up.

Until the condoms were full and you were left with a glistening mouth and gaping, clenching holes on the table.

The head researcher set the mouth replica aside. 

“We will be running various tests of this nature every night for the foreseeable future,” she said beside you, lifting up the headphones. Water, towels, snacks, and a robe were brought next. Those who had to wait their turn for next time to…run the test…took very gentle touches to you to clean you up. “Do you have a short, casual dress?”

You barely nodded. You did. 

“Good. Bring it tomorrow. We will be testing how prominent the spell remains while you complete other tasks. It requires frequent checks, and a dress makes it easy.” She gave your back a small pat. “My assistants will help you. See you tomorrow at 9:00 AM. Oh, and fill out this sheet if you feel anything during the night or experience any reactions in the morning.” 

A folder with a dozen sheets was set aside for you. To note symptoms, to write about what you’d thought they’d done to you via the toys during the night. All set up neatly for you to fill out and them to check. Ones that’d be handed out to countless others if they could perfect the product and bring in other participants. Then, they could have you test the products on each other at will and randomly.

"Thank you for signing on with us. You'll see an additional $500.00 be deposited into your account as a sign-on bonus."

It felt laughable compared to the $40k in your purse, but comparatively…. You'd taken a small chunk of the fortune awaiting them. It'd take about a year of testing, and they'd be the most successful product of its kind on the market. With you as their top tester and advocate. 

But…you had to get through that year first, and in that year came a lot of tests.

It made incredible money, and with all the orgasms attached?

Monday, 5:34 P.M. Proof of Concept. Proof of Product. 

Proof of Success.

One of the conference rooms had been cleared out for the event. The giant table was swapped for a hand-built stage made perfectly for you. It was clad in black with a special table for you to position yourself on. There was only a glimpse of it before black silk was tied around your eyes. Just a whisper of a good luck before the noise-cancelling earplugs were put in.

A monitor was positioned on either side of the stage that’d show off the perfected associated app. Padding on the table made it comfortable where you guided onto, blinded and deafened. An X, arms over your head with a stretch along them, legs spread and cuffed at your ankles and thighs, but all angled on display for the two dozen chairs in front. For everything to be displayed.

They brought you in early, but how early, you were left unaware. On purpose, you knew. Over the course of all the tests, keeping you unaware was rule number one. Fair enough. You filled out the application requests each day so they knew if anything was off-limits. It was relatively the same for tonight, except every incentive had everything marked as consensual. 

6% of added shares and $1,200.00 per person.

It was too damn good to pass up anything.

The only out-of-the-ordinary part was that, for the last week, the only tests they ran were simple connection maintenance. Touches, flicks, a few moments of intrusions. Nothing more. No edging calibration–that was long done and certified–and nothing substantial enough to push you even close to an orgasm. Just minimal, barely-there touches to the connected products.

For seven full days.

And now? Now the lead researcher had strapped you down to that padded table, recliner, chair, thing in the altered conference-into-presentation room. Naked. Waiting and willing to be their volunteer of success.

“The presentation will last about three hours.” 

They’d run more intensive tests considerably longer than that. Her words bounced around in your head right along with the quickening thump of your pulse. Three hours was nothing compared to the eight-hour shifts. Or the overnight tests that left you sleepless and ruined your bedsheets.

Three hours. That was doable.

Besides, after all the tests they’d run on you already, what more could there possibly be to surprise you?

The edges of the red sheet lifted, and cold air rushed underneath. The soft material dragged slowly from your collarbones down until it was slipping off your thighs. Exposed. 

It was time.

****

The investors had filed in one by one with curious looks around the room. Some were there for the literal proof of the products’ success. They didn’t trust the findings written on paper, which was fine enough. Shows like this would become mainstream once the products hit the market. Besides, with you giving them the show, it was going to be more than simply admiring the fact that the spells worked. It was going to make the other fourteen filing in finally sign their withheld checks.

This wasn’t about giving a performance–hence the earplugs, the restraints, and the blindfold. This was about the utter fact that stimulating the silicone toys could make you come apart. Constantly. 

The lead researcher waved a hand toward your naked body out on that table made to fit you and only you. It was going to come in handy for future presentations, and it was working damn well for this one.

One of her assistants rolled in the cart with the linked toys on it. Bulging eyes bulged more. Other parts of the invitees bulged too. Good. Arousal meant interest. Interest meant investments.

“We’ve managed to not only link the toys, but we’ve got a program that registers denials and edges, and it’ll tally up orgasms as well. While awake or sleeping. And fascinatingly, any stimulation applied to the toys, while relaying to the linked person, does not actually stimulate them on their person. We’ve positioned a vibrator on the highest setting for eight hours straight on her clitoris, and there was some overstimulation; however, when we applied direct touch, she was able to climax like it was her first of the day. Even when clearly exhausted from the earlier stimulation." She turned and waved from the silicone cunt to the next toy. "And while lube is needed simply because of the silicone, no preparation is necessary for anal insertion. Watch."

She waved at her assistant to begin the first test of the evening. She probably could've warned you that it would begin as such, but maintaining surprise was in their favor. And watching as the entire crowd straightened when her assistant strolled over and drizzled lube on three of their fingers, it was worthwhile. All that straightening, all that tension in the room, it rocketed up while two others came forward to help position you for better viewing. A camera was adjusted, and one of the monitors was changed to show what it was capturing between your legs. 

Her single nod gave them the go-ahead.

One rub of their finger over the silicone asshole made you lurch. Then eyes danced between you, the monitor, and the silicone ass. Three fingers were pushed into you rather steadily, stretching the silicone and you alike. Your asshole contracted around nothing, squeezing where their fingers were clearly inside of you without truly being there, and your hips tried to rock. The gasps that echoed in the room….

She nodded again.

They curled their fingers inside of you, and your whole body began writhing while they fingered your asshole. Rough enough to make you really jerk with it. Your body bouncing, mouth falling open on an involuntary moan.

Then with a wave of her hand….

Their fingers retreated, and you were left empty. Shaking. The camera stayed zoomed in between your legs while the other screen showed the rise of pleasure on the graph.

“See? No required prep and no pain.” She folded her hands together in front of her, smiling politely at the audience brimming with newfound tension. Good. "The opportunities are endless, truly. The connection with our volunteer has never been paused since she began, and it hasn't failed, either. So, as long as the party is willing, the spell remains intact, and you can do whatever you would like to the linked devices for as long as you'd like."

She waved one hand, and down came a shiny black paddle to the silicone ass.

Your yelp broke through the momentary silence following the loud smack. A few in the audience jumped with you, and they did again when the paddle was brought back down again. Then again. Then a final time, before assistants walked over to the silicone nipples and placed loudly vibrating clamps on them without warning. 

Oh, your shoulders pushed back at the closing of the clamps, and your back tried to arch. A strap over your stomach was put down the second you started to move, securing you back in place. But your shoulders still moved back and forth, your breaths came in quicker, harder. 

“As you can see, sensitivity remains even when it is silicone that is stimulated,” she said, nodding toward where those assistants pulled at the nipple clamps. Where the paddle came down on the toy again, and your body lurched. “And you can see the physical reaction she has, too.”

She barely looked at you. The monitor showed it best. The glisten on your cunt where gloved fingers found you directly and parted you, rubbing it around your cunt for all to really see how you dripped from it all. That was all the direct stimulation you’d get for a while. That accidental pass over your clit was going to leave you aching, but you’d get releases. Plenty of them.

“See how wet she’s gotten? How her clitoris has started to swell?” It was hard to fight her smile. Walking over beside the untouched silicone cunt, she had to keep herself together. She was biased. Nothing regarding the results, no, those would always be untainted. But she enjoyed having you as a participant. You were sensitive, sinfully hungry for stimulation of all sorts, and consenting to everything. “Watch as we add stimulation here, as well.”

She lifted a gloved finger and held the toy perfectly still. Using two fingers without lube, she just nudged the silicone clit. Back and forth, rubbing it with just enough pressure to translate onto yours with a feather-light, almost bored touch. As if she were just checking the connection, but letting such a test linger. And linger. And linger.

Another bit back smile came subdued with the polite one she gave the audience. Your hips rocked, and your clit swelled and twitched on camera and on stage for all to see. Your cunt contracted empty and surely aching. 

"And, to ease that uncertainty I can tell you're experiencing, yes. She really can orgasm through stimulation applied to just these toys. As you will see…." 

She tightened the motions to circles and added more pressure. Locking the stand in place allowed for two fingers to dip into lube, and she angled herself so as to not block anything whilst pressing them into the silicone cunt. Three fingers were slotted into the silicone asshole. The nipple clamps were tugged. With an unbothered smile and not so much as a flinch when your moans cracked out as high-pitched gasps, she felt your cunt start to pulse around her fingers through the toy.

“As you will experience for yourself later, you can also still feel the paired partner." She hooked her fingers and rubbed that easily found sweet spot. You yanked hard on the restraints, throwing your head back and gasping out something of an attempted word. But where three fingers became four and two became three in your cunt, all you needed was a little more on your clit and…. "Even without checking the graph for her orgasm, I can feel her contract around my fingers right as she cums."

You writhed in what could’ve been mistaken for agony. But the pulse of your cunt around her fingers, the contractions, the scream you let out for your first orgasm in seven denying days…. Eyes lit up. People stood up. The low lighting wasn't low enough, and the reaction to the show was evident enough. Adjust pants, shifted skirts, fixed shirts.

Well, it was live pornography. 

But it had a professional purpose.

Everyone stepped back from the toys at once. You were left trembling on the table where, beside you on the monitor, one tally was lit up underneath the orgasms subheading. 

With a wide smile and a wave at the entire spread, she knew she had each and every one of them invested. Hook, line, and sinker. She eyed your heaving breaths and quivering thighs. 

“Now, we are going to set up some more intensive tests to show the longevity of our products, and while those are completed, we can discuss various packages to invest in those various products.” To her assistants, she added, “You may begin Phase Two.” 

Phase Two. 

Where she stood closer to the center of the stage to speak directly to the audience. Where her assistants took charge, and out was rolled the small trunk of your favorite toys. A small vibrator was brought out for your clit. Another thick one would fuck your cunt. A smaller one would fuck your ass. And a chair was brought between the nipple clamps to be periodically tugged. 

Click. Click. Click. Click.

The symphony of toys humming started without touching the silicone at first. Then the phallic tips pressed against your holes, and your body lurched as it had been. More, more, more, eyes were glued to you as you took the toys without taking them, shuddering out a moan and quivering on that padded table. 

When they were fully sheathed, then they brought the tiny vibrator to that silicone clit.

The sound you made was perfect. Beautiful. The graph shot up to the tippy top. The toys were pumped in and out of you with alternating thrusts. The chain was tugged.

A second tally was added.

She smiled at the wonderfully distracted crowd.

Your cunt glistened for all to see while you came squirming and gasping. 

“Worry not,” she said, glancing at the stack of contracts being brought in by the legal team and their assistants, “once we’ve come to an agreement and you’ve signed your contract, you can have a full test with the products. Our participant has already consented." The room lit up instantly. "And, yes, preliminary touches may be done now as we begin our talks, so you can see that it all works beyond just silicone toys. So, with that in mind, shall we begin?"

****

Oh, fuck.

Two words that cycled in amongst the incoherent babbling that became of your thoughts. That translated out as moans, whimpers, and sobs with every orgasm wrangled out of you. A week without had you in a withdrawal you'd never known you could experience. And when you had them? The toys that pounded into the connected toys were hitting every sweet spot just right. They were pressed right against your clit in just the right way that you couldn't fight it, even if you'd wanted to try and have some dignity in not orgasming repeatedly in front of the crowd.

It’s what you were there to do. To show off.

Your eyes rolling back behind the blindfold as they pulled one orgasm after the other out of you, sending tears down your cheeks….

It was a success.

A building success.

A success that was one mess of stimulation into another.

Oh, oh, fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

Silicone became something else. Fingers pushed into the silicone mouth. They swapped with the vibrators. They undid the clamps and rubbed your nipples. Rubbed your clit. All without that direct precision of the assistants you were used to. 

You knew it, through the blinding, mind-breaking onslaught of orgasms that had you stuttering and heaving on that table. You’d agreed to it. $1,200.00 per person. And that money’s worth came through bit by clit-pinching, nipple-tugging, harsh-spanking bit. 

It’s what you volunteered for, and you were eager for every incentivized second.

****

Every contract was signed. Every deal made. Every $1,200.00 per person coming through as extremely worthwhile. The lead researcher stood back and just watched the success of her project come through with the group of investors getting their money’s worth. Those finishing up the last of their signatures were behind her, talking with their legal counsel on the phone and with the company’s. Others were up on stage, unzipping their pants and sliding their cocks into you. Holding the silicone mouth under skirts. Lapping at the silicone nipples and clit.

A puddle formed underneath you that all marveled at.

The tallies went up on the monitor. Orgasm after body-shuddering orgasm rippled through you. The proof right there for them. Not a pause in the climaxes. Only a hint of exhaustion making you glisten with sweat and gasp for breaths. And half of that was because one of them had their cock bullying into your ass with rough, unforgiving thrusts, and yet you still came while another wiggled a vibrator over the silicone clit.

Some went back for seconds. They had to pay for it, of course. Cash. 80% she pocketed for herself and would be given partially to the assistant later. The other 20% would be for you on top of the $1,200.00 per person. A surprise for your groundbreaking success and thanks for volunteering. 

Another tally went up on the monitor. Then another. Another, another, another.

She watched your poor, untouched cunt glisten and clench on the camera capture.

"Thank you for your investment," she said to everyone that zipped up their pants and readjusted their skirts. They strolled out on weakened legs, but brimming with satisfaction only her products could bring. Only you could in tandem. “Thank you. Thank you.”

The last of the words fell into the semi-empty room when the door shut behind the final investor stuffing his cock back into his pants. She dismissed the assistants shortly after, letting them roll the toys away for gentle cleaning. The connection wouldn’t be paused, but it could be lowered. You’d hardly feel the wipes of the cloths or the disinfectant being sprayed on them.

It wouldn’t matter.

She strolled up next to you and pulled out one earplug. 

“You did great,” she whispered. “But there’s just a little more to take care of.”

You only managed a sad whimper in response. You were worn out. They’d put you through what they’d normally do spread out over the course of an eight-hour day. But she just needed you to hang on a little longer. For your benefit.

As thanks.

She turned the camera off and stepped between your legs. New gloves were pulled on, and she took out a special extra toy from the bottom of that trunk. She already had the harness on underneath her skirt. All she had to do was lock the strap into it–which she did with ease–and with a little bit of lube….

Every cock the toy had taken was enough to work you open by proxy. A little dab of lube on the tip of the strap was rubbed against your asshole, and you barked out a slightly confused moan right as she pushed in. In, in, in with ease. A slight burning ease, but you lifted your hips to take it. All the way.

In and out. In and out. Your body jerked with every thrust, and you clenched around the toy while your cunt dribbled empty over it. It would be a treat. It would. She just had to work you up to it, first.

Thrust by thrust, shallowing them out a bit more until short, jerky thrusts had you clenching hard, and with that extra space, she brought her hands to your cunt. Two fingers pushed in while her thumb brushed over your clit.

Oh, there, there, there. Your cunt spasmed around her fingers.

All those orgasms, and this was going to feel like your real first one in seven long days. Worn to the bone already, and yet you started yanking on those restraints. Started pulling and pulling and pulling, your back trying to arch, your hard nipples surely aching for more attention, and your clit…. She rubbed tighter circles around your clit, and curled her fingers in tandem right against your sweet spot. Rutting the strap in a little harder, a little deeper, and…there.

Your sob cut through the room.

Your cunt and asshole clenched hard.

She doubled down with her fingers, rubbing your clit and teasing your squelching cunt until that dam broke. Until you made your first puddle look pathetic. You ruined her skirt and blouse, but it was worth it. She fucked you through every squirting second to make sure you got all that was worth it from this presentation. 

She undid the harness and left the strap in when you came down from your high.

She pulled up a nearby stool and undid your blindfold.

Settling back between your legs and catching your eyes, she just smiled, lowered her head, and stuffed three fingers back into your cunt and wrapped her lips around your clit.

She was just making sure you were rewarded properly for your good job.

The tallies continued to go up.

Testing was going spectacularly.

Living twenty minutes from the research facility proved to be no problem for connectivity. Neither distance nor simple lengthy sessions proved to be of any failure. So long as the spell remained intact, there was nothing preventing every touch to the toys from feeling as it did when you were in the room with them. 

By all means, so far, the product they were aiming to market was a resounding success. But they had to be sure. So, they had to run every possible test they could think of. Repeatedly. Bonuses were included, of course. And a $1,000.00 bonus sat neatly in your bank account that morning the second you clocked in.

“This is what you will wear tomorrow. We will be showing off the success to willing participants. They have all already been accepted, so we wish to show them the absolute success we’ve found with you and what awaits them.”

With a welcoming $1k incentive, you gleefully wore the mini skirt and sheer blouse, the thin straps up top threatening to slip off in your current position, but given the task ahead, odds were that was the point. Standing in the research room in front of the double doors, you were positioned over the metal table with your wrists cuffed, elbows locked, and ankles bound apart and to the floor. Bent just enough over to give your back an arch, you watched an assistant unlock the cabinet containing your linked toys. Another rolled in the familiar table with all the devices they'd gotten used to using routinely on your lengthy test sessions. 

A cool rush of air from the vent beneath you was a reminder of your lack of underwear and the bra you’d been told to leave at home. Already, your nipples ached, but it was a side effect of all the testing. Waiting in anticipation for the fingers you might randomly feel tug at them was becoming a constant thought. 

Without warning, the double doors were thrown open.

A pair of noise-canceling headphones found you just as the lead researcher turned and waved her hand toward you. They didn’t blindfold you. Uniquely. Guess they wanted you to know there was a crowd watching you. A considerable crowd of all demographics filing in. Blushing cheeks came with eyes dropping to your chest, and you could’ve laughed. They weren’t the right fit for such a job if they blushed at the sight of you pre-testing. 

Though such a thought wasn't left there to be thought. Not for long. As the double doors closed and the lead researcher waved behind you, you knew it was only a matter of time before–

Fingers rolled your nipples while most shoved themselves into your mouth and held it open. You could feel your moan come through yourself, but however loud it was in the room, a few of the future participants took surprising steps back. The lead researcher just smiled and gave what was clearly a reassuring wave. But the fingers pinched your nipples harder, and your knees already began to buckle. 

There was a smile and another wave. Then another. A wave around the room, and it took a moment, but an understanding came about the sea of people. In a slightly nervous wave, they began to move. Closer. They gathered up closer and around your table to really see you. To see how you pushed your chest forward when your nipples were tweaked again and angled your hips back. Learned behavior from so many tests, even if there was nobody behind you to meet your aching cunt.

There was, this time, but not as you’d anticipated.

The lead researcher’s gloved hands skimmed over the back of your thighs. Heads turned in unison as more and more cold air came higher and higher. As the hem of that flared mini skirt was lifted and bunched in her grasp. One hand on your back told you to bend your elbows and lean a little more, and like the best test subject you could be, you did as you were instructed. You were there for show and tell, and that’s what you’d be.

****

Your pussy was already wet. All she could do was smile at you. So performative, and you never even realized it. She was glad she'd signed you on for at least a year's worth of contracted employment. You were downright perfect. You took every test eagerly, you followed instructions to a T, and when those tests required a bit more from you, you gave it. Sometimes, just to be sure there was still a connection, she’d unlock the case at night or on your rare days off, and give them a little test. A few touches, a little licking, a drag of anal beads until she saw the update on the recently created app they had you linked to.

A brand new development. One all participants would be linked to. A spell linked to a little device that tracked your pulse and every climax that ripped through you. Granted, you still had to manually input what you’d used to write on those worksheets. And watching the app update in real time when she made sure you could feel her tongue slipping inside your cunt–because nobody else was there to do it in her place–was a great advancement for the research development. Simply that.

A screen was set up just behind you in the research room for all participants to see what she’d just explained to them prior to entering. They’d watch what could be done with the toys if the connections were successful, and upon their joining the project, they’d go through something similar to you. Of course, they couldn’t expend as much money toward them as they had with you, so their testing wouldn't be as rigorous. But all was a trade-off. They'd tested varying intensity levels with you more than enough to know it was possible to be fucked through the toys and in person for…. What was it, five hours on end? They'd had to change the assistants a few times, for they hadn't the stamina for a single session, but you'd endured with a slew of orgasms that crashed through the room.

They’d really gotten lucky with you. Such a deal wasn’t going to be squandered.

"Now, what you see done today will not equate to what's done to you. This is merely to show what's possible with these products. As you can see, with a successful connection and mere nipple stimulation, arousal has already built." She ran her gloved fingers over your cunt and held the skirt back when she parted them to spread you open for every leaning head to see. "With Participant A here, we've already seen the success of multiple penetration between her and the toys, resulting in orgasms that far exceed the pleasure factor from simple penetrative sex. There's no distance limit, so long-distance relationships can thrive. And so long as the spell remains intact by the consenting parties, the connection will never fade. At least, such has been successful with Participant A. We intend to test longevity and connection distance with those of you willing to ensure that.”

She glanced back at the gathered assistants already ready with the plan for the day. Since the creation of the app, you were able to go through and consent to what you were willing to be tested on for the day every morning prior to your arrival. Perhaps it was your own eagerness or it was the $1,000.00 she'd made sure to set aside for you, but you'd clicked off every single box in the options for the day.

You really were the perfect research participant. 

“You may begin,” she said with a wave of her other hand. “We’d first like to demonstrate that, yes, your body will react to what’s done to you via the toys. As you can see….”

One assistant brought the flat end of a paddle against the silicone ass, and right in tandem with it, you lurched forward and yelped. Another crack against the silicone resulted in the same reaction, and the same again.

“It is similar to all activities that bring such force to the connected partner." 

She closed her hand tighter around your skirt, but kept from pushing you down at all. She needn't instruct or wave her hand. Another assistant already had two fingers pushing into the toy and filling your empty cunt. She did have to motion back for the students to see when you started to move up and down with the jerky thrusts of the fingers. Just so they could see the reason your elbows were buckling and your hips were angling back. 

“Now, what’s particularly special about this product is that even when my assistant has her fingers inside of Participant A, her body only reacts to the stimulation. For one, it lets us insert any-sized object inside of her through the toy whilst merely adding in a single finger to her in person. Secondly, it creates this unique, atypical overstimulation. For instance, if we provide stimulation to her clit directly for an hour without breaks, she will be in tears and close to begging for a reprieve when she climaxes. However, if we stimulate her clit through the toys for an hour, she will have climaxed the same amount, but we can continue on at the same pace for another three hours without her reaching the pain threshold of being overstimulated.”

She slid her fingers back down over your cunt, now completely sopping wet. The wetness against the latex glove was unfortunately kept hidden through your headphones, but every visitor there heard how your cunt squelched when she pushed two fingers in. They heard you moan and saw the exact reaction she wanted them to see–what would sell the products to every single person, even the shy and nervous. 

Blushing cheeks had started since she'd greeted them, and erections grew in pants, but it was expected. It was good. That's what she was hoping for. It meant there was interest in the study, and even if it was mere sexual arousal pushing them to join, so be it. As long as their connections were held and they brought success, they were worthwhile. You were going to be their public guinea pig to show the world how absolutely mindblowing the product was. A pitch to allow proof to the public by doing panels where customers and inventors could come see, for themselves, through means of you was already in the works. She just had to ask you about it. With an incentive, of course. 5% shares added onto the 4% already baked into your contract, and an extra $1,000 bonus per person you let test the products. 

But that was a pitch for months later. 

First and foremost, your cunt squeezed her fingers, and she made sure to go considerably slower than the assistant currently curling her fingers against your sweet spot with rough thrusts that made you jerk on the table.

“And, wonderfully, there’s little prep necessary for all anal play. Yes, lube is required, but it is a requirement for the toys in general. However, as you can see, you can insert a finger with ease.” She motioned back to the assistant sliding his lubed finger past your asshole that he’d been toying with, and he went all the way down to his knuckle. You jerked on the table some more, your moans rising in pitch and volume while he curled his finger and wiggled it inside of you like they all knew you liked. “And with the same amount of ease, the participant can take an object three times the size without any prep and experience no complications.”

Out came his finger, and you twitched at the loss. She gradually slid a third finger into your cunt and pulled up, pulling you up to the tips of your toes and holding your fluttering cunt just like that. The phallic tip of the lubed vibrator was brought to the toy with a slowness that was only building anticipation for the watchers. Faced away and deafened with the headphones, you were left unaware with anticipation that’d never fade. But she wasn’t complaining. She liked seeing the awe on all the faces when he pushed that vibrator into the toy and clicked it on, resulting in the jolt toward you when you shrieked.

“And you can see….” She nodded at you where you could see the physical reaction contracting through you. “How Participant A reacts to such an intrusion.”

With a wet squelch, she pulled her fingers out.

“Now, all acts are consented to through the app for each day. We have a device that will track orgasms; however, at times, we will be running tests that are counter to such. We aim to seek out as many orgasms as possible, and we aim to see how many we can prevent. We plan to market these products with a sense of control and a loss of in various capacities. Perhaps a user wants to prevent the connected partner from ever orgasming through the entire session. For hours. Days. Weeks. Months, no matter what's done to the toy. So we are experimenting with spells to do just that, if it doesn't want to be done through non-magic means."

Click. The hum of another vibrator cut through the air. The one inside your ass remained deep.

“But, orgasms are part of the program, for those who desire that reassurance.”

She reached under and brushed her fingers over your clit. At the very same time, her assistant pressed the head of the vibrator against the clit on the toy, and your whole body jerked in the restraints. Fingers were replaced with a curved dildo to press right against your sweet spot. Fingers curled into your mouth and began to thrust. Another assistant, at the lead researcher’s permission, walked over and tugged the top of your shirt down and bared your breasts. 

Clamps were added to your nipples on the toy.

“And just look at how successful they are,” she mused.

In a split second, with a tight circle around your swollen clit, every hole contracted. Your orgasm came in like a violent pull, and your head fell forward while your body convulsed. The monitor showed the rise of your pleasure into a near-panful orgasm, but those were the best kind. Those had you pushing your hips back as you so often did, and with a spasm in your cunt that was left purposefully very, very empty for all future participants to see, you screamed as you came in a spraying gush. Her white labcoat took most of it, and a few stepped back as you dribbled down your thighs and fell onto the table, moving with the thrusts of the toys inside of you. Well, inside the toys.

But it was all the same.

"So." She pulled her hand back and smiled at the group. "I will take you around to tour the facility, see the other toy options we have available for connections. Explain how the later tests will differ as success rates climb. Then we will return, and I will show you that success in Participant A here with the multiple penetration I mentioned earlier. Perhaps, if we already have a few who are interested in signing contracts today, we can allow early participation with Participant A. We have yet to attempt double penetration beyond fingers joining dildos in the charmed toys only, but she's consented to an escalation, so….”

She shrugged casually, purposefully ignoring the glittering eyes lighting up across the eager group. 

“Let’s move on, shall we?”

****

The headphones remained on as the testing continued. Up in front, framed by the double doors, a camera was set up to record what the app couldn’t visually. The lead researcher had left ages ago with the group. They’d all walked out with their heads on swivels, not that you could really blame them. Either enticed, curious, or disgusted, this was what they were in for. Intrusive, constant tests that came at all hours of the day and night. This was intense, but there were always going to be a range of intensity tests. From rough fucking they’d given you earlier as a show into the slow strokes of a tongue on the charmed toy’s clit, two on the silicone nipples, and a small plug slowly pressed into your bottom. With your cunt left empty in all regards, you were left bound there in an endless tremble of almost.

Just watching the camera, watching the doors, watching the clock ticking by on the wall. Minute by minute of the six-hour workday was going by as slowly as the licks against you were. 

A longevity test when they weren't trying to prove such direct and immediate success to an audience. Your eyes rolled back at the touch of an orgasm at your senses. The blistering heat in your belly rolling and rolling into a tight knot. They hadn't let you cum since the group left. Just the one. Every time you started to get close like that, they reeled back, and someone walked in front of you to look you over before scribbling something down. 

An attempt at how well they could judge that you were about to climax? Maybe? They had days where they blindfolded you, slotted those headphones in place, and just lightly circled your clit for hours. No extra stimulation. No orgasms, either. One of the tests that actually felt strictly limited to the research. Not like the nights where it seemed like someone was definitely taking enjoyment in their job when they slid their cock into you and fucked you awake and climaxing.

So this was one of those imperative tests, then.

The slow glide of the tongue lapped at your clit. The gentle pressure of their mouth closing around it and sucking had your knees buckling and thighs trying to close. They still dripped from earlier. You hadn’t expected the climax to be so…explosive. But it made for a good visual, so it was hard to be embarrassed. And after all the time spent there at the facility–and at home–with the endless research conducted, it was hard to feel any shame about standing there with your breasts out and skirt pinned up while they conducted their research.

This was all part of it, and that was as simple as it got.

When a full hour passed, an assistant was up beside you to give you water. He pulled your headphones off with a single warning tap, and then there was sound again. The hum of the air conditioning, the whirring of the monitor beside you that you could see if you craned your neck. One orgasm loaded on and over fifty edges were finally being worked into the system. So that’s what they were checking too, then?

“Do you need a break?” he asked, giving you more water to gulp down. All touch faded away into obscurity, but the tingling of the connection remained. Anticipation was still a taunting constant. “Because we intend to continue denial to calibrate the edging system in the application before any new participants return.”

You shook your head. Water was enough. Better results were given, and an extra $30.00 an hour was added for every hour continued after a break was offered but not taken for results integrity. They could continue, even if you were going a tad mad.

“Okay,” he said with a nod. “There will be anal and vaginal penetration via the silicone connectors, and then more will be added directly to you through artificial means. If you require a break, just speak up.” He scribbled something down again. You nodded. “Great. We will begin shortly, then.”

With the headphones returned, shortly was true to its sentiment. 

There was a sensation about it, when the toys were taken off of their stands. It was hardly there when nothing was really happening, and considerably more obvious when tips penetrated both holes and were brought down as if someone was holding you at your hips and moving you at their will onto their cock. You could tell when they were fucking you themselves and when it was a toy. The thrusting was different. The sensations were, too.

And before a hand came and pressed down on your lower back, you were slammed up against the edge of the table with every alternating, slow thrust you were brought over anally and vaginally. The room faded into a blur of tears that didn't fall as their cocks rubbed together inside of you, but not, hitting those spots that made you forget that you used to work an office job just a short while ago. 

One stroke. Your eyes rolled back. Two. Three. A gloved finger worked your clit directly. Oh, sweet fuck. A crane of your head showed it happen in real time. The graph building up to your orgasm. Higher and higher, a literal peak represented on that monitor. Your breasts bounced with every thrust you took, and your cunt spasmed empty and wanting. With nothing to gape over and the retreat of that wonderful finger on your aching clit, the graph stagnated. Your cheeks grew wet, and another tally was added under the edges subheading.

A lubed dildo nudged each hole.

Right as both cock went still entirely sheathed inside of you, someone must’ve clicked a button or flipped a switch. Those currently pressed at your entrances pushed in. Gradually. And there it was, that doubly filled sensation. There but not, stretching you wide while barely filling you. Both nudging spots that were suddenly overstimulated and yet entirely untouched in the stilled movement.

It was impossible to describe accurately while your knees buckled and you collapsed onto the table. 

Full through all means, you drooled onto the table.

A flashing light above the door caught your attention, and just like that, the cocks inside the toys were out and back in with a thicker, vibrating silicone. Ones that nudged what was really inside of you without ever actually touching them. Then, without a warning to prepare you, they all moved out of sync.

Your eyes rolled back, and the bolted-down table held you up onto the thrusting toys.

Someone in your peripheral vision stood beside you to write notes.

The tallies went up on the monitor.

****

It was the perfect sight when all the participants returned to the research room. There you lay drooling on the table, body thrusting from the excessive stimulation. All assistants stood back with their clipboards that weren’t actively doing what was necessary with the connected toys. 

About five of the twenty walked away with NDAs signed. Fine, that left fifteen, and fifteen was a great number for future group tests. Trios and pairings would be easy. They could blindbox certain toys and pass them around to the participants–under supervision and with guided consent lists–to see if they'd be used as expected. 

But, first and foremost–or, perhaps last on the agenda for those who had the contracts in their bags and an itch for what awaited them, there was the final presentation. 

The head researcher stopped at your table with the approaching group. A glance up at the monitor brought many widening eyes and turns toward you. Many hands dropped lower to adjust pants and skirts alike. Good. It meant future investors would have a similar reaction to the sight of the products’ success through you. 

“Have you really been doing that to her the whole time?” someone asked, pointing up at the red tallies that’d just gone up one more. Your body went taut before you pressed your forehead against the table and whined. 

“Oh, yes. We are taking the time to calibrate that portion of the application. This is a recent development, and Participant A has consented to helping us.” She smiled politely at the crowd. “We do not do anything without express consent from participants.”

“Do you….” One hesitant voice trailed off. Bright red cheeks and eyes glued to the dildos sinking in slowly into both you and the connected toys made that color darken. They shook their head, but, surprisingly, they found the words without prompting. “Are the only things used for these tests, um, the toys? I mean–”

“We never, ever mix personal pleasure with the testing. We strictly use the toys, never any bodily parts ourselves,” she said without missing a beat. Her hand fell to you with a smooth motion that you barely registered. Not until her fingers–freshly gloved–brushed your clit. “Now, future tests will allow you to consent to other participants using your connectors for the sake of tests, but that is not a requirement.” 

Your mouth fell open on a broken gasp when her fingers ran over your swelled clit. Edged to the moon and back to help that calibration that would take about…ten more sessions to really calibrate? Maybe eleven. The program was being frustratingly finicky. She ran tighter, faster circles in a mere blink. Without much preparation from your body, it suddenly went tense, and you began pulling on the restraints. Pushed up to the tips of your toes, and the thrusts get a little harder from the toys the assistants controlled.

“Perhaps next time, you can be the ones helping calibrate the program,” she mused.

Your forehead pressed harder against the table. The graph spiked on the monitor. Attention was split between that and you when you tried to lift your feet off the ground in a painful lack of success, stopped by the restraints and held firm in place as your orgasm ran at you. 

Rather violently, like before, you thrashed. You were getting used to it, being full between yourself and the toys. Soon, you’d be taking more than a collective four. They had to test how successful such an intensive escalation was, and watching you convulse on that table while you sprayed over the thrusting dildo that wasn’t stopping no matter how you screamed and climaxed really made for an exciting future. 

“So,” she hummed, pulling her hand back and taking off her gloves. You gasped and sobbed on the table as all devices stopped, nestled inside of you. With how you gaped and stretched, seeing how you rhythmically clenched around them in the lingering waves of your climax was a satisfying sight. "Be here tomorrow morning at 9:00 AM. Any undergarments are not necessary; we will have you in hospital gowns until you are as comfortable as Participant A in being naked."

She waved the group toward the door, lingering back a few of those retreating steps. One assistant walked up close. 

"Turn the intensity up another two notches, leave her clit untouched, but stimulate the one on the toy. In the remaining time, test how her internal overstimulation measures to the constant penetration.”

"Yes, ma'am," he said under his breath.

With a soft pat on your back, she followed the group out.

There were big plans in the making. Incredible plans. And tomorrow, while all the new participants were going through orientation, she would administer your testing herself. 

A smile came through with a satisfied hum. 

They were going to begin monitored public testing with you soon, too. Once the app was calibrated properly. 

Tomorrow, then. She’d do another necessary calibration test. It was a scheduled eight-hour shift for you. She could work in at least one calibration test. Maybe two.

“Thank you all for coming,” she said to the giddy crowd. “I look forward to the development we will all procure together.”

Another calibration test.

Seated completely clothed in the examination room, you faced the head researcher, who just sat at her desk with all of the charmed toys set out before her. Perfectly nestled on their stands, the hum of the unending connection burning beneath your skirt, you wiggled a little in the basic restraints she'd put you in. Wrist and ankle cuffs on the armrests and legs of the chair. One sat like a collar around your throat to keep you against the back and as pin-straight as you could be.

But that was it.

Beside you, the monitor was rolled in and was lit with a bright white background. The graph had no readings on it–a rare night with no tests run–and the empty space under the edges subheading was a bundle of tightening anticipation. 

While the rest of the newly acquired participants were off getting their orientation from the assistants, you were brought right back to your personal research room. Staring at the devices you never really got that close of a look at, shaking in your padded seat.

"This will be a simple calibration test," she said, writing something down in an open file. The scratch of the pencil was audible through the rush of cold air springing forth from the overhead vent. "Mild stimulation until each orgasm is almost reached, and then stimulation will be rescinded, and it will begin again until the device is calibrated. Okay?"

Simple enough. You’d gone through the calibration before already. 

You nodded.

“Great.” The pencil was swapped, and two fingers curled around the base of the stand holding the silicone cunt. A small jar of lube was opened on the table, one blue-gloved finger dipped into it, and with a considerably bored–yet focused–look, she touched the silicone.

One hand held the base of the stand. The other just hovered in front of the silicone replica with just the tip of her finger simply touching the clit. Her middle finger extended, the pressure translating near-directly underneath your skirt. Pressure, bit by bit. A firmness that came with no extra movement except the flick of her eyes up to watch you. A twitch in your thighs was inevitable. With so much testing under your belt, there was no feigning ignorance of what was coming. Or that you wouldn’t be.

The purpose and point of this was to push you to the brink. It wasn’t just stimulation tests. It wasn’t about distance. It wasn’t an increased intensity to see what could be done collectively between the charmed toys and yourself without negative impacts. This was, pure and simple, meant to make your parted thighs quiver and your cunt clench emptily. 

In your peripheral vision, the graph began to rise.

The pad of her gloved finger began to work slow, lazy circles over that silicone clit. They translated right to yours.

"With the new participants, we will be altering the next few tests we run with you." Her finger didn't lose rhythm or speed; your cunt clenched when she repositioned herself into a considerably more comfortable position, finger still on your clit. "They will be invasive, so we have prepared bonuses from interested investors who have taken a look at our partially presented research. We need to test various types of penetration numbers between these and yourself, possibly in tandem." Her lazy circles turned into lazy strokes. "We also intend to see if we can bind multiple of the same toys to one person and, if a connection is made, the physical reactions and limits of such various connections."

Her hand turned–that was as much as you could really see from there–and you braced yourself at the brush of her thumb and forefinger. The slightest pinch pushed you back against the chair, and you chewed your bottom lip to keep from whining too loudly. This was about pushing you to orgasm denial. That was the purpose. There was no shame in reacting. Especially when they'd done much, much more to you. Seemingly, with just the purpose of seeking orgasm after orgasm after orgasm.

Whatever was imperative for testing. 

“What if there were five people doing exactly this to you?” she asked, tightening that pinch just a hair more. At its release, you couldn’t fight the gasp. Lurching just a little, you caught on the cuff at your throat. It made you cough, but she didn’t look up. “Or if each were providing different stimulants? With fingers, orally, through the addition of toys, penetration? Or if all were penetrating you through these?”

Her other hand moved. Two fingers dipped into the lube.

Two fingers smeared wet over your folds distantly yet…. Yet your mouth fell open at the pressure of both pushing into you without a single bit of resistance. Thick and curling; pumping in down to her knuckles. Your eyes fluttered right along with your cunt.

“We will also be showing off the success of the products to the current investors and to future ones, but there’s a decent monetary incentive if you are willing. We would like to, essentially and to oversimplify, run tests on you in a controlled but publicly viewable environment where the investors themselves can see the success. Well, feel it. With you. Since, even whilst gloved, I can feel you wet and clenching around my fingers, so we need them to see that.” A third finger pushed in. She was back to lazy circles on your clit, and the graph started to peak. Higher and higher, that line drew up, and your eyes rolled back. “There will be an additional 5% of the shares added onto the 4% already baked into your current contract, and…an extra $1,000 bonus per person you allow to test the products.”

She hummed for a moment. A tight coil was sudden in your belly, and her fingers stilled. The graph staggered. 

“Well, $1,000.00 for basic tests. Any increased activity beyond touching will allot for varying levels of payment incentives.” 

One tally was added to the monitor.

Your pulse was through the roof. 

“I had intended to wait to pitch this to you, but I received some calls yesterday when we were inundated with every single potential participant signing on. Word already got around. Those curious investors are curious. They want a proof of success and they want it personally.” Her fingers started moving again. Oh, sweet fuck. They squelched inside the silicone; every curl was inside of you, a puddle forming underneath you on the plasticky cushion. “Hence the eagerness to calibrate and my early asking. So, think about it. And we will, of course, go by any consent filled out prior." 

Three fingers pumped into you with just a bit more speed. Your knees tried to close under the quickening circles around your clit, but you were stuck. Through half-lidded eyes, you met hers. A public test with strangers using the toys? A proof of concept and success…. The money and shares…. It… What they all might do to you through those toys….

The graph peaked suddenly.

Her fingers stilled.

Another tally was added.

You nodded. “I’ll think it over.”

She smiled politely. “Great.”

She continued the test without a single pause.

****

A timer was going out of sight on her desk. Over an hour and a half had passed since the start of the test, and she watched you writhe in the chair. She’d been watching you writhe in the chair. For the first forty-five minutes, she’d been using her fingers. Fingering you with slow, deep thrusts and giving your clit adequate attention to make that graph spike and fall at will.

The increase in stimulation came with a single, thin vibrator held right at your clit. With no hood to pull back, it was direct contact, but still dimmed through the connection. They needed to figure out a way to perfect it; if they could make it seem like every touch to the toy was directly to you, perhaps the overstimulation effects would differ. But what could be a negative could be a positive. Perhaps it was closer to a feature that you only thrashed a little with just a graze of that vibrator against your clit. 

When she upped the strength–bit by bit, of course–you did thrash more. Harder. You choked yourself on the collar and tried to lift away from it. Overstimulated yet under-climaxed. Quite literally the perfect combination for the calibration test. The tallies were growing so, so quickly, and every time you lifted a little off the chair, she heard the wet drop back into it. 

Once they had the denial spell perfected, she’d test it on you exactly like this. The overstimulation tests would make for the same with that new spell. Tied up with a vibrator on your clit for…three hours? Four? Five? Overstimulating you through the toy was one test to see how you–or a consumer purchasing the product–would endure. But applying a denial spell and applying the same methodology? Constant climaxes through overstimulation and completely denied within it were a comparison she was eager to test.

First and foremost, she had to finish this calibration. And in doing so, she eyed the timer again. Past the two-hour mark, she turned the vibrator off and set it aside. It was time for the next phase of the test. Not inherently required, but it was important to check bodily reactions. 

You didn’t so much as flinch when her chair rolled back from her desk. Your head just hung back, your eyes closed, tears streaking your cheeks. When she approached, you didn’t look at her. Just panted and trembled in place.

You were used to it already. The necessary checks. You barely twitched when she reached forward and began unbuttoning your blouse. She could already see your nipples poking through, but opening your shirt to really see them pointed and hard was needed for her notes. She undid your blouse all the way, pulling it open while leaving it tucked so it kept your breasts bared.

Then, lower, she flipped up your skirt and angled her head to look at you. Sopping wet, sitting in a puddle of your own arousal. She hummed at the sight; your clit was swollen with want, but not an ounce of contact. Reaching down to bypass it on purpose, she parted your folds and smiled; your cunt contracted empty and wanting. Good. You were perfectly denied and desperately wanting. That was the exact reaction wanted.

With a tip of some water down your parched throat, she was back at her desk to continue. Water dribbled down your chin from the poor pour. Tears still raked down your jaw and along your throat to the tight collar. Every breath heaved your chest a tad distractingly, but she was a professional. 

And part of the professional testing required her to lift the toy from its holder and bring it up to her mouth.

She had to calibrate all near climaxes with every sort of stimulation. 

Your partially open eyes slammed shut at the single drag of her tongue over your clit.

She could feel you without feeling you. How your clit twitched and swelled even when it was just silicone under her. When she sucked, she could feel you tense without glancing up to see it. Your moans came genuinely, which was great. It meant the connection was secure enough to really feel every stroke of her tongue. And when it dipped lower–to make sure the connection was secure enough–she felt how your cunt spasmed empty and wanting when her tongue pushed inside of you.

The graph spiked quickly.

The tallies increased.

She sat back in her chair and eyed the timer. Sucking your clit into her mouth again–harder–your next moan came as a partial scream.

By the mark of the third hour, a small bullet vibrator had been inserted into the toy, and she had her mouth locked on your clit. Clamps were attached to the silicone nipples, wet from her mouth and previously pinched by her fingers.

By the fourth hour, she was stroking your clit again. The bullet vibrator was on its highest setting. Your skirt was pinned up so she could be sure that everything she felt was what came through. The chair was soaked in a literal puddle. Your nipples were hard as rocks while every breath came staggered and choppy. Your clit was swollen and still untouched, yet she could feel how you twitched and writhed in place when she rolled it between her fingers.

"I need to make sure the other toys have remained connected, so I am going to run a few more tests," she said idly, setting the silicone cunt back up on the stand. She kept her thumb rubbing your clit with her dominant hand while her nondominant made for the necessary tests. A lubed thumb pushed into the silicone asshole–which you jolted and moaned that you could feel. First, just insertion, then the deep thrusts, before just hooking it inside of you. Only for a few moments as your climax peaked, and she had to pause.

Then she flicked and pulled at the clamps on your nipples, earning another moaning shriek.

Great.

Then up to the silicone mouth. 

"Suck," she stated, stuffing two fingers inside it. Your moans muffled instantly, and she could feel the suction grow and grow. The drag of your tongue through her fingers. The wet warmth was similar to what she'd felt inside the cunt. "Great. I need to test longevity in the connection here, and that no matter how distracted you are, the connection remains intact, so I am going to ask you to react if you notice any further connections made.”

She didn’t wait for your answer.

At that, she lifted the mouth-shaped toy from its stand and lowered it. Underneath the desk, underneath her skirt, and right where she parted her thighs and readjusted her inappropriately soaked underwear. But such a reaction from her meant the investors would be fucking their fists to get a taste of you, and that meant more money. That meant success! 

She brought the parted silicone lips to her cunt, and in a second, she saw your mouth move. Felt your mouth move. She hid her gasp in the sound of yours; bringing the silicone cunt back up to her mouth, she sucked your clit hard between your lips as you lapped at hers.

She eyed the timer again.

“We will remain in this portion until the calibration is complete.” Her words almost caught in her mouth when your tongue dipped lower and pushed into her. 

The timer ticked on. Your tears came endlessly, and you choked against her. Every whine came as a distant vibration against her clit, and she rocked forward against the silicone mouth. She'd never degrade herself in front of the investors like this, demonstrating it herself just how successful the products were. But she could let them see. A mess of degrading lust in that future room, but it was for the sake of the product. And so long as you consented, great. You'd be paid handsomely for your participation, and you'd be rewarded with countless orgasms. All without them so much as actually touching you.

She already had the room reserved. You'd be positioned on the table naked on your hands and knees, facing away from the audience so they could watch in real time as your arousal formed. Sincere arousal. And they'd be given access to your connected toys to see every lurch from a paddle, every clench from a touch, every shudder and contraction from pleasure. Just how empty you'd remain on that stage while they filled your charmed holes up however they wanted–within reason. The goal was to show off the product, how it'd be a market success from day one. How the spell interacted with consent and the willing parties.

You really were just absolutely perfect.

Her eyes rolled back when you sucked on her clit again, and her orgasm rushed in. 

Good. Good. Good.

She glanced up at the ding from the calibration completion and sighed in pure satisfaction. Pulling out the bullet vibrator, she swapped it for one meant to target your g-spot. She locked the toy back onto the stand, angled it properly, and with a touch of a round, clit-sized wand pressed right against the overstimulated bundle, she sank the toy in and angled it against your g-spot.

The cuffs clinked as you lifted from the chair. You coughed around the collar pulled tight at your throat. And with a click of both toys going up to the next highest setting, she watched the success spray out over the chair with a choking sob. 

You cunt squeezed around nothing, yet you squirted right as the graph peaked higher than it had all day. Your hips rocked up and down, taking every thrust of the vibrator. Your eyes rolled back, and out came more tears. Convulsing in the dripping pleasure, you went fully taut, leaking onto the seat, until you dropped back into it with a loud, wet plop.

The toys were set aside.

She pulled the nipple clamps off.

"Good. The calibration test was a success," she said casually, plucking up the tablet linked to the monitor. All were noted. All were successful. "We need to wait about five minutes, and then I can unlatch you, as it needs to read all vitals after the fact. So just sit there and catch your breath."

She picked up a cloth and sprayed cleaner on each toy. You flinched at each spritz.

"You did well. Thank you."

You whined. Whined from her words and perhaps from the light touches she was giving the toys whilst cleaning them. Typically, they’d be disconnected or put on pause for this, but that was pointless work. They just required a little bit of cleaning. You were taking it well, too. 

When she honed in on making sure that silicone clit was perfectly clean of lube, too–

“Mmmmm.” 

You bit down on your lip. The graph spiked. Unintentional, but…. She just looked back down at the necessary cleaning and continued. Even as the graph stayed risen and you started to squirm in your chair.

"Let me know if you would be interested in participating in the investors' reveal." She locked the cabinet with the still-connected toys in it. The wheels on the cart squeaked with the lazy roll over to you. Snacks and water sat in waiting. A warm bowl of water was filled, and a washcloth was waiting to be used to clean you up. "It really would be a grand advancement for this."

She undid the latch at your throat, and your eyes fluttered open. Blown pupils met her, and she smiled. Politely, but she could see the interest forming just as it had during your first test with them so many weeks ago. 

You nodded, then nodded again.

Excitement was a field of wildflowers blooming in the summer.

“Okay,” you croaked. “I’ll do it. For 6% of added shares and $1,200.00 per person.”

Fun. You’d really picked up on negotiating. She would've gone up to $1,500.00, but so be it.

She dunked the washcloth and returned your nod.

“I’ll have the official contract drawn up.”

Fantastic.