My owner runs a weekly poll on my cam channel, a list of household items. I’m allowed to see the list, but not to see the results of the poll. Paid subscribers vote, and at the end of seven days, my owner sets up a live show.
I’m blindfolded and walked into the room that is our studio. I know the setup is usually three cameras and a mic wherever my head will be. Sometimes I’m laid out on my back, knees spread wide. Other times ass up face down for so long my thighs tremble. One time I was bent over a desk, but I assume that was thematic to match the curved-body stapler I was fucked with.
The objects are always safe, like the lightbulb replica made of play-safe glass, and the rolling pin which had been stainless steel rather than the old wooden one in the kitchen.
The filming has already started whenever we enter the room, and the chat ping ping pings away. Cash machine sounds as tips roll in, the bell chime for new subscribers. My owner responds to the comments, sometimes reading them out to me while my cunt pulses, drips, stretches.
I’m allowed to try and guess what the object is, but so often they all feel the same: smooth, cold, hard, vaguely cylindrical. The egg beater had been pretty easy though.
When whatever it is has been fucked all the way in, my owner makes me come on it, fucking it in and out, circling my clit, helping me along with a vibrator. Whatever it takes to make me clench down on this hard, unforgiving object, the thing shoved into my cunt like it’s the only thing my cunt is good for.
The comments always come faster the closer I get. The tips, too. Sometimes my owner reads them out, sometimes not. But I always come.
At the end, my blindfold comes off and I watch the bottle or utensil or tool as it slides from my pussy. I watch the cameras click off one by one. I watch my owner clean my juices off the handle or body, and then that thing, whatever it is, takes its place back in our home.
And every time I use it, I remember what it felt like, and my pussy clenches again.
