You think your wishes are about to be answered as the woman on screen appears to respond to your bidding, nudging almost shyly one forefinger until it sits half buried in her wet opening. Grateful, you mirror the action, your eyes starting to close as you think about drifting into reverie, but you are snapped back to your sense by the harsh bark of a voice.
“No! You will not touch yourself like that. Do only what you are permitted. Look inside the case.”
For a moment, you think the voice comes not from the screen but inside the car with you. Your eyes flash open, half-expecting to see the driver’s partition now removed, and him telling you what to do, as he smiles hungrily at the sight of your nude cunt, your finger buried inside it. The voice even sounds like him, you think to yourself. Is he watching? Has he been told to deliver this instruction? Is your Master making you expose yourself for this man? Does He know how your thoughts run, did He imagine you would fantasise about taking this man’s thick, hairy cock in your mouth, that you would wonder what it would be like to flash him a sight of your cunt? Is this why He is doing this, as a response to these desires he knows would lie within you, removing from you the guilt caused by agency, and choice, making you do what you had wanted to secretly, but never would dare without His permission? You remember the driver’s words as he closed the partition when you had entered the car. ‘Time to enjoy the ride’…? What had he meant by that? You are sure now there was something in his voice, more than just a polite request to sit back, and enjoy a pleasant and comfortable journey. He knows, he must do, what lies in wait for you when you finally reach your destination. He has done this countless times, delivered countless women in this way; why had you ever thought that you might be something different, someone special? His gratification is that of the voyeur, and it must please your Master to have you expose yourself to him like this, like some common slut who cannot stop herself, who must show her cunny to all who would look, who would whore herself not for money but just for the rapt attention men would give her genitalia, if not her mind. You smile as you think how clever your Master is, how well He knows you, and how this shameless behaviour turns you on, making you ever wetter for Him. Happily, you remove your finger from your sodden cleft, as the model onscreen matches your movement, and your eyes drift from the screen to above the seat, hoping to catch the driver’s leering gaze and salivating smile as he drinks in the sight of you.
The darkened glass still sits in its place, though, and you realise that the sound must have come from hidden speakers located somewhere in the cabin of the limousine. It is just a recording, and you blush instantly. How could you have thought that of your Master? How could you have imagined that He who adores you, He whose Will informs you, would so callously make you perform for another’s pleasure? The more so because now He cannot observe your compliance with His instruction, what benefit then is there for Him? And all is to His benefit, His pleasure, because that is how you derive your own. You bite your lower lip hard, not to stifle a moan of delight, but for the pain, to make yourself suffer for having tried to second-guess Him, and to help you concentrate once more. The voice had distracted you, and you need to return focus to the screen, follow what is done, and question no more.
You had not noticed that the woman on screen now holds a case identical to the one which contained the disc, and that a smile is drawn on her lips beneath the mask as she opens it. Repositioning yourself to match her, your buttocks just resting on the edge of the seat, your hips thrust forward, legs parted slightly and cunt on full view, you are struck by just how much her body resembles your own. You know you are attractive, and when your Master tells you that you are beautiful, it pleases you, but only because you please Him. You have never before considered your body like this, as external, detached from you, for you to study as a piece of art and a source of eroticism. You cannot stop yourself from looking up and down the splayed legs, marvelling at the tone displayed in the muscles, coming to rest and focus in almost gynaecological detail on your vagina. You wish narcissistically that you could pause the film, that you yourself were there to command this woman, this replica of you, to pleasure herself for your pleasure, to pleasure you. You want to study every part of your own body but from outside, from above, and above all, you want to wank furiously, be fucked furiously whilst you do it, a sensory overload of literal self-indulgence. You feel yourself drifting, and half-expecting the disembodied voice to command again (why did it sound so much like the driver?), you snap to: she has removed something from the box, and you know you must do the same.
Inside the case, nestled in a recess that had lain hidden under the disc, sit two metallic black balls connected by a thin silver cord, and beneath them, a short pyramid of blackened hardened rubber, on what looks like a stand or base. You watch as the woman on screen picks up the stump of rubber, wipes the tip of it alluringly across her mouth, then traces the same opening her fingertip had done moments before. You think she will plunge it straight into her welcoming snatch, but she does not. The tip moistened with her juices, she raises it to her mouth again, and sucks it in greedily, the flattened base protruding from her lips like a child’s dummy. You follow her actions like an automaton, unfeeling and unthinking, as your mind leaps steps ahead and wonders what the purpose of such movements might be. Her mouth thus blocked, she begins to suck noisily on the plug, slurping back her saliva as it threatens to drip from her mouth. You do the same, for you can do no other. Without looking her hand falls to the case and pulls from it the two metal attached balls, and you do you likewise. That they immediately start to vibrate and hum surprises you, and you can hear from the screen what you feel in your palm, the shifting, juddering sensation of the balls jiggling in your hand. Gratefully you comply as the on-screen you takes first one ball, rubbing the vibrating metal over the outer lips of her (your) pussy, before pushing it into the wet folds so that it disappears completely. The sensation of that small globe inside you, vibrating in every direction causes the muscles of your cunt to quiver with excitement, and in your already heightened state, you wonder just how long it will be before your body shudders with involuntary orgasm. Blissfully you match what is displayed before you, and if anything you are quicker than she to push the second orb deep inside you, relishing the feeling as your entire cunt seems to pulse around the eggs. You pull the thin silver cord gently, so as not to disturb the balls, but so that it hangs like a decorative chain from your trembling pussy lips. It looks so beautiful twinkling against the wet pink flesh on the monitor, and you know that yours looks just as enticing.
The balls securely inside you, their gentle vibrato a constant source of trembling pleasure, you are guided to move your hands to beneath your ass, to part your cheeks and finger slowly the puckered flesh of your anus, circling the darkened whorl with first one finger then another, by the screened image in front of you. You hear the inhalation of the other you as ease one finger gently into the hole, circling all the while for maximal stimulation. You see her and feel your sphincter relax slightly, allowing her and your finger to sink slowly inwards until the nail, the first, and then the second knuckle disappear from view as the flesh closes around it. Nervous, excited, you work the finger in your ass mimicking what you see, trying hard not to gasp so that you drop the black rubber device from your mouth. You know now what this is for, and the thought alone is almost enough to bring you to instant orgasm. This is a butt plug, for you to wear in your anus, so that the flesh might be delicately stretched over time, ready to accept your Master’s stiff member when it might please Him. You remember with a frisson the promise He once made, to breach that most secret part of you, but to do so lovingly, tenderly, with great affection and care that it should not cause you undue pain. You remember how you felt when you told Him that He would be the first to do so, that you would welcome Him there. And you remembered that night how long He had administered to your pleasure there, on His knees with your buttocks clamped over His face as he worked His tongue deep inside your anus, awakening you to the possibilities of such love, and that first shocking penetration with just His little finger that thrilled you so much you had screamed involuntarily, but not without delight. He had to punish you then, a light chastisement, because you did not have permission to cry out, but no sooner had He finished the last of the strokes of the belt than He had returned to His caring role, rubbing soothing cold cream into the red welts His beating caused. You loved Him in that moment, and were secure in His love too, and you know that tonight will be more of that, a demonstration of your commitment to Him and His enduring love for you.
You watch dreamily as screen-you removes the plug from her mouth, its black rubber surface dripping with saliva, and places it at the entrance to her anus. You are almost unaware of your hands copying the motion, everything now automatic as you lose your mind in the pleasure waves coursing through your body from the vibrating balls within you. You inhale reflexively as if sucking the plug in, and you are a little surprised not just by how easily it enters you, but by the warmth it creates as it nestles in your anus. You clench your muscles around it reflexively, the action causing mini shocks that combine with the steady throbbing deep in your cunt, threatening to send you over into orgasm this minute. You are only stopped from throwing your head back, tearing off your coat, grabbing your tits with one hand whilst vigorously frotting your clit with the other, all sensations combining, collapsing upon one another in wave after wave of body-shuddering orgasm, by the screen abruptly turning black, and the car braking swiftly to a full halt. This time the voice is unmistakably the driver’s.
“We have… arrived, Madam.” The intonation is heavy, and arched. Although you still cannot see anything behind the smoked glass, you could swear he just winked at you.