instructions – Not A Real Doctor

A genuine fact about me: my hearing is unusually acute, and has remained so into my thirties, when most men start losing the ability to hear higher frequencies. I can hear a phone chime with a new text two floors away; I can pick you out of a crowd by the sound of your keyring when you put your hand in your purse.

That’s why I gave you this assignment. Yes, you spent long enough pleading with me for an orgasm that I decided to grant you one, on the condition that you get yourself off between seven and seven-fifteen this evening. Yes, that is in fact when my guests will be arriving for dinner. Yes, the four of us will be right in the next room.

I wouldn’t want your needy pussy to disturb anyone while we have company, and I think you know what will happen to you later if any of them notices or casts a suspicious glance at the bedroom door. You know the rules now. This is the only chance to come you’ll get this week, and possibly this month. But rest assured, girl, when I say not to make a single sound,

fucking

mean it.

Hello. This is for one of you specifically: the one who hits the heart button on practically everything I post here, trying to send me wordless messages, saving them to your little private stash for recycling later. I know already that you like being told what to do. So I’m telling you.

Strip from the waist down and pull up your favorites list. Start playing with yourself. Keep your top on for now. You can linger or scroll as much as you like–I know you’ve got plenty of things in there to stimulate the imagination–but for now you are to use only your fingers. You may use lubricant if it’s close at hand. Penetrate yourself between minutes spent on your clit.

Has it been ten minutes yet? I hope you didn’t think you were allowed to climax yet. Remove your top and bra, if any; by now the only clothing you are permitted to keep wearing is your socks. Have your vibrator handy, but don’t touch it yet. Use one hand to play with your breasts, the other on your clit, until you see a full-color gif of a subject you wish was you.

You’ll begin using your toy now. Find a post in your favorites that is at least four paragraphs of text long. Without making a sound, read the entire thing to yourself, moving your lips silently around each word.

When you feel yourself getting close, turn the vibrator up as high as you can stand it, penetrate yourself with your other hand and come. Now. Every minute you keep from coming after reading that order is punishment to be handed out later. You’re going to get off for me in exactly the way I specify, and if you fail, I will have my satisfaction from you.

You will not be easy on yourself with this orgasm. Keep the toy against your clit even if you start to feel overloaded and painfully sensitive; ride out every last pulse and toe clench. If you come more than once, don’t stop until you have to. Treat your body in exactly the way you imagine I would: I don’t care if you’re satisfied, I care whether your cunt satisfies me.

Did you do as you were told? I should have known. You’ve been a very good girl this evening. When you’re all finished up, I would like you to thank me.

Aloud.

“It’s a lovely little thing,” he murmurs in your ear as you rest yourself on his thigh, squirming a little. “Warm to the touch, and yielding. Find it for me.”

Shyly at first, then with some enthusiasm, you reach down into the pretty sparkly band of fabric and brush your fingers over yourself: smooth where he shaved you, velvet-soft where you can feel the beginnings of just a little swell.

“Don’t be shy,” he grins, and then both his hands are there, pressing to rock you back against him and pull you up a little bit under his fingertips. He doesn’t go underneath the panties, not quite, but the pressure is perfectly clear. You inhale.

“There. Try it like that. Like Daddy showed you.” You follow his movement, hand on the outside and pressing against your mound, then deeper under to rub the seam against your clit. It’s nothing you haven’t done before, not exactly, but it’s different somehow–like you’re acting as his hands, even as his other pair roams up and down your tingling back.

“A good girl knows how to play with the toys her Daddy got her.” He’s settling into the rhythm of his words, calm and low, his voice rumbling a little through his chest against your back. “You wouldn’t want me to think it’s not being put to good use, would you? I might have to take it away…”

Spurred on, fumbling a little with excitement, you slide your hand underneath again and spread yourself, wet your fingertips. It’s a lot easier than it was a moment ago. His hands move down to rub your thighs, encouraging you to spread a little wider. You feel yourself contract, pulse, hunger, and the sudden heat in your belly makes you lean your other hand on his knee for support.

“There we go,” he says, and the pleased tone in his voice is as effective as a vibrator. You’re rubbing yourself in earnest now, humping his leg and your hand–no, his hand–as your wetness begins to seep downward into the sparkly, lacy, glittery pretties he got to decorate his toy.

“It’s fascinating, isn’t it?” he whispers. “Beautiful little puzzle, little heat pump, the place I enter to bring you home.” You can’t quite stay quiet at that, all shyness gone now, rocking your throbbing clit like a clumsy teenager flooded with need. “You’re shiny and new every time I touch you, my present. And as long as we both want to play together, I’ll never need any new toys.”