Today marked the end of my holiday, and the long car journey back to England only fueled the fiery need pulsating deep within me. The tantalising messages from my friend sent shivers down my spine, each word dripping with naughty promises for the night’s wild escapades.

Once I was alone in my room, fresh from a steamy shower and naked, I eagerly set up my remote-controlled toy, ready to become his obedient plaything. The anticipation was electric as I switched on the toy, feeling the first hum of its power against my sensitive skin.

Our first session was an intoxicating dance of desire. The toy buzzed softly at first, then grew more insistent, each vibration precisely timed to keep me teetering on the edge of ecstasy. To heighten my pleasure and torment, he ordered me to clamp my nipples, which added a delicious bite of pain. Then he had me press the cold, flat blade of a knife against my throbbing clit. The icy touch against my hot, swollen flesh was exquisitely torturous. My desperation to climax grew, but I bit my lip, staying silent, driven wild by the desire to prove how good I could be by not coming without his command.

When the climax finally tore through me, it was explosive—unleashed and raw, it left me shaking and breathless, a mess of satisfied need.

But he wasn’t finished with me yet. No sooner had I caught my breath than he started up the toy again, this time cruelly setting it to a maddeningly low buzz. It teased me, barely touching the brink of what I needed. Each whisper of vibration made me more desperate. I was his to command, telling him each time I neared the edge, each time hoping he’d let me tumble into orgasm. He commanded me to wait, to endure, making me beg for each touch, each pulse of pleasure.

He played me like a finely tuned instrument, occasionally allowing the vibrations to crescendo into a frenzy that pushed me over the edge multiple times. Each orgasm was a sweet release, wrung out of me by his meticulous control, more intense and ravenous than the last, until the toy’s battery finally sputtered out.

Lying there in the afterglow, I felt a deep sense of satisfaction, proud of how thoroughly he’d used me, how completely I’d served his desires.

Back in England, utterly spent and still tingling from the night’s excesses, Rosie x