Sam strips down

Sam lifted her pyjama top up even further over her head… and let it drop nonchalantly onto the floor. Those cute, little shorts she was so fond of, soon following suit. Of course, she herself had decided to do none of these things. Her body had simply responded to some outside command and now stood there grinning like some gormless idiot at a view it should be more than familiar with.

Her exposed and naked form looked back at her from the mirror. Eyes wide in clear, mischievous excitement at the vision it had gifted itself. Long, slender limbs leading up to the softening angles that might one day soon be a mature woman’s curves. Pert, swelling young breasts that were already waking up to the breeze… and a little patch of fuzz above her unveiled labia, that she’d been meaning to shave. You could practically see the sordid glee of whoever was controlling her… painted across the face that was, itself, being controlled. Whoever it was now had full, leering access to every inch of her. A situation Sam was sure they intended to make full use of.

Internally, the girl was retching at the idea that someone out there was eyeing up her unclothed body. Bending and twisting her into all manner of poses, just to get a better look from every angle. She shivered at both the cold and humiliation being enforced upon her. While her body was made to pout and preen. To turn her knees in and hold up peace signs. To look back over one shoulder and 'twerk'; an action she’d never even considered she could achieve. Then to stand one leg on the dresser and spread her vulva, leaning in as close as possible to get a good, long eyeful of her own genitalia.

With a gasp, Sam felt her own fingers begin to explore that area further. Confirming the suspicion that, although she could not control her actions, she could still very much feel the results of them. The strange sensations of a hand that both was, and was not, her own; exploring the intimacies of her most private places. It was almost exactly the opposite of sitting on an arm until it went numb and then masturbating, not that Sam had ever tried such a thing. Yet somehow it made every tingling nerve that her fingertips crossed over, sing with far more intensity than she was used to.

The electronically-possessed teen didn't know if whoever it was controlling her could feel what she was feeling… but doubted it by the clumsy way they were fumbling around her erogenous zones. However, the hit-and-miss techniques of this ghost within her own skin were certainly enough to bring a blush to her cheeks and catch to every other breath. Whoever it was could clearly see this in the mirror and was enjoying honing in on what caused the most involuntary trembles and gasps in this puppet they'd made of her. Once again the utter, surreal horror of this situation was building up in the trapped and locked out owner of the body; though it was also becoming confusingly melded in with other swelling emotions. It was impossible to deny or hold back the physical pleasures Sam's own fingers were drawing out from the depths of her sex. A cruel contradiction that only seemed to tighten her focus on those sensations and strengthen them even further.

So it was that Sam found herself creeping closer and closer towards a climax, brought about entirely by her own hand, but in no way at her own command.