She just barely resists cumming

"No," she gasped, forcing herself to stop, though it took every ounce of willpower she possessed. What was wrong with her? Standing in her prisoner's luxury bathroom, masturbating with his expensive lotion? She pulled her hand away, shocked at how close she'd come to losing control completely.

Her entire body tingled now, sensitized beyond anything she'd experienced before. Even the air against her skin felt like a caress. She blamed the products—clearly they contained some kind of stimulating ingredient, probably extracted from some endangered species at great expense. That would be just like him, to indulge in something rare and forbidden for the sake of a slightly more pleasant shower.

Looking down at herself, she realized she'd used nearly half the bottle of lotion. Her skin gleamed in the bathroom's soft light, looking somehow healthier, more vibrant than before. But now she faced a new problem—her clothes were still a soaked, disgusting mess on the floor, and there didn't seem to be any towels or robes provided."Perfect," she sighed, glaring at the mess on the floor. "Just perfect." Her body was twinging with need, and her fingers itched to return to what they'd been doing, but she shook herself. She'd just have to walk back as-is, and hope he was sound asleep.

Gathering her courage, she cracked the bathroom door open and peered out. The corridor was mercifully empty, the directional lights still pulsing softly to guide her back to her pod. Taking a deep breath, she stepped out, leaving her ruined clothes behind.

Each step was an exercise in sensory overload. The cool air of the corridor seemed to caress her heated skin, making her newly sensitized nerves sing. Her nipples remained painfully hard, and between her legs, she felt an emptiness that her fingers had only begun to address. The subtle motion of walking made her thighs brush together, sending fresh sparks of pleasure through her with each step.

By the time she reached her pod, she was trembling, though whether from arousal or the aftermath of shame, she couldn't quite tell. The pod opened automatically to welcome her, its surface pristine and showing no sign of her earlier accident.

But as the pod conformed to her body, she realized her mistake. The pressure against her sensitized skin was almost unbearable, sending fresh waves of arousal through her. Even the slight friction of the pod's surface against her nipples and between her legs felt like deliberate stimulation.

"Stupid," she hissed to herself. "Stupid, wasteful, impulsive..." She should have known better than to overindulge in products that expensive, especially once she'd realized they had some kind of mentholating agent in them. No wonder they cost so much. She couldn't remember feeling anything that had felt this good in... ever, a traitorous part of her whispered.

Sleep seemed impossible now. Every slight movement, every shift of her weight, sent fresh pulses of sensation through her oversensitized body. The worst part was, beneath the discomfort and self-recrimination, there was an undeniable pleasure to it all - a persistent, humming arousal that showed no signs of diminishing.