Turn it up.

*“Mmm. Just… a bit tired. I didn't sleep well last night.” She forces a smile, her voice only slightly strained.

Steven and Rebecca nod understandably, thinking she's referring to the whole tree-falling-on-the-house ordeal. She takes another sip of her drink, her hand trembling just enough to make the glass clink against her teeth. You press the button again, turning the vibration up a notch. Gemma's legs shift under the table, her knees pressing together to try to contain the sensation. But she can't, not with the buttplug inside her, pressing against that sweet spot every time she moves. Her free hand drops to her lap, her fingernails digging into her thigh in an attempt to distract herself.

Rebecca is talking now, something about the dessert menu, but you’re barely listening. You turn the vibrator up another level. Gemma's fork clatters against her plate.

“Shit - sorry,” she mutters, her voice higher than usual. Steven gives her a weird look.

Her teeth are sunk into her bottom lip, her body tensing as the vibrations grow stronger. You can see the way her hips subtly rock against the chair, like she’s trying to ride the sensation in order to control it. You lean back in your seat, your own hard as steel cock pressing painfully against your zipper. You turn the vibrator up to the highest setting. Gemma’s eyes fly to yours, wide and desperate. She shakes her head, motioning "please" and "stop" but you don’t.

Steven finally seems to notice that something is very wrong.

“Gemma, are you—”

“I’m fine,” she cuts in, her voice sharp. Too sharp. She shifts in her seat, her body betraying her as a soft, needy moan slips past her lips.

Rebecca’s eyebrows shoot up. *=“Gemma? What the—”

But it’s too late.