silver bullet

The door clicked shut behind Polly and Tony. Dawn waited, breath still shallow, until the sound of their laughter disappeared down the hallway.

Then, slowly, she stood.

The silence of the flat was thick. Her legs trembled slightly as she walked toward her handbag. She unzipped it and pulled out the small silver vibrator. It was lighter than she remembered, cool to the touch, with a simple, elegant design—like something that might belong in a jewellery box instead of between a woman's thighs.

She turned it over in her palms, rubbing it gently, trying to warm the metal with her skin.

Dawn undid her robe and slipped it from her shoulders, letting it fall in a soft puddle at her feet. Her bra followed. The cool air of the bedroom kissed her skin. Her nipples stiffened, small and pale against her slight breasts. She hesitated only a moment before crawling onto her bed and lying back, her body buzzing with a mix of anticipation and unease.

Tony’s face flickered in her mind. The way his eyes had lingered between her legs. She felt her body respond, hot trickle slipping from her already wet pussy.

She looked down at her little breasts, her nipples were hard and excited and she gave one a little pinch, she knew that this was naughty and against everything that her mother had taught her

"Good girls, don't play with their bits" her mothers voice echoed around her head and Dawn though sorry mum but good girls also have to pay the rent.

Now or never, she thought.

She picked up the vibrator and clicked the base. It whirred to life, a soft, insistent buzzing that reminded her of a bumblebee trapped in a jar. Holding it lengthwise in her hand, she brought it down slowly, grazing it across her pubic mound. Even through that light touch, sensation crackled through her nerves.

She closed her eyes. Just that was enough to make her gasp.

And then downward.

The tip found her clit. Her breath caught. It didn’t even need pressure just the barest contact sent a pulse of electricity up her spine. It was strange and sudden, not painful, but intense like flickers of static across her skin and a hot coil tightening deep inside her belly.

She realized, with a gasp, that she’d been holding her breath. Her chest rose sharply as she exhaled, and the movement caused her clit to shift against the toy.

The jolt that followed made her cry out.

She’d never made a noise like that before. Not for herself. It was deep, involuntary, and animal.

Encouraged, she pressed the vibrator a little harder against her clit. Her hips began to rock instinctively, chasing the rhythm. Her thighs trembled. Her toes curled.

Then, suddenly, panic.

Her heart raced. The intensity was overwhelming. She pulled the toy away, breathing hard, her ears ringing and her body drenched in sweat. She lay there, dazed.

Was that... was that an orgasm? she wondered, blinking up at the ceiling.

She reached between her legs. The sheets were soaked. The vibrator buzzed quietly beside her, still alive with energy.

Slowly, carefully, she brought it back to her body.

This time, she didn’t stop at her clit. She slid the tip down to her slick opening. Her fingers trembled as she guided it inside. The metal slipped in with surprising ease, her body practically pulling it in.

A moan escaped her lips, low, breathy, raw.

This was different. This was full.

The sensation was deeper, slower, like warm honey spreading through her core. She pushed the toy farther in, inch by inch, until she felt stretched in a way she never had before. Her hips tilted. Her back arched. She reached up and pinched one of her nipples, just as a fresh wave of pleasure surged through her.

She whimpered.

Then she thought of Tony again, his eyes, his grin, the hunger in his expression when he saw her.

Would he think of her later?

That thought was the spark.

The orgasm hit hard. Her legs kicked. Her back bowed. She cried out, her voice echoing in the empty flat as every muscle seized and released, seized and released. Her body convulsed in waves. She couldn’t stop shaking.

Somewhere in the chaos, the vibrator slipped out and buzzed against her thigh. She was left gasping, staring at the ceiling, tears pricking the corners of her eyes.

She blinked.

Vision blurry. Stars danced at the edges.

She reached for the toy with a trembling hand and switched it off. The silence felt deafening.

Sitting up slowly, she glanced between her legs. Her pussy was glistening, tender, the sheets underneath soaked through. She noticed, with a flicker of alarm, a few faint smudges of blood.

She leaned closer, fingers tentative, inspecting. Everything looked okay—no tears, no injuries. Just... used.

“Jesus,” she whispered, laughing weakly. “How the hell do I describe that in a review?”

She propped her phone up, switched to the front-facing camera, and let herself look.

The girl on the screen wasn't who she'd expected. Her cheeks were flushed, yes, but her eyes were bright and focused. Her lips curved upward, a slight, surprised smile like she was meeting a new version of herself for the first time.

She clicked the first photo.

Then another.

And another experimenting with poses, with light, with angles. She wasn't thinking about what anyone else might see anymore.

She didn’t rush. She didn’t need to. She moved it where it felt good, pausing often, eyes fluttering closed, her body alive with sensation. Her other hand snapped a few final photos tasteful, careful, but undeniably intimate. Just the vibrator against her smooth skin.

Afterward, she sat up slowly, legs crossed, phone in hand. She scrolled through the pictures and selected the best ones — none with her face, just enough to fulfil the assignment. Then she opened her notes app and began to write the review.

She found herself leaning into it — drawing from her love of literature, the way she'd seen desire written between the lines in the novels that she had found in her mothers draws

Once satisfied, she attached the review and the images and sent the email off to the address she’d been given. For a brief moment, a sliver of doubt crept in — Had I sent the wrong photos? All of them? She re-opened the sent email and checked, over 50 images of her at her most intimate, and her face could be see.

She sat back on the bed, exhaled slowly.