Rewire

I have to step away after that. From one moment to the next, it is too much. My muscles fail my posture, and my brain cannot keep sending orders to keep myself pushed into the hitachi head. My heart is racing, and I’m panting like an Arabian mare.

Yet I feel satisfied with myself. I haven’t even been awake for a full hour, and I already squeezed three out. If I keep this up, this whole thing will be easy peasy. All I need is a little rest, and strategize on how to summon the next batch.

The only place to pee is where the bathroom tiles come to their lowest point and there is a drain hole into the floor. I squat down as deep as I can and try to pee as straight as possible, so the least bit of it remains on the floor as drops, and most is flushed into the drain. There is plenty of water for me to drink, but no food of any kind. Breakfast would be welcome, but there is no indication that any will be provided. I suppose I shouldn’t count on any of it for the duration of this challenge. I’m not just supposed to arrange a battery of orgasms to hit myself, I should even do it as my body is deprived of the basic food needs to do it. He really wants me to be at my weakest. This guy is devious.

They are useless thoughts; they don’t bring me anything I need for my survival. I have to prepare, I have to be clever, I have to be creative to find the right way to apply enough arousal to my body and farm myself, to steer myself to grow more arousal to achieve my goal. I should think of cock, not of injustice or malice... Or maybe I should? I can’t deny that the realization, that I won’t receive any food in here, and that it will contribute to my weakness and dependence, it is about my hazardous position of course, but there is something else to it. More and more, I realize how much I am dependent on this mysterious abductor; executing his challenge is actually just exactly what he wants, and he has led me to a place where I am doing it for him.

And it isn’t just a bad thing. I don’t have any credible way to explain why that experience would grab my loins, but it does. Nothing physical is happening to my pussy right now; I’m just sitting down on the cold hard tile floor and thinking and sensing. Yet the hand of that unseen stranger actually works. I imagine what he could look like, and what kind of cock he would have, and if he is planning to thrust it into me for some future challenge. How I’ll have nothing to say when he will. How he can take me without needing any consent at all, except the threat to my life.

They are the kind of thoughts that make my blood rush. Despite everything, the thought of this man taking control of my life is desperately attractive.

They are the right kind of thoughts, I need them. I couldn’t do without them, right now they are the best source of seeking my own arousal going. And boy, do they work.