Octavia, Vinyl Scratch Hypno (Pt. 2)


                                            >You’re practically a dead mare as you shuffle home. Your legs are throbbing from standing in place for so long, and other parts of you are throbbing for entirely different reasons.

                                            >Not the first time you’ve shown up to a party in heat, but today was basically the first time you were on the clock for it, and it suuuucked.

                                            >You were certainly more lively today, and you can only hope the beads of fluid rolling down your legs went unnoticed in the harsh light.

                                            >You’re a one-mare show, so there hadn’t been any tag-teaming to take “breaks” to “cool down” any. Just nearly a full day and night of you, the music, and the heat between your legs building as time went on.

                                            >Not that you would have been able to pull off a five-minute quickie even if you had an assistant to swap with; an hour in you had caught your hips “moving on their own” and it only escalated from there.

                                            >Two hours in you were amped up enough you could feel every seam of the shorts, switching between being glad there wasn’t and wishing there was one right down the crotch to give a little more stimulation.

                                            >By the third hour, if those goggles hadn’t messed with your head you would have been hollering and thrashing like the crowd, flailing as you came endlessly, over and over again.

                                            >Twenty hours and change later, unlocking the front door, you figure Octavia must not be back yet, and looking at the clock you probably have a few hours left before she arrives.

                                            >As much as you want to just crawl in bed and ruin the sheets before you drift off, you know it won’t work. Some foreign thought in the back of your head telling you you’re still miles away from finishing.

                                            >You could see something like this having been fun if it was planned in advance, both of you arranging for a long weekend off.

                                            >Maybe a shopping spree at a sex toy shop before locking yourselves in a bedroom and riding a sybian or something for a day, inching closer hour by hour, begging and pleading until you finally snapped and came your brains out in the wildest orgasm you’d ever had, and then returning the favour.

                                            >That would have been pretty hot.

                                            >Instead you’re sitting at home eating a bowl of dry cereal as you hump your chair in frustration.

                                            >So not hot.

                                            >Groaning with frustration, and groaning in pleasure as you catch the edge of the chair, you stand up and take your cereal to the bedroom.

                                            >You walk over to your clothes hamper and fish out the two little blue gems you stole from the headset.

                                            >Unless Tavi’s used the headset on herself, unlikely, she doesn’t know they’re missing yet. And that means you have a choice.

                                            >You can either be a responsible adult and calmy confront her over the violation of your personal boundaries, and come to a peaceful and amicable conclusion to this whole thing.

                                            >Or you can figure out a way to turn the tables on her and get even.

                                            >As if it was ever a choice.