Wednesday Morning (your birthday)

You wake late again, sleep fading slowly. This is the one perk to the later shifts you’ve been working: the leisurely morning wake-ups. You look at the clock and see the pattern of numbers “10:28” and smile, the 28 reminding you that today is your birthday. You stretch, then catch yourself, worried (and maybe hoping), needlessly, that you will be caught and tormented again. Looking around you see a lump under the sheets beside you.

Conflicted with worry, excitement, and curiosity, you take a breath and peel back the covers. The faint smell hits you first and you smile. Under the sheet is a large bouquet of daisies, your favourite flower. It looks like there’s at least two dozen of them and you know without counting that he gave you exactly 28.

The envelope is simply addressed “Allie” with a flourish underneath, so typical of him. The card inside contains the following note:

Happy Birthday Allie! 

I know that the last couple of days have been hard on you and I’m proud that you
have handled it so well. Your patience will soon pay off as I have a very special gift
for you after work. Downstairs, you will find two boxes. Each one contains part of 
your gift and instructions. Follow them exactly and I will see you tonight.

As always, there was no signature, there being no need for one. You’re left wondering at so much—what does he have planned? How does he sneak in like this without waking me? Will I ever get to satisfy this need that’s been growing for the last few days?

Too eager to wait, you throw a robe on quickly over your night clothes and dash off to the kitchen. On the counter you see two boxes, each about a foot in each dimension. One is silver with gold ribbon and a large gold bow, the other is gold with a large silver ribbon and bow. There is a big tag on each. The one on the silver box has a large number “1” on it with the word “Morning” on it. The other has a large “2” with the word “Evening”.

You tear the ribbon off the silver box, excited to open your first present of the day. Inside you see your vibrator with a ribbon and bow around it (cute but kind of corny), an envelope labelled “Read Me”, and your TV remote. Baffled how these objects could relate, you open the note.

Your first gift is a video. You will go to the couch, sit down, and play with yourself
while watching it. You will not cum but I expect you to come as close as you dare. I
have included your favourite vibe and a fresh set of batteries to help you out.

Happy Birthday!

“Oh great—porn” you think, a little disappointed that he would be so droll. You dutifully head over to the couch, take the ribbon off the vibe, bare yourself, and push play.

Your heart drops when the image comes on. You see yourself waking up, lifting your hands, and him grabbing them. “Oh my GAWD!!!” you gasp. He recorded the whole thing!!!! You go through panic to anger and back a few times before settling down. You’ve trusted him with so much worse that this tape is hardly the most damning thing he has on you so you begin to watch.

You have to admit that the quality is good, the filtered morning light flattering on your naked body, and you find yourself getting turned on, remembering what it was like to have him torment you like that. Your hand drifts down on its own, and you replay the scene on screen with your own fingers (this time without the underwear, of course). You’re nearing the edge and holding back, as you were in the scene, when you see him grab the ice. You cringe at that memory but are amazed at how sexy you looked thrashing around that sensation.

You reach for the remote to turn it off and get ready for work when you see the scene change to the kitchen. Less shocked this time, you see him and Kate drinking coffee when you come through the entrance. You look up to where the camera seemed to be and see that the camera is there now, a soft red light indicating that the video will be extended in the future to include this morning as well. “Too late” you think, knowing it saw your masturbation and that you’re still spread in plain view, the lens having a clear shot of your shaved mound and all your recent activities.

Self-conscious now, but aware that he will know what you’ve been doing, you grab the vibe and decide to give him a good show. When Kate takes the vibe out of the bag on-screen, you turn yours on and play along. Playing along with both scenes back-to-back like this is intense, it was hard enough going through them with a day in between the first time. You’re struggling to hang on to the edge of release, but it’s not easy.

Your whole body is quivering with need, your breathing is laboured, and your thighs, robe, and probably sofa cushion are all soaked. The scene lasts a long time and, by the time it’s done, you’re a mess. You turn off your vibe and the tv and try to control yourself. Your hips are fucking the air, hoping for something—anything--to be inside. You try to look around the room but realize how many things are sexualized in your current state. “Hmmm, I’ll bet those’d feel amazing inside,” you think as you look at the finials on your curtain rods, the knobs on the stair handrail, the wooden spoon in the dish rack, and any one of a hundred items that never struck you as being sexual before.

You collect yourself, no small feat, and make your way on wobbly legs to get dressed for your shift. You wonder how you’ll make it through the day and hope that the gold box brings you some relief.

(to be continued….)