Finally, he switched it on and applied the tip to her nipples, one by one, letting the buzz ripple through her while she bit her inner cheek to keep from begging him to fuck her with it.
He moved it slowly down her stomach, then dipped it in and out of her labia, sometimes holding it there for a few seconds, sometimes just giving her the briefest of contact. She struggled to hold her legs in position, wanting to kick them or thump her heels down on the mattress—anything to bring her closer to the humming source of pleasure.
“Was it hard?” he asked, holding the vibrator a maddening inch from her clit. “To go without orgasms for a week?”
“Yes,” she whined. “Really, really hard.”
“Were you thinking all the time of sex?”
“All the time. During rehearsals, even.”
He tutted. “Bad. You must focus during rehearsals. You must think of the music, not of your greedy little pussy.”
“I couldn’t help it.”
“And you are sure you didn’t…give yourself a little helping hand? When I wasn’t looking, maybe?”
“Honestly, I didn’t. I wanted to wait. I didn’t want to disappoint you.”
“But would you have disappointed yourself?”
Somewhere in the midst of her brain cell-destroying lust, Lydia found a part of her that was capable of considering this question. Yes, that was the crux of it. She would have disappointed herself. All of this was an exhilarating challenge, and she was ever a people-pleaser, a teacher’s pet, a top-of-the-class student.
“Yes. I hate to fail.”
“I see that in you,” he mused. “Well, a lot of us are like that. Most of us, probably. It’s what makes us work so well together.”
“Please…” He was drifting off topic and, meanwhile, that vibrator was going nowhere.
He chuckled. “Sorry. You need attention, don’t you?”
She nodded, her face screwed up with the effort of not grabbing the damn thing from his hand and using it on herself.
He lowered it again, circling her clit so that she squirmed furiously on her bottom, then he plunged it, suddenly and without warning, inside her.
She yelped, feeling the silicone tip breach her opening, which yielded immediately, thirsting for penetration. Von Ritter fed it inside with agonising slowness, pushing it inch by inch, stopping multiple times to twist it in circles. Lydia was surprised at how easy it was to accommodate. But for the vibrations, she might barely have even felt it.
Once it was fully inside her, though, von Ritter deployed a little attachment—a butterfly clitoral stimulator—and suddenly her entire being was whitewashed out of existence by an orgasm that seemed to last forever. Even when it seemed to die away, it would revive again, the butterfly coaxing her clit to further heights, until the spasms were way beyond her control. Von Ritter held the vibrator fully inside her for the duration, occasionally thrusting with it, keeping her clit covered and her cunt stretched until her limbs collapsed, quivering, on the bed.
“I think a little abstinence has done you good,” he whispered, removing the vibrator, leaning over her with a tight smile. “That was quite an orgasm.”
She wasn’t capable of an answer, though she wondered fuzzily if he had enjoyed it at all. He seemed satisfied with a job well done, but she couldn’t locate any joy in his expression.
Now will he fuck me? she wondered vaguely, but it seemed not.
He tucked her into the bed and went to shower.
She was asleep before he came out.
* * * *
A knocking at the door woke her up.
Disorientated, she looked around for signs of von Ritter, but he didn’t seem to be there. She looked around for something that would tell her what the time was, but her watch was buried somewhere underneath her clothes.
Where was he? Who was at the door?
“Karl-Heinz,” she called uncertainly.