Althea Jones

Althea walked along the corridor, her body tingling with delight as the two small eggs, which were lodged in her tight little vagina, moved randomly as she moved. She could not help pressing her hand over her small pointed breasts, feeling the sensitive nipples standing up firmly beneath the shirt she was wearing. She hurried to her office. ‘If I don't stop moving around soon,' she thought, ‘I am going to cum again… is that possible, she mused… three times in thirty minutes?'

Althea had the ability to not be surprised by anything that she thought or did. She knew, that she selfishly allowed herself to do most things at least once.

‘How can you know if you like it or not… if you don't try it;' she reasoned.

Her humiliation of the young boy had been heaven. His blushing face and trembling lips had thrilled her more than she had ever thought possible. Having control over a boy always thrilled her, but having control over such a good looking and acquiescent boy was a delight that she had savoured.

Each small part of his subjugation had thrilled her to such an extent that she could replay every part in her mind with absolute clarity. Recall at a moment's notice the exquisite expression of utter embarrassment on his face as she had bared his bottom; or the gasps of utter degradation as she had impaled his sphincter with her vibrator.

She could not have said which part was best. Each little part of her skilled and expert control of his emotions had been perfect. Seeing him squirm in anguish, as the relentless throbbing of the device, had sent him into paroxysms of utter embarrassment and sexual torture. Watching his face as she had verbally reduced his stature to that of a small boy; each part had added up to a sensuous and emotionally triumphant thrill.

One thing she was sure of… she would make sure… dammed sure that the opportunity occurred again. She did not know how… but she was determined that it would. ‘Soon she thought… I need that kind of thrill again… soon.

At last she reached her chair and sat down, pushing her flattened hand down between her tummy and the waistband of her skirt: her fingers had hardly touched the smoothly shaven lips of her vagina when she threw her head back and trembled in orgasmic pleasure; again and again, shuddering in the delicious thrill that rippled through her whole being.

From the moment that she been asked if she minded staying overnight by her friend and co-conspirator, Debbie Pearson; she had relished the thought of what she would do to the boy, slipping the hand made ivory eggs into her vagina had been a stroke of genius. So thrilled was she with her performance upon the boy's fragile emotions, that she had been able to orgasm by simply squeezing her legs together.

‘Tomorrow,' she thought, ‘I am going to have a serious talk with my lovely friend, Sister Debbie Pearson… ‘cos, if you don't do it sister… I will!' She chuckled to herself and then suddenly realised that she should think about getting some sleep before morning.