Page 55 of Shameful Addictions

Another comment. Somehow, she had missed this one when skimming through before. A girl, sharing the little things she did to demean herself. Charlotte decided to try some of what the girl said and leaned back in her chair, tilting her hips. Her huge breasts got in the way, but by tilting her head over, she could see her pussy well enough. She touched the very tip of her sensitive clit with her finger and then, without letting herself think about it, flicked it.

A brief shock traveled through her clit, a small pain that was insignificant, like being slapped. Charlotte caught her breath and flicked the very tip of her clit again, and then again. It felt like something that shouldn’t be done and that made her hotter than ever. Her juices leaked from her spread pussy, soaking onto Mamba’s chair.

Charlotte ignored the mess she was making and tried another of the girl’s tricks. She located her clitoral hood and pinched it between her fingers, slowly increasing the pressure until it was almost unbearable and she saw red flashes in front of her eyes. The pain made her inner muscles quiver and clench, causing little spasms that each felt like miniature orgasms.

“Fuck!” she gasped aloud. She released the flap of skin, red and creased from the hard pinch. She blinked a few times until her vision returned to normal.

I have to reply and thank her. And let other girls know they should try it, too.

Charlotte reached for the keyboard and then looked up at the computer to make sure she had clicked inside the comment box.

Out of the corner of her eye, she glimpsed movement.

She almost looked, but that would have given her away and she wanted to see what would happen if Mamba didn’t know she was watching. Pretending not to have seen, she started typing. She couldn’t really focus on making an actual response right then, so it was all random numbers and words. Her other hand, she kept between her legs. She went back to masturbating, sliding her middle finger into her pussy and fucking herself with it. Her pussy made little wet sounds as her finger went in and out.

Mamba pushed the studio door open, silent, a bare inch at a time until he could fit through the gap. He entered and pushed the door shut behind him, taking pains to ensure the latch didn’t click. He raised his hand. He held something that glinted in the light.

Charlotte couldn’t focus on what the object was without giving herself away. She busied herself with fiddling with the mouse and rotating her finger around inside her hot depths, pushing her fingertip around inside herself to hit all the best spots. She trembled from a building orgasm. Her toes strummed against the carpet. Her mouth was dry, her lips parting to let out little gasps of breath.

Mamba came closer. She could see his features now, outlined in stark shadow and brilliant amber-white light. His face was impassive as ever, his mouth a firm line that neither smiled nor frowned. But his eyes glittered and she was fairly certain it wasn’t just from the light shining in them.

He liked what he saw.

He thought she was so caught up in her masturbating that she had no idea he was there.

A helpless little cry pulsed from her throat, a verbal expression of how her pussy felt. Charlotte started ramming her finger harder inside of herself, her hips bucking, thighs clenching.

Mamba angled his hand. She saw what he was holding. A camera.

He was filming her fucking herself at his desk while replying to comments. He was filming her being a filthy, horny slut.

Charlotte switched from one finger to two, but it wasn’t enough. She went for three and jammed them as hard into her cunt as she could.

Her orgasm exploded, a furious shockwave that pulled every muscle in her body tight. She gripped Mamba’s desk with her free hand and rocked under the force of her orgasm, her hips bucking, her clenched ass raised up off the seat. A scream pulsed from her throat, an animalistic yell that went beyond language. Anyone who heard her would know what she was going through, what was happening to her.

And they would be jealous if they didn’t already know the secret of how to have amazing orgasms like this for themselves.

When she came down enough to regain a sense of the world around her, Mamba was still filming. She could see him, though she lacked the strength to turn her head.

After another minute or so, Mamba lowered the camera and seemingly turned it off. He approached and stood by her.

Though once his presence filled her with dread and fear, she was comforted to have him near. Almost conversationally, she murmured, “I got your chair wet.”

“That’s fine, Cuntflaps. I’d make you lick it clean if it weren’t for your amazing performance.”

“Performance?”

Mamba leaned over her and jostled the computer mouse. Apparently, she had been cumming for so long that the screen had shut off. He moved the cursor over to the comment box she had filled with nonsense words. “Did you think I couldn’t tell?”

She flushed, a little embarrassed. “You knew that I knew you were in the room?”

“Cuntflaps, I always know. I know your every thought, your every move.”

“Does my screen show up in the video? Will anyone be able to tell?”

“You don’t have to worry about that. This is for my private collection.” Mamba chuckled darkly.

Charlotte looked up at him, though she kept her eyes demurely averted. “I’m so honored that I’m deserving of being in your private collection.”

---