Seven, I hate to admit, but I wrung seven orgasm's out of myself. It wasn't so much the fact I was playing with myself that made it so easy to rip them from my body. It was the fact he had ordered it and the fact he would watch back. I knew he would. My eyes would glance at the knife after each one, and I would tremble at the thought of putting that thing anywhere near me. But after the sixth, it had become hard to seek the same thrill from the lense that watched and recorded me. My legs were shaky, my legs tired and my fingers had definitely been aching.
I had needed something to ignite that thrill again. I looked at the knife, when he watched this back, he would see the mixed emotions on my face. The handle was round and wooden, varnished so it would be smooth, quite thick too. It was
