"Tell me what you don't like about it."
"Because Sir I think its wee, nothing else and it embarrasses me."
"But Sir, the anatomy, where is it stored if not the bladder. The science is out on this issue. It's just the sex blogs that say it's squirting, not weeing. I need to see the evidence. I need to see the randomised controlled trials (yes I actually said that!). I think its wee Sir and I am embarrassed to wet myself like that."
"No honey its not. You know how I know?"
Well I knew he hadn't held an RCT or even funded one so I waited for him to explain.
"Because it tastes like you!"
"Yes. I will show you now."
"I beg your pardon" His voice lowered. "Get up on the bench."
I climbed up on the padded bench. It was like a massage table on a wooden box and it was on wheels. Around the edges were moderately large eyes screws driven into the wood.
"Sit in the middle and open your legs wide."
I stretched one ankle to each corner of the bench. He snap locked each ankle cuff to a chain and attached the chain to an eye screw at the corner of the bench. This time he left my hands free. My back was against the adjacent wall. He stood in front of me, towering over me with the Hitachi style vibrator in his hand.
He put the magic wand to my slick cunt and turned it on low. Immediately the vibration worked to elicit a low moan from my lungs, that breathy sound from my throat was low and relaxed. He flipped the switch to high and all at once the moans moved up and octave. I could feel it in my body, barely able to hold on and then there was the sensation. Just as I thought I could go no further the intensity of the machine on my vagina forcing its rhythmic way inside me, made me scream. I begged him to stop,
"Please, please please, stop stop stop." He pushed the device harder into my slick flesh.
I could feel it build past all control, then there it was, as I wriggled desperately to get away from the instrument of so much torture and pleasure all at once, I felt the bubble burst. It squirted out of me. Shot through the air and splashed Sir with my excitement. The warmth from inside me flowed over me. Then the sweet relief of pleasure spent.
The orgasm had been so hard I could barely see. I reached down and scooped the wetness on my fingers, lifting it to my nose, then tasting it with my nervous tongue. I couldn't smell or taste what I feared. I tasted salt. A salty squirty girl. Sir took my face in his hands, he had been saying something but I couldn't hear him, I was somewhere else. His hands lifted my face pushing my head back and demanding I give Him my attention.
"You see, its not what you think is it?"
With that He demanded I cum again and again. I was exhausted and covered in wetness by the time he had finished with me.
I am a Salty, Squirty Girl. Now I am kind of resolved, even happy to squirt for Sir.