Blissful Torment

Nobody noticed Christina. She was the kind of girl who sits in the back row of the class, dressed in old baggy sweaters and jeans, face hidden behind horn-rimmed glasses. If you were to ask her former class mates, they would struggle to remember her face, possibly even her name. "The brown haired mousy nerd," would probably be the most precise description you could get out of them. If you told them that she worked an office job doing paperwork, everybody would have expected it.

If you'd told them that she had become an actual bureaucrat, working for the German toll and tax regulatory office, nobody would have batted an eyelid. So banal. So obvious. So boring. Someone might even make a joke about her being so uninteresting, not even she could possibly be this predictable!

And they would be right.

Christina was sitting at her desk one early afternoon. The computer screen in front of her showed a spreadsheet with thousands of lines, listing figures for returned sales tax due to leaving the country for Switzerland after grocery shopping. A list of complicated laws led to thousands of single digit numbers, arguably not worth keeping track of in the first place, except that was her job.

She didn't mind the drudgery. She found enjoyment in doing small things the right way, doing things not just right, but perfectly. Some days it was hard to maintain focus though. Today was one of those days. Other people might get bored, demotivated or even annoyed, but that was not an issue for her.

The real problem was lack of distraction.

Christina found it incredibly difficult to forget about her throbbing clit when the work in front of her was too simple to demand any real attention. If only she hadn't teased herself so much. But there were rules. She had to edge herself whenever she woke up, before she went to sleep, every time she took a shower, and whenever she came home. While cleaning or working at home she had to wear ben-wa balls. If she wanted to watch TV, she had to put a plug up her butt - and of course she must always sleep naked.

Whenever she reached the point where her rules felt too easy, another one was added. She loved rules. Remembering them, following each one both to the letter and in spirit, noting down her progress in glorious detail. It made her feel warm and happy, but admittedly also very wet. 

The newest rule turned out to be a real challenge. It was about her snacking too much. Every time she ate sweets or some other unhealthy snack, she had to soft edge for a minute right after. It had gone well for the first few days... Now it was after Christmas, and everybody had brought their leftover chocolates to the office kitchen. In the past she had originally refused to play at work, but the empty office rooms and work from home regime had eroded her reservations.

Six times already today, she thought. After every snack a quick bathroom break and a few moments running her fingers over her throbbing clit. If only I could have an orgasm.

Christina checked her fitness tracker app. 624 edges, 3 ruins, and 85 days since her last orgasm. Did she still remember what one would feel like? She wasn't quite sure. Ruins were amazing, and it was hard to imagine that orgasms could be better. 

She tried to type a few more numbers into her sheet, double checking them against the documents on her table, but her concentration was shot. 

I can't edge at my desk, she thought, desperately trying to convince herself, I'm not that much of a slut.

The moment the words went through her head she knew she had lost. For months now she had been mentally referring to herself as a slut. The word alone had started to turn her on. A hint of embarrassment and shame did not annoy her - in fact it aroused her, which made her embarrassed, which aroused her more. It was a viciously wonderful cycle.

She looked around the room, making absolutely sure it was empty, then considered her options. She was wearing fairly thick jeans to protect her against the cold outside, and a solid belt. She could not reach her clit unless she opened her trousers. That went too far. Other people were still at the office, just not in the same room. She did not want to lose her job.

Her gaze fell on a stapler on her desk. It had just the right size. With nervous fingers, Christina grabbed it, took the staples out, put it on her seat, and then sat over it. Its rounded back pushed against her pussy, making her pull in a sharp breath.

Another frantic look through the door into the hallway to make sure the coast was clear, then she started moving her hips, grinding her drenched cunt against the stapler. It was so good. Exactly what she had wanted, the hard plastic easily able to massage her crotch through her pants.

She put most of her weight on it, and kept working back and forth. The minutes passed, and she could feel herself work up to a very nice edge. Oooh I so needed that, I'm such a dirty slut, she thought as she started to lose herself in the blissful rubbing.

Her eyes jerked open, as she suddenly realised she had closed them and had forgotten where she was. She looked around frantically, but everything was as it should be. She was still in her chair, armrests gripped tightly, the hard shape of the stapler pressing against her. False alarm. If I had been caught..., the mental image of being discovered like this made her insides clench and she could feel herself dribble into her panties.

Christina put the stapler back on her desk, noting with embarrassment that her sweat and pussy juices must have seeped through her clothes, staining the stapler. She leaned back into her chair, and  closed her eyes again. Just a couple seconds, she thought, to calm myself down a little. 

With a startle, she awoke. For a few horrifying seconds, she feared she had slept through the whole day, but her screen hadn't even turned off, so it barely a minute or two. She sighed in relief.

The sigh died on her lips as she noticed that her stapler was gone. Someone must have taken it. She might have been caught.

Fuck.

2020-01-16 Blissful Torment 

Author's note: Suggestions on how to continue are welcome.