Mistress plunged two fingers into the fleshlight, up to the knuckle, and Marina moaned.

Spread-eagled on the bed, Marina rocked her hips helplessly against the tide of pleasure threatening to consume her—all while her Mistress sat calmly at her side, not even touching her, just deliberately fingering the fleshlight and watching her good girl writhe.

Marina hadn’t thought it would work, at first—but she should have known better than to doubt Mistress when she got that twinkle in her eye. It was something from her psychology coursework, Mistress had explained, stroking the fleshlight and Marina’s pussy in time and making Marina watch. That touching a body part and a lookalike in parallel, with her focusing on that lookalike, would train her brain to transfer those sensations. And of course, Marina was so good at focusing, wasn’t she? And it was just science, a proven phenomenon,  that soon her brain would be entirely convinced that the fleshlight had all the nerve endings of her own pussy.

Marina had thought that sounded ridiculous, even as Mistress’s honeyed tones made her fuzzy, even as she had squirmed under Mistress’s fingers. Bullshit, she’d thought—but she hadn’t noticed when Mistress stopped touching her actual pussy and caressed only the fleshlight, and still the pleasure shot through her.

It feels so real, Marina marveled now, with the tiny part of her brain that wasn’t consumed by lust. Every touch, every stroke, every thrust, she felt in her own pussy—or, she was always feeling it in her own pussy, because it happened to the fleshlight, which was her pussy, and oh god, when had Mistress started using her mouth, all the pleasure, it was so hard to think…

Dimly, through her fog, Marina became aware that Mistress had stopped her ministrations, was bending over her to brush the hair from her face. “How are you feeling?” came the voice, and Marina mumbled an answer automatically: “Good. Horny. Controlled.”

Mistress’s smile made Marina’s pussy clench—though which pussy, she couldn’t be sure anymore. “Are you ready for the next step?” Mistress asked sweetly, and Marina swallowed and nodded—and belatedly remembering that good girls used their words, managed a trembling “Yes, Mistress.”

“Good.” From somewhere, Mistress produced… Marina gulped again. It was a chastity belt, all shiny silver and chrome and buckles and locks. Mistress deftly slipped the thing under Marina’s hips, started doing up straps and adjusting lengths, while Marina’s head spun at the sensation of the cold metal and the baffling reminder of her own, physical cunt.

Distantly, she heard a click, and looked down. The belt was locked. Grinning, Mistress dropped the key on the bedside table and picked up the fleshlight again, and Marina’s body tingled in anticipation.

“Is my good, locked toy ready to feel all the pleasure my control can give her?” Mistress asked, in that low sultry voice that made Marina’s head spin. God, she was so needy, her body felt taut like a bowstring, with her cunt locked away and her cunt held in Mistress’s hands, and fuck, Marina wanted.

“Yes,” Marina breathed. “Yes, please, Mistress.”

Slowly, her eyes never leaving Marina’s, Mistress raised the fleshlight and began to lick.

And on the bed, locked away in chastity and still feeling all the incandescent pleasure of her Mistress’s mouth, of her Mistress’s control, Marina screamed ecstasy.