Part of me wanted to reach out and wipe the image away, but another part could not stop looking. I watched myself reach between my legs and withdraw the dildo; it came out with a wet sucking sound, thickly covered in lubricant and my own white, creamy come. I brought it up between my breasts, remembering how Ranbir's cock had felt between them last night, and stood before the mirror as if hypnotized, stroking the dildo there, adding my own juices to the layers of filth covering my body.

All at once, the spell was broken, and I shuddered and dropped the dildo onto the counter. I reached behind my head and unstrapped the gag with fingers made clumsy by haste, and pulled the penis gag from my mouth, dropping it also. Then I tugged at the plug, gasping as my anus stretched around the thick flared bulb, finally withdrawing it completely. Immediately, I felt something thick and warm and wet dripping from me and running down my leg-his come, which had remained in me all night. I felt deeply, achingly empty with nothing penetrating me, and dirtier than I had ever imagined possible.

I ran the shower until it warmed up, and stepped beneath the stream to wash the filth away. I soaped myself up again and again, scrubbing with the body sponge until my skin turned red. I washed my hair over and over, lathering it repeatedly until I had run out of shampoo.

Only then did I remember there was something else I had to do.

I sat carefully on the small bench in the back of the shower stall, facing the camera mounted over the door to the bathroom, and spread my legs wide. I picked up the can of shave gel and carefully, meticulously lathered the triangular patch of pubic hair between my legs. Then I slowly shaved myself bald, careful to remove every last trace of hair.

By the time I'd finished, the water ran cold. I stepped from the shower, wrapping a large fluffy towel around myself.

Impossibly, I still felt just as dirty as I had when I stepped into the shower. I wiped the steam from the mirror and regarded myself, still dripping wet. I raised my hand to my cheek, watching my reflection mimic me. I let the towel slip away and stroked my soft, hairless mound, studying my reflection as she did the same. I brought my hands to my breasts, halfway expecting to find them still covered in semen and sticky lubricating jelly and my own sexual juices...and for the briefest split-second, felt a flicker of something like disappointment when they weren't.

Instantly, a flash of heat flushed my face as a wave of burning, searing shame washed over me. "You dirty little slut," I said, addressing myself in the mirror. "You insatiable, greedy little cock-hungry whore. You can't get enough, can you?"

My nipples hardened in response under my hands. I grabbed them and twisted savagely. "You love giving up your body, don't you? You want to be fucked and used and come on, you want to be on your knees and begging for it, and oh, my God!" I twisted my nipples harder, gasping. "You like it! You like what happened to you! You filthy comesoaked whore!"

I picked up the dildo, still slippery with its thick coating of lubricant and come, and leaned in close to the mirror, bending over the sink. "You want this right now, don't you?" I asked my reflection accusingly. "You want this filthy thing shoved in your snatch." And it was true; I did. I wanted Ranbir to walk into the bathroom, right now; wanted him to grab my hair, bend me over the sink, and hold me there while he pounded me with the dildo, as Robin watched from his hotel room on the camera.

I laughed and turned away from the mirror, dropping the dildo, denying myself. I picked up the towel and began dried myself off, smiling, savoring the raging need and desire. It had been a long time since I'd felt this deliciously, desperately horny; Robin knew how to play my body and mind like an instrument, but this time he'd outdone himself.

Was he watching right now? Was Ranbir? Could either of them see my need? I looked up at the camera. No way to tell; and in a way, that made it even more delicious. I finished drying and slipped on my silky robe, not bothering to tie it closed, then went to the kitchen to fix breakfast. I could almost feel the cameras following me, and pictured the men switching views as I walked through the house.

In the kitchen, I put on a pot of coffee. I wasn't in any state to cook, so I rummaged through the refrigerator for a while and settled on cold milk and cereal. My hands kept slipping to my smooth, freshly-shaven mound; I stroked the soft skin, the sensations making me shudder and gasp. I leaned against the counter, waiting for the coffee to finish brewing, and let my hands wander over my body.

I let my mind drift as I waited. I imagined hearing a knock at the door, pictured myself opening the door dressed only in my thin silk robe. I visualized Ranbir standing there, that look of self-confident hunger on his face. "Yes or no?" the fantasy-Ranbir asked. "I will be rough."

"Oh, God, yes!" my fantasy-self replied. "I-"

In my mind, I never finished the sentence. Ranbir was on top of me, grabbing me by the hair, pulling my head back and kissing me roughly. I imagined him pushing me hard against the wall, stripping the robe from me, then dragging me by my hair into the kitchen. I visualized him pushing me down onto the table on my back, unzipping his pants, releasing his thick, hard cock. I imagined myself opening my legs willingly to him, and could almost hear my scream as he entered me, hard and rough, bringing me instantly to orgasm. I imagined him taking me, hard and demanding, again and again, every thrust bringing my orgasm higher; imagined my body, all soft curves and submission, giving itself up to him until his moans became a scream and he unleashed a torrent of hot, wet come deep inside me.

Then I imagined him pulling out of me, leaving me spent and moaning weakly and barely able to move. I pictured him zipping up his pants matter-of-factly, then turning to the refrigerator. I fantasized him taking out a pint of the heavy cream I like to use in my coffee, opening it, and pouring the cold white liquid over my face and body. I imagined him picking up a banana from the countertop and shoving it rudely into my dripping pussy, then pictured him turning to go, leaving me spent and naked on the table in a puddle of milk and come, the banana still buried inside me. I pictured Robin in his hotel room, watching intently, becoming hard and aroused at the sight of another man using and defiling me.

The coffee maker gurgled and burped as it finished brewing, bringing me out of the fantasy. I blinked, disoriented for a moment, then smiled as an idea came to me.

I poured myself a mug of coffee and set it on the table. I set a bowl on the table next to it, then put down the box of cereal and the carton of milk beside it. Still grinning, I picked up a banana from the counter and placed it on the table next to the milk.

I sat at the table facing the camera installed on the wall in the kitchen, hoping one or both of them was watching. I slipped the robe off my shoulders, and leaned back in my chair, spreading my legs and placing my heels up on the table. I caressed my body, stroking my breasts, running my fingernails over the soft skin, and felt myself respond. Then, grinning directly at the camera, I picked up the banana and peeled it.

I tossed the banana peel casually to the floor, then spread myself open with my fingers and carefully slid the peeled banana as deeply as I could into my pussy.The fruit was soft and yielding, much different from the hard, unyielding dildo that had been inside me for so long. I sighed and closed my eyes as I masturbated, moving the banana in slow, gentle strokes.

When I felt my juices begin to flow, leaking out around the banana, I stopped and took my feet off the table, leaving the banana still nestled inside my body.I poured a bowl of cold cereal, then slowly withdrew the banana,. Grinning at the camera, I cut it into slices and added it to my cereal.

I caressed myself, feeling very dirty again at the thought of eating the banana that had so recently been inside me. One hand slid over my body, fondling my breasts, sliding over the smoothness between my legs as I ate. I moaned very softly, feeling horny and slutty and wonderfully sexy. My coffee sat untouched; and when I had finished my cereal, I ran my fingertips through the milk that remained at the bottom of the bowl and raised them to my lips, remembering my fantasy. Then I rose and slipped off the robe, leaving it crumpled on the chair as I walked naked through the house to get ready for work.

When I arrived at the office, my body was humming. The undercurrent of arousal made everything around me seem vibrant and electric. I rode the elevator up to the twentieth floor, and had to fight the urge to press myself to the cold, mirrored walls of the elevator car; by the time I reached my office, my nipples were painfully erect, and it was all I could do to answer the greetings of my coworkers coherently. I slipped gratefully into my office, panting, marveling at my own incredible arousal.

The morning passed quickly. I tried to shove my arousal to the back as I got into the flow of work, answering my office email and making phone calls. Most of the morning was occupied with a tricky tax matter, for a wealthy and elderly client trying to set up a complicated trust for his grandchildren. I put together a couple of different proposals for him, outlining the advantages and disadvantages and potential tax liabilities of each. All the while, my mind was on my laptop computer sitting in its case on the floor, thinking about the movie I'd recorded this morning.

At last, I was finished with the proposals. I sent them on their way, and turned to my laptop. I set it up on my desk, started my email program, and composed a message to Robin. I tilted the email "This Morning," and attached the movie file made by the camera in my laptop, then paused for a long moment with the mouse pointer over the "send" button, unexpectedly struggling.