Squirming in the kitchen chair, she placed her hand back in the bowl, cupping the top of the sphere, feeling the curve of it beneath her palm. The pulse rocketed through her, and she herd herself gasp as her pussy joined in the rhythm of it, and she felt her hips moving, grinding against the seat of the chair as the rhythmic throb came again and again, like a wave of pleasure traveling from her hand to her shoulder and radiating outward. The hand not cupping the sphere now did find its way to the center of her, and she pressed hard against the crotch of her shorts, moving against her touch in time with the throb of the thing in the bowl.
“Oh, fuck!” she gasped, finding a peak quickly, and she could swear the sphere was increasing the speed of its pulses, driving her over the edge, sending her into a howling, toe-curling explosion of lust.
When it was done, she panted, sagging in the chair, and now she was sure that the pulsing was slowing with her heartbeat. Her hand ran over the surface, her skin detecting the slight indentions made by the shallow carvings, almost caressing it. Her skin shone with the efforts of her self-pleasing and she could smell herself, the musk of her sex. Her head lolled back on her shoulders, face split in a slightly shameful but satisfied smile.
“Metal ball, you rock my world,” she laughed. “Ow!”
She lifted her hand, feeling pinpricks of pain all along her palm, and the sphere came with it. She turned her hand over and saw silver filaments extended from the sphere into her skin, and they were winding deeper. She could feel the hair-thin fibers moving up her arm, and the sphere was actually shrinking, diminishing in size with each inch of metallic strand it inserted into her hand and up her arm.
‘Worms,’ she thought, ‘it feels like worms crawling in my veins,’ and then she was screaming again, this time in pain as the crawling sensation reached her shoulder and then her chest and then it felt like her heart was being shredded inside her body. The sphere had all but disappeared when she looked again, and the small size allowed her to see the skin of her palm undulating as the filaments wove beneath her flesh and migrated up her wrist.
She felt something sliding up the back of her neck, then fanning out within her, piercing the base of her neck until everything went bright white with pain and she collapsed to the floor, tumbling out of the chair and onto the hardwood floor.
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