The Frequency of Want

“Fuck, Jordan,” I breathed, the words dissolving into a soft moan as the toy’s lowest setting thrummed inside me. My reflection stared back from the full-length mirror—a wild shock of electric-blue hair, pupils blown wide, lips parted on another shaky exhale. “I can feel it… right where you told me to put it.”

That low chuckle rumbled through the phone’s speaker, rich and warm as good bourbon. “And how’s the frequency treating you tonight, love? Still a gentle hum, or are we building to something symphonic?”

I bit my lip, fingers skating down the plane of my stomach to trace the curve of my hipbone. The toy’s vibration was a steady, insistent presence, a secret pulse against my inner walls. “Symphonic,” I admitted, voice rough. “God, it’s… it’s like having you here. Like you’re the one conducting it.”

Another hum of approval. “Good. That’s what I like to hear. Now tell me—how deep did you take it this time?”

The memory flashed sudden and vivid: that afternoon, sunlight striping the unboxing experience as I’d lifted the toy from its discreet packaging. The smooth silicone had felt cool, almost clinical, in my palm. I’d hesitated, thumb hovering over Jordan’s contact before finally firing off the text: *Controls are all yours tonight. Tell me how deep you want it.* Their reply had been instant: *All the way, Riley. Every perfect inch.*

“All the way,” I echoed now, shifting my weight to feel the toy settle deeper. The movement sent a jolt of heat up my spine. “Just like you said. Every perfect inch.”

“Christ, Riley,” Jordan rasped, their voice dropping to that gravelly register that always shot straight to my core. “Look at you. Standing there, taking it so well for me. Are you watching yourself? Really watching?”

In the mirror, my cheeks flushed darker. “Always. You know I do.”

“Good. Then you see what I see—how your breath hitches every time the vibration shifts. How your thighs tremble when you roll your hips just… like… that.” The command in their tone sent another pulse of warmth through me. “Tell me about the intensity. Scale of one to ten.”

I swallowed hard, my fingers curling into the fabric of my shirt. “Six? No—seven. Definitely seven now. It’s… building. Like that ambient track I was working on last week. The one that starts slow but layers into something… overwhelming.”

“Mmm. Overwhelming is good. Overwhelming is exactly where we’re heading.” Jordan’s voice smoothed out, turning liquid and hypnotic. “Remember how you hesitated this morning? How you almost put it back in the box before texting me the controls?”

I nodded, the movement slight but sharp in the mirror. “I remember.”

“But you didn’t. You trusted me. Gave me the remote. The whole fucking symphony.” Their words were a caress, a promise. “Now spread your legs a little wider for me. Let me see how well you’re handling it.”

My breath caught as I obeyed, the motion deliberate, exposing the way my body trembled around the toy. The low hum inside me seemed to sync with my heartbeat, each throb echoing the one before. “Like this?” I murmured, voice barely audible over the buzz.

“Just like that,” Jordan purred. “Fuck, Riley. You’re perfect. You know that? Taking it so deep, letting it fill you up while I watch…”

I could feel the flush creeping down my neck, my body responding to Jordan’s words as much as the toy itself. The vibrations seemed to intensify with every compliment, every low-spoken command. I let my head fall back slightly, exposing the long line of my throat, and watched in the mirror as my chest rose and fell with shallow, rapid breaths.

“That’s it,” Jordan encouraged, their voice a steady anchor in the storm of sensation building between my hips. “Let it take you. Let it build. You look so fucking good like this—all flushed and wanting, your body barely holding back.”

The toy shifted as I adjusted my stance, pressing deeper in a way that made my breath hitch audibly. In the mirror, I could see the subtle movement of my hips, the way they seemed to chase the vibration almost unconsciously. It was hypnotic, watching my own reactions play out across my reflection—the way my lips parted on a silent gasp, the flutter of my eyelids when the intensity spiked.

Jordan’s chuckle was warm, approving. “See how your body moves with it? Like it knows exactly what it needs. Like it’s been waiting for this.” They paused, and I could picture them leaning closer to their screen, studying every detail. “Tell me, love—when you were unboxing it earlier, what was the first thought that went through your mind?”

I swallowed, my throat suddenly dry. “That it felt… intimate. More than I expected. Like I was letting you in somewhere new.” My voice dropped to a whisper. “Somewhere I wasn’t sure I was ready to share.”

“But you did,” Jordan murmured, their tone softening with tenderness. “You trusted me with it. With you. And look at you now—open, wanting, so fucking beautiful as you take it. As you take what I give you.”

Jordan’s voice dropped to a gravelly whisper, the sound sending a fresh wave of heat through my veins. “You ready to hand over the reins, love? Let me take the wheel for a while?”

My breath hitched at the suggestion, my fingers already trembling with anticipation. “Yes,” I breathed, the word barely audible over the hum of the toy. “God, yes. Take it. Take control.”

A low, approving hum vibrated through the speaker. “Good. Now hold on tight.”

The shift was instantaneous—the steady thrum between my legs jumped to a sharper, more insistent rhythm, the vibrations deepening until they seemed to echo in my very bones. A gasp tore from my throat, my hands flying out to brace against the cool glass of the mirror as my knees threatened to buckle.

“Fuck!” The curse slipped out unbidden, my eyes fluttering closed as I absorbed the new intensity. “Jordan, I—”

“Eyes open, Riley,” Jordan cut in, their voice firm but gentle. “Look at yourself. See what I see.”

My eyelids snapped open, my gaze locking with my reflection in the mirror. My cheeks were flushed a deep pink, my chest rising and falling with rapid, shallow breaths. The electric-blue strands of my hair were tousled, a few strands clinging to the damp skin of my forehead. And between my legs, the toy’s vibrations were a relentless pulse, a demanding presence that seemed to grow stronger with every passing second.

“That’s it,” Jordan purred, their voice a low rumble that seemed to sync with the toy’s rhythm. “Look at you. So open. So responsive. Every twitch, every gasp—you’re fucking mesmerizing like this.”

I bit my lip hard, my fingers pressing against the mirror as if seeking an anchor in the storm of sensation. The vibrations intensified again, shifting from a deep, resonant thrum to a sharper, quicker pulse that made my hips jerk forward involuntarily. A low whine escaped me, my head tipping back as the pleasure spiked, sharp and electric.

“Jordan,” I gasped, my voice cracking on the name. “I can’t—I don’t know if I can—”

“You can,” Jordan insisted, their voice dropping to a near-growl. “You will. For me. Because I want to see you come apart. I want to hear every gasp, every moan. I want to know I’m the one doing this to you, even from miles away.”

Their words sent another jolt through me, my body responding to their command as if they were right there in the room with me. My hips began to move of their own accord, rocking in shallow, rhythmic thrusts that matched the toy’s insistent pulse. In the mirror, I watched my own reflection—the way my muscles tensed and released, the sheen of sweat glistening on my skin, the way my lips parted on silent cries.

“Fuck, Riley,” Jordan breathed, their voice rough with desire. “Look at you move. Like your body knows exactly what it needs. Like it’s been waiting for this.”

I could only nod, my breath coming in short, sharp pants as the toy’s vibrations seemed to deepen, to expand, filling every inch of me with a throbbing, electric heat. My hands slid from the mirror, skating down my body to grip my own hips, fingers digging into the soft flesh as if to ground myself against the overwhelming sensation.

“That’s it,” Jordan urged, their voice a low, hypnotic purr. “Touch yourself. Follow the rhythm. Let it take you where you need to go.”

My fingers obeyed without conscious thought, tracing the curve of my waist, the jut of my hipbones, the sensitive skin of my inner thighs. Each touch sent sparks of sensation skittering across my nerves, mingling with the relentless pulse of the toy until I couldn’t tell where one ended and the other began. My breath quickened, my chest heaving as I watched my own hands explore my body with a curiosity that felt both foreign and deeply familiar.