She lay in the dark, and The Voice began to whisper. It drifted with her fingers along her naked skin, across the zebra-stripes of light and dark that the window blinds left along her thighs and breasts, raising goosebumps along her dark sensitive curves. The Voice stirred a hunger deep inside her, like it always did.

She shifted on the bed. The motion of her body on the silken sheets was the only sound in the room, yet The Voice was all around her. It told her where to put her hands, what to do with her fingers, as though The Voice were the one tracing delicate circles around her nipples, sliding a firm hand around her throat, running a finger lovingly along her jawline before sliding it between her lips.

The Voice told her to spread her legs. Her pussy glistened in the soft golden light filtering into the darkened room, but there was no one to see it. She was alone with The Voice. Because The Voice told her to, she suckled on her finger luxuriously before reaching down to her clit. She held back a moan until The Voice told her it wanted to hear her moan.

The Voice leashed her thoughts, and her mind grew dim and quiet. She had to obey The Voice, and when it told her to slide a finger into her cunt while her other hand mauled her breasts, her limbs moved like those of a puppet on strings. She was merely a passenger in a vessel captained by The Voice. The haunting, irresistible Voice, that controlled her without its owner’s presence, The Voice that lived coiled in her mind only to awaken in the dark and enslave her.

She was playing with herself furiously, moaning and squirming on the bed, imagining The Voice’s owner watching, and the helpless indignity of it only spiked her arousal… but The Voice also controlled her orgasm, and she suspected it had no intention of giving her release.

The Voice would tease and torment her, forcing her body to play itself like an instrument… and then it would leave her.

The Voice would dissolve in the dark room like candle smoke, and she’d be left panting, her body throbbing, her mind slowly, drowsily, dreamily fighting its way out of the hazy sea into which The Voice had plunged it. And when she was finally free of The Voice, she’d curl up naked under the sheets, shivering a little in the dark, and wait for sleep to take her away.

The Voice wasn’t the same as when its Owner had shared her bed… but it was something. The Voice was what she had left.