just sayiiin, Meden too has a long staff with a bee end.
oh fuck. you're right.
after word of hatapon's actions start making rounds (not just the lies he'd made to cover it up), she becomes hyper-aware of the existence of her own staff. that is, she felt as though everyone were suddenly giving her glances here and there in judgement, assumptions that she would be doing the same. these glances were, of course, imagined, but her anxiety built up quickly.
with that anxiety brought along intrusive thoughts. what if she did the same thing? what if she just tried it? meden was absolutely mortified that her brain could even come up with such a thing. she gripped on tightly to her staff, hand sweaty and slipping. she hoped no one could tell that she was shaking and breathing heavy.
what made it worse was the thoughts starting to tell her more and more details. how it'd feel. how she'd scream. how the ornaments would stretch her further than her fingers. how it'd be able to ram deep into her, slamming against her walls harder and faster than she'd ever been able to manage on her own.
meden felt guilty enough just touching herself. her own sins haunted her constantly. what would kami think? what if he already knows? what if he could hear her thoughts right now, daydreaming about such a horrible thing? her face grew redder and redder by the second. some of the townsfolk were giving her glances now—worried ones with whispers that only made her fears (and excitement) spiral ever higher.
someone eventually walked up to her and asked if she was okay. she snapped out of her panicked trance with a yelp, and stuttered out that she was just feeling unwell. a few others stopped by as well to check on her, saying she needed to get some rest. no, she thought, because that means i'll give in to my sinful thoughts. she couldn't say this out loud, of course, and she didn't have the voice or strength to come up with some other excuse.
so instead, she trudged slowly toward her elaborate and well-decorated cabin, fit for a woman of her status. the same cabin that creaks and complains as her body shakes wildly and paints the floorboards with her love, her muffled pleasure desperately trying to release itself from behind her clasped hand. as her body relaxed, the staff slipped out of her with a clank, freshly soaked beyond recognition.
meden had never been more disappointed in herself, but was even more furious at hatapon for daring to introduce the idea in the first place. perhaps she should have a word with him... she thought of this as she rested in the afterglow and giggled weakly. she's such a disgrace.