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As her muscles tense beneath my hands, I glance up at her face to make sure there’s nothing to indicate my words went too far, finding only arousal behind her now half-mast lids, so I continue.
“Come on, little doll. Open these silky thighs and show the user there’s no issue to fix,” I urge, and her muscles relax, allowing her legs to spread a little farther. “There you go. I’m sure my doll’s cunt is already dripping wet, ready to be done with these tests so she can show me what she can really do. Isn’t that right, my pretty little fuck toy?”
My eyes are on her pussy as I ask my crude question, my cock throbbing from speaking words I never imagined using during a scene with the sweet creature laid before me, who now resembles a pinned butterfly with pink wings. And I feel a surge of pre-cum release when I see her slit clench before releasing her own delectable juices, forcing a growl past my lips.
Wrapping my arms around her bent legs, I effortlessly yank her to the end of the padded table, a memory flashing through my mind and clouding my vision with the first time I ever tasted her. This exact position, but instead of in a playroom, we were at Doc’s beach house, and I feasted on her atop his kitchen counter.
I blink, and a very different version of the same incredible woman fills my eyes. She’s no longer that trembling virgin who’d never been pleasured by another person, shyly exposing her tiny body to a man for the first time. No. Before me lays a sensual woman, a body soft with curves I put there when I filled her with my baby. There’s nothing shy about her as her arms are stretched above her head, dead weight against the padded surface. Her naked tits proudly pointing at the rafters as the red-tinted light makes their tips a dark-maroon. The nerd version of black fuck-me heels and her pink thigh-high socks making a frame for the porn-worthy image of her pussy that’s now glistening with the amount of wetness that’s seeped from her slit.
In fact, it’s so perfect a vision I’d regret not capturing it, to look at it whenever I want.
Following her index-card instructions, I place my hand against the soft skin of her stomach and order, “Don’t move, little doll,” then walk over to the tray table to retrieve my cell. When I return, she’s exactly how I left her. “Voice commands seem to be working so far,” I tease, and I aim the camera, aligning it horizontally to show from the tip of one knee, across her center, to the other.
The flash goes off, and she startles, her legs closing the slightest bit before my growl stops her.
“Don’t. Fucking. Move.”
And although my hand isn’t on her, she follows my command.
I take another picture from the same angle, this time with the flash off so it’ll capture the red light and what it does to the image of her body. Satisfied with the result of both photos, I move my phone, switching between flash and no flash, as I take more pictures from all different angles, mesmerized as I see the tiny reactions my doll’s body is having to the impromptu photo shoot.
She might feel embarrassed or awkward, but she’s getting off on the discomfort.
Masochistic.
Because it doesn’t have to be physical pain that sexually arouses someone in order for them to be considered a masochist.
A part of me wants to deep-dive into the reasoning behind why these feelings have awoken inside her. And I will, along with scheduling a visit with Doc at his earliest convenience. But for now, for tonight’s scene, I’ll just be extra careful as we dip our toes in, allowing her to experience a kiddie-pool version of a masochist getting to play with a former professional sadist… before tossing her into the deep end.
I walk to the head of the padded table and set my phone there, keeping it handy in case other positions I put her in speak to me and demand I capture them.
Trailing a finger from the center of her palm and along one of her outstretched arms still above her head as I stroll toward my spot at the other end, I glimpse her open eyes as she stares up at the rafters. I take a moment to check in with her, because she appears to be dissociating.
“Color, doll?”
Without missing a beat, she responds, “Green, Master,” punctuating it with one of her practiced blinks.
“Very good girl,” I purr, then continue back down her body until I’m positioned at the foot of the table, staring at the most intensely cock-hardening image I’ve ever viewed in my life. “If you were real, I’d make you look at yourself right now, so you could see how maddeningly sexy you are, little doll. But, alas, you’re not. You’re a mindless object meant to be used for my pleasure. And according to your instructions, we need to complete this step before I get to do that. So let’s proceed, shall we?”
It's a test, and I’m really starting to like this game.
She doesn’t answer—because as a doll, she hasn’t been “programmed” to unless my hand is on her—passing with flying colors.
And little things are starting to occur to me about this whole situation she’s orchestrated.
As a doll, she doesn’t have to speak more than a simple yes, no, or color. She doesn’t have to try to answer naughty questions I might pose, which a lot of the time makes her choke up and freeze. This scene takes all that off her plate.
“I guess… since you’re just a toy, I don’t need to bother with gentle caresses and sweet kisses to make you pliable and needy. So in that case….”
That’s all the notice my sub gets before I slide two fingers deep into her pussy. I smile to myself when her head arches back and her lips part as she gasps, her eyes flaring with life. I see her throat work as she swallows, forcing herself back into character, and fighting to stay there as I start to move my fingers.
Swirling them inside her, I say as if speaking to myself, “Ooh, impressive. Yeah, that’s nice and tight. Hot too. Funny, I don’t remember reading anything about a heating feature.” I curl my fingers to press upward, dragging them over that extra-soft spot that makes her shudder. “And look at that! The lubrication system really does release more when you stimulate this particular little cock sleeve.” I thrust them deep, watching her face for any hint of a wince as I test her sweet cunt the way I would examine a pocket pussy—roughly. But there’s nothing but pleasure there, even as I can tell she’s trying to keep her expression neutral.
Without warning, I pull my hand away, and the shock of going from being finger-fucked to completely empty without any gradual deceleration makes her whimper.
“Huh?” I stride to the head of the table, twisting my face with mock confusion and making a show of leaning over my doll’s face and peering down at her. “I could’ve sworn my toy made a sound.” She doesn’t meet my eyes as she clenches her teeth together, and I choose to ignore her panting, since she does such a damn good job of keeping her expression blank while she tries to catch her breath. It’s not until she blinks those long lashes slow and steady that I put her out of her misery. “I must’ve been hearing things.” And then I lift my sticky fingers to my nose, staring down at her as I inhale deeply.
My eyes close when my lungs near capacity, and I groan through my exhale, opening them once again as I place the two digits coated in her cream into my mouth and suck them clean. “Mmm… this lube is fucking delicious.” I lean over her and lick my lips. “I should leave them a five-star review for the flavor alone.”
