{Madame x pûss}
My fingers move restlessly, not yet able to put voice to words. It's one of the rare times pûss is at home. You should come over, she hummed. We are unscheduled, my hair is wet in a bun, I'm in soft clothing. I am burning, burning, the flames are at my feet, my pupils are dilated. I need to write, there are dishes in the sink, I have magics to do, I have thread to weave, I need, I need--
Fuck it, it's fine.
I change out of my sensibly soft underthings and into nude embroidered mesh. I haven't had the chance to wear any of my unworn frilly pile of ridiculous things all summer, no matter my intention. But now, I am a feral cottagecore fairy with needle teeth that I run my tongue over as I perfume my body before heading over to hers. She feeds me sips of smoked whiskey and pomegranate seeds over negotiation. We are doing something new, something that has me excited and anxious, as new things tend to do to me. We steal into her bedroom and she lights her Aphrodite altar up for me, my willing sacrifice on the altar of science. The air becomes heavy with roses. She rummages through her to toy box, pulling my selections onto the bed. I put on one of my green velvet sofa/chaotic sapphic playlists, to keep my lizard brain occupied. Suki Waterhouse croons that she's going to put some goddamn moves on us. She kisses me and kisses me, tugging at my dress. I pull away and demand she take off all of her clothes. She hates this, being naked while I'm clothed. But dolls don't get as many choices as human submissives.
I think we're going for somewhere between a roomba and an anime cat maid girl archetype, I had said thoughtfully. I need some feedback, so not full doll mode. But you don't say no to me in this scene. Dolls don't get that kind of agency, it's too much to manage.
She is naked in front of me, her body all hips, lips and tits. She is still self conscious, even as she knows I'm already wet. She kisses me again, while hopefully pulling at my dress. I allow her to take it off me, as she makes excited dolly noises at me about my lingerie, cooing appreciatively as she pushes me down on her bed. I still have trouble with this, even after so many years. Receiving gifts, sexual favors, small delights without expectation of reciprocation. In my cruelest moments, it's what I need the most. To be an impassive tiny goddess, lavished with compliments, soft touches, small delicacies, all of which I may swipe to the floor because I can.
I laid down on her bed, pulling her on top of me as she freed my breasts from the bustier and shimmied my panties off of me. She looks at me shyly beneath her lashes as she massages my breasts into fullness, teasing my nipples with her claws and mouth as I panted quietly. I know she wants to be used in service to my acquisitive lust, but my brain still struggles between beast mode and nice girl mode, even now. But there are rivers forming between my thighs as she trails kisses down my tummy, my inner thighs, pausing just a moment when she finds my pussy. She laps at my already drenched labia, parting me open with her tongue, finding the ruffle of my clit to lavish her attentions. All of my blood that was previously operating my brain has now pooled in my pussy. She slides her well manicured fingers easily into me as she attends my clit with her mouth. I've always given her the most difficult of times about how long she likes to keep her nails, but she keeps a few nails short and rounded for me. She finds her rhythm with her fingers, tapping against my gspot.
