My name is Toy. You asked me to choose a name, and I found this one apt, as I am yours.
I do what I am told. I spend my time where I am bid. I wear what is chosen for me. This morning I awoke in a thin white nightie which hovers and skims my curves. My nipples are perky rosebuds as it's flimsy enough to see through, but that's okay as you keep the house warm.
I have on my collar and cuffs, as I always do. I'd feel naked without them! Dainty but sturdy, these ones are white leather. Like little halos they encircle my wrists, ankles and neck. Each is adorned with a small silver loop that attaches to the chains in this room. Well, the chains in any room, depending on where you want me. At this moment the chain trails from my ankle.
But it matters not where it's tethered, it's long enough that I can move freely around the bedroom. Well, usually freely, as you can shorten the chain if I'm being punished. Or if you just feel like it, to remind me where I stand.
Right now, I'm laid on the bed, reading. It's a beautiful day and the sunlight is splashed across me. When you come in later I'll ask if you'll let me outside for a while, so I can read on the lawn.
Perhaps you will fuck me out there. I love sex outdoors. Exposed in the breeze, the rays hot on my skin. Eyes peering hungrily from upstairs windows.
The thought makes my pussy flush hot so I squeeze my thighs tight, crush the burn. It's all I can do. I'm not allowed to touch my pussy, especially not to pleasure myself. Because, it's not my pussy, it's yours. I need your permission.
My room is nice, it has everything I need. I don't want for anything, apart from your company, your touch, your control.
We talk, sometimes all night, but I've learnt to sense the boundaries; despite their transient nature. I've had to learn these things, to avoid abuse. But I can read you very well now. You read me too I suppose, for different reasons, you know how much I can take. You never go too far.
Work is one of the things you won't talk about. I wonder what you do. I fantasise, while here in my tower, about how you spend time outside these walls. You're someone powerful I'm sure. Someone important.
I risked looking for clues once, in your bedroom. I didn't find anything though and it wasn't worth the anxiety that you may notice my rummaging. I have no privacy here, since I do not even belong to myself, but breaching yours would have devastating consequences. Ones far too painful.
I'm not sure where you are right now. The house is silent and I thought I heard the front door when I was dozing earlier. I'm hoping you popped out for croissants and cinnamon coffee. This is possible, as you were humming. The sunshine must have brightened your morning too.
It's 11.30 am. I hope you return soon as I need the bathroom. I'm not worried; you never leave me alone too long. Unless I've been bad.
Oh, I can go to the toilet myself. I'm your slave, not your prisoner. The chains aren't locked and neither are the doors. I could unclasp my ankle and wander outside if I wanted. Pop to the corner shop. I could leave anytime.
But I don't. Those aren't the rules, that's not our agreement. Besides, I enjoy being yours. I enjoy your commands and laws, they caress and comfort me. I float in my paradox bubble, feeling so worthless and used; special and safe. Residing in fantasy, my inner world is complete, consumed, overflowing. It's all that matters. The outer world doesn't exist. All that concerns me is pleasure and pain, control and compliance. Being your Good Girl.
I'm startled by the front door slamming.
Brushing my book aside, I hastily move to the foot of the bed. This is where I'm to greet you, perched still. Knees and feet together, hands on my lap, head bowed. Luckily you're heavy footed, so I always have time to arrange myself to please you.
I don't look up when you enter. I want to, you didn't sleep with me last night and I've missed you. I want to smile at you and drink in your deep handsome eyes, but first I need to be invited.
You walk up close until you're standing in front of me. I breathe you in. The large bulge in your jeans is at my eye level, your crotch almost brushing my lips. Without a word between us (I can't speak unless spoken to), you unzip your trousers.
You're not in a talkative mood then. I can't look at your face, so I don't know if you look happy. There isn't any more humming. It doesn't matter; I know what you're asking. Sorry, telling. You can't ask because I can't say no.
I reach into your fly and pull out your huge hard cock. It is rigid and ready to see me. I'm having a love affair with your dick. It's just perfect to me. I run my nose along it, teased by its scent. I'm about to put my lips around it when you speak;
"Clean it." You demand, gruff.
I feel your hand upon my head. It begins with a stroke but then your fingers wind into my hair, entangled into a firm grip, pulling it tight. I whimper quietly at the pain. No croissants today then.
Obediently I lick your cock clean, base to tip. Tasting every inch of sweat and semen with my thirsty lapping tongue. I move my head down and work my sucking mouth across your balls. I'm engulfed in the heavy sweet musk of them as they dangle onto my face. I must say, I'm at my most contented curled into your crotch. You let me fall asleep down there sometimes, your cum drying on my cheek. After I'm sure they're licked clean, I return to licking your dick.
"Swallow me," you order.
I open my mouth wide and take your length down my throat. My head moving back and forth, sucking you hungrily into my wetness.
You grab my chin upwards and I can look at you at last. Even though my mouth is full of your cock, I smile and you beam back down at me.
You grasp my head firmly and slowly begin to fuck my mouth. I have to concentrate now, on when to breathe and to try not to gag, as it's going deeper and deeper and I can't control it. My eyes are watering and I'm retching a bit too much. I'm scared I'll have to reach up and stop you, which I'm not supposed to do.
I try to occupy my hands to ensure my compliance. Gripping your dick and cupping your balls.
"No hands!" you bark at me, making me jump. You're really not in a good mood!
Dribbling and spluttering as you fuck my head, I hold my hands behind me so I behave. So I don't grab you, push you out of me and beg you to be gentle.
Then you hold my nose as you plunder my mouth and I'm choking and about to risk squirming loose when you start to cum with a shudder and growl. I feel you spurting in hot sticky waves down my throat. I gag and swallow, drink you eagerly, I love your cum. I would eat it off a spoon.
Your grip relaxes and you wipe your cock around my lips, the cum still seeping from it. I lick my lips, as well as your penis, and make sure I've fed on every bit.
You stand there a few seconds, stroking at the back of my neck, then you pull away. As you zip yourself back up and walk out the door you tell me not to move.
I don't. I sit still. My hands rested on my thighs. My head bowed again, like in prayer. My dark hair making a curtain.
I'm panting and catching my breath. Worn out and turned on, I can feel my cunt leaking. I dare to hope you will let me cum when you get back.
I study my cuffs; the leather is starting to peel a little. I run my tongue around my mouth, tasting your saltiness. My face stinks of you.
As my arousal fades I become dimly aware that I still need the toilet.
It's been maybe 10 minutes. It's hard to know, I've found out time is subjective. I could turn and check the clock, but I won't, as you told me not to move. There's no point checking anyway, I don't know how long you'll be. You could be hours if you were feeling cruel.
I cheat a little. I move my finger slightly, making rainbows bounce from the diamond ring you gave me.
Relieved, I hear your footsteps returning. You open my door.
"For you, my Toy. For tonight."
