Made A Plaything

Many thanks to Erza07 for making this story possible with his reviews!!!!

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Here I am now, single in my mid-30s in a life that could actually be described as quite successful with respect to career, education and experiences. Nevertheless, I'm single and the company I can have bores me out, because the same games are always played, the outcome of which is usually unsatisfactory for me. I guess I'm one of those people who took a wrong turn somewhere along the path of life without knowing exactly when and where it actually happened.

Lately I've been discovering hotel bars, not least in the hope of a classic conquest, but also because they are usually pleasantly stylish and often not so crowded. In addition, there are few groups there and you don't feel like a loner if you sit there alone to enjoy the atmosphere while having a few too many drinks.

Apparently I'm not the only one who feels this way, because every Thursday evening the same woman sat at the end of the long counter and drank martinis like in a James Bond movie. You could probably best describe her as a classic beauty, dark straight hair, shoulder length, narrow face, fair skin with little make-up necessary. She always wore a dark business outfit, white blouse, no pushup and an elegant skirt that didn't emphasize the hips.

She always just sat there and drank, no cell phone, no book, no small talk with the staff and no other guests would ever come towards her. I'm sure she was used to being looked at and was probably aware that I'd been admiring her from afar for weeks. In my thoughts she became more and more aloof and my initial plans to talk to her seemed increasingly impossible to me, until one Thursday when she suddenly seemed to notice my presence.

I can't even say what changed, or whether nothing changed at all. In any case, she looked at me for the first time from her seat when the bartender called me over to the counter to pay my bill. It was like she was looking right through me, just a look without any gestures. I can't even say for how long this lasted. All I know is that for this period I had no interaction with the bartender. I just stood there looking back. It wasn't the first testing look a woman had ever given me, but I'd never felt so naked watching her, see right through every layer I implemented in myself to hide the real me. Staring at the real me, seeing things that even I wouldn't know about myself. Then suddenly, without any judgment or gesture, she averted her gaze and I just stood there, not knowing what I should make out of the situation. Thank god the bartender didn't show any signs of noticing. I forced myself back into reality, quickly decided to forget that embarrassing moment and left the bar without another glance at her.

What followed was a series of more of these looks, each getting more intense. The worst happened when I was on the way to the restrooms...I felt that look again. The question as to whether I should return the look didn't arise at all, I was captivated in her eyes. My motoric skills were completely lost when I tried to walk casually and in a relaxed manner. "Is the current step the same length as the last one? Am I moving my arms far enough, or am I moving them too far?" Internally I felt like I was staggering like a drunkard, when she finally looked away and released me from her hypnotizing gaze.

This went on for a few weeks until she suddenly started to no longer notice my presence. So far these looks had only unsettled me and I tried to mentally prepare myself better every Thursday, to deliver a less pathetic performance. At this point I had long since given up all hope of ending up with this woman, but she continued to fascinate me. However, I didn't expect how much I wanted to be noticed by her now that she was ignoring me.

Every Thursday without her eyes on me was torture and I wondered what I could have done wrong, apart from my rather obvious weakness towards her. Looking back, I have to say that at this point I was no longer able to clearly assess the situation and everything from then on was already set in stone. Nor did I reflect on the sexual desire that her ignorance towards my presence triggered inside of me. Or that perhaps she gave me those looks consciously from the start to serve a specific goal. At least that's what I like to think, because we'd never had a real conversation and I probably wouldn't be able to have one to this very day. I guess I just want to convince myself that I had some meaning to her.

After every evening of torturous ignorance to my rather obvious presence, I masturbated myself to sleep and my orgasms were more intense than ever before without pornography or fantasy of a sexual act in mind, just based on the desire for her attention. But masturbating couldn't satisfy my desire, something else inside me longed for her touch.

This game continued until that fateful evening, when everything changed. Back in the hotel bar and brutally ignored again, I started to make my way home with an erection that tormented me continually, but I didn't even notice it. That's when I met her, smoking in front of the hotel bar and she captivated me again, this time without any interruption. I just stood there like a deer in headlights. However, this time, after a while, her otherwise neutral look took on a somewhat more aggressive look. The longer this situation lasted, the more I was able to free myself from these shackles and I became more and more aware of the strangeness of this situation.

I didn't know what to do and it was getting harder and harder for me to hold her gaze. I lost control of my voice and I was starting to sweat. I couldn't stand it any longer and I shamefully turned my head to the side, not wanting to turn away from her, in a defensive manner. At that moment I recognized a hint of emotion in her facial expressions. The corner of her mouth pulled up just slightly. She turned around and left, only to turn back around after a few steps, knowing fully well that I was still standing in the same place watching her go and gesturing for me to follow. What ensued was the strangest walk of my life.

Of course I followed her, but somehow I didn't dare to catch up with her. A million thoughts raced through my head every second, but I couldn't reproduce any of them. I guess subconsciously I decided not to catch up, because I lacked the courage to take control of this situation, or to take responsibility for what was going to happen just like I have always done in my life. The walk ended in the bedroom of a tastefully and functionally furnished modern apartment.

Looking back, what amazes me the most is her competence, how she knew exactly what to do. If she had come at me directly and aggressively, I would definitely have had a panic attack. Instead, she came from behind and nibbled on my neck, giving me goosebumps. The feeling of vulnerability from presenting my back to a stranger, intensified when she opened my pants and pulled them down, nestling her hips against my ass. Normally, at a moment like this, I would be eagerly waiting to finally get her hands on my cock and again, without me even being aware of it, I was already about to orgasm. This probably went on for a while and the panic gave way to my excitement, while my cock continued to be completely ignored, which only made me hornier and hornier. I don't think I'd ever felt such intense excitement.

She skillfully maintained the initiative by continually playing, nibbling, stroking and pinching me in each and every one of my erogenous areas. I just reacted, there was no reason to take the initiative. She maintained the feeling of vulnerability by starting to work my ass. Starting with gentle stroking and kneading of my ass cheeks, she worked her way more and more clearly and directly. The stroking of her fingers sent shivers down my spine. I don't normally have any erogenous zones back there, but allowing a stranger behind me access to my shameful spot like that only served to arouse me even more. I became more and more restless. My painful erection needed relief and the urge to thrust something could no longer be suppressed.

This must have been the moment she was waiting for, since she grabbed my cock and pulled it forcefully back towards my body by the foreskin. I swear to God, I would have had one of the most intense orgasms of my life in that moment, after weeks of agonizing desire before, if she hadn't carefully but firmly pushed her middle finger deep into my ass at that same moment. What followed was a battle of sensations between my cock that wanted to explode and my ass that didn't want to lose its virginity. I couldn't breathe and my mind was just blown away.

The panic that slowly arose in me was tamed with a reassuring "shh" in my ear and the slow, hard, painful but methodical jerking of my cock kept me at bay. My breath came raggedly at first, but then it stabilized and my mind cleared up. However, not to a point that I could realize the absurdity of the situation or that I could become an active player in the game. I continued to be passive, my mind catching up with the intense pleasure mixed with the feeling of wrongness. And so, her finger began to slowly fuck me, while she jerked me off painfully slowly, much too slowly.

This must have gone on for a while and little by little the horniness subsided and my mind was able to free itself. Inside me, the wish to get out of the ridiculous situation arose and so I began to free myself, which she reluctantly allowed. I turned to her. She stood there looking at me like she was in the bar. The fact that I just had a finger deep in my ass and that my erection was no longer so painful helped me to resist her hypnotizing gaze, which raised the question of how this situation should proceed.

Looking back, I have to admit that the idea of ​​taking the initiative or simply to leave never crossed my mind. Instead, I wanted to avoid a confrontation. I wanted to find common ground with her, on how we could make the encounter pleasant for both of us. However this question was taken away from me when she came to me and gently but firmly pushed me back towards the bed and then advanced, pushing me further and further. This ended with me lying under her on the bed, with my legs spread like a slut. I just couldn't muster the strength to resist her. However, I was worried about spreading my legs for someone, who had stuck her finger deep in my ass just a moment before.

What followed was probably the most pathetic and shortest wrestling match in human history. My attempt to gently get her off me and then under me was met with a powerful grip on my cock and a passionate kiss. Her way of kissing wasn't aggressive, but demanding. I found it increasingly difficult to reciprocate, or to keep up with her until I eventually stopped my resistance. I allowed her to cross my arms over my head, hold them there with one hand and gently kiss the side of my face which I had turned away under her pressure. Her hand slowly moved from my cock down to my ass but this time she was content with just massaging my asshole, which I supposed was to help me to get used to my role in the interaction.

The hand that was holding my arms moved to my cheek and her thumb stroked my lips, while her lips whispered seductively into my ear, shushing me as though to reassure me, while she slowly pushed her finger back into my ass again. I caught my breath sharply, but she turned my head towards her and kissed me. This time not a passionate kiss, more of a sincere, almost loving kiss. I've had a lot of kisses with too much tongue, some with too little tongue, forced kisses, honest kisses, embarrassing kisses, but never kisses with such joy, curiosity and enthusiasm, which helped me tolerate the foreign thing in my ass. The feeling of surrender and vulnerability completely blew my mind away again. This continued until she pulled away from me.

I wanted to lift my upper body, but she pushed me back onto the bed and instructed me to stay there with just a gesture. She was only wearing her underwear as she left the room. I realized that I had hardly explored her body so far. I don't know how long I lay there as I tried to make sense of what had happened so far, but again the idea of ​​leaving didn't occur to me. The excitement I felt outweighed the shame at my pitiful performance so far. My heart was pounding and adrenaline was coursing through my veins as I wondered about the last time when I had felt so alive.

I turned to the door when I heard her coming back and when she entered the room the blood froze in my veins. She stopped a few steps behind the door and turned to me. This almost magical, beautiful, quiet woman was equipped with a huge strap-on. Huge is perhaps the wrong word, as any size is far too big for me when it comes to strap-ons, but that perfectly describes how she stood there. She cleverly kept her distance because if she had come directly at me with the thing, I would definitely have fled out her bedroom window. However, she just stood there knowing fully well that I would try to find a compromise again. Knowing fully well that I would still try to be close to her. So she just waited, this time with a rare emotion visible on her face--an expression of warmth, confidence, certainty and also a bit of malice. Maybe it was pure malice at that moment and I just didn't want to admit the truth.

This stalemate situation became increasingly unbearable for me, a thousand thoughts crossed my mind and the panic was only suppressed by her distance from me. One of those thousand thoughts took control over me and I wanted to open my mouth to say something. Looking back, I can't say which one it was, but it doesn't matter because my voice immediately gave out. Nevertheless, this put an even bigger smile on her face, because she took it as an invitation to come closer. She climbed the opposite end of her big bed and moved towards me on all fours, almost like a predator, which would have been my dream, if it hadn't been for that giant strap-on dangling between her legs. The dominant part of my masculinity cried at how she could crawl towards me so confident of victory, in order to fuck me with the huge thing. The part of my mind that longed for excitement and feeling alive could hardly wait for her to arrive and my normal self just went blank. What happened next is another one of those events in this interaction that I will never forget.

She slowly crawled over me, starting from my legs, but this time I closed them at the last moment and just lay under her with big eyes and squinted thighs. Undeterred, she continued to crawl up to me and I felt the dildo brush over me and come to rest under my balls between my legs. My cock was completely ignored again and she played with her tongue on my nipples, which are super sensitive but also feel super uncomfortable, when other people touch them. With my obvious discomfort, she found another tool to control my behavior and she playfully took it to the extreme. I wanted to push her away, but somehow that didn't seem right to me. I was only able to let out a frustrated, slightly tortured sigh.

She had apparently already given up on the idea of ​​fucking me in missionary and was now lying on my side, with her strap-on over my cock and stomach. What now followed were tender kisses, her hand stroked my cock and body, refusing any contact with my glans, while I was slowly humped from the side. She skillfully and slowly built up my lust, which had vanished due to the shock, until it became unbearable again, refusing to give me any salvation.

People have three instincts in their brain for stressful situations, developed long ago. Run, fight, or play dead. The thought of taking control over this situation no longer occurred to me, so fighting was not even an option. Thus she built up the pressure, my painful erection yearning for a touch, the torture of my nipples intensifying, the angry strap-on humping me more and more intensely. Like always, everything increased at a slow pace, which simply overcame my instincts to flee. This left my prehistoric brain only with the option to play dead. She knew it, my subconscious slowly realized it and for her it was just a matter of waiting until I accepted the reality of our interaction up until that point.

The thought of turning on my side, of being able to press my painful erect cock blissfully into the soft, cold mattress, the thought of escaping from her slow but demanding kisses, that I could not withstand any longer and the need to escape that overstimulation of my nipples made offering my back to her seem like a small price for finding salvation.

Of course she quickly caught up with me and so I ended up as a little spoon. The reward I received for my compliance came in the form of a gentle but cathartic jerking of my cock. Her strap-on, now in its new home between my legs, slowly dry humped. The slow jerking of my cock, the feeling of being at the mercy of the lurking danger between my legs gave rise to a new, unknown feeling in me, a type of horniness, but not the normal type where you want to dick someone down, where you want to have your cock worked on. This type of horniness came from the depths of my soul. It was a desire to be deeply touched, but in some abstract way. And so, without ever openly admitting it, I began to accommodate and cooperate with her to fuck me dry. I wanted to follow this unknown feeling to its core, to explore it and the more I played along with the woman behind me, the closer I came to my goal.

Again, I was denied any salvation from her. She didn't let me get any closer to this new feeling, changing the pace of her dry fuck, avoiding me and my moans, which I wasn't even aware of then, till I sighed in frustration. That's another aspect of this meeting that I can't get out of my head. She first made me her plaything and then even made me beg for it.

The frustration disappeared as all the air suddenly left my lungs, as she suddenly applied pressure to her strap-on and slowly pushed the thing into me, without giving me any time to reconsider. All thoughts were blown away and I heard seductive shushing behind me again. At the same time her arms wrapped around me tightly, in a protective manner. She held my now upright oriented and shocked head back into the pillow with her cheek, as she continued humming that "shhhhh" into my ear. I was instinctively concentrating on getting my breathing under control and again no 'flight or fight' instincts arose in me. A feeling arose in my mind which I could not describe in words.

Perhaps the best way to describe it is to be completely caught up in the most exciting thriller, action movie, porn movie and horror film simultaneously, or perhaps like the first skydive. This feeling slowly receded, but only enough to allow other thoughts to emerge slightly over the border into my consciousness. This feeling came from my ass, which had subconsciously made its dissatisfaction with this foreign thing known from the very beginning, and which now slowly began to move in and out. From that point on, I no longer noticed the person behind me. I could only feel the thrilling experience in my mind, the unpleasant foreign dildo in my ass.

My mind was just looking for a way to reconcile both of these feelings. Then my mind was invaded by an unknown feeling of horniness, a feeling of vulnerability, of wanting to be touched. After some difficulties, I was able to surrender to the feeling and I groaned with every movement she made. The woman skillfully guided me deeper into this feeling by punishing quiet moans and lack of devotion with harder thrusts. I lay there while being fucked like a dog in heat, slipping deeper and deeper into the feeling of complete submission. I can't even say how long this situation lasted, I also have no idea how long a woman has to fuck a man with a strap on until she is satisfied.