A Toy's Story

This is a Toy's story for a Tuesday night. After we unloaded the car, unpacked my stuff, set up the cat litter pan and a warm spot for Munchkin, it was time to begin.

WileChile walked me into the bathroom and sat me in a chair beside the tub. She leaned against the counter and asked again if I would be her sex toy until New Year's Day. She could ask me to do anything and I would comply, so long as it was not embarrassing or painful. She might ask me to wear only the gold belly chain she gave me. She might ask me to wear a collar, serve her, and sit at her feet.

I had thought more about this while getting stuff to stay over, and the tension between an unnamable excitement and a thread of fear kept me on edge. I can't describe my feelings; they were like a knot of yarn, different colors, different textures, as you pull it from a bag.

WileChile filled the tub and lit candles around the room and had Handel's Water Music playing softly. She asked me to undress and get in the tub; when I put a hand in to test the water, it was stinging hot. I started for the faucet to add some cold water, "No, just get in slowly, as you get used to it." she said.

The bathtub was one of those old deep tubs with thin sides so I couldn't sit on the side and wait to get in. I put one leg and then the other in, so I was standing in the tub. WileChile measured a cap of bath crystals, "salts" she called them, and poured them in. The smell of lilacs rose from the water and I swirled the crystals with my feet to dissolve them.

Slowly I was able to sit down in the tub and have the hot water rise above my breasts. The water was delicious and I began to dissolve; I closed my eyes and leaned back against an inflatable pillow. The candlelight, the music, and the sound of WileChile reading, was a music carrying me to a tropical place. She put a cool cloth over my forehead and eyes and said she'd be back -- just relax.

An unknown time later WileChile took the cloth off my face and said, "Wake up, wake up; it's Christmas Day. Time to open the presents!" Someone - not me - looked out at the glowing, steam-filled room after a long journey back from a fantasy of toys and presents and soft warm bodies in an oversize bed.

When she saw I was back in this world, WileChile wiped my face with a cool cloth and put and ice cube on my tongue. She helped me sit up in the tub and took a chrome and black leather collar out of a box and had me look at it. The leather was attached to the inside of the collar so your skin would only feel the leather, not the cold steel. The chrome band sat against the wider leather for a jeweled contrast of silver on black. As she opened the collar she asked me to lean forward, and closed it around my neck.

WileChile looked at me for a long beat and whispered, "God you're beautiful!" I couldn't speak; I could barely breathe. I felt excited, scared, lust-filled, proud, and room full of things I couldn't define or name. She was sitting on the chair next to the tub and caressed the side of my face; I felt her cool hand slip across my neck and shivered despite the water. She had the sort of smile kids have on Christmas morning when the living room is knee-deep in wrapping paper, bows, and foil. The shivering had reached deep inside me and I took a shaky breath to speak.

She put a finger across my lips and said, "Wait." She turned to the sink counter and poured two glasses from a bottle of VSOP. The glasses were cylindrical and narrow, with heavy bottoms, about six inches tall. "Sip this, sip it slowly; this is good stuff." I sipped a little too much and felt the fumes rise in the back of my throat and a smooth heat make talk impossible.

So we sat in the warm room and looked lovingly at each other. WileChile had changed into the robe I brought her from Hawaii and I could see sweat between her breasts. I wanted to lick it away, but the hot water and the brandy had turned me into al dente fettuccini. So we just sat and looked and smiled, and I tried to breathe more or less regularly. There was a sound like helicopters overhead, but it was just she and I, and Water Music in the room.

I finished my glass long before my new owner, and asked for another. She smiled and said, "You look done for, but OK, just a little."

I leaned back against the pillow to contemplate, "Do you own toys? Or are the things you love different than toasters, answering machines, and espresso makers? What do toys think of being owned? New toys are not so much owned, as they own their childrens' affections."

WileChile wiped my face again with a cool cloth and put an ice cube in my mouth, "Time to get out. Time for the whip cream; you're done."

Somewhere along the way someone stole my body! Or at least took the batteries out of the remote. I was beyond limp; my body was on vacation. I lifted my head off the pillow long enough to say "Help." and started to giggle.

WC moved the chair and put her arms around me under my arms and lifted me out of the tub. I leaned against the wall while she unfolded a bath sheet and wrapped me in it. I didn't want to let go of the wall, so she picked me up, wrapped in the towel, and carried me to the bed. I liked being in her arms and wanted to go for a lap around the living room and kitchen, but she set me down gracefully on the bed and went to bring in some candles from the bathroom.

After setting candles on the headboard, she lay down beside me and slipped her hand inside the towel and across my stomach. She toyed with the belly chain, sliding her fingers back and forth under it. I reached a state of bliss usually reserved for ancient gurus. I could feel every fingerprint - I just couldn't move.

When she unwrapped the towel and opened my legs I felt chosen, vulnerable, owned. I felt I was a toy just unwrapped on Christmas morning. I can't describe how I felt. I just wanted to belong to her forever. She nibbled on me, fingered my lips, slipped inside me and made me crazy. Made me wonder if I had gone blind or the room was full of stars. Are my eyes open or closed?

In another galaxy, far, far away, I felt something wet, tears on my cheek, someone nibbling on my ear whispering, "You're mine; my own, real, live sex toy." And I was.