Post orgasm. My soggy cock is limp and heavy, foreskin forward. Trapping a slick lick of cum around my still quite bulbous head. My sex doll lay fucked and spent at my feet.
“Look at you,” I said, sliding off the sofa to the floor.
Her pretty cum-covered face turned as she sensed my presence move in the darkness behind her bandana eyes.
“You were all perfect before, when you arrived.”
She lay on her side, knees bent, hands bound behind her back.
“Look at you now.....”
Lifting up her little black dress. The back of her thighs. Quite milky and baby soft, all hot and molten together. Inspecting her. Inspecting the state my doll’s aching honeypot.
“You’re all dirty now,” I said.
“Do you like that, Sir?” said her sticky lips.
“Absolutely,” I said. Lifting the dress over her bottom. “A filthy angel.”
Her swollen pussy remained split, knickers still to one side. Just a little bit split, just enough to see some gorgeous pink. She flinched as I touched it and groaned as I easily slid my single middle finger into her. She was wet enough to be fucked hard and fast, I thought, but I just wanted to taste for now.
“That’s a gorgeous pussy you have,” I said.
She felt the knuckle against the rim of her hole and fingers pressing into her puffed-out labia.
“Oh, sweetheart,” I crooned, watching my glistening finger slide from her hot box. “Your cunt is so sticky....”
“Mmmmm,” she hummed, and I sucked my finger.
“You taste like a slut now,” I said, “you taste fucking delicious.”
“Let me taste,” she said.
Her words surprised me, for a moment, until her spunky pout pursed and I put my biggest finger in her again. The walls of her vagina were spongy and slick and I gave her mouth the stickiest finger I could muster. She sucked on it like nectar and moaned and my fingers slid around her mouth. I smeared my cum across her lips and into her mouth and she sucked and swallowed, sucked and swallowed.
“Making you all dirty is my very favourite thing,” I said. My quiet voice boomed in all the silence around us. A trickle from her cheek, painted her pink tongue. Licking up all my spunk like a good bitch. “That’s a good bitch,” I said.
And I kissed her, with soft licks and she wriggled a little on the floor. Kissing makes me hard. But I persuaded myself to be patient. It’s when I’m flaccid and playing with her and making her cum. I don’t want to be hard right now. I just want to lick her all over her body and enslave her on the bed. Impose my will on her and terrorize her vagina. Take her to the next level of helplessness.
“I want you to stand up now,” I said.
“Yes, Sir,” she said.
She needed my help. I almost lifted her to her feet myself. She fell back into my arms and I felt like a lion coiling itself around a helpless gazelle. Captured. Mine. Owned. Her fate at the mercy of my bastard. I pointed her to the wall-length mirror on the closet. Closer, her feet staggering forward. The straps of her little black dress slid down her arms and her dress hung on her wrists. It draped her thighs, her creamy tender breasts exposed and pointing. Those black knickers pulled to one side to show off her sweet hairless mound. My hand slid up to her chest, between her tits. I felt her heart. Beating hard, her mouth dry, tongue sliding though her lips. Her heart drummed and the adrenaline cursing through me was ravenous. A silent tension enveloped us and my own heart began pounding. She started to pant as I lowered the bandana. Her eyes crunched together to ward off the brightness and the knotted bandana slid down round her neck. I took the knot with one hand and her leather shackles with my other hand.
“Look at yourself, sweetie,” I said, “look how beautiful your slut is......”
I twisted the knot and the bandana coiled around her throat. It didn’t bite, just tightened. As her eyes opened her face grimaced for a moment. Just a moment, until she gasped and her nostrils flared and she saw her slut in the mirror. Her dripping slut. The fucktoy. A dirty used whore. Her eyes tracked to mine and almost instantly she tried to look over her shoulder. Our eyes left the mirror, tracking to one another’s. I only caught a glimpse of her big brown eyes before they closed, mouth purring as she swooned back and reached for me. I obliged with my mouth and at the back of her, I unhooked the shackles. Her leather wrists rose immediately and rounded the back of my neck and in the mirror, a flash of her rising on her toes, her little black dress cascading down her legs to her ankles.
We embraced like lovers and kissed for a couple of hungry minutes. Each lick a sweet ‘I love you’, each tussle of our lips a ‘thank you’, and then dirty tongues, a little slut and her bastard.
“Why don’t you go and make yourself perfect again....for me....”
“For you, anything,” she said.
I gave her the most loving kiss, fuelled by her most loving words.
“Pigtails,” I said. “........and wash your vagina,” I said, nuzzling my mouth into her neck.
“Nice and fresh,” she said, “so you can make me all dirty again?”
“You learn fast, sweetie,” I said.
“I wanna be the best for you,” she said.
Her neck was food, I loved it. She shuddered and sank onto her heels and I looked into her eyes. Plaintiff, honest and innocent. Dark long sexy lashes. The white of her eyes are crystal and they shine and curl happily at the corners. I wanted to tell her. Tell her how beautiful her eyes were and that I was swimming in them. Swimming in the dark oceans of her eyes. I’d completely forgotten she was a paid-for whore. Like I’d always known her. Like she’s always been my sex doll and I just hadn’t seen her for a while. Like I already knew I loved her, but she hadn’t heard it for a long time.
She smiled and kissed me almost dutifully and said, “I’ll try and be quick.”
I nodded in a blissful trance and I watched her step from her dress and cross the room, picking her knickers back across her pussy lips. I watched my sex doll to the door of the bathroom, where she stopped, turned and smiled.
“Come and watch me,” she said.
I stood across the room, cock hanging, and said, “Later.”
“Okay,” she said, smiling again.
I could see her in the mirror through the open door. I could see her creamy skin moving around and a flash of dark long hair. There was a ‘this happens every day’ feeling and I halted it with a sudden flood of filthy thoughts to my head. Visions of my cock in her tight ass and more deepthroat and squatting down hard on my seven and half inches of thick cock. I picked up her dress and wiped my slippery dick dry. I took the wine and the ice bucket it was in to the bed, and re-lit the joint and climbed aboard. I’d paid heavily for the room. The honeymoon suite with a great view of the Red Light district. It had fleeced me, but I really loved the poster bed and all its possibilities. I could string my sex doll up however I wanted and use her in any way I pleased. I’d already rigged it. I’d been planning this day of sex for a long time. It was my only real reason to be here in Amsterdam. I was in the middle of a mission to find the slut inside myself.
I felt like a king sitting on a throne waiting for my sex slave. A master who quenches all his desires. She took longer than I expected, but when she re-emerged I realized why. Instead of pigtails, she’d braided her hair into two long tails that ran behind her ears. She looked very native, especially stark naked. Frighteningly young looking. So tender looking it felt dangerous to be with her. So innocent looking I felt momentarily like I was bad man, a pervert. I am, I concluded, excusing myself. I am sick and perverted and my fear of loving it is shattered by the reality my princess is right there in the room with me. Just she and I.
She held her tails in each hand, pulling them down over her chest and said, “is this okay?’
“Does the Pope wear a silly hat?” I said, “come to me......”
She was smiling as she crossed the room and so fresh faced and beautiful. Her shiny round knees slid onto the bed and the rest of her slight frame snaked along behind it. Shiny gorgeous thighs, not so skinny. I’m glad she’s no rake. My arm invited her under its wing and her leather shackles clinked as the rings that bound them clashed. She was lovely and warm and soft next to me. She was silent, very silent as I gave her the bottle. Her eyes looking at me always as she sips and giggles as she spills. I catch a drop of wine running down her breast and with my fingertips I circled her nipple with the wetness. She glances at me and smiles as I do so and our eyes exchange a lustful gaze.
She took the joint from the ashtray nearby and her wet nipple hardened and my hand skated down to her tummy. I stroked it as she drank and felt it convulse as she swallowed the wine. Fawning over her. Something perfect. Silky girl spreading her legs as my palm feels her baby-soft thigh. She looked up at me, blowing smoke from her mouth before searching out a kiss. I gave it her as I stroked her soft mound.
“Are you going to make me all dirty again now?” she quizzed between kisses.
“Yes,” I hummed back.
Our lips parted so she could take another hit.
“We’re going to need a safe-word,” I said.
“Why?” she said, watching me slide to her feet.
“Because you’re so perfect, I think I might get carried away.”
“How do you mean?” she said, spreading her legs to show me her cunt, puffing on the joint.
I fawned over it, mouthwatering, and said, “It’ll send me wild when you think you’ve had enough.”
She drew on the joint and said, “What’ll it be, our safe-word?”
“I hate you.”
“I hate you?” she said, weighing the implications of such words. How far to go to say that?
“Repeatedly,” I said, kneeling between her legs.
