I wrote this for Kink of the Week, then had to go and have an epic wank, because oh hell yeah; this is definitely one of my kinks.
Objectification + submissive passivity + being admired = a very thirsty Rosie.
This scene depicts a fantasy game played by willingly enthusiastic adults. All of the imaginary people involved are fully consenting and happily participating in their imaginary games.
“”I’ve bought you a present”
A muffled voice from outside the toy’s cardboard enclosure, then another, lighter in pitch;-
“What is it?”
“It’s a toy. A very special executive toy for my favourite executive power-bitch.”
A movement, a tight, sharp inhalation.
“That’s right, and don’t you forget it, boy.”
Shuffling, a low moan.
“Now, show me my present, and if I’m pleased enough with it, I might let you out of that cock-cage I can feel you straining against.”
Another moan, footsteps. Fingers scrabbling, paper tearing, tape unpeeling along cracks and edges. Cardboard walls fall away, leaving the toy exposed and blinking in the sudden light.
“Oh, it’s pretty!” laughs the woman; all skintight black leather tailoring and an air of self-possession like an invisible crown. Mistress. “I like the red ribbons.”
For the toy is tied in a neat package, wrists behind, thighs bent double, ankles to wrists with lashings of scarlet satin, a flamboyant bow perched insouciantly between plump arse-cheeks . A little tight, so that when the bindings are removed, their memory will remain awhile in reddened marks on bare skin. The toy looks at its new owner, smiles the brilliant smile of a shiny new plaything that wants, more than anything, to please.
Mistress steps forward, runs a hand tipped with red daggers over the toy’s cheekbones, across its soft lips, among its thick dark curls. “Very nice. Very nice indeed. Show me some more.”
Her companion moves into the toy’s line of sight; a man in jeans, bare-chested and barefoot, with a studded leather collar and an impish smile. He nudges the toy’s knees apart with one foot. “Wider.” he commands, and the toy obeys, spreading itself as far apart as its restraints allow, pushing its shoulders together a little, sitting a smidgen straighter; all the better to display itself to two sets of appreciative eyes.
If it were a person and not a toy, it might feel a flush of embarrassment to be showing its most intimate places in such a brazen way, or a touch of apprehension at the fearsomely sharp edges in the woman’s smile, but a good toy has only an empty head and willing, welcoming openings, so it is a good toy, only a toy and not a thirsty fortysomething sub-slut playing kinky games with kinky friends.
They walk a slow circle around their plaything, scrutinising planes and curves in approving silence.
“Now undo those ribbons,” Mistress orders “with your teeth. And be careful, I don’t want any damage to my new ornament.” She grins wickedly. “Not yet.”
He is down on hands and knees, pulling at one end of the red bow, his breath stroking warmth between the toy’s feet, across halfway-parted labia. A tug, and wrists are free. Another; ankles unbound. He shuffles around to the front. Hard teeth and hot wet tongue take care of the thigh bindings, pulling spit-darkened strands free, leaving livid imprints in their place. He crawls backwards, turns a devotional gaze upon his Mistress.
“Both of you. Stand up.”
As gracefully as possible after kneeling so long, the toy rises to its feet, brings itself to full height.
At Mistress’s direction, the man fetches and carries, wraps heavy suspension cuffs around the toys hands, fastens them overhead to a sturdy dangling chain, turns the ratchet that draws them tight, higher and higher, until the toy’s arms are all stretch and no escape. When he adds the ankle cuffs and spreader bar, the toy must stand on tiptoe to keep its weight distributed evenly between arms and legs.
“Now I can get a really good look at what we have here. You.” She points one scarlet talon at her minion then at a far corner. “You can watch from over there. If you’re good and quiet, I’ll let you have a turn when I’m done.” Shuffling. Silence.
“And you-“ Appraising up-and-down stare. “I’m going to get to know every inch of you. In detail. Starting with this luscious mouth. Open wide.”
The toy lips part eagerly.
“Show me the mouth I’m going to be fucking. I wonder how much you can take before you start gagging. I wonder how you’ll look with tear-streaks and a stream of drool hanging off your chin. If you’ll whimper when your jaw starts to ache.”
One finger, probing, sliding inside. Two. Three.
“Suck. Oh yeah. That’s good. I’m looking forward to filling your mouth with all sorts of things for you to suck on. Okay, enough.” The fingers withdraw. “Close your mouth. Keep your eyes open, look straight ahead.”
Her face is so close she could reach out and lick the toy’s lips, so she does. Deep breaths, breathing in faint traces of soap, cocoa butter, warm skin, wet cunt.
“Such soft skin.” Another lick, this time a line drawn with tongue-tip from ear to collarbone. “Is it that smooth all over? Let’s have a feel.”
She strokes, rubs, gropes; admiring the half-moon marks her long nails leave behind. Top to bottom, side to side, front to back. No crease or curve is overlooked. Breasts lifted, examined, one by one. Labia pulled apart, clit lightly pinched until it emerges from its hood, arse cheeks stretched wide so the tight whorl between can be inspected with eyes, fingertips, flickering tongue-tip.
If the toy were permitted to speak, it would beg, plead, for Mistress to give its twitching, hungry cunt something to clench around, something to grip and ride and be filled with.
“Oh I know.” croons her mocking voice from behind and below, where Mistress crouches on spike heels, rubbing slow circles with thumbs pressed hard against plump cunt-lips; pulling open, pinching closed, watching the telltale slickening of the toy’s excitement glisten and slide with each movement. “I know, you want it so bad, you want me to fuck you, him to fuck you; both of us, front and back, filling your hot wet little holes up deep and hard-“
Abruptly, she lets go, stands up, grabs a handful of the toy’s hair to bring its head close.
“-and we will. Oh yes, we’re gonna have you every way we can and some twice over. If.”
The toy’s breath hitches; hopeless excitement, desperate longing.
“-if I decide you deserve it.”
Strung taut, the toy quivers silently, vibrations of apprehension and please, tremors of find me worthy and fuck, fuck, the toy wants to be fucked, please Mistress, do it, do it.
“We’ll have to wait and be patient, won’t we?” grins Mistress; that sadist in spike heels; reaching up to unhook cuffs from chain. “Next, I think I’ll have you up on that bench there. On all fours, head down, arse up. Show me the wares.” She slaps the toy’s rump playfully. “If I like what I see, I might have to have you all to myself first.” A smirk. “My boy can watch and wait his turn, locked up in his cosy little cage.”
“Get over here,” she calls to him. “I’ll need two pairs of hands for this.” A wink. “Every inch, remember? Now, let’s find out if you taste as good as you look.”