7. Chapter 7
When I come to, I’m a little disoriented. The first thing I notice is that there’s this dark ring hovering above me, but I startle back when it moves closer while speaking incoherent words. My vision is blurred, causing me to blink hard a few times to regain my focus.
When my eyes clear of the haze, and sound sharpens, I hear the words this LIFE-SIZED DONUT with limbs is saying to me.
“Are you okay? Don’t sit up too fast, mon chéri, you might have a concussion.”
It’s a woman’s voice with a slight French accent, but not one I’ve ever heard before.
I’m reeling right now. This must be a fever dream from when I hit my head on the table. Am I hallucinating? Will a concussion prevent me from presenting my project?
Sweat beads at the back of my neck, my nerves kicking up as I stare at this…donut lady. This can’t possibly be real. My brain must be contorting the image of someone who really is here. But when I glance at the door and notice it’s still locked, I have to wonder how she got in.
Slick, rubbery hands help me sit up slowly, and that’s when I fully take her in. She is dressed in a white latex lingerie set with matching high heeled latex thigh-high boots and gloves that go up to her…elbows?
The ensemble is sexy, strappy, and the shine is so reflective, it’s as if it were just lubed up.
And when I say she’s life-sized, I mean she is voluptuous, her pink glaze melting down her soft, rounded body in an endless ooze of gobbleworthy goo that has my mouth watering.
She also has phallus and breast shaped sprinkles that glitter in the lighting of the room, and I can’t ignore the oversized donut holes for tits.
I’m curious as to what her nipples look like underneath the white latex. What? What am I even thinking? What is happening right now?
A gloved finger lifts my chin slowly to meet her humanoid eye shape that swirls with different shades of pink in her irises. They’re hypnotic; I could get lost in them way too easily.
As it is, I can’t seem to look away. My gaze stays locked on hers while she fusses over me, her gloved hands checking me over for injuries.
“Are you okay?”
“Yes, but…my presentation…” I look around, a bit confused and wondering if this is some sort of prank the committee is playing on me. Some sort of test, maybe? Sure, give the intern one last scare before the big promotion.
Except, this isn’t just a costume. I can see the way her full lips open to a mouth that seems to be made of cream and watch her very real eyes blink.
I am definitely hallucinating.
“Your presentation is right on schedule, Leo. It is moi you will be presenting to.”
“H-how do you know my name?”
She chuckles sweetly. “Nevermind that, mon petit lion, are you ready to begin?”
“Begin? Begin what, the presentation?”
How the fuck am I supposed to act out a project that I created to be read aloud from the posters I had printed?
“I need you to consent and tell me a word you would like to use if things become too intense.”
“A…safe word?”
“Oui, a safe word.”
“Why do I need a safe word for this?”
Another chuckle before she responds, “We will act out your ideas in a more…interesting way. What do you say?”
For a donut in a fever dream, she is fucking fine, and with that slight lilt of a French accent, fuck, I can’t resist. A new yearning in me stirs to life, a craving for something I didn't have the courage to explore before. It’s so powerful and sweet that there is no way I’m holding back.
My dick is already standing to attention, and she notices when I glance down to see if it is just as hard as I think it is. A single finger runs over my cheek before those pretty pink lips press against the side of my head.
“Let us play together, Leo. Tell me you want to be in a scene with me.”
I nod my head in agreement, mumbling the words, “Yes, whatever you want, I’ll do it.”
The warm scent of sugary baked deliciousness wraps around me, holding me captive as our eyes stay locked.
“Très bien, now a safe word?”
“Kale.”
Her glittery brows pinch in confusion. “Why kale?”
“Because it’s the opposite of everything happening right now.”
She chuckles, tapping a finger on my nose. “Good. Now we can begin. Je m’appelle Dulcie, but you will call me Mistress, compris?”
I nod vigorously, understanding my role here. “Oui, Mistress, but you should know, I don’t normally do stuff like this. I’m rather shy about a lot of things.”
“Je sais, mon petit lion, but with the job you aim for, you need to gain some confidence.”
I bow my head at that because she isn’t wrong, and the fact that a donut knows that about me is a little embarrassing.
“Look at me, Leo.”
I do as she asks, and her eyes drink me in like I’m the only thing that’ll quench her thirst. I’ve never been the center of someone's attention like this. It’s intoxicating.
“I will help you gain the confidence you need, but you must learn to believe in who you are. Do not make yourself smaller for others. Do you understand?”
“Yes, Mistress.”
“Good. Now, I want you to take off your shirt, climb on top of the table, kneel, and put your hands on your thighs with your palms up and your head down.”
I move to stand from my seated position on the floor, but she stops me with a spiked heel pressing into my chest. I glance up at her, not really knowing what to expect.
“Every question or command I give, you will answer me verbally, compris?”
“Yes, Mistress.”
She takes her booted heel off of my chest and allows me to get to my feet. I strip off my shirt as instructed and she circles around me, taking me in with appreciation in her gaze.
Once she slow blinks at me, which is my sign of approval, and I have the shirt off, I climb on top of the table and get into position.
Next thing I know, I hear the clack of heels meeting the conference table as she too climbs up.
The air wafts in my face as she steps closer, and I know I will never forget the scent of her in this moment.
I just want to have a bite, but I don’t know how well that would go over right now, seeing as I am clearly not the one in charge.
Besides, can you even eat a donut that has come to life?
She clears her throat and all I can see is her shiny latex stiletto boots, so I take a chance to peek up when she is positioned at my side.
A loud THWACK, followed by a sting of pain takes me by surprise, and I nearly jump out of my own skin.
“Ah, ah, ah…vilain lion. I did not tell you that you could pick your head up to look at me.”
“S-sorry, Mistress,” I say, snapping my head back down and looking at the mahogany of the table, not wanting to be her naughty lion. For some reason, she makes me want to be good for her.
I feel the drag of one of her nails on my upper back through her latex glove, and it elicits a chill down my spine, goosebumps erupting all over my skin. My first sting of pain coupled with her featherlight touch has me craving something I didn’t know I needed or wanted.
Sure, I see this stuff all the time, but I have never engaged in a BDSM dynamic or scene. And instead of intimidating me and making me feel out of place, it’s empowering.
I want more.
Dulcie comes to stand in front of me, legs spread apart in a stance where I imagine her hands are on her hips or laced across her chest as she looks down her nose at me. A long, thin rope-like material of…is that…fondant?...dangles at her side.
It must be what scored me across the back when I disobeyed her command.
Who knew the semi-soft topping could be fashioned into an effective whip?
And where did it come from? Matter of fact, where did she come from?
I know I didn't order a Dominatrix Donut when I picked up at Le Gla?age Fran?ais. But I guess this is what happens when you’re nervous about a presentation and knock yourself out.
I may be dreaming, or severely concussed right now, but Dulcie is awakening something within me I think has been hidden for quite some time.
“Regarde moi.” The command is curt, stern, and my eyes snap up to look at her immediately.
“Mmmm,” she hums in satisfaction, “so responsive to me. I like that.”
“He is doing well for you, mon amour,” a male voice says. Not daring to look around the room when my mistress demanded my attention, I try to pick out where his voice came from.
There’s a silhouette of someone behind her, but can’t quite make it out with my eyes focused on hers. From my peripheral vision, the figure looks human, a man’s build. He’s sitting in a chair in the corner of the room, just beyond what I can clearly define without focusing my attention there.
Great. As if engaging in nefarious acts with a donut wasn’t outlandish enough, we have a corner cuck to witness it.
Dulcie leans down to block out any sight of the man, her face so close to mine I can feel the warmth of her breath, the sweetness of her scent invading my senses. It’s heady and exhilarating. A shot of dopamine that moves straight through me and directly to my dick.
“Eyes on me, mon lion. He will join when he is ready, and only as long as you want it.”
“Yes, Mistress.”
“Do you consent to him watching us?”
I have never done anything like this before, but the idea that we are not just putting on a show for ourselves but for someone else as well, it makes me so hot I want to squirm where I am sitting.
“Yes, I do, Mistress.”
“Fantastique.”
She slowly walks to the other end of the conference table, and I know better than to take my eyes off of her. I trail her all the way to the end, her perfectly round cinnamon buns bouncing as she moves.
When she pauses her steps, those heels do a perfectly balanced turn. Dulcie points her finger at me then crooks it towards her seductively. “We need to talk about your limits, but for now, would you like a taste?”
I nod, my body still facing forward but my head turned toward her. Dulcie cocks a glittery purple eyebrow at me expectantly. I instantly know my mistake and correct myself. “Yes, Mistress.”