16. Seven
CHAPTER 16
When her chest is no longer heaving and I feel her start to try to sit upright, I move my arm to where my hand slides up her spine, then into her hair to cup the back of her head, my forearm still along the middle of her back as I lift her with ease. It brings the front of her body flush with mine, and I hold her there for a long moment, enjoying the intoxicating eye contact between us.
The song coming to an end brings her back to the present and her task at hand far too quickly, and almost immediately, she gives me an erotically creepy slow blink that signals she’s back in character. Reluctantly, I drop my arm, allowing her to lean back a little as she lets go of the belt she’s been clinging to like a lifeline. She flexes her fingers a few times, and I hear them crack. I smirk to myself, knowing I’m the reason her grip had been so tight on the leather strap.
Reaching around my shoulder, her hand reappears between us a second later holding an index card I hadn’t noticed taped to the side of my chair, since I’d been unable to pull my eyes away from my dancing sex doll for longer than it took to blink.
I look back up at her eyes, the faraway look in place, but when I don’t immediately take the card from her, I catch her take the quickest glance at my face, making one corner of my lips tilt up when she realizes she’d been seen. Yet she’s back to impressing the fuck out of me with her performance when instead of pouting or reacting in any other way a lifeless plaything wouldn’t, she slow-blinks twice…
Then robotically lifts the index card between our faces.
And although I’m still fully embodied by the Dominant inside me, neither of my personalities can resist it.
I toss my head back and laugh.
“Perfection,” I say when my laughter subsides, and as I take the card from her hand, unblocking her face from view, I catch the flutter of her eyelashes at my praise. “Now, let’s see.”
Just then, the disco ball and its spotlight lift to their original spot, and the lights of the playroom brighten to their usual ambiance.
“Let there be light,” I murmur in awe. She had thought of fucking everything, right down to bringing the lights back up so I could read the next card. Which I do once I don my reading glasses.
“If Test One has been completed to your satisfaction, it is now time to move on to Test Mode Two. While the first test was to check that all my limbs and joints and my outer features work properly, this second test is to do the same for my internal features. One of these include my built-in lubrication system—” My lips stretch into a smile, but I manage to keep from laughing at how clever this is. “—which should automatically coat two out of my three pleasure sleeves. Pleasure Sleeve 1 is also known as ‘my mouth,’ and Pleasure Sleeve 2 is also known as ‘my pussy.’ Like the human I’m modeled after, lubrication must be manually inserted into my third pleasure sleeve: my ass.”
I stop and glance up from the card to catch Twyla’s expression, but her jaw is clenched, and that faraway look is fully activated. I have nothing in her face to go off of, but if it’s been written here, I take that as her putting that option on the table.
We’ve done anal play in the past, but only with my mouth, fingers, and small plugs and toys. There was one attempt with my cock, but my tip barely breached that tightest part of her before the look of misery on her face had me pulling back and never trying again—and that was after an hour of foreplay and preparation that had her literally begging to be filled.
Was that one of the experiences she was referring to, in which she wished I had kept going, pushed her past what I deemed her limit, instead of coming to a full-stop like I did? She hadn’t called Red or even Yellow, but I was well acquainted with her body’s tendency to freeze when stressed by that point, when she would’ve been unable to use her safe word even if she wanted to.
But this… this is shedding even more light on what she’d written in the card. And my stomach feels like I’ve just dropped while riding the world’s tallest rollercoaster—exhilarated and full of anticipation for what might come next.
I clear my throat and continue reading. “Another internal feature that will be tested is the voice-activated speed, depth, and motion controls. Simply touch any part of my body while speaking whatever you’d like me to do. This smart feature uses AI technology that will allow me to learn what your specific commands mean if certain vocabulary isn’t initially recognized. Plus, I’ll eventually anticipate what you’ll find pleasurable from patterns in those commands.”
I grin and glance up at my doll’s now relaxed face as she stares over my shoulder. “So you’ve got your own built-in algorithm, huh? That’s pretty fucking high-tech for just a little fuck toy,” I say, being purposely crude to see if I’ll get any reaction.
I do, and the one I receive is just as surprising as being offered her asshole on a silver platter.
As perfectly still as my girl is trying her best to remain, she can’t control the instinctive slight rock of her hips. Surprising, because it was in direct response to degradation.
Something I’ve never even dreamed of doing to the woman on my lap. I’ve never once had the heart to do anything but encourage and praise her, believing any sort of humiliation would traumatize this angelic and sweet-natured creature perched atop my thighs. And before, maybe it would have. But there’s no rule that states you can’t grow out of a role you once believed you’d be in forever.
Hell, look at me. I thought I’d be a sadistic fuck for the rest of my life, only to give up every ounce of pleasure I derived from pain the moment I met her. And now, I’m evolving once again to be the Dom my sub needs.
So there’s nothing to say she can’t suddenly discover being degraded arouses her. But I know this woman to the depths of my soul, and I know damn well that while she might find enjoyment from being torn down a bit, it’s with anticipation of the building-back-up that might come after. While some subs are masochists who have no want or need for praise after being humiliated, mine is not one of them.
I test my hypothesis.
Leaning forward to speak softly right at her ear, I ask, “What’s a dirty little slut toy need all those smarts for, hmmm?” I hear her swallow thickly. “Shouldn’t take much of a brain just to open up and suck my cock like a good little whore, right?”
I can feel her start to tremble where the backs of her thighs press along the tops of mine. Slipping the card behind my back in the seat, both hands now free, I wrap one arm around her hips and reach between her legs with the other. With skilled fingers, I move the gusset of her lace thong aside and trace along her slit, finding exactly what I expected.
“Didn’t even have to put you in Test Mode, doll. You’re already soaked for me like the perfect little companion I know you are.” I thrust one finger up inside her, and she does a damn good job trying to control her breathing, even though the praise makes more slickness seep over my knuckles.
Hypothesis: Confirmed.
Pulling my finger from her hot depths, I use another to move her panties back in place, then lift my hand up between us. I start to open my mouth to suck off her sweetness like I always do, but I try something new instead.
My eyes follow my fingertip as I trace her slightly parted lips, her wetness making it easy as I drag it past the corner, smearing that red lipstick I’ve been dying to make imperfect since I spotted it on her pretty mouth.
With my hand now cupping her jaw, I order, “All right, dolly. Lick your lips.”
When her eyes languidly close and open once more, I refuse the groan that wants to escape me as I watch her sweet little tongue poke out the unsmeared corner of her mouth before making a slow circle around her plump lips, disappearing once she reaches the place it first emerged. And since her eyes never veered from their blank stare past me, the entire act feels surreal, like I’ve been transported to one of the fictional universes portrayed in A.I. Artificial Intelligence, The Stepford Wives, Blade Runner, Westworld, or an episode of Black Mirror, and she really is a sex doll come to life.
“Good. Fucking. Girl,” I purr against her ear, letting go of her face to grab the card behind me and lean back in the seat to finish reading it. I force myself to concentrate on the words instead of observing her to pick out telltale reactions to the praise I already know she loves.
“Yaddah, yaddah… patterns in those commands—ah. Here we are. In order to activate Test Mode Two, press the blue button on my remote control. I’ll then be able to respond to questions when you place your hand on me, but only with the following phrases: ‘Yes, Master.’ ’No, Master.’ ‘Green, Master.’ ‘Yellow, Master.’ And ‘Red, Master.’ Once Test Mode Two has been initiated, if my auto-lubrication system has not released enough lube into Pleasure Sleeve 2, aka ‘my pussy,’ it is up to the user to fix the issue. Manual stimulation will be required in order for the desired amount of wetness to express from the refillable internal storage tank before usage. Using any of my three pleasure sleeves without adequate lubrication will likely result in damage to the sleeve. Remember, no refunds. Replacements may be purchased by calling the number on my box.”
My hand holding the card drops to my lap between us as my head falls back to the leather behind me, my body shaking with silent laughter. Eventually, I lift the other to try to forcefully wipe my grin off my face as I let out a howling sigh, sitting up once again to reach for the remote on the tray table.
“Blue button. Here goes nothin’,” I quip, and I press the one beneath the pink one that brought me more delight than I ever could’ve expected in a single night, and it had only been a warm-up.
A red spotlight turns on from somewhere in the rafters above us, shining a sexy hue across the padded play table to my left. My doll’s hands lift to my shoulders, using me to balance as she maneuvers off my lap to stand between my thighs in nothing but her thong, thigh-high socks, and heels.
Another song fills the playroom, and it makes me wonder if she’s chosen it as a test of her own. Because surely she picked “WAP” by Cardi B featuring Megan Thee Stallion, a title that literally stands for “wet-ass pussy”—and played it while I’m supposed to check to make sure she’s got a wet-ass pussy—to make me laugh, which I definitely am. And combined with all the clever index cards, it’s like she did all of it on purpose to see if she could get the darker side of her Dom she requested and the lighthearted nature of her husband to coexist, not just in the same body but at the same time.
Maybe that’s exactly what she wants from me. The degradation and the praise. The dark and filthy and the playful. The hot and cold side by side instead of one or the other.
The idea is exciting, something I’ve never consciously considered. It’s always been my deviant side or my goofy and loving side, never both at once. I probably would’ve thought it impossible, or at least super challenging. But tonight is proof enough it’s not hard at all. And I’m enjoying it thoroughly.
Instead of dancing for me, my little sub points to the lace at her hips, then down at the floor. Still smiling, I blink at the movement, then glance up at her beautiful face.
Her eyes are focused on the wall across the room behind me. When she repeats the movement—tap-tap on each hip with pink-painted pointer fingers, then those same fingers aiming at the ground in perfect sync with the music—I smirk, knowing exactly what I’m supposed to do if following her plan. Yet that darker part of me she purposely woke from hibernation refuses.
But not for long.
I enjoy watching her play out her role with robotic movements one last time before dutifully taking hold of her lacy thong. Just… instead of pulling them down her creamy legs, I fist them tight and suddenly snatch them from her body. Anticipating her jerk toward me, I grip her hips in both my big palms before she even moves an inch, the placement of my hands soothing the sting where the material tore free.
I lick my lips as I drag my eyes up from her bared pussy to her face, catching the sight of her bottom lip just as it pops free of her teeth.
Again, she shows incredible control of herself as she takes two steps back, out of my grasp and from between my legs, turns while keeping her head aligned with her body, then takes the three steps over to the padded table. The curves of her silhouette look extra sensual beneath the red bulb, and my nostrils flare as I watch her climb on top of the play table, then spin to lie down on her back. It’s not until her knees bend and rise at the exact same rate and the bottom of her shoes are flat on the table that I stand and saunter over to her.
I start at the side of the table, her body perpendicular like a buffet spread before me, and she keeps her eyes aimed at the ceiling even as I place my palm on her breast and squeeze. I lift a brow and start to move, dragging my hand down her stomach, letting it climb up the stretch of skin exposed of her thigh before reaching the elastic of her sock and across her bent knee, then down her shin as I make my way to the end of the table.
But as amazing as she’s been, portraying this character she was apparently born to play, I see my doll peeking through in this position, as her knees are clamped together, even as her feet are pressed into the table as wide as it allows.
And I don’t let her get away with it.
Now knowing she can tolerate and even enjoy a little degradation, I call her on her mistake. “What is this?” I ask with mock offense. “What kind of sex doll tries to hide the goods?” I take hold of her knees, gripping one in each hand, then jerk them apart. “Seems this birthday present forgot what she was made for.” Sliding my palms ever so slowly down the inside of her thighs, I tell her darkly, “The only thing she’s good for.”
As her muscles tense beneath my hands, I glance up at her face to make sure there’s nothing to indicate my words went too far, finding only arousal behind her now half-mast lids, so I continue.
“Come on, little doll. Open these silky thighs and show the user there’s no issue to fix,” I urge, and her muscles relax, allowing her legs to spread a little farther. “There you go. I’m sure my doll’s cunt is already dripping wet, ready to be done with these tests so she can show me what she can really do. Isn’t that right, my pretty little fuck toy?”
My eyes are on her pussy as I ask my crude question, my cock throbbing from speaking words I never imagined using during a scene with the sweet creature laid before me, who now resembles a pinned butterfly with pink wings. And I feel a surge of pre-cum release when I see her slit clench before releasing her own delectable juices, forcing a growl past my lips.
Wrapping my arms around her bent legs, I effortlessly yank her to the end of the padded table, a memory flashing through my mind and clouding my vision with the first time I ever tasted her. This exact position, but instead of in a playroom, we were at Doc’s beach house, and I feasted on her atop his kitchen counter.
I blink, and a very different version of the same incredible woman fills my eyes. She’s no longer that trembling virgin who’d never been pleasured by another person, shyly exposing her tiny body to a man for the first time. No. Before me lays a sensual woman, a body soft with curves I put there when I filled her with my baby. There’s nothing shy about her as her arms are stretched above her head, dead weight against the padded surface. Her naked tits proudly pointing at the rafters as the red-tinted light makes their tips a dark-maroon. The nerd version of black fuck-me heels and her pink thigh-high socks making a frame for the porn-worthy image of her pussy that’s now glistening with the amount of wetness that’s seeped from her slit.
In fact, it’s so perfect a vision I’d regret not capturing it, to look at it whenever I want.
Following her index-card instructions, I place my hand against the soft skin of her stomach and order, “Don’t move, little doll,” then walk over to the tray table to retrieve my cell. When I return, she’s exactly how I left her. “Voice commands seem to be working so far,” I tease, and I aim the camera, aligning it horizontally to show from the tip of one knee, across her center, to the other.
The flash goes off, and she startles, her legs closing the slightest bit before my growl stops her.
“Don’t. Fucking. Move.”
And although my hand isn’t on her, she follows my command.
I take another picture from the same angle, this time with the flash off so it’ll capture the red light and what it does to the image of her body. Satisfied with the result of both photos, I move my phone, switching between flash and no flash, as I take more pictures from all different angles, mesmerized as I see the tiny reactions my doll’s body is having to the impromptu photo shoot.
She might feel embarrassed or awkward, but she’s getting off on the discomfort.
Masochistic.
Because it doesn’t have to be physical pain that sexually arouses someone in order for them to be considered a masochist.
A part of me wants to deep-dive into the reasoning behind why these feelings have awoken inside her. And I will, along with scheduling a visit with Doc at his earliest convenience. But for now, for tonight’s scene, I’ll just be extra careful as we dip our toes in, allowing her to experience a kiddie-pool version of a masochist getting to play with a former professional sadist… before tossing her into the deep end.
I walk to the head of the padded table and set my phone there, keeping it handy in case other positions I put her in speak to me and demand I capture them.
Trailing a finger from the center of her palm and along one of her outstretched arms still above her head as I stroll toward my spot at the other end, I glimpse her open eyes as she stares up at the rafters. I take a moment to check in with her, because she appears to be dissociating.
“Color, doll?”
Without missing a beat, she responds, “Green, Master,” punctuating it with one of her practiced blinks.
“Very good girl,” I purr, then continue back down her body until I’m positioned at the foot of the table, staring at the most intensely cock-hardening image I’ve ever viewed in my life. “If you were real, I’d make you look at yourself right now, so you could see how maddeningly sexy you are, little doll. But, alas, you’re not. You’re a mindless object meant to be used for my pleasure. And according to your instructions, we need to complete this step before I get to do that. So let’s proceed, shall we?”
It's a test, and I’m really starting to like this game.
She doesn’t answer—because as a doll, she hasn’t been “programmed” to unless my hand is on her—passing with flying colors.
And little things are starting to occur to me about this whole situation she’s orchestrated.
As a doll, she doesn’t have to speak more than a simple yes, no, or color. She doesn’t have to try to answer naughty questions I might pose, which a lot of the time makes her choke up and freeze. This scene takes all that off her plate.
“I guess… since you’re just a toy, I don’t need to bother with gentle caresses and sweet kisses to make you pliable and needy. So in that case….”
That’s all the notice my sub gets before I slide two fingers deep into her pussy. I smile to myself when her head arches back and her lips part as she gasps, her eyes flaring with life. I see her throat work as she swallows, forcing herself back into character, and fighting to stay there as I start to move my fingers.
Swirling them inside her, I say as if speaking to myself, “Ooh, impressive. Yeah, that’s nice and tight. Hot too. Funny, I don’t remember reading anything about a heating feature.” I curl my fingers to press upward, dragging them over that extra-soft spot that makes her shudder. “And look at that! The lubrication system really does release more when you stimulate this particular little cock sleeve.” I thrust them deep, watching her face for any hint of a wince as I test her sweet cunt the way I would examine a pocket pussy—roughly. But there’s nothing but pleasure there, even as I can tell she’s trying to keep her expression neutral.
Without warning, I pull my hand away, and the shock of going from being finger-fucked to completely empty without any gradual deceleration makes her whimper.
“Huh?” I stride to the head of the table, twisting my face with mock confusion and making a show of leaning over my doll’s face and peering down at her. “I could’ve sworn my toy made a sound.” She doesn’t meet my eyes as she clenches her teeth together, and I choose to ignore her panting, since she does such a damn good job of keeping her expression blank while she tries to catch her breath. It’s not until she blinks those long lashes slow and steady that I put her out of her misery. “I must’ve been hearing things.” And then I lift my sticky fingers to my nose, staring down at her as I inhale deeply.
My eyes close when my lungs near capacity, and I groan through my exhale, opening them once again as I place the two digits coated in her cream into my mouth and suck them clean. “Mmm… this lube is fucking delicious.” I lean over her and lick my lips. “I should leave them a five-star review for the flavor alone.”
And as if my cock wasn’t already fighting to break free from its confines…
My doll blushes before my eyes.
Face neutral. A faraway look past my right ear. Smeared red lips slightly parted. She’s utterly still as she flushes, a shade of crimson I can see clearly because the red light turned off as the song ended while I was busy thrusting my fingers hard and deep inside her wet-ass pussy.
Cupping her heated cheek in the palm of my hand, I ask, “Little doll, will one of the buttons make you take off my clothes?” and something flickers in her eyes before she replies.
“Yes, Master.”
“Which one? Because if I don’t get my pants off soon, I’m going to lose circulation in my cock.”
She doesn’t respond, and a grin spreads across my face.
“God, you’re fucking good at this, doll,” I praise, and then I step away from her, because now I know it’s part of her plan to strip me herself.
And I need to stop fucking with her so we can make that happen.