Pixie Isobella

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I always want sex. Rough sex, brutal sex, the harder and more sadistic the better. One day it’ll be my downfall. But not today. The man I call the Boss has chained me bent in half to the kitchen sink… I don’t know what he has planned for me…

Kitchen Toy: 1

‘He he,’ he snickers. ‘I’ve got a game for your slutty little hole.’

I feel something pushing at me almost immediately and I wince. I am not quite wet yet, so I’m lucky he hasn’t started big. I think it’s one of my hair brushes. He pushes it all the way into me and starts jabbing it deeper. He gets off on treating my cunt roughly, like a toy, and I can hear him chuckling under his voice.

‘We’ve got the game tonight,’ he says. ‘You’re going to be good to the blokes.’

‘Yes, Boss,’ I say, trying to ignore the feeling of the hairbrush handle being jabbed into me as if he was hammering a nail into a piece of wood. As if my cunt was a mortar in which he was grinding some particularly recalcitrant spices.

Jab, jab, jab. He can’t get deep with the hairbrush handle, so he can’t hurt me. The sensation feels good but not enough. Just enough to make me want more. It is mostly just degrading.

The movement stills and I hear the click of a phone camera.

‘I’m sending the lads photos of you with things inside you,’ he says. ‘There’s a couple of new guys coming. They haven’t used you yet. I want them to know how to treat you from the start.’

I am silent as he pulls the hairbrush out of my cunt, but before a moment has passed, I feel the next thing he has chosen. It’s larger and he has to push hard to make it go in. I’m gasping and feeling a bit stretched as it finally slides past my threshold.

‘Deodorant tube,’ he says laconically, ramming it deep into me, and I flush.

There was a time when I had never had a rough, vicious man treating my pussy like a slot game. A time before I realised that this was the only thing I loved – being used, being treated roughly, waiting each day for my chance to be pounded in my cunt or my butt by a vicious brute who doesn’t care what I feel.

The deodorant has a short-lived experience inside me as he takes a couple of pictures from different angles. Then he’s pulling it back out, sniggering at how it is covered in my juices.

‘What’s next?’ he says, but I know it’s just a rhetorical question. Indeed, he is already testing my entrance with a new object, this one large and plastic feeling, slowly widening the deeper he pushes it into me.

It’s a sauce bottle, I realise, only when it’s deep inside me. My entrance is stretched wide open, my deep insides feeling attacked by the narrow nozzle that the Boss keeps ramming into me.

He has fun with it, shoving it deeper to force my body open wider, before holding it deep inside me while taking a photo.

‘You liked that one, didn’t you?’ he asks after he’s taken it out and my body has closed thankfully. ‘You’re such a slut. I could do anything to this hole of yours and you would enjoy it, wouldn’t you?’

‘Yes, Boss,’ I say, the sensitive membranes around my entrance twinging slightly from being stretched so wide open.

‘Good. The next one’s fun. You’d better like it. Or I’ll leave it inside you all day.’

He has, in fact, on occasion, left items inside me all day, forcing me to move about the house awkwardly, also forcing a continual, low-level arousal onto me.

The next item, it seems, is a rotund salt-shaker with a round base and a narrow waist. He shoves it unceremoniously into me and my body closes around it halfway, so that the grinder part is sticking out of me.

He snaps some photos of me like that, chuckling that one day he’ll get me to dispense salt onto the lads’ fish and chips like this.

I assume he’ll take it out when he’s done with the photos but he doesn’t, instead first pushing it deeper inside me, until the whole device slides into my body and my protesting entrance closes around it. I am full like this and I feel a deep pleasure-pain deep inside me.

‘Yes,’ he grins. ‘I’ll leave this one inside you all day next time.’ I wince. The saltshaker is large inside me and I know if I have to spend hours with it inside me, I won’t be able to take my mind off my pussy all day.

He makes me push the salt shaker back out of me, then there is the humiliation of a new, cold, hard, unknown device prodding against me. It is wide and flat. I discover as it’s sliding into me that it stays just as wide all the way along its sides.

‘He, he, he,’ he says, using his strength to force the item deeper into me, pushing straight down on it with both hands. I feel suddenly overly full, my insides feeling violated. It’s a feeling that I love, even when I’m feeling worried about how much he will insist on me taking this time.

‘I’m going to do a video of this one,’ he smirks. ‘It’s my big ass new flashlight. It cost me more than you did. You like it?’

‘Yes, Boss,’ I say.

I do like it, even as it hurts me. I am forced wide open, my entrance protesting the wide handle buried deep inside me. The metal sides of the flashlight are rough and slightly ribbed for better grip. It was not designed to be inside a pussy and sometimes I think that the harder, the more uncomfortable a thing inside me is, the more turned on I get.

‘I’ve turned it on,’ he sniggers. ‘It’s shining on the ceiling. I’m going to do a video. Use your muscles to make it all jump around. Don’t stop until I say you can.’

I know what he wants. It’s humiliating but then so is being chained to the kitchen sink. I clench my inner muscles around the flashlight handle, making it jump sharply back and forth. I keep going, making the motion as erratic as possible, while he smirks above me and takes a video on his camera.

‘I’ve got one more,’ he sniggers. ‘Something special. But I’ll save it until after I’ve fucked you.’

If you liked Kitchen Toy, you might like Pleasure Doll: The Enslavement of Isobel, a full-length erotic novel available on Smashwords and All These Roadworks.

Read here for Chapter 3 of Kitchen Toy.

© 2023 Pixie Isobella