‘We’ll work one of the larger dildos deep into her and strap it in tight so she can’t push it out. You’ll enjoy that, won’t you, doll? Say yes, like a good hole.’ Isobel’s breathing was erratic and she licked her lips, scared to hear her voice come out of her mouth. ‘Yes,’ she spoke softly but clearly. Suddenly, Andy twisted his fingernails into her sensitive flesh, forcing her to fall from her awkward position kneeling on splayed legs. ‘Get down on your back, whore.’
Chapter 1 is here. The finished novel is available on All These Roadworks and Smashwords.
Pleasure Doll: Chapter 7
[BDSM MMF gangbang erotica]
Andy shoved Isobel to the ground, saying crudely ‘Get on your back, whore.’
She felt the soft rug against her back, her hands flying, her breath flying out of her with a sharp gasp, her legs flailing awkwardly, her feet and knees still wide apart. Her instinct, honed from a lifetime of training to be ladylike and keep her knees together, drove her to think of pulling them in. Before she could act, two of the men, she didn’t know who, had each grabbed one of her ankles, pulling them high above her and firmly further apart…
No, no please…
They’re treating me like a toy.
I feel so vulnerable.
She felt fiercely violated by the crude exposure of her pussy, and embarrassed that she didn’t know who could see between her legs. She felt intensely vulnerable, with her legs held high in the air, unable to move her body or to cover herself.
Firm hands wrenched her high heeled shoes from her feet. A brusque voice ordered her to point her toes and she felt different shoes being pulled roughly onto first one foot, then the other. Isobel quivered to feel the men strapping new shoes onto her feet, shoes that weren’t shoes at all. Shoes that ruthlessly forced her to point her foot in line with her leg, rigidly preventing her from flexing her foot or bending her ankle at all.
She wriggled, suddenly scared, trying desperately to pull her feet from their grasp flailing blindly, feeling ridiculous in her skimpy lingerie.
No!
Not my feet as well.
Please no.
But the men just laughed. She felt as though they were taunting her as strong hands easily regained control over her feet. Isobel sobbed involuntarily inside the hood to think how she must look to them, lying helpless on her back on the ground, her legs forcibly spread, her pussy clearly visible despite the slutty lingerie to any who cared to look.
The men finished tightening the straps on the shoes and Isobel felt as though the world was dropping away beneath her. She wanted to squirm out of their grasp, she wanted to curl into a ball, she wanted to get to her feet and run. It felt like her constrained feet were burning on the ends of her legs. She felt herself almost panicking inside the hood, wishing she could see, wishing she could use her hands, feeling fragile and incapacitated and helpless.
She had seen the ballet bondage shoes in Andy’s bag before. They were designed to make her feet as non-functional as the mitts made her hands. She had once told Andy and Rose how much she disliked the thought of bondage shoes. How she loved wearing sensible, practical shoes. Now, if she wanted to get away, she would have to blindly crawl on her hands and knees, which made any thought of escape ludicrous.
She almost sobbed at the humiliating feeling of having, in truth, been turned into an incapacitated doll.
Of course, she would have her colours if she needed them. She trusted Andy would stop if she said ‘red’.
But… sometimes, her body overrode her brain, and tried to get away even though her brain refused to give in and say the word. The hood, mitts and shoes ensured that any such attempt would be laughable, particularly given there were five unencumbered people in the room. Any involuntary attempt to get away from whichever cock was fucking her, to stop whichever fingers had plunged inside her, would be ruthlessly, immediately and easily negated.
Isobel found the thought intensely embarrassing. She liked being strong and capable and it was humiliating to have that taken away from her, even more humiliating than taking away her face had been. She sobbed, trying to get her racing heart and breathing under control.
Couldn’t they just fuck her already?
But she knew what they were doing. She had been told in advance what they would do. They didn’t want just to fuck. These weren’t nice men and they didn’t want a fuck, they wanted a toy. A doll, a soft, warm, available, whimpering, moaning body to own and possess and play out their fantasies on.
Isobel knew too that Andy enjoyed forcing her to trust him. She knew that right now he was enjoying having her completely at his and the other men’s mercy, reliant on them choosing to stop if she said red. She could imagine his face right now. He would be enjoying the look of her at his feet – a faceless, incapacitated pleasure doll, all boobs, pussy, hips and arse.
Well, she had agreed to be a pleasure doll, and now she guessed she was learning what that really entailed.
The men holding her legs let go, and she let her legs fall, letting them lie where they fell, sprawled sideways. She breathed deeply as if she had been running a race. A deep well of surrender drifted through her, causing her to lie limp and compliant at their feet, her head dropped to the side, her hands softly above her head.
I will be good.
I wanted this. I want this.
I’ve been fantasising for weeks about being their faceless sex doll. I’ve been getting myself off for weeks, imagining them hammering their cocks into me, harsh and vicious.
Imagining their crude words and the feeling of their cum inside me, where it belongs.
Isobel breathed out, a deep sigh of acceptance. She would stay here, unmoving, until they moved her, and even then, when they started touching her again, she would be good. She would let them do what they wanted, uncomplaining, voiceless, a fully submissive blow-up toy, designed for pleasure.
As if guessing her faceless thoughts, Andy’s voice spoke, seemingly from a long way above her. ‘We have our doll, gentlemen.’
One of them touched her briefly with his foot, pushing at her hip to untwist her spine and flatten her back fully to the ground, then toed the knee that was bent inwards open, firmly but gently kicking her knees apart again. Isobel lay still, letting him move her, her breath gushing in sharp, panting gusts as the reality of her vulnerability sank deeply into her.
Toy.
Blow-up doll.
Fuckhole.
Lie here and take our cocks, fuckhole. We don’t want equal pleasure. We want the all-masculine fantasy of a woman we can do whatever we want to.
A real doll.
Pleasure Doll: The Enslavement of Isobel is a 106 pages (33 chapters) of steamy gangbang. Keep reading here for free chapters or buy the novel on All These Roadworks or Smashwords.
I’ll link here when more free chapters are available.
© 2023 Pixie Isobella
Pixie Isobella 