Pixie Isobella

‘Sluts don’t decide who fuck them, Molly,’ Mr Hunter said, his voice chastising me all over again for having said something silly. ‘You couldn’t be a good girl, so now you’ll just be a pleasure toy, darling. Available whenever a man wants you.’

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‘He’s made me into a toy,’ she thought, ‘and it turns me on.’ The cruel Darren has made Abigail into his bimbo, his slave, his property… Read the end of the Abigail’s Descent saga as she finally accepts her destiny.

The Bimbo Bride is available for purchase here.

Molly’s Cage: Chapter 19

‘Molly’s Cage’ is femsub maledom office erotica with non-consent, discipline, chastity belts, lactation and impregnation themes. Chapter 1 of Molly’s Cage is here.

‘Sluts don’t decide who fuck them, Molly,’ Mr Hunter said, his voice chastising me all over again for having said something silly. ‘You’re a pleasure toy, darling. Available whenever a man wants you.’

The rest of the evening passed in a blur. Mr Hunter inserted the dildo back inside me, locking me back into the chastity belt, and then he put me on the table for my regular milking session. He ordered himself a takeaway dinner while I was still being milked, then he sat eating it with a small glass of my milk while finishing off some work.

I didn’t know what got me through the next few days. I slid into Mr Hunter’s car the following morning, the dildo feeling like an invader inside me all over again. Every part of my body felt sensitive and tender from the intercourse with Mr Baldwin the previous night. I felt super embarrassed. What the fuck had I been thinking? I had let a senior partner at my workplace fuck me, after months of letting my boss treat me like a slut.

I didn’t know why I was still here. Surely a sensible person would have run away by now? I couldn’t admit to myself that I had spent all the previous night feeling hot and needy, remembering Mr Baldwin fucking me against the wall. Every time my body pulsed around the dildo inside me, I remembered the feeling of his erection inside me, and I wished he was fucking me again.

I was pretty sure good girls didn’t lie awake feeling empty, wishing that they had a man fucking them right now — any man, as long as he was hard and horny and wouldn’t take ‘no’ for an answer. I was also pretty sure that good girls didn’t enjoy senior partners fucking them in their boss’ office. I remembered Mr Baldwin saying he would ‘do’ me again later in the week, and my body tingled in arousal at the thought of having sex with him again.

The day passed as normal, and I couldn’t help but feel wistful when Mr Baldwin and some of the other partners passed me in a noisy blur in the corridor. He didn’t look at me, but my body pulsed eagerly around the dildo at the sound of his voice.

You don’t get to decide when men use you, Mr Hunter had said this morning when I was in the milking machine. Your job is to be available and give them pleasure when they want you.

He had grinned as he stroked one of my breasts with a cool hand. *I’ve told a few of the partners they can use you when and where they want. Don’t expect them to ask you what *you* want, Molly. You know that’s not what you’re for.*

Yes, Sir, I had muttered to him, hotly embarrassed at being treated like a sex object.

Despite my inner protests that I didn’t want this, I spent all day shamefacedly hoping one of the men would fuck me. I was both relieved and disappointed when none of them did. In fact, no-one spoke to me for the whole day and I had to scold myself when I felt sad and lonely.

The dildo’s constant presence inside me reminded me of my own wetness and arousal. It was both too large and never big enough. Mr Baldwin fucking me had broken something down inside me, and I let myself daydream about sex all day, drifting from one work task to another. Mr Hunter even reprimanded me a couple of times for inattention and I just looked at him vaguely each time, having difficulty remembering what I had been doing.

‘Bring your birth control with you tomorrow,’ Mr Hunter said as he dropped me off. ‘I’m going to take charge of it now that the men are going to be fucking you.’

‘Why?’ I asked, flushing hotly at discussing such a sensitive topic with him.

I knew I should actually be arguing back at him about my right to decide who fucked me and when, but I couldn’t. I wanted the sex too badly. My only frustration was that no-one had in fact fucked me today. What were they waiting for? Hadn’t Mr Hunter told them I was available?

‘That’s for me to know,’ Mr Hunter said. ‘No questions, remember, Molly? You chose this path.’

I didn’t, I wanted to wail. I hadn’t chosen this at first, but I also couldn’t argue that I consciously chose to obey him every day.

Mr Hunter’s order about my birth control sat in my head all evening and night. I told myself I wasn’t going to obey him. He couldn’t demand that of me. He had no right. I even let myself out my front door the following morning without my birth control pills in my bag. But at the last minute, without even thinking about it too much, I let myself back into my house and grabbed the little box of pills from their place in the bathroom.

I rationalised it by telling myself that if I didn’t obey him, he would punish me, but I knew that wasn’t the real reason. I couldn’t get into his car without the pills on me. I didn’t really know what I was doing, except that obeying Mr Hunter had become a ritual for me. He brought me daily humiliation and discomfort, but obeying him also brought me a continual warm, aroused pleasure.

Every morning I would dress myself as he liked me to dress. When I saw myself in the mirror, I would feel a warm rush of pleasure as I saw how large and round and full my breasts were getting. They looked positively obscene inside my work blouse, the swollen globes big and heavy on the front of my body. Next, I would murmur with aroused embarrassment as I pushed the dildo into me and fastened the chastity belt obediently around my groin.

This was normal, I told myself every morning. A regular part of the work day.

The evening rituals of obedience to Mr Hunter gave me just as much pleasure. I caught myself leaving the dildo inside me for as long as possible. I didn’t want to take it out of me, I felt so empty now when I wasn’t constantly filled. In the shower, I would check my shave, making sure that my pussy was clean and bare, ready for Mr Hunter’s daily inspection. I wanted to please him so badly.

Mr Hunter didn’t ask for my birth control pills until later in the morning. It was nearly 9am. He had already milked me and I was ready for my day of ‘work’.

‘Do you know why I’m taking these, Molly?’ he asked, a stern look on his face as I surrendered them to him, blushing hotly to see something so intimate in his hand.

‘No,’ I said grumpily. ‘Because you wouldn’t tell me.’

‘You get to know what I choose to tell you, my girl,’ he said. ‘And don’t talk back. You know better than that.’

‘Yes, Sir,’ I said, flushing. ‘I’m sorry, Sir,’ I said, not knowing why I was apologising.

‘You’ll be taking these pills every day from my hand,’ Mr Hunter said, tucking them away in his desk where he kept the lactation pills. ‘I know what sluts like you are like. You’ll stop your birth control and get pregnant if it suits you. Now that the men from the firm are going to be making use of you, I need to keep a closer eye on you.’

‘I wouldn’t!’ I said, blushing hotly at the thought. I knew — as always — that I was arguing with him about the wrong thing.

Mr Hunter just patted my cheek softly with the back of his finger. ‘I know sluts can’t be trusted. You’re ruled by your cunt, that’s all you can think about. Isn’t it, girl?’

‘Yes, sir,’ I blushed red hot, my eyes on the floor, feeling besmirched. It was true though — these days, my pussy and cunt were mostly what I thought about.

‘Well, then,’ he said. ‘I know what your type is like. I know that once sluts like you start fucking, you yearn to feel a man planting a baby inside you. We need to keep you under control, don’t we, Molly?’

Please follow me for regular story releases! Chapter 21 of ‘Molly’s Cage’ is here.

Have you read my Abigail’s Descent saga?

‘You’re going to love your new boobs. You’re going to love clothes and lingerie, and dressing yourself up every day to look like my cute bimbo fuckdoll. And you’re going to love pleasing me and obeying me. Aren’t you, darling?’

Abigail thinks the ‘bimbo’ theme of her cousin’s wedding is a joke. But she soon discovers that it’s completely serious, as the cruel, arrogant Darren immediately sets his sights on transforming Abigail into the compliant bimbo fuckdoll of his dreams.

• Read The Bimbo Bride at All These Roadworks 💕
• Get your copies of the first two books (The Bimbo Wedding and The Bimbo Bridesmaid) at All These Roadworks and Smashwords!

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