Pixie Isobella

Isobel lay silent at the men’s feet. How long had it been since Andy had let them into the house? How long since the first one had crudely called her a ‘fuckhole’? How long since they started treating her like a doll?

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Pleasure Doll: 8

[Pleasure Doll contains dubious consent erotica, female submission to male characters, degradation and objectification. All characters are over 18. Chapter 1 of Pleasure Doll is here]

Isobel lay silent at the men’s feet. How long had it been since Andy had let them into the house? How long since the first one had crudely called her a ‘fuckhole’? How long since the hood had gone over her head and they started treating her like a doll?

She didn’t know.

And they hadn’t even started yet, really.

She still had her voice, she could still use her tongue and her mouth, but she knew that using it would bring her only more punishment later at the hands of Rose. She could say ‘red’ but she incomprehensibly, perversely, didn’t want to.

She realized as if from a long way away that her nipples ached dully. They were still clamped, would undoubtedly still be clamped for some time to come… They hurt with a dull thud that she knew would become a burning roar the minute the clamp was removed and blood flow returned to the abused nubs.

They’re just standing there, silent, looking down at me, looking at what they’ve turned me into.

She felt one of the men settle himself down in between her legs – this is it, this is finally when they are going to bang me – but when something touched her pussy it was only his finger, first teasingly, then confidently sinking in between the wet folds of her labia.

He can touch you however, wherever, he wants.

She let him do so, didn’t move, even as he probed deeper. She felt disembodied, as if her pussy was a long way away, and she couldn’t control anything that happened to it anyway. From a strange, observing place, she felt his fingers exploring her most secret place, first with touch and then pulling apart her labia as if to get a better look at her all-important fuckhole.

He seemed to simply observe for a long time, holding her labia apart, while she breathed softly and lay perfectly still, anticipatory anxiety building up inside her again. What was he doing? What were the others doing? Why did he need to take so long just to look at her? She felt his eyes boring into her cunt, impolitely, arrogantly observing such a secret place.

She heard the click of a phone camera, and this was enough to make her jump, before settling back into her disembodied almost-trance.

A voice came from above, it was Eddie’s voice again, it was always Eddie’s voice, from far above, making her want to squirm. Had it been his camera? Really, did she have to have photos of her cunt on his camera?

But she had said yes, last week, when Andy asked. And, of course, Eddie would want photos, for later, to look at and jerk himself off to, and smugly remind her about with his eyes at future barbecues and lunches…

Eddie spoke above her, and his words, amused and arrogant, made her blush even despite her reverie. ‘Uploaded onto my profile. I tagged you blokes. Label: “The slut’s cunt, before fucking”.’

Another voice, she thought it was Thomas, said, ‘you should take a photo of her tits too. And her mouth, open like that and begging to be face-fucked.’

Her lips were open, she realized, as her lips always were when she became aroused. Then there was laughter and movement and phone cameras clicking all around her. She struggled not to try to run, she forced herself to stay still and be compliant, knowing they were taking close-up photos of her mouth, panting wide as if begging for sex, knowing they were taking photos of her aching, abused nipples and luscious breasts in their indecent bra. Knowing they were taking more photos of her indecently sprawled legs and her wet, as yet untouched, unfucked cunt…

Unable to see them, she felt grimy, she felt almost turned inside-out. She wouldn’t ask them to stop just because it made her uncomfortable. Perversely, she liked being made uncomfortable, it turned her on.

I am a doll.

I am fully exposed to them and I can’t control what images they take.

I said yes, I said yes, I said they could take photos…

I wanted them to objectify me on film. I wanted the feeling of being exposed, flattened and revealed.

At last, it was over – though she knew that Rose and Andy always had several hidden cameras filming from several angles around the room – and the disembodied fingers returned to her pussy, this time running straight to her entrance and without hesitation, slipping inside. She almost screamed, after the suspense, but caught the sound in time, simply gasping sharply with shock. The man didn’t go deep, instead starting to methodically, frustratingly slowly, teasingly push no more than an inch inside, retreat and push inside her again.

‘I own you,’ the finger seemed to say. ‘I own you and you will lie here, still and submissive, while I touch you, however I wish. You will take as little or as much as I give you.’

The finger continued its meander into and out of her pussy, and she wanted to scream with frustration as he stimulated the sensitive, nerve-filled skin inside her entrance.

‘She’s very wet,’ he observed out loud to the group and she realized it was Thomas, the young one with the long, strong fingers. ‘She’s going to be fun to fuck. I hope she stays this wet all night.’

‘It won’t matter after we’ve fucked her a couple of times,’ Eddie’s world-wise voice came from above, and Isobel knew it was him who gently toed her mouth with his boot, not kicking her but pushing her head to roll in the opposite direction, a deliberate reminder that she was a doll now, a puppet. ‘She’ll be so slippery with cum by then that we’ll be able to insert literally anything into her.’

He rested his foot arrogantly on her head, grinding the sole of his boot gently against her ear and holding her head implacably down in the new position.

Eddie continued speaking. ‘The whore is on birth control, isn’t she, Andy?’

Isobel felt, rather than heard, Andy’s nodded affirmation.

‘Shame. I wouldn’t mind breeding her. Keeping her like a cow, while my seed grows inside her. Chained in her stall, suction pumps keeping those glorious udders producing milk for my coffee. Fucking her daily as is my due as her owner.’

Isobel gasped in shock at his crude words and tried to move her head involuntarily, but Eddie pushed it firmly down with his boot on her hooded cheek. ‘Stay, fuckhole,’ Eddie ordered curtly.

You’re at my feet.

I can say what I want to you.

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