Page 38 of Seth’s Doll

“If only you could see yourself through my eyes, pretty toy. You’d never again worry that you’re not enough,” I say, reaching over to grab my phone and hoping she doesn’t open her eyes before I have a chance to snap a photo. She looks utterly vulnerable but so at peace about that predicament, and the juxtaposition, the vision she makes, is something I don’t think will ever be topped for the rest of my life. My flash off, I capture what will now be my most prized inanimate possession. I glance at the photo, seeing it’s perfectly lit thanks to the auto adjust feature, and I already know I’ll be printing it small enough for my wallet and large enough to fill an entire wall of our playroom at home.

“You’d see the fucking dream you are,” I add, replacing my phone on the tray. With her arms attached to the head of the playtable and her bottom half pulled up, there’s too much space between me and my sub’s pussy for my liking. So, squatting to look beneath the table, I find the hinge releases, and like magic, the boundary between us disappears when that part of the table drops away. I stand back up and try to contain my rising sadistic giddiness as I refill my hand with lube.

I’m proud of my-damn-self when I manage not to go straight for her pussy that’s right there for the taking. Instead, I stroke up and down her inner thighs, moving my hands to the outside of her legs to her hips and underneath to squeeze her ass. For long minutes, I treat her to a pampering massage that covers every inch of her skin I can reach in oil while she’s bound this way—other than the small stretch of dark pink flesh right in the center of it all.

She’s making those instinctive grinding motions again, begging me without words to touch where I’ve refused to graze even a finger this entire time I’ve had her on my table. Pitiful little whimpers fall from her lips, her face a mask of need so strong it borders on pain, and still, my oiled hands run up her belly, over her heaving tits, then down her sternum, only to cut to the sides right before I get to her mound to rub up her inner thighs.

It's not until a sob releases from her chest and out her mouth that I pretend that I just now noticed her desperation. “Aw… what is it, doll? You don’t like your massage?”

“Yes, Master,” she whines, and I smirk.

“Yes, you don’t like your massage?”

“N-No, Master,” she stutters, clearly unable to think straight enough to understand it’s a trick question.

“No, you don’t like your massage?”

“N-n—” She sucks in a breath as I come within an inch of where we both want me to touch, but my hand reverses once again. “I… I… I….”

“What’s that, little toy? Your instructions don’t say anything about a response beginning with ‘I’. Maybe I should press the red button. Your card did say that I should push the emergency stop if something seems wrong.”

“No, Master!” she begs forcefully, and I grin wickedly. Her eyes are clamped shut, but the expression takes over my face regardless. This is just too fucking sweet.

“Uh oh…” My hands stroke so close to her pussy I can feel the texture of the lube change slightly as it mixes with her natural wetness that’s seeping from her slit. “I really think I might need to press that emergency stop. Your voice response is sounding rather bossy for a fuck doll meant only for me to use for my pleasure.”

Her teeth snap shut and her jaw clenches at that, and I chuckle darkly. But when I pull my eyes from her face to look down at her pussy that’s already much darker and swollen from how aroused she is without even being touched, I know I can’t torture her any longer.

Finally, on the next downward stroke, I use my whole hand to glide over her center, and she jolts and cries out like she’s been electrocuted. My movements never stopping, the heel of my palm presses harder on the upstroke, and I watch fascinated as her spread slit clenches when her clit gets attention.

I repeat the move with my flattened hand over and over again, my fingers pressed tightly together to make one smooth surface as I run it over her pubic bone, down her slit, then back up. I’m careful not to get too close to her asshole, because I don’t want to risk giving her an infection by mixing things that should never be mixed inside a sweet little pussy. A fact that a disturbing number of men and women don’t know. If I decide to add anal play to the festivities, it will be done with something—a finger or a toy—that won’t go anywhere near her slit after it touches her tightest hole.

Her hips are gyrating against my hand, trying to ride it even as the straps won’t allow her to. She’s panting ferociously with her arousal, and I swear I’ve never seen her more turned on and needy. It’s fucking intoxicating.

My next strokes are done with both oily hands, the pressure concentrated on her outer lips, then move more toward the center to massage between her inner and outer labia. She cries out in pleasure, and I glance up her body, realizing I was staring, mesmerized, my mouth damn near hanging open as I watched her pussy take on different shapes while I gave her a yoni massage I only ever dreamed about.

Not because I didn’t want to before now, but because my little doll would’ve been mortified by the idea of being so utterly exposed.

“Yellow, Master,” she suddenly calls out, and my eyes shoot to her face as she tilts her head up to look down her body at me, my motions stopping but my hands remaining on her pussy.

“What is it, doll? Fuck the role playing. Tell your Master what you need,” I order, taking in her expression, which looks like she’s about to burst into tears.

“Please, Seven. I can’t take any more. It… hurts I need you so badly. Please.”

The last word comes out on a sob, and I swear to God, it would’ve been my undoing if she hadn’t given me that card.

Instead, keeping my eyes locked on hers as she begs me with them down the length of her body, I only slip one finger inside her sopping heat.

Her eyes roll back in relief for only a second before they change, growing wide with worry and in their depths as she realizes I’m not going to give her exactly what I know she’d been begging for. I pull the one finger out before gently sliding it back into her tight channel, a sweet kind of torture when she needs something thick and more stimulating to soothe the ache inside her. I feel her muscles clamp around it, trying to seek pleasure from the single digit.

This would’ve been actual torture for me just yesterday, when the sadist in me was still muzzled and kenneled, seeing my girl so anguished. But now that he’s been set free and even encouraged to play, it’s nothing but glee that I feel as her desperation grows.

It’s not until she starts to chant, “Please… please… please… please… please, Master… please,” that I finally slip in a second finger, and she lets out a moan sexier than any porn star’s in existence, and there’s no denying that it’s one hundred percent real.

I pull my fingers out, and instead of thrusting them right back in, I spread them into a V and run them up between her pillowy pussy lips and dark folds, circling her clit at the top before backtracking. And then I finally thrust back inside. With my other hand, I add even more stimulation by pulling back the hood over her hard little nub, and I repeat the path I made before, hearing her precious moan in response.

I do this over and over and over again, creating a rhythm she catches onto, anticipating each time I’m going to insert them inside her juicy core, because she now tilts her hips as much as she can on every plunge to meet them, in an attempt to create more friction.

But the next time I pull them out, stroke up her lips, circle her exposed little clit, then make my descent, her naughty little trick gets her in trouble, because it’s not two but three of my thick fingers that she shoves herself down on.

---