Page 27 of Seth’s Doll

“And you do your trick…”

She holds herself up with her two-handed grip, and in a precisely equal move, her legs part wide.

“I love it when you…”

At the exact moment Joi sings the final word of the stanza—“lick.”—my doll slides straight down the pole, and if I didn’t have such a tight rein on each of my personalities, I would’ve probably whimpered the effect is so fucking sexy.

She knew damn well while she was creating it that I’d read into every second of this performance. And with her legs now spread obscenely wide, her thighs completely exposed as her tiny skirt hides nothing but her pussy in this half-squatted pose, that repeated word—lick—hits me right in the dick. Because all I’m thinking about now is doing exactly that.

I don’t hear it over the music, but I can feel the plastic remote groan in my hand as my grip tightens unconsciously. Not wanting to ruin the surprises in store for me or the work she put into them, I reach over without peeling my eyes away from my little dancer and set the remote on a rolling tray table I know is next to me.

It’s a good thing too, because that’s when she starts rolling her hips to the sensual beat, and I feel my cock jerk, surely soaking the front of my boxer briefs with precum.

She stands back up in one fluid motion, her legs sliding back together, then takes one hand off the pole above her head to trail it from one side of her throat to the other beneath her black-and-pink collar as Joi sings, “You’ve got lock and key…” Replacing her hand where it was, spinning to give me her back, and lowering her grip down the pole as she steps away from it enough to bend all the way forward until her upper half is perfectly flat, she hits this pose just as “Every part of me…” fills my ears.

Meaning I own everything she’s showing me.

The part of her body I can finally see beneath that black-and-pink-plaid miniskirt.

The rotating disco ball reflects the spotlight just right for me to catch a glimpse of the pink thong she’s wearing, and she’s bent so far forward it’s not just lace disappearing between her cheeks. It’s all of that thin material that’s visible, the part that’s usually concealed by the rounded globes of her ass, plus the other few inches that has her perfect pussy hidden behind it.

Somehow, the fact that I can see that little pink thong all the way from back to front is more arousing than if she’d bent over and revealed she was pantiless.

If there’s hidden meaning to decode between the rest of the chorus and her movements, it’s lost on me, because my mind focuses solely on the erotic vision she creates as she continues to dance for me.

By the time she turns to face me once again, I’m so aroused I can barely stand it. And that’s when it dawns on me, I’m not in some strip club with rules to follow. I’m in my own goddamn sex club, with my own tiny dancer who wants nothing more than to please me.

So, I stand up from the chair at a gradual speed, as not to startle her and make her stop her performance. I’m rewarded for the forethought, because instead of faltering, her eyes focus on my hands as she keeps going, the reflected light exposing the flush taking over her beautiful face while she watches me undo my belt, then slide it slowly from its loops. Unconsciously, my movements as I fold the leather, grip it in one hand, and unbutton my jeans match the beat of the music along with her, and the tension building in the space between us makes my heart pick up its pace. Especially when her extra-long lashes make it obvious when her gaze follows my fingers as I lower my zipper.

I don’t take off my pants, because she might have a plan for getting me out of them, so I pull my phone and wallet from my pockets and take a seat once again, placing the items on the tray next to the remote. Resting the belt across my lap, my eyes never leave her once in the time between bending forward to untie my shoes and tossing them and my socks beneath the rolling tray table. And thank God for that, because it’s in those moments she lets go of the pole to untie the knot of her shirt just beneath her breasts.

I’m vaguely aware of the lyrics saying something about not making her wait much longer, as the shirt disappears from her body, and a bra remains that I’d bet every dollar to my name perfectly matches the little pink thong beneath her skirt.

A smirk on my doll’s red lips draws my attention away from her pretty tits, making me realize my arm is still outstretching in midair from when I tossed my shoes. My eyebrow lifts at her expression, and I know she spots the warning when I see her gulp before schooling her features back to her doll-like appearance. If she hadn’t, I’m sure my hand slowly coming back to my lap to grip my doubled leather belt would’ve straightened her out.

The next thing to go is the pleated skirt, which leaves her curvy hips mid-spin as she hooks her right leg around the pole while gripping the metal with her right hand, using the left to release the Velcroed strap at her waistband. When she remains in nothing but her matching set, thigh-high socks, and those sinful Mary Janes, it takes everything in me not to charge forward out of my chair and detach her from the pole to make her ride mine instead. But at the same time, I’m frozen in place, enchanted by the confidence pouring off my doll as her left hand joins her right, her body turning as she unhooks her leg and repositions so that both thighs come up and cross to clamp around the golden pole.

She pulls herself closer as she continues to spin, arching and throwing her head back, which causes her ass to become the main focus of the show until it vanishes from view for half the rotation, making me a salivating and panting fiend inside as I anticipate its reappearance.

I’m watching that ass so closely, then making my own plans inside my head for that part of her, that she’s already stepping in my direction before I even realize she’s come down off the pole. And then I get to watch that sensual walk from earlier, only this time from the front, made even more erotic as my eyes train on the redness along her inner thighs as she approaches.

Can’t say I’ve ever been jealous of a stripper pole before.

I want to be the one to cause her flesh to turn red.

And not just from making her blush.

Her eyes are focused on the floor between us as she takes her careful but graceful steps, but the moment she’s directly in front of me, so close I can feel her body heat along my spread knees, her expression shifts back into its doll-like state. It makes me wonder if concentrating on keeping that countenance is helping keep her nerves at bay, if that’s the practice she’s using to accomplish this goal of hers, this exceptional gift she’s giving me. If so, I could use that—we could use that—to aid in her quest to become the sub she wants to be.

I’m pulled out of my thoughts as my doll bends forward and picks my belt up off my lap, obviously thinking on her feet as she gently places it behind my neck and pulls the ends over my shoulders like a scarf. I allow it, since my taking it off wasn’t part of her carefully laid plan, and there’s no way for her to ask permission without breaking character.

I can actually see it in the miniscule nods of her head and tiny twitches of her lips that she’s counting the beat of the music, trying to quickly figure out where in her choreography she should be, since I messed it up. But before the feeling of guilt can sneak up on me, it’s deflected with that earlier sense of pride as my doll picks up her dance flawlessly, her next movement placing her at my right side until she lifts her leg over my lap, then slowly takes a seat.

I can feel how hot her pussy is through the material between us, letting me know she hasn’t compartmentalized so thoroughly that this scene isn’t having an effect on her. The knowledge that it is thrills me to no end. But I hold perfectly still so I don’t disrupt her again. There will come a time in the future when I’ll allow myself to enjoy purposely fucking with her to see how she handles it. When I’ll have fun coming up with rewards and punishments for her reactions to the wrenches I throw her. Right now though, the best and most important thing I could possibly do is stick with her plan. Do all I can to make sure everything goes according to what she’s designed for this evening.

She places her hands on my shoulders and begins a lap dance so erotic I’m thrown back in time, feelings coming over me I haven’t felt since I was in college. I was so many years younger than my peers but living in the same dorm, exposed to partying and sex, the walls practically drenched in hormones. But it’s not the anger and hurt that came after all of it that my memory is conjuring. It’s the excitement and adrenaline rush from experiencing something so fucking new and delicious you believe it’ll never get old.

This dance is so fucking hot it’s like experiencing my first lap dance all over again.

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