Page 13 of Dolly

He’s got it all assembled and placed on the table he wheels to the right of me.

“Don’t you fucking touch me!” I scream, my throat hoarse. How many times have we starred in this play? My lines should change; the plot should be different.

More pinging from the computer.

“They love you,” he whispers with pride as he runs his hand up my thigh to my cock. He wraps his warm hand around me and starts to stroke.

I twist my pelvis away from him, trying to get out of his grip, but he’s already having too much fun to let me go. He twists and pulls until my body betrays my mind.

“Nice and stiff.” He grins up at me. His teeth are obscenely white against the black of his beard. I’m either going to shit on the platform or vomit on his face. I can’t tell which because my body isn’t listening to me anymore.

“Stop!” I scream and wrangle my hips as he continues pumping my hard cock.

“There. Keep your cock hard for the ladies, or we’ll have to work on it again,” he says, and my stomach cringes.

He worked on it before. Over and over again, he zapped me with his fucking prod until my dick stopped losing its erection. The scabs on my back throb at the reminder. If my cock goes soft now, he’ll get the prod back out.

A tear runs down my cheek, mingling with the sweat from the lights.

More pinging.

Fuck them all!

He releases my cock and maneuvers around the platform. My arms are dragged forward. I’m on a fucking pulley system. He doesn’t stop until I’m bent over at the waist. A cord is snapped onto the thick band around my chest, then to a ring on the platform between my feet. I can’t get up, and the burn in my shoulders warns me not to struggle so hard.

“Perfect.” He pats my ass. “Keep that dick hard.” He strokes me again a few times to pump me back up.

“I’m going to rip out your fucking throat!” I scream. Words are my only weapons.

I’m completely unarmed.

A metal ring is pressed against my lips, and I turn my head. I won’t do it. I won’t allow it.

“Open, pretty boy.” He reaches below me and pinches my nipple until I comply.

How does he play me so well? He knows where to touch, prod, and poke to get my obedience. I’m going to enjoy ripping his heart out.

He slides the metal ring in my mouth, keeping my jaw pried open as he buckles the strap behind my head.

“There.” He sticks his thumb over my tongue and down farther into my throat. I gag, lurching forward, ready for all the acid in my stomach to make its way out, but he pulls back before that happens. “Good reflex.”

More pinging from the computer.

“Okay, ladies. Here we go. Lube or no lube? Highest bidder decides.”

I whip my head toward the computer, willing my eyes to see the little windows flying open. It’s no use. Just dings and pings and his laughter.

“Queenhearts wins again. One thousand dollars—no lube!” he calls out, moving behind me.

The thick dildo on the rod behind my ass is pressed between my cheeks. An electric fucking machine. No lube.

I begin to fight, twisting and turning, tugging. Ignoring the pain bursting through every muscle, I wage a war against my binds.

And fail.

His hands pry open my ass cheeks.

I’m splitting in two, being ripped apart. I can’t hold back the sob as the dildo lodges completely inside me. Fire erupts, my vision blacks out, but I’m not given a moment to adjust or absorb it. The machine is turned on, and I’m being fucked by it from behind.

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