Rose's Dolly Pt. 11

"Oh no, you're taking it." She was surprised by the growl that came out of her when she spoke.

The instinct was to thrust the bottle in and out, but that would clearly not work without something to actually attach the bottle to her crotch. She tried instead rocking herself up and down, grinding the neck of the bottle back and forth against his insides. Red face, strangled gasping noises, audible struggle to maintain steady breathing. It was weird, ordinarily she felt bad to see anyone in pain, but right now seeing his pain and knowing she was responsible felt... good.

No, fuck that, it felt incredible.

"Heh, it's like I'm making you take my dick up your ass," Ashley said. Weird comment, she felt silly for having said it.

She kept grinding the bottle into him, so captivated by the task that she didn't consciously notice that she was chasing the change that had come over him, where the pain on his face and in his noises had become mixed up with some sort of pleasure, breath quickening, escalating toward a climax. She didn't even realize what she was doing until Dylan's mouth opened wide, and his breathing became shaky, and suddenly little spurts of cum were shooting out of the caged cock. One hit Ashley's shirt near the navel.

And the second she felt the semen hit her shirt, she felt this delicious shock of anger. "No!" she growled. She moved her hands down to grab at the bottle and began thrusting it in and out of his hole, rough and hard.

Dylan let out a sharp, whining little, "Anh!" The semen kept dribbling out of his cock cage.

"You don't! Get! To enjoy this! You dirty! Little! Freak! This is punishment! You don't get to like it! Oooohhh FUCK!" she growled, slamming the bottleneck hard into him over and over, shouting over him as his noises of pleasure turned sharply painful.

At some point the mania hit a peak. She drove the bottleneck into him hard one last time and felt compelled to stand up, get some space, get some air, turn away and breathe deeply, try to stop her hands from trembling. Was this what Kim had described, the climax that wasn't an orgasm? She wasn't sure, but she felt this incredible rush.

She looked back over at the bed, Dylan still with his legs up in the air, the bottle still stuck up his ass, looking flushed, tired, bitterly resentful. Very silly image, particularly with the little pink cage on his cock.

That was enough for one night, she decided. She peeled the cum-stained shirt off herself, and she very distinctly heard Dylan inhale sharply at the sight of her in her bra. "Don't fucking look at me you little pig," she snapped. She put her old shirt in her hamper and then walked over to her dresser and pulled a loose soft violet sleeping shirt. Body covered, she walked back over to him and pulled the bottle out of his ass. She had already come to really savor all the little moments, his flinch as she started walking toward him, the soft little yelp as she pulled the bottle out.

"Oh, cry about it," she sneered as she turned around to put the bottle back in her fridge. (Could she still drink it now? It had to be unsanitary at this point...)

To her surprise, Dylan scoffed at that. "Ashley, I don't think you have what it takes to make me cry. This isn't new to me."

"Oh yeah?" She turned back toward the bed and gave his testicles another swift tap. He let out a high "Ow!" at that.

"I'm going to make you cry before you leave here. Understand?"

"Okay..." his voice was still high, but he sounded dubious.

Whatever. "Get down to the foot of my bed, you're gonna sleep there," she said. "Like a dog."

As he shuffled down on the bed toward the foot, he grumbled, "If I had a dog, I'd let it share the bed with me... Oof!"

She had gotten up on the bed and put her feet directly on his face. "Shut up. I need to get to sleep."

In her room, Kim was sitting alone, bored, when she heard her phone buzz. Text from Ashley, in all caps, just saying, "I'VE DONE IT".

Kim smirked and reached for her vibrator under her bed. Once it was in her hand, she sent a reply: "Tell me everything."

The next morning, Emily was lounging on one of the couches in the common room of the sorority. She had mostly managed to avoid feeling the disappointment of last night's attempt at teaching Dylan lipstick, burying herself in music and memes. But now she was awake and had no classes for a couple hours and so she was just sitting there, feeling sullen.

She was jolted from her thoughts by Ashley's bright voice approaching from the stairwell. "Good morning, Emily," she practically sang. Emily looked over and saw that she was leading Dylan by the hand and had a small plastic oval-shaped device in her other hand.

"What's that?" Emily asked, and then, noticing the black rubber collar around Dylan's neck, "and what's that?"

Ashley shot her a smile that almost wasn't sinister. "I got you a new teaching tool!"

Emily sighed. "I'm done trying to teach him."

"Aw come on," Ashley still had that same odd grin, "You're not doing anything until 10 right? And this-"

She pressed a button on the small device in her hand. Dylan's body jerked and he let out a sharp yelp.

"It's a shock collar! So if he gives you a bad attitude, you can, you know, correct him."

Emily frowned. Ashley was presenting this like it was such a normal thing, but this seemed really weird, really cruel. "Is... is he okay with this?"

"Oh, of course," Ashley said brightly, "aren't you Dylan?" She visibly had her thumb hovering over the button of the remote.

Face tensed, looking at her resentfully, Dylan eventually said, "Yeah."

"See? It's fine. He really wants to learn. Sit down here Dylan," and she guided him over to the chair where they'd attempted to teach him lipstick yesterday and prompted him to sit down. She then walked over to the couch where Emily was sitting and put the remote directly in Emily's right hand, wrapping her fingers around it. "It's yours for now," Ashley said, her eyes burning with this weird conspiratorial delight.

"Uh... okay," Emily said.

Ashley began moving toward the door, but half a second later she stopped and turned around. "Alright, one more," and she reached down into Emily's hand and pressed the button.

Dylan yelped, and his body twitched.

Ashley let out a weird, loud guffaw and said, "Alright, see you later Emily."

Emily sat there staring at the remote for a moment. Just from having it in her hand, she could feel her body thrum with a strange power.

She blinked, tried to ignore the feeling. "So," she managed to find a bright, eager voice that she hoped sounded teacherly, "are you ready to get lipstick right today, Dolly?"

"Fine," Dylan grumbled.

She didn't like how negative that response was. So she pressed the shock collar button, watched Dylan's muscles convulse as he let out a pained grunt. It wasn't funny, exactly, but she burst out giggling, finding some delicious little jolt of glee in the fact that she'd caused that pain response.

Unprovoked, she pressed the button again. And this time, she held it down.

It took only a few seconds for Dylan's body to fall off the chair onto the floor, and as the seconds ground on toward what must have been nearly a full minute his body kept convulsing on the floor. It occurred to Emily, intellectually, that pressing the button harder probably didn't make the shocks more intense, but she was still absolutely mashing her thumb into the button, with all her might. As she watched, her face was fixed into an enormous grin.

She released the button. Dylan lay on the floor gasping to catch his breath, and Emily rose to her feet so she was standing over him. The grin was still etched into her face.

"Now now," she said, "I know you can get this right. Hehe," she held the remote up, "you're gonna have to."

Dylan stared up at her ruefully.

"Don't be sad," she said brightly, "you're gonna look so pretty." She nibbled on her lower lip. "Hehe, you have no choice."

TO BE CONTINUED