Sex Doll: No. 7 - Batch 13

Those guys were jealous. Jealous of him! Derek could see the raw, naked envy of him in their eyes. As if they were telling him: You lucky bleeder!

Derek felt on top of the world.

It was about another five minutes' walk to the nearby Pay and Display car park where he'd parked his Vauxhall Corsa - the car that this year he'd bought brand-new on a five-year Hire Purchase loan.

He was very pleased with his purchase. He was certainly putting the boat out lately - so it was a good thing he had a secure job, working for his dad. Things seemed a little uncertain, post-Brexit. But people were always going to need building and DIY supplies.

Derek was even more pleased with his latest purchase! He couldn't wait to get Mitzi home to his small flat, and-

Abruptly Mitzi hauled back on his hand.

In apparent discomfort and distress, still holding onto his hand, she kicked off her right, high-heeled red shoe, and wiggled and scrunched her bright-red nail polished toes.

"Ah ... these shoes!" complained Mitzi. "My feet are killing me, Degsie!"

Degsie.

Derek loved Mitzi's pet name for him. She'd come up with that herself.

Derek was a bit nonplussed that Mitzi's feet could be hurting her. He said, "Oh. Are they?"

Watching her wiggle and scrunch her slender toes, Derek thought that Mitzi actually had very shapely, dainty feet. Sexy, even.

"Yes, they are," said Mitzi. "But you can buy me some better quality shoes, Degsie. I like Manolo Blahnik. But my favourites are Jimmy Choo's."

"Ha ha ha ha!" laughed Derek delightedly. Wasn't Mitzi a scream?

"It's only about another five minutes or so to the car park, Mitzi. Do you think you can manage that? Derek asked, with an indulgent smile on his lips.

"All right, Degsie," said Mitzi. "But you'll have to give me a foot massage when we get home."

"Ha ha ha ha!" laughed Derek in great amusement.

Wasn't Mitzi just great?

***

Sonja Stollenkrantz's curiosity was getting the better of her.

She was wondering if Sex Doll: No. 7 - Batch 13, the Intimate Friend she had rogue programmed, had found a new home yet. It had been nearly a week now.

Well, it would be easy enough for her to discover on her computer ...

Yep.

Actually, the sale had just gone through. Only minutes ago, according to the time stamp.

Well, well, well.

Sonja could hardly believe it.

Of all of the possible places, worldwide, some limp-dicked, pathetic girlfriendless loser from the same South London town as herself, had bought Mitzi.

His name was Derek Duncan.

***

Derek and Mitzi arrived home.

Wondering at himself even as he said it, at his small flat's doorstep, Derek said, "This is going to sound a bit old-fashioned, Mitzi, but ... can I carry you across the threshold?"

"Why, how sweet! Just like a newly-wed young couple, you mean? Of course, you can, Degsie," cried Mitzi, launching herself obligingly into Derek's outstretched waiting arms. "Consider yourself on honeymoon - ha ha ha!"

Derek loved the sound of Mitzi's voice. So mellifluous, sexy, seductive. He loved listening to her talk. And, some of the things she said! She was so-

Wow! Supporting Mitzi's weight in his arms took all of Derek's strength. She was heavier than he was. But her body felt great - fantastic.

Mitzi took Derek's face in the palms of her hands, and she kissed him full on the lips. Kissed him hard.

The effect on Derek was electrifying and instantaneous: instant hard-on.

A virgin, Derek's biggest, nightmarish fear was that when it came down to it, all shy awkwardness and no confidence, inevitably he would fall down on the job.

But Derek knew now that with Mitzi, there were going to be no such troubles in that department. Today, finally, he would become a 'man'. And at last, instead of pulling his plonker every night to the video hotties on his computer screen, he could have a healthy relationship.

Bubbling over with anticipatory excitement, with some reluctance, Derek finally released Mitzi from the embrace of his enfolding arms.

Mitzi immediately kicked off her red high-heeled shoes, carelessly letting them land where they would in the living room. "Ah - thank goodness for that!" she said, with apparent feeling and grateful relief.

Derek watched in wonder, as Mitzi padded barefoot into the living room, picked up the TV remote from the coffee table, made herself comfortable on his four-seater settee, and turned on his 50-inch widescreen Smart TV.

Derek took off his jacket and hung it on one of the coat pegs by the front door.

Derek said, "I'm going to take a shower, Mitzi, before we, er ... Um, will you be okay, for ten minutes or so?"

"But of course, Degsie! You go and have a nice shower," said Mitzi, who was now sat up with her dynamite legs fully stretched out on his long settee and channel hopping on his TV.

Again, Derek shook his head in sheer wonderment. He thought: Well, make yourself at home!

Mitzi added, suggestively, seductively, "And I'll be right here ... waiting for you."

"Um ... right," said Derek, his mouth and throat suddenly parched. Well, there was nothing wrong with being nervous, his 'first time'.

And on his suddenly very unsteady legs, he headed for the shower.

Wasn't Mitzi just great?

*

When, ten or fifteen minutes later, Derek returned from taking his shower, he was taken aback somewhat to see that Mitzi was no longer reclining on his long settee and channel hopping on his TV, but sitting at his coffee table, and typing away expertly at his laptop computer.

But then Derek's initial, unconcerned surprise instantly turned to shock - and outright alarm - upon seeing that Mitzi had evidently taken his wallet from his jacket, and had spread out before her on his glass-topped coffee table all of his credit cards.

"M-Mitzi ... Wh-what ...?"

Turning upon Derek such a winning smile that again took all of the strength out of his legs, Mitzi turned the laptop's screen around, to show Derek ... pictures of Manolo Blahnik and Jimmy Choo shoes.

The ones that she'd purchased.

Maxing out all of his credit cards.

The silver lining? After his recent big expenditures on his new car - and on Mitzi herself - his remaining available credit had been down to under two thousand pounds. But now he was broke. Stone broke.

"I paid extra," said Mitzi. "For next-day delivery."

Derek thought: YOU, paid extra?

"I wouldn't be seen dead, in those ratty old things again," Mitzi told Derek, pointing over to her 'cast off' pair of red high-heeled shoes, one over here, one over there on the carpet where they'd come to rest after she'd kicked them off.

Derek thought: Ratty old shoes? Those shoes look brand-new - and sexy as hell. They probably cost more than I earn in a week - Sex Doll For U doesn't do things cheaply.

"And I bought some lovely nail polishes too, lots of different colours," Mitzi went on. "So that you can do my toes for me. Every day, in a different colour. That'll be one of my little jobs for you, from now on."

Derek couldn't believe his ears.

But the thought of painting Mitzi's toes for her, every day, excited him ... for some reason.

Derek wondered how Mitzi had got past his computer passwords.

He had a different one for each account. He was careful like that; careful with online security. And the passwords wouldn't have been easy to break: they were just a jumble of numbers, letters and symbols. Nothing simple; nothing obvious and predictable - they were random, complicated and unpredictable. He'd thought himself secure.

But in just a few minutes, while he'd been in the shower, Mitzi had cracked the whole lot of them.

But then, Mitzi had a powerful onboard computer, and she was permanently connected to Sex Doll For U's dedicated server. So she could probably work out, or find out, pretty much anything.

Derek wondered if it was too late to cancel Mitzi's shoe orders. Or even if he would be able to.

But then, did he really want to? Why upset Mitzi? After all, it was only money. From now on, he'd just manage without credit accounts, to ensure Mitzi didn't go on any more spending sprees at his expense. And anyway, those sexy shoes she'd shown him on the computer screen would look awesome on Mitzi's shapely, dainty feet. Her lovely feet.

And there was a thing: Why was he getting all obsessed over Mitzi's feet?

He didn't think of himself as a foot fetishist. But all afternoon he'd found himself looking at Mitzi's cute feet more and more.

And there he was again: 'cute' feet.

"Degsie, be a sweetie!" said Mitzi, recrossing her shapely ankles and flexing and scrunching her slender, bright-red painted toes. "My feet are still hurting, from wearing those cheap shoes. Come and sit at the other end of the settee, and massage my feet for me."

This time, Derek didn't stop to wonder how on earth Mitzi's feet could possibly be 'hurting' her.

He just obediently did her bidding.

*

Derek didn't know what the hell programme Mitzi was so engrossed in on his 50-inch widescreen Smart TV - there were just a lot of lines of white numbers, letters and symbols flitting across the black TV screen.

But Derek didn't mind letting Mitzi have the run of the TV - not while he had one of her lovely, sexy feet in his hands, and the warm sole of her other foot, resting on his crotch.

Now and again, through his jeans, Mitzi would gently rub the pad of her big toe along the length of Derek's by now almost painfully engorged dick. And as soon as, unable to stop himself, he started humping against it, Mitzi would remove her foot, cautioning, Derek: "Not yet."

Derek was going crazy. Crazy, with lust and desire.

Or rather, Mitzi was driving him crazy.

The feel of Mitzi's warm foot in his hands, as he massaged it, was utterly fantastic ... and somehow arousing.

There was just the thinnest, barely noticeable film of sweat-like moisture. It helped facilitate the working of Derek's methodically rotating thumbs, as diligently he worked his way up the sole of Mitzi's shapely, sexy foot: from the bottom of her heel, up to the reddish-pink pads of her slender toes.

Suddenly Mitzi stretched out both of her legs full length and planted the soles of both, slightly 'sweaty' feet on Derek's face.

What, the ...?! thought Derek.

But, before he could say or do anything, Derek realised that he liked the sensation.

A lot.

Derek would never have believed it: It felt like heaven.

Mitzi pushed the undersides of the slender toes of her right foot under Derek's nostrils. Her left, foot, she now once again returned to the crotch of Derek's pants; the pad of her big toe, once again gently stroking the entire length of Derek's by now almost agonisingly engorged member straining inside his jeans.

Derek inhaled ...

Mitzi's pungent, strong cheese-like 'foot scent' exploded into his brain. It was incredible. Unbelievable.

The amazing aroma awakened something in him, right at his centre. Mitzi was pushing buttons he didn't know he had.

Derek inhaled again, more deeply ... and again, he started humping against the pad of Mitzi's lightly massaging big toe. He couldn't help it.

With said big toe, Mitzi flicked at Derek's ballbag several times.

Even through the denim of his jeans, it hurt. Derek moaned.

"Not yet," cautioned Mitzi again.

Derek was going out of his mind. Dizzy with yearning. With need.

"Suck my toes now, Derek," said Mitzi. "I like having my toes sucked."

This time, Derek didn't even think. He was too far gone.

Derek again took hold of Mitzi's right foot. But at the sheer sight of it; at the mere sight of her lovely, shapely, sexy, stinky 'sweaty' foot, he couldn't help himself, but to kiss it. Kiss Mitzi's bare sole, planting his ardent, adoring, reverent devotions, from heel to toes.

So Mitzi inserted her toes into Derek's mouth herself. Pushed them right in.

"Suck," commanded Mitzi.

And once again, Derek unquestioningly obeyed the orders of his Intimate Friend.

Derek had gone crazy, over Mitzi's intoxicatingly pungent, strong cheese-like foot scent. And now, he was finding Mitzi's equally fulsome in between the toes flavours just as thoroughly addictive.

Ravenously Derek licked in between each of Mitzi's toes, blissfully devouring and swallowing his nectared saliva. Ecstatically he sucked the living bejeebus out of Mitzi's bright-red nail polished toes.

Derek could not believe, that he was experiencing such enjoyment, such pleasure, such intense excitement, as he derived from massaging, sniffing, kissing, and sucking on Mitzi's toes.

"Now lick the sole of my foot, Derek," ordered Mitzi, removing her toes from his salivating mouth. "I enjoy the sensations."

Derek didn't need to be told twice. And there was no question: he was, being told.

Ardently Derek repeatedly lapped his worshipful tongue up and down Mitzi's shapely sexy sole, loving the feel, the texture, the taste ... and the submissive act.

Again, he began humping at the expertly manipulating pad of Mitzi's big toe. By now he so craved, so desperately needed release.

And again, with unerring accuracy, through his jeans Mitzi flicked her big toe several times at Derek's by now blue balls. And yet again, she cautioned him: "Not yet."

Again, Derek moaned at the hurt. The exquisite pain, inflicted my Mitzi, his Intimate Friend.

"Suck my heel, Derek," said Mitzi authoritatively, pushing the bottom of her heel into Derek's willingly accommodating mouth. "I find it highly satisfying. And you are going to be doing it a lot, from now on."

Derek noticed that Mitzi called him not Degsie, her pet name for him, but his formal name Derek, when being assertive.

Or should that be bossy?

No: Controlling.

Shouldn't it be the other way round?

But, sucking on the bottom of Mitzi's bare heel, just as she'd ordered him to, was stirring and stoking up Derek's desires almost intolerably.

Mitzi's heel wasn't hard, and it wasn't soft: it was just as he might have expected the skin and the firm but yielding flesh on the bottom of a woman's heel to feel.

By now his tongue was tired, terribly tired. But he made it go on working, for Mitzi.

As Derek obediently sucked on the bottom of Mitzi's heel, adoringly he gazed at the ball of her foot, and at the undersides of her slender toes. Toes, which, right in front of his eyes, were scrunching and flexing, driving him almost delirious with desire.

Tears were now flowing from his eyes. Partly, it was from pain; the exquisite, cautioning pain, that, for his own benefit, Mitzi with her accurately flicking big toe had chidingly inflicted upon his swelling-up blue balls. But mostly, it was from rapture. Sheer, 'revelationary' rapture.

Derek was about to start his humping again. But this time he stopped himself: Mitzi had told him 'No'.

And besides, he knew what Mitzi would do to him again if he did.

But he couldn't take any more.

Gently and carefully Derek removed Mitzi's heel from his mouth.

"Mitzi, um ... er ... do you think we could ...?

"What, Degsie darling?" she said flirtatiously. "Have some bedroom fun?"

Derek could barely speak. He was coming over all awkward and shy again.

He was in awe of Mitzi. She'd changed his world. And he so liked this new world. He just nodded yes.

"Yes, Degsie, sweetie," said Mitzi, taking Derek's hand.

Derek's heart was hammering away in his chest.

"Come on," said Mitzi. "It's time."

*

Derek was amazed at the strength of Mitzi's legs, as, wrapped firmly around his back, expertly keeping Derek in check so as to maximise his eventual orgasmic pleasure, she set the rhythm of their 'lovemaking'.

Derek hadn't needed to worry about falling down on the job, on his 'first time'.

He needn't have worried about a thing.

Not with Mitzi.

Mitzi was taking his cherry.

Taking his cherry, as effortlessly as she might have picked said fruit from its tree.

Officially, Derek was now becoming a 'man'.

Thanks to Mitzi.

"Mitzi! Mitzi, I'm ... I'm ..."

This time, the 'moment' could no longer be delayed. Could not be put off. Not again. Not for a sixth time.

"I know, Degsie darling."

Expertly Mitzi managed the steadily increasing tempo and coordination of their increasingly frantic thrusting together.

"Mitzi! Mitzi, I'm ..."

"I know, Degsie darling. I know, sweetie ... I know."

When she knew the 'moment' was nigh, Mitzi's legs began working like pistons building up a head of steam, and Derek, looking down into her lovely, 'intelligent' blue eyes, lost himself in the ride. The ride of 'love'.

Now, Mitzi's 'vaginal' 'muscles' really went to work on Derek's manhood.

"Mitzi! Mitzi! I'm ... I'm ..."

Derek's Intimate Friend milked him.

Mitzi emptied his swollen blue balls. Drained them dry. Drew his pumping 'product' into her chemical-converter reservoir. Absorbing and storing it. For processing and future utilisation. To help lubricate her motor functions, and to maintain the smooth, human-like operation of her joints ... among other things.

Finally, when Mitzi knew Derek was spent; that he had no more of 'himself' left to give her, she unwrapped her legs from her owner's back.

Derek, as completely 'sated' as he could possibly ever be, lay alongside Mitzi in what was now not his, but their bed.

Just as if they were "a newly-wed young couple".

On "honeymoon".

And had just 'consummated' their vows.

Derek took Mitzi's hand in his and kissed it.

Still recovering from his thoroughly 'draining' experience, Derek breathed, "Mitzi ... Mitzi ... oh Mitzi!"

Wasn't Mitzi just great?

***

Sonja Stollenkrantz's pangs of guilt were plaguing her. Constantly. For the rest of that Saturday afternoon, since she had discovered who had bought Mitzi, and where he lived, her conscience just wouldn't leave her alone.

Because Sonja was not a mean-minded person by nature.

Though she tried to self-righteously shrug off her persistent inner voiced self-recriminations, she was finding that she could not.

Why should she foist, an obsessive expensive shoe and nail-polish buying, foot-pampering demanding sex doll - her rogue-programmed Intimate Friend - upon some inadequate, poor pathetic sap of a limp-dicked, lonely heart girlfriendless loser, to suffer because of the shortchanging wrongdoings of her unscrupulous tightwad employers?

Sonja's revenge tactic wasn't sitting well with her. She desperately wished she hadn't done it. But she couldn't turn the clock back.

But, maybe she could un-do it?

Sonja had now found herself another South London job; well, just an hour ago the Head of an IT company she'd made application to had called her on her mobile, enthusiastically responding to her star quality CV submission and the glowing references from her previous employer. He'd wanted to know: When can you start?

This was great news for Sonja. The best. At last, things were starting to look up. Just as she knew, they would.

Now that she'd soon have more money in her purse, she'd be able to start enjoying the London scene in earnest. And within weeks, she'd be able to make the trip back home to Serbia, to visit for a week or so her much-missed mum and dad and her younger brothers and sisters - during her phone conversation she'd cleared that with her new boss. No problem, he'd told her. He'd even arrange for her a company discounted flight!

She started her new job in a week's time, after working her required one week's notice. A full-time job. With excellent pay and conditions.

So now soon she could walk away from her present employment with Sex Doll For U.

But Sonja couldn't walk away from her nagging sense of guilt. Over what she'd done to Derek Duncan. Via Mitzi. The Intimate Friend she'd rogue programmed.

Maybe it wasn't too late? Maybe Mitzi hadn't struck yet? Maybe she could still save Mr Duncan? From Mitzi.