Toy's Tale

My name is Toy. You asked me to choose a name, and I found this one apt, as I am yours.

I do what I am told. I spend my time where I am bid. I wear what is chosen for me. This morning I awoke in a thin white nightie which hovers and skims my curves. My nipples are perky rosebuds as it's flimsy enough to see through, but that's okay as you keep the house warm.

I have on my collar and cuffs, as I always do. I'd feel naked without them! Dainty but sturdy, these ones are white leather. Like little halos they encircle my wrists, ankles and neck. Each is adorned with a small silver loop that attaches to the chains in this room. Well, the chains in any room, depending on where you want me. At this moment the chain trails from my ankle.

But it matters not where it's tethered, it's long enough that I can move freely around the bedroom. Well, usually freely, as you can shorten the chain if I'm being punished. Or if you just feel like it, to remind me where I stand.

Right now, I'm laid on the bed, reading. It's a beautiful day and the sunlight is splashed across me. When you come in later I'll ask if you'll let me outside for a while, so I can read on the lawn.

Perhaps you will fuck me out there. I love sex outdoors. Exposed in the breeze, the rays hot on my skin. Eyes peering hungrily from upstairs windows.

The thought makes my pussy flush hot so I squeeze my thighs tight, crush the burn. It's all I can do. I'm not allowed to touch my pussy, especially not to pleasure myself. Because, it's not my pussy, it's yours. I need your permission.

My room is nice, it has everything I need. I don't want for anything, apart from your company, your touch, your control.

We talk, sometimes all night, but I've learnt to sense the boundaries; despite their transient nature. I've had to learn these things, to avoid abuse. But I can read you very well now. You read me too I suppose, for different reasons, you know how much I can take. You never go too far.

Work is one of the things you won't talk about. I wonder what you do. I fantasise, while here in my tower, about how you spend time outside these walls. You're someone powerful I'm sure. Someone important.

I risked looking for clues once, in your bedroom. I didn't find anything though and it wasn't worth the anxiety that you may notice my rummaging. I have no privacy here, since I do not even belong to myself, but breaching yours would have devastating consequences. Ones far too painful.

I'm not sure where you are right now. The house is silent and I thought I heard the front door when I was dozing earlier. I'm hoping you popped out for croissants and cinnamon coffee. This is possible, as you were humming. The sunshine must have brightened your morning too.

It's 11.30 am. I hope you return soon as I need the bathroom. I'm not worried; you never leave me alone too long. Unless I've been bad.

Oh, I can go to the toilet myself. I'm your slave, not your prisoner. The chains aren't locked and neither are the doors. I could unclasp my ankle and wander outside if I wanted. Pop to the corner shop. I could leave anytime.

But I don't. Those aren't the rules, that's not our agreement. Besides, I enjoy being yours. I enjoy your commands and laws, they caress and comfort me. I float in my paradox bubble, feeling so worthless and used; special and safe. Residing in fantasy, my inner world is complete, consumed, overflowing. It's all that matters. The outer world doesn't exist. All that concerns me is pleasure and pain, control and compliance. Being your Good Girl.

I'm startled by the front door slamming.

Brushing my book aside, I hastily move to the foot of the bed. This is where I'm to greet you, perched still. Knees and feet together, hands on my lap, head bowed. Luckily you're heavy footed, so I always have time to arrange myself to please you.

I don't look up when you enter. I want to, you didn't sleep with me last night and I've missed you. I want to smile at you and drink in your deep handsome eyes, but first I need to be invited.

You walk up close until you're standing in front of me. I breathe you in. The large bulge in your jeans is at my eye level, your crotch almost brushing my lips. Without a word between us (I can't speak unless spoken to), you unzip your trousers.

You're not in a talkative mood then. I can't look at your face, so I don't know if you look happy. There isn't any more humming. It doesn't matter; I know what you're asking. Sorry, telling. You can't ask because I can't say no.

I reach into your fly and pull out your huge hard cock. It is rigid and ready to see me. I'm having a love affair with your dick. It's just perfect to me. I run my nose along it, teased by its scent. I'm about to put my lips around it when you speak;

"Clean it." You demand, gruff.

I feel your hand upon my head. It begins with a stroke but then your fingers wind into my hair, entangled into a firm grip, pulling it tight. I whimper quietly at the pain. No croissants today then.

Obediently I lick your cock clean, base to tip. Tasting every inch of sweat and semen with my thirsty lapping tongue. I move my head down and work my sucking mouth across your balls. I'm engulfed in the heavy sweet musk of them as they dangle onto my face. I must say, I'm at my most contented curled into your crotch. You let me fall asleep down there sometimes, your cum drying on my cheek. After I'm sure they're licked clean, I return to licking your dick.

"Swallow me," you order.

I open my mouth wide and take your length down my throat. My head moving back and forth, sucking you hungrily into my wetness.

You grab my chin upwards and I can look at you at last. Even though my mouth is full of your cock, I smile and you beam back down at me.

You grasp my head firmly and slowly begin to fuck my mouth. I have to concentrate now, on when to breathe and to try not to gag, as it's going deeper and deeper and I can't control it. My eyes are watering and I'm retching a bit too much. I'm scared I'll have to reach up and stop you, which I'm not supposed to do.

I try to occupy my hands to ensure my compliance. Gripping your dick and cupping your balls.

"No hands!" you bark at me, making me jump. You're really not in a good mood!

Dribbling and spluttering as you fuck my head, I hold my hands behind me so I behave. So I don't grab you, push you out of me and beg you to be gentle.

Then you hold my nose as you plunder my mouth and I'm choking and about to risk squirming loose when you start to cum with a shudder and growl. I feel you spurting in hot sticky waves down my throat. I gag and swallow, drink you eagerly, I love your cum. I would eat it off a spoon.

Your grip relaxes and you wipe your cock around my lips, the cum still seeping from it. I lick my lips, as well as your penis, and make sure I've fed on every bit.

You stand there a few seconds, stroking at the back of my neck, then you pull away. As you zip yourself back up and walk out the door you tell me not to move.

I don't. I sit still. My hands rested on my thighs. My head bowed again, like in prayer. My dark hair making a curtain.

I'm panting and catching my breath. Worn out and turned on, I can feel my cunt leaking. I dare to hope you will let me cum when you get back.

I study my cuffs; the leather is starting to peel a little. I run my tongue around my mouth, tasting your saltiness. My face stinks of you.

As my arousal fades I become dimly aware that I still need the toilet.

It's been maybe 10 minutes. It's hard to know, I've found out time is subjective. I could turn and check the clock, but I won't, as you told me not to move. There's no point checking anyway, I don't know how long you'll be. You could be hours if you were feeling cruel.

I cheat a little. I move my finger slightly, making rainbows bounce from the diamond ring you gave me.

Relieved, I hear your footsteps returning. You open my door.

"For you, my Toy. For tonight."

I know you mean me to look so I glance up at you. I see then that you're holding a beautiful long evening gown. A deep purple silk, delicate and sophisticated, which would spill down my figure tying at my neck. It looks expensive, would make me look expensive.

I love it, I want to jump up and caress it! I want to hug you, thank you, kiss you. But you haven't said I could move or speak though so I just smile.

"Do you like it?" You want to know.

"Thank you, I love it, it's beautiful." I murmur. I hope you know I really mean it, because I would have had to say that anyway.

You lean down and kiss me, full and deep, melting me.

You then gesture to unchain me so I offer you my ankle. You keep a chain in your pocket, which you lead me around with, but you must be in a hurry today because you just tell me to get in the shower.

I do as I'm told and am a bit disappointed when you don't follow me in. This confirms you must be busy as you usually wash me yourself. I cherish the tenderness of those moments, soapy and cared for in your hands.

Oh well, the shower still feels divine as the hot water engulfs me.

I'm a bit anxious about the dress. Searching my mind, I can't recall anything I may have done to warrant such a gift.

A special occasion perhaps. I toy with the idea that you're taking me out somewhere, a dinner. Or dancing! You haven't taken me dancing for ages. Again though, I don't think I deserve such a reward.

It may be that you have a guest coming, someone you want to impress. I hope it's not that, because your friends aren't predictable. Not all of them are nice, respectful. Especially not when drunk. I guess you're never as careful with someone else's things.

Oh god, I hope you're not holding a party. I stop my mind before it runs too dark... You most likely just came across the dress and thought I'd look pretty in it.

I'm pulled from my wonderings by the sound of your raised voice. You're angry and shouting at someone. Shouting back at silence so it must be someone on the phone. I can't make out your words, but I can feel the venom and whoever it is has got you seriously riled. Which is bad.

Then sudden quiet, punctuated by banging noises.

I'm alert now, rigid in the water. I'll need to be wary. I probably won't find out who you were speaking to or what they said. When you vent it's not with words.

It doesn't matter what happened, what matters is that you'll be in a foul mood now and I mustn't give you any excuses.

You're a kind master on the whole, firm but kind. I'll be punished for various reasons. Obviously for misbehaving; if I break the rules, sulk, give attitude or say "no".

Punishment sometimes if you're feeling playful and in the mood for something rougher, show me who's boss. I don't mind those, they don't hurt too much.

But when you're furious like this, ironically usually when I'm not to blame, you have the habit of taking it out on me. It doesn't happen often, you losing your cool. Unfortunately though, it's happening right now.

"TOY! Are you still in the shower? GET OUT AND GET DRESSED!" You boom up the stairs.

I clamber out the shower and scamper into the bedroom. I couldn't have won here, because if I'd left without permission I'd have been in more trouble.

In the bedroom I'm confused about what to wear. You've given me no instructions and I'm not sure what you have planned for me today, apart from being your punch bag. I don't dare ask you, you don't like questions at the best of times, so I opt for tight jeans and a skimpy top. No underwear, that's forbidden.

I re-attach my chain, at my wrist this time, and sit nervously at the end of the bed. Once again waiting. Heart beating, afraid of what will happen next.

"TOY!" I jump as I hear you striding towards my room like thunder.

In my fear I forget to lower my eyes and I watch you burst through the door, your face twisted red in anger.

"EYES!" You shout, pointing to the ground.

I drop my head, cowering. You sound like you're trying to control yourself, but failing and about to explode.

"You've been very bad. If you apologise now I'll go easy on you."

"Sorry, I'm so sorry!" I'm bleating before you've even finished speaking. It's not enough. You grab a fist of my hair jerking my head up to look at you. I wince.

"What are you sorry for?"

I stammer, mouth blubbing like a fish. I don't know! Did I choose the wrong clothes? No, you were angry before that. What then? Maybe I left the shower on?

"I'm sorry Sir, I don't know." I whisper. I want to shrink away invisible. Impatient you yank me up by my arm.

"Well get your ass into the bathroom. Figure it out. Sort it out. And get back here for your punishment."

I unchain myself and slink past you, trying not to take up space, not to exist.

As I peer into the bathroom I see right away that the floor is soaked, from my haste to leave.

Maybe you skidded, or wet your socks, or maybe you were just pissed off at the sight of it. I mop it up, hastily. I want to take my time because I know what's waiting for me, but I can't risk angering you any further. Judging from your demeanor, it's already going to be really bad.

I return to the bedroom, eyes downcast. In my peripheral vision I see you sitting on the bed and that you tap at your knee. I know I'm to lie over it. Morosely I undo my jeans and push them down to my knees.

I shuffle myself miserably over your lap so my shapely bare ass is poised in position to be beaten. My hands grab the quilt cover and I bite it too, in preparation. God let this be quick.

"What do you say?" You growl at me.

I won't have to think, not in a punishment like this. No time to respond as already your strong hand whooshes down and slaps across my ass cheeks. You've hit me as hard as you can, full force.

Biting down doesn't help and I scream out.

"I'm sorry Master... please stop! I won't do it again... I'm sorry Sir!"

You use one hand to press my back down in place as the other rains down an assault of loud slaps. I know that your anger is ebbing towards arousal. I can feel your hard on pushing steadily into me, thickening as you spank me sore.

The pain burns and builds and is immense. I'm begging, pleading, screaming, gurgled shrieking nonsense. It doesn't matter what I say, I'm not sure you're listening.

Then I feel you lifting me back up by my hair and neck. I scrabble to a sitting position to ease the weight on my hair. I can't rest on my bum though as it's stinging raw, I try kneeling.

"Top off!" You bark.

I weep quietly as I pull it off, my bare breasts exposed to your fury. I know what you want and stick my chest out to your mercy, my arms behind me.

You strike me hard, once on each breast, painfully catching my nipples and then push me roughly forward onto the bed. I feel my jeans being yanked off my legs and I sprawl there face down and wait for your cock.

You're swift, as you unzip and grab me back up by my hips. Pulling me onto you as you shove yourself brutally inside me, ripping into my tight cunt. I cry out but my voice is hoarse from screaming.

You fuck me hard, plundering into my slit, pushing me down on the bed. I think I'm still saying sorry, in-between the sobs.

You're calling me names now, horrible names, as further punishment. You make me agree that that's what I am, apologise that that's what I am. I'm sorry I'm a slut, I'm sorry I'm a dirty whore. Yes punish me. Punish me please for being a stupid bitch.

You pull at my hair, my scalp on fire. My breasts will be bruised with the pinches and squeezing. My shoulders and neck will be scattered with your teeth marks.

Then you cum, loudly, angrily, with a roar. Banging into me until every drip of your load has seeped into my cunt.

It sounds like a big release, but I know you're still mad because you don't caress me after, as you usually do. You pull out right away and abandon me lying there shivering. Your semen dribbling down my thighs.

There are more chains by the bed and I hear them chinking as you shorten them. The punishment is not over then.

"On your back!"

I roll over as you wish.

You attach the chains to my neck collar, then my wrists, then my ankles. You adjust them tight, with all your strength and manoeuvre me until you're sure that I'm in a painful and awkward position.

You pause, and then as a cruel afterthought you retrieve the nipple clamps from the drawer. Even without looking I can sense your satisfaction as you attach them to my sore tender nipples. The pain bites into me but I try to suffer silently, just sniffling, I won't win your pity. You leave me there naked, chained and clamped, without a blanket and then leave the room without a word.

I'm left to wait. And wait. And wait.

The parts that hurt soon become numb. This is when I'd meditate, go elsewhere in my mind.

Although today I'm angry. Angry at you, but I could never express it. Angry at whichever prick pissed you off on the phone.

Minutes tick into the hour.

Then like a sick joke my need to urinate returns. My bladder presses insistently. God why didn't I ask to go before my shower? In my anxiety over the dress I forgot to ask. Damn it, damn it, I'm such an idiot!

I hold it for as long as I can, but it must have been hours already. Desperately I have a choice to make. Do I piss you off by summoning you or by wetting myself?

I decide on the former. If it comes to it. Please don't let it come to it. I squirm and pray for your return.

I'm so uncomfortably full and tender. I can't even close my legs! Shit, now or never. On the brink of pissing I cry out to you with a strangled urgency.

"Master! Master please!"

I hear your footsteps nearing down the hall. You come when I call, because you know I've learnt to take my chastisements. I've had worse, days worse. I would never dare shout just to be untied. I am an obedient Toy.

I lower my eyes as you enter the room. I'm squirming as much as the restraints allow. You guess my distress.

"Do you need the bathroom?" You ask. Cold, not concerned. This makes me nervous.

I nod.

"Go then." You order.

I am confused, my eyes dart to my wrists, chained awkwardly in place. All my limbs are bound, my throat too, I am now truly your prisoner. Spread open wide and vulnerable, my pussy exposed.

I risk catching your eyes, to plead for release and relief. I clock the darkness on your face and realise you're not in a giving mood.

"Go there," you demand, "and don't you dare look away from my eyes."

I shake my head, but I know I will obey. My body is yours to command. I've forgotten how to do free will.

I try to pee, to let it go, but your intense gaze is off putting. I feel like I'm an animal. I'm nothing. Shivering bare my body blushing with shame.

"NOW Whore!" you yell.

But it's hard and the pain is acute, my bladder is bursting but I can't let go!

I gather myself and remember not to push, but to try and relax. Which is impossible under the stress of the situation. It doesn't help that I can see you are enjoying my struggle. With sweat and panic and feeling utterly degraded, caught in your eyes, I try again. Try to catch the fleeting tail of the moment that will let me pee.

With a grunt I manage it. My piss spurts and flows, pouring from my open relieved cunt like a golden waterfall, straight onto the bed sheets.

I am awash with emotions. The relief of the release is short-lived as the humiliation floods over me. Coating me like a filthy blanket. The hot pee seeps under my ass and back, demeaning me further. I feel so powerless and dirty, as the last of it trickles from my pussy.

You hold my mortified gaze and I cannot look away from your smirk and disgust. You drink up my shame like a vampire.

You laugh at me and leave, without a word.

Tears spill down my cheeks as I lie pinned in my own piss. The acrid stench engulfs me and I continue to wait, as the soaked sheets get cold, leaving me itchy and shivering. I consider that I was lucky it was only a pee I needed.