Fuckdoll

“Strip and lie on your back on the bed. I’ll be back in a minute,” he instructed as soon as I entered his room. He headed upstairs, likely to pollute the air with cigarette smoke and top off his coffee. I took a deep breath and slid out of my clothes, leaving them in a heap beside the door, then stretched a bit, enjoying the tension in the flex and bend.

I reached up to the ceiling with my hands and then brushed the carpet with my fingertips. A sigh escaped me as I slid my hand down my right side and arched in that direction, stretching the left side, enjoying the give up my ribs and on my hip. I repeated the movement on my left side, the sigh turning into a soft moan. Finally, with a small smile, I turned to the bed and arranged myself on it, my legs hanging off the foot of the mattress and feet brushing the floor.

It wasn’t long before he returned, set his coffee cup beside the bed and leaned over to kiss me. His “Good girl,” brought another happy sigh. He moved to my feet and rolled stockings up my legs, left first, smoothing the silky fabric up to my thighs before slipping his favorite black patent heels on my feet. He stood and ordered “Up.” So, I sat up, my eyes closed and a smile curving my lips. He slid the leather play collar over the skin of my throat and I leaned into it with a little moan. My breath stumbled as he clicked the lock closed and moved to remove my silver day collar from beneath the leather one. The feel of my pulse thudding against the leather collar blurred my mind as it always does.

I could feel him smile, though he stood above me. His thumbs found the pressure points on my shoulders and he pushed, eliciting louder moans. My eyes remained closed and he shoved me back on the bed. I landed with an ungraceful flop, my mind fogged. I heard him move away for a moment, a door closed, likely to the bathroom, but I was unconcerned and just lay there enjoying the state he brings me to with such little effort.

I heard him return, felt the bed dip with his weight and I made the herculean effort to open my eyes and look at him for a moment before he rolled me over onto my stomach. My eyes slid closed once more and I heard the murmur of the rope before I felt it. The soft scratch or the rope over the skin of my inner wrist brought a little squirm, my thighs rubbing together. He bound my wrists and pulled them toward the head of the bed. “How is my toy?” his voice rumbled in my ear.

I managed a response after a moment, “Good, Sir.” Again, I could feel his smile as he moved away from me. I do so love that smile. He ran a hand down my back and over my bottom, and then dipped fingers between my legs. Two fingers, three, I couldn’t tell anymore from the pleasure he wrought. The bed moved again as he wrapped his hand around my hair, twisted the bun and pressed my face into the mattress.

“Cum, toy,” he commanded. I began the orgasm, tensing my muscles and my body obeyed. My pussy clenched around his fingers and my abdominals pulsed along with them, curling my body. He finally relented and stopped moving his fingers and the orgasm abated slowly.

“Thank you, Sir,” I murmured, but he yanked my head back and clamped his pussy dampened hand over my mouth and nose. I dimly heard “Good cunt.” as I fought to breathe. I struggled to pull my hands down to claw at the hand halting my breath. My entire body tightened as the need for air intensified. How long has his hand kept me from breathing? I don’t know anymore. My world narrowed to my body’s need for oxygen and his hand that controls me so.

“You can cum when you can breathe,” I heard. The words seemed to resound in my ears. My eyes have opened now, on the verge of panic, despite my knowledge that my Sir would never damage what is His. His hand now holds back a scream as well as the air, a barrier both ways. And then it is gone.

An orgasm rushes through me as breath sobs in and out of me until the intensity of it stops the panted moans again and again. All thought is gone and all that exists is this. All that has ever been and all that will be is caught in that moment of ecstasy. Slowly the orgasm subsided and I could feel his hand in my hair still, his fingers stroking my face.

“Thank you, Sir,” I managed hoarsely.

“Mmmmm good girl,” I received. Then he entered me. “Lie still, I want to fuck my toy,” he ordered. If I could have spoken I would have replied with a “yessir” but my voice was engaged in a long low moan with the feel of his cock moving inside my pussy. His hand moved to pull my head back by my collar while he braced himself with the other. I wanted to cum. I wanted to beg to cum, but knew that if he wanted an orgasm from me, he would say so. I fought it desperately, my body tightened with the battle against my need to orgasm. Guttural cries echoed from my open mouth unhindered by the pressure on my throat from his hold on the collar.

“Are you needy, toy?” he asked me.

My response was another moan and a roughly spoken “Yessirrr”.

“Aren't you a lucky girl that I like to feel you cum? If I didn’t, you wouldn't get to," he reminded me, which made my struggle against orgasm even more difficult. “You may cum when I do, toy.”

I accomplished another croaked “Yessir” and dug my fingernails into the palms of my bound hands as he thrust into me harder and faster. My breath automatically stopped in the fight against the need to cum. I could hear my pulse thump in my ears, the blood rushing unsteadily through my veins until I felt like I might fail him. A moment longer and I might not be able to obey his command against orgasm.

“Release, cunt. Cum for me, toy,” he growled and the world was gone. My pussy contracted around his cock and I felt his cum fill me, felt him twitch and throb inside me then I was gone, lost in this incredibly severe ecstasy that he draws from me. I came until my abs ached from it and still it did not stop. I came until my stomach churned with it and still it continued. Slowly the intensity faded, but I felt him pull out of me and it came again in painfully pleasurable waves until finally it faded from me.

I whispered a “Thank you, Sir” weakly and he pulled my head to his cock. I licked and sucked him clean and drifted for a while with it in my mouth before he patted the bed next to him. With a soft sigh, I curled up half beside him, half draped over him and listened to his heartbeat, my head on his chest.

This. This is bliss. Utterly used and happily satisfied.

Quietly.

“Thank you, Sir.”

“Good girl.”

© surrina booke 2013
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This short Fuckdoll story at the request of BookAddict on GoodReads. It is very close to being qualified as reality as it is very much about my life and my journey. This story is mostly a compilation of parts from scenes between myself and my Sir. The piece in its entirety is imagined, but quite possibly real and I just blended one scene into another as my mind so often does… it does sound quite like my Sir and me.

~E's Surri

1/20-1/26 Reviewed.

This week has been a blur. Between being sick and heavily medicated and being busy and … heavily medicated, I don’t remember a lot of it. Friday, though, stands clearly in my mind. A wonderful day that left me full of smiles, begun with a great walk with a new friend that energized and encouraged me. Moving on to taking care of some business with car and work and then my Sir. He surprised me with a visit. I was over at his place making use of the internet to get my work done faster and he called, told me I needed to get naked, get some heels on and play with myself for him… my mind really wanted to say “but ..but I’m so busy! I have so many things that I need to get done and .. and… and…” but then I reminded myself (and he helped remind me) that there must be a reason that he wants me to do this because he knows that I have a ton of stuff to do. 

I’m so glad that I obeyed my Sir…. Because he came to check up on me. Because I’m sure that, had I protested, he wouldn’t have been as pleased. Because knowing that I pleased him, and then feeling it made me feel so gooood. That left me feeling so special that he took the time to surprise me that way and that he even thought to do so. I’ve been missing him so much, but I’ve been missing feeling his control just as much. It was exactly what I needed. It made me feel controlled, owned and cherished. I know that I am those things, but to feel them so completely was magnificent.

Then Friday night, to get to go to the opera with a group of lovely ladies that I can be my true self around. We saw Madame Butterfly and I got to sit cuddling with my beloved Sister the entire show, holding her hand, caressing her knee, enjoying her arm around me and after the curtain, to kiss her goodnight in the drizzling rain not caring that our friends were around us… that was liberating, beautiful and wonderful. I fell into bed that night with a smile on my face that nothing could have wiped away. My good mood is still carrying me, though it’s been dented here and there by this and that, but having a day filled with love, friends and fun definitely recharged my happy battery. 

Exploring My Submission: Journaling Exercises #28 & #29

28) Has your submission ever let you down? Have you ever been criticized for your submission? Have you ever regretted being or feeling submissive in a moment or in a relationship? Have you ever looked back and realized you made a mistake and how did you handle your submission going forward from that.

Yes to all, but I really don’t feel comfortable sharing details on this one with the World Wide Web. In handling it, I stepped back, re-evaluated and brought myself back on the course that I desired most.

29) Is pain or humiliation (spankings for example) a part of your submission? What is your relationship to it? Do you embrace it as a part of your submission, tolerate it as necessary or have some other type of relationship with it?

Pain, yes. Humiliation, by that name is not a part of my submission. Humility, however, is. I am a sadomasochist, so pain is part of our play as well as punishment. The purpose behind the pain alters my reception and reaction to it.

 I do embrace the pain both as a part of my submission and as something entirely separate. Being sadistic as well as masochistic means that I have to give not only my desire to be hurt but my desire to hurt others to my Sir, including him.... especially him. Holding sadism and masochism separate from the typical concepts of Dominant and submissive means that I do not associate one with the other. I've seen submissive sadists and masochistic Dominants. 

While pain is often a tool used in power exchange, it is not something that only goes one way. When we learn to let go of those preconceived notions that Dominants deal the pain and submissives accept it an entire new realm of possibilities appears, leaning more toward the primal side of human nature. One must yield and another must triumph in order for the balance to be found, but, in the balance, both have won.