So, Mean Friend came over today. I was told he would arrive a little before 10AM. Around 9:40AM, I let him know that I’d be upstairs in the AC and that I had left my front door unlocked for him. He instructed me, in that case, to put on some headphones to listen to music while blindfolded on my bed.
I had often imagined this scene before–usually with the threat that someone else might get there first, but that was obviously implied. I lied back on my bed, trying to tug my dress down a bit to cover my thighs. I put my earbuds in, blindfolded myself, and took deep breaths as I tried to calm myself.
Maybe twenty minutes had gone by. Fifteen, at least? Had it been that long? I got too lost in my music to count the seconds. Every few minutes I’d hear something in the background. It was difficult to tell if it was the music itself or the sound of the front door opening. I imagined his footsteps coming up the stairs. My thighs twitched and I squirmed. What if he was already there in my room–watching and waiting to see how long I’d wait for him? What if he wasn’t coming at all and this was all a test? What if someone else got to the door first? What if–
Without any warning at all, I felt tight pressure on my throat. I gasped for air and pushed up from the bed but he held me down by my throat. I felt slapping on my thighs and I moaned without holding back. He took my hand in his, and placed it on his cock. It was hard and already out of his pants. It felt warm in my hand and I slowly dropped into subspace while he popped out an earbud and growled in my ear.
You’re a fucktoy, do you understand?
He pulled me upright and I scrambled to sit up, straighten my dress, and take out my headphones. He stood close to me and lead me through an induction, holding my hand and giving me instructions along the way.
I never remember much from his inductions, but I remember that he realized years ago that relaxation on its own was not super effective for me. Instead, he always used a type of mental overload script. Surprisingly, it was always different. I found myself wondering at first if he had quite literally memorized it or if he was just really good at thinking on his feet. Probably the latter.
He talked without pause, without hesitation. Leading me down the rabbit hole through a rambling of words and letters, getting me to focus on the first letter of (e)ach of his (w)ords. My (b)rain (m)elted with (e)ach (s)poken (w)ord (a)nd ®hythmic (b)eat.
Soon, I was completely malleable. He snapped his fingers in my ear every so often to reinforce the trigger. I had been up-front with him about my anxieties the day before. Though we’d been playing together for close to nine years, for some reason I was extremely nervous this time around. To be fair, I always had been. In all of nine years he had never seen me completely naked. Never fucked my pussy, only my mouth. We had a respectable distance from my body issues, and he always used me like the object I desired to be.
But this time was different. He talked me through the trance and one by one took the anxieties away from me. He spoke so calmly, removing all my inhibitions, all my hesitations. I found myself feeling lighter and heavier at the same time. His exact (w)ords grew fuzzier but I keep remembering the trigger.
With a final snap, my eyes opened and I adjusted to the light of the room.
Without hesitation, my fingers found my pussy. I rubbed it. Muttering, “please…” repeatedly.
Tell me where you want it, fucktoy.
I bit my lip and braced myself for the embarrassment of admitting it out loud. “In my pussy,” I said.
He made me say it louder and louder until I was begging and pleading and rubbing my clit hard and fast. My breathing grew heavy and I realized if he didn’t give it to me I might actually cry for it.
He pushed me down on the bed, pulled my legs up and shoved his cock inside me. I lost myself in the moment and took in every inch of him as he fucked me. Even when he pulled my tits out of my dress, even when he shoved his fingers in my mouth, even when he fucked me so hard I screamed for him. I was lost in him.
He growled in my ear while he pounded me.
I edged closer and I know he could feel it. He fucked me so well, I couldn’t help myself. I came on his cock three or four times before I realized I had pulled my dress down over my stomach. I didn’t even realize I did it, but he didn’t let me get away with it.
Fucktoys don’t get to choose. If I want to undress and play with my fucktoy I will, do you understand?
“Yes, Sir.” I moaned while he thrusted deeper. I came again.
He pulled out and I quickly fell to the floor on my knees at his cock. He pressed my face against his balls and instructed me to lap at them. I did, eagerly. I begged for him to cum on my face and he did. He wiped his own cum from his cock when he was done, smearing it on my nose with the rest of his load.
I was such a happy (f)ucktoy.
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