His turn? I try to engage my brain to figure out what he means, but I’m still a little too blissed out to think clearly. “Master?” Hopefully, he’ll clarify without getting angry at how stupid I am.
His grin sets me at ease. “My turn to be washed. Come on, Doll. Serve me.”
“Oh!” I get to touch him? Yes, please! Brimming with excitement, I soap up my hands and start washing him the same way he washed me. Slowly, careful not to miss an inch of his body. I trace the various tattoos marking his skin, marveling again at the artwork. “They’re beautiful, Master,” I whisper as I wash his wide back. With him always holding me or looming over me, I haven’t seen the delicate thorny vines creeping over his shoulder blades, surrounding an empty dollhouse. Just like on his arm, blood drips from the thorns, soaking the delicate toy furniture.
At first, it seems a non-committal grunt will be the only answer I get, but then Master’s shoulders relax beneath my palms. “My friend made them. He’s an extremely popular tattoo artist.”
A friend. It’s strange to realize someone as enigmatic as Master could have something as ordinary as a friend. That he’s a human being.Like me.
No. Dolls aren’t human beings. I’m a property, a toy meant to serve.
Why can’t I be both?
The intrusive thought makes me falter, but I quickly return to my task. I don't want Master to know what I’m thinking, that only hours after he punished me, I’m already doubting the rules again. I don’t want to disappoint him.
When I strain to reach the top of his head, Master surprises me by kneeling. Taking in my wide eyes, he grins. “Don’t get any ideas.”
His good mood is contagious, and I grin back. “I can’t really help that, Master.” And I’m getting some naughty ideas indeed, like how he’s now at the perfect height to put his mouth on my pussy. I might be a sheltered near-virgin, but I know people do that, too.
He lets me tilt his head back as I wash the shampoo off with the handheld shower, careful not to get any into his eyes. “Good job,” he says as he stands. “Now, the rest of me.”
As he did with me, I wash his legs first before moving on to more daunting areas. His cock juts out proudly, hard and ready, and my mouth waters at the thought of sucking him off. You’d think that after hours of that stupid dildo assaulting my mouth, I wouldn’t want anything in it again, but I want Master’s cock. I don’t need that voice in the back of my mind to tell me it’s wrong. I know it is, but I also know it’s right. He’s been so amazing today, helping and comforting me even when I didn’t deserve it, and I should start paying that back.
Holding his eyes, I drop to my knees and reach for his cock, freezing when he holds his hand up. Does he not want me to please him?
Master smiles as he steps under the shower. “Just hold on a second, Doll.” Suds slide down his chiseled body as he washes the soap off. “While washing a Doll’s mouth with soap is a good way to make them rethink their language, I don’t think you need that reminder, and I’d rather not have you vomit all over my cock. The soap’s anything but tasty.”
“Oh. Right.” Damn, am I really so eager to put someone’s cock into my mouth that I’d forget to wash the soap off? That’s probably not normal, but I’ll blame it on the happy chemicals still flooding my brain after the deepthroat training. Who knew being strapped to a chair and face-fucked by a machine could feel meditative?
Master’s cock is hot, pulsating under my hand as I stroke him the way he showed me yesterday. A bead of pre-cum forms at the tip, and I lick it off, maintaining eye contact as my tongue slides up the length of the shaft before swirling around the tip.
“Fuck,” he groans. Wrapping my hair around his fist, he pulls me closer, and I eagerly open my mouth. “Suck me. Deep.” Hiswords are punctuated by moans, and if I could, I would grin. Since that’s a little difficult to do with a mouthful of cock, I just obey his order, taking him as deep as I can. The muscles in his thighs tense as he holds himself steady, guiding my mouth with his grip on my hair. Tears spring to my eyes as he hits the back of my throat, but it’s happened so many times today I barely notice. As I swallow around his shaft, Master cries out. “Fuck! Again. Do that again. Fuck, Doll. You’re going to be the death of me.”
Stupidly pleased with myself, I suck and swallow, gagging now and then when he pushes too deep. When that happens, he stays still for a moment to remind me he’s in control and if he wants me to choke, I will—then pulls back to let me breathe. It’s a little infuriating how much control he has over himself. How do I make him lose his mind?
Fondling his balls does next to nothing. He taught me techniques for ball play but said not all men are sensitive there, and he’s one of them. Ball play won’t help me here, but perhaps he’s sensitive elsewhere?
I don’t know why, but I need him to unravel for me. Not just to fuck my mouth until he comes, but to do it forme. I want to be the one to push him over that edge, to show him that I’m better than any Doll he’s had here before. To erase their memory from his mind. Maybe a small part of me hopes that if I’m really,reallygood, he’ll change his mind and keep me, that I’ll get to have him all to myself. It’s a dangerous hope to have, though, so I push it aside and focus on giving Master as much pleasure as I can.
Since his balls aren’t sensitive, I move my hand lower between his legs. His hips jerk as I massage his taint, and the groan he lets out when I reach his asshole is downright tortured.
“Fuck, Doll! Fuck!”
After that eloquent display of English, he switches to what I assume are Russian curses, his movements growing erratic as Icircle his asshole. A few more jerky thrusts later, he rams his cock so deep into my throat he blocks my airways and, with a hoarse cry, pumps his cum inside.
My body convulses from lack of air, vision dimming around the edges. I hold as still for him as I can, then greedily gulp in lungfuls of air when he lets me go. Collapsed on the wet tiles, I should probably feel humiliated or violated, but all I feel is triumph. I made him lose his mind.
“Fuck, Doll,” Master pants. “That was…something. Come here. Let’s get that hair conditioner rinsed off and dry you off.”
He lifts me effortlessly and brings us under the rain head. Eyes closed, I relax under the pattering water, realizing I’m smiling only when Master’s fingers trace my lips. “You’re truly something, little Doll. A fair warning, though. Most of our clients are macho to the bone and think someone touching their asshole will curse them into being gay or something equally stupid so you might want to wait for their direct order before touching them like this.”
Right, I should have thought of that. “I’m sorry, Master.” He did come, though. Hard. He must have enjoyed it.
“It’s okay. I’m neither straight nor stupid, and I happen to love having my ass played with, so you get extra points for ingenuity. Just be careful if—when you’re with someone else.”
Because I can’t stay with him. I swallow my sigh and smile instead. “Yes, Master. Thank you for correcting me.”
“You’re a pleasure to teach, Doll. Come on. Let’s get ready for a meal.”
