Be Careful What you Wish for!

 

“Be careful what you wish for…”  Its cliché, of course.  Allegedly Chinese cliché at that. 

Like all clichés it contains the merest grain of truth.  But that’s all.  Because when you think about it, how can you possibly make something happen just by wishing for it?

Unless. 

Unless, like Jenny, you are victim of lottery-winning odds misfortune. 

Unless you actually DO meet someone who can make your wishes come true.

His name was Nick.  Apart from that, he was cool, fit, reasonably good-looking and clearly well-off.  A catch!  More than that, he was open-minded enough to listen quietly and seriously to Jenny as she spilled her deepest fantasies to him.  First on the phone.  Then, as they grew more intimate, in the dark seclusion of his bed.

She liked…. It was embarrassing.  She liked to  …be useful.  To be useful meant being used.  And being used meant being an object.  A simple inanimate object, there for the pleasure of her partner.  No.  Of its owner.

Once, twice before, she had started to open up, only to be met with incredulity on the part of lovers.  So she had grown more careful.  Almost, she had resolved never to mention it again.  Which made it all the stranger that she should find herself revealing all to someone she knew so little about.

Nick propped himself up on one arm and stared intently into her deep brown eyes.  “You’d like to be a toy… a doll…an object for my pleasure?”

Jenny nodded shyly.

“You’d really enjoy it if I treated you as my toy?”

Another nod.  And “Yes”, she whispered.

For an instant he paused.  Jenny’s heart leapt, afraid that, once more, she had found a sceptic – someone who would run laughing from her bed.

Instead, he held her gaze.  There was a hypnotic quality to his eyes.  She felt herself  falling, deeper and deeper.

He smiled.  “You’d like to be my doll?”

“Yes”.

“Say it.”

“I… I’d like to be your doll”.

He nodded; pushed himself up until he was positioned over her body.  “Then you shall be”.

Deep inside, Jenny felt something flutter.  Nerves.  And excitement, too.

Slowly, deliberately, he took hold of her right arm.  As he touched her, Jenny moved to help him.

“No.”  He shook his head and looked directly at her.  His tone was firm, stern even.

“A good doll does not move”.

Jenny smiled inwardly.  Of course not.  How silly of her.  She relaxed and felt herself letting go.  She was going to get her wish…. was going to be played with as a doll.  Now all she needed to do was remember how a doll should be.  A good doll does not move.

Jenny let go… allowed her body to succumb to his ownership.  Inwardly, she purred at the feeling of helplessness as he started to pose her.

She had been lying on her side.  Now he turned her until she was on her back. 

He pulled her toward the centre of the bed, making sure that her head sat squarely on the pillow.  Then he lifted each arm in turn, placing them softly by her side.

He parted her legs, opening her up.   Finally, he lifted each leg slightly, bending the knee so that it made a slight angle with the bed.  With each move, each positioning of her limbs, she felt herself falling deeper and deeper into her fantasy.

A good doll does not move!  Her body felt heavy, leaden.  The more he moved her, the more helpless she felt.

Her iner purr was rapidly becoming a roar, as she felt herself turned on as never before.  Without thinking, she let out a little sigh of pleasure.

Again he paused.  Gently he reached out and placed a finger on her lips, her throat.

“A good doll does not speak”.

No.  Once more she had a sense of heaviness: of her tongue becoming thick and leaden; a tightening in her throat.

Still, it felt so good, even when he stood back to survey his handiwork for a moment.  Slowly, deliberately he reached out and squeezed a nipple between thumb and forefinger.  A bolt of pure ecstacy shot downward through her breast and into her loins.  She was alive as never before.

But she was also a good doll.  So this time, she stayed quite still.  And totally silent.

There was something sadistic about the expression on Nick’s face as he continued to touch her. If he wasn’t giving her so much pleasure, she might have been worried at what was going on inside.

He must know, she thought, the effect he is having.  First one nipple, then the other.   The more he played, the more turned on she felt.  His hand traced a long lazy spiral downward, pausing just above her crotch and Jenny was amazed at her own self-control.  She was  wet and excited beyond belief: yet the more excited she became, the more right it felt for her to lie still, silent, allowing him to use her.

Oh!  His hand continued its downward journey, pausing briefly at the entrance to her cunt.  He flicked lazily at her clit, sending additional shocks up and down her body.

Smiling.  Looking down on her with an air of total self-confidence: of ownership.

“A good doll”, he taunted, “is useful.  It does not feel excited”.

No sooner had he uttered the words, than Jenny started to experience their truth.  The heat boiling up inside her started to subside.  Her clit, so sensitive, started instantly to numb beneath his insistent teasing.

As the extent of his control became clear for the first time, Jenny had a moment of panic.  Something wasn’t quite right.  She ought to get up.  Move.  Say something.  Only… she felt slightly confused.  Was it that she couldn’t move?  Or shouldn’t? 

She was…. wanted to be… a good doll.  And good dolls don’t move or talk.  They just lie where they  are put, where they can be most useful.

And she was being useful, wasn’t she?  Because, her owner…. because Nick…. Was sat at the end of the bed smiling at her.  Useful.  The word was enough to still her fears, even as he spoke again.

“A good doll doesn’t need a clit.”

No.  She didn’t. 

“A good doll’s body is perfect.  Plastic.”

This time, the change arrived more as awareness than direct experience.   As Nick touched her body, she KNEW it was changing, taking on the sheen of malleable pink plastic.  When he reached out to pinch her nipples, she felt him tugging on something.  Something small and hard and plastic.  It was part of her.  It was attached to her breast.  It was plastic.  A plastic nipple.

His hands skimmed easily over her smooth hairless, skin.  She was just about aware of where they were, but it no longer seemed important.  Her body existed to be touched, to be useful, and how or where she was touched was no longer her business.
Not even – she felt his hand pause briefly once more between her legs – not even as he toyed with the almost invisible plastic bump where her clit had once been.  She felt nothing special when he rubbed it.  But it pleased her that he should do so.  It meant he enjoyed playing with her; enjoyed some of her more realistic features.

“A good doll’s holes are always ready for use”.

Another shift.  Jenny felt her mouth open slightly, forming a neat stiff little hole.  Between her legs, and to her rear, something  similar was happening with her pussy, with …  With her other holes.  They were becoming more open, more pleasingly rounded at the edges.

Three nice, neat open holes ready for her owner to use whenever he wanted.

Despite the rigid silence imposed on her, Jenny smiled inwardly.  She was SUCH a good doll.  All stiff and open and ready to be used.

Well, almost.  Her owner was moving her again.  He lifted her up the bed and parted her legs a little more.  He bent her arms at the elbow so that they lifted upward in an attitude of welcome.  In his hand was a tube of something transparent and shiny.  He leaned forward.  Jenny felt herself stretched wide – and then something cold and slippery was in her holes.  Oh!  He was lubricating her.  She was going to be used.

He slid himself up and in between her legs.  Now, as at a distance, she felt something hard and warm pressing at the entrance to her front hole.  It was entering her.  Stretching her again.  Her owner pushed himself inside her.  His eyes locked on hers.  He grinned.

“What do you think, Jenny?  Are you going to enjoy being my doll?”

Her mind whirled.  For a moment, the realisation of what he had done seized her mind with horror.  For a moment, she was aware of her transformation, inside and out, from living breathing woman to plastic poseable possession.  And yet…. Even as she tried to summon up the rage that she felt sure could free her from her prison, she felt it fading, being replaced by the utter satisfaction of feeling USEFUL.

“But I forgot”.  Jenny felt herself listening attentively.

“Good dolls don’t think.”

And that, finally, was true too.  For a few seconds, Jenny felt herself grasping feebly at the meaning of what her owner had said.  But it didn’t seem to mean anything.  It was just sounds, bereft of any significance.

Her owner moved in and out of her, faster now as he grew more excited.

Jenny no longer registered WHAT was happening.  Only vague feelings of fullness, hardness, openness - coupled with a sense of usefulness.  Together, it all added up to just one thing: she was a very good doll indeed!

Even if she no longer understood that.

 

01.09.07