Rag Doll

Doll by Smokemysoul via DeviantArt.com
Doll by Smokemysoul via DeviantArt.com

You told me to dress up, make myself look different. At first I thought Barbie Doll, but I could never be her. Of course, I am your Baby Doll, so a pretty, baby doll dress was a clear choice.

I sit at the table and wait, in my sweet little dress, with a satin sash and ribbons in my hair. I look very pretty, but not at all like a real baby doll.

My full, round breasts are barely contained by the pale blue fabric above the fuschia sash, and my legs are coated in white silk and capped in pink patent leather stilettos. My hair is barely restrained in twin braids that hang over each shoulder.

I’m already wet with anticipation, my thighs dampening above the lacy tops of my nylons due to my lack of panties.

I check my makeup in a spoon and nervously fidget with the napkin on my plate.

Then I feel the air change. That electricity that flows between us doesn’t need touch, it just snaps through the air like lightening.

I feel my nipples harden and swallow as you step behind me and lean down, gripping the braid over one shoulder so that you can whisper in the opposite ear.

“Hi, baby doll… You look good enough to eat!”

Oh your voice, when you speak with the power and command that bubbles from inside but that you only allow out in small doses… That thick, deep voice that melts over me and makes me want to rub you into my skin…

I could cum, just hearing your voice.

“I love your shoes, little girl. You like playing dress up?”

I turn as you stand and I smile up at you, I can feel color filling my cheeks. You chuckle down at me and extend your hand.

I take it, and rise, before you slowly turn me in order to take me completely in. I know what I look like and am pleased to find your sad eyes dancing with delight.

“My pretty girl…” you growl, pulling me against you, where I feel how much you like my attire, pressed hard and thick against my hip.

Your lips find my neck while your fingers pull at the cap sleeve of the dress to reveal my shoulder. You sink your teeth into that special spot that makes me convulse then back me against the wall behind me.

You step away and sit in the chair I just vacated, leaning back to look at me. “Touch yourself, sweet girl.”

I grin at you, devilishly before performing the masturbatory seduction I’ve imagined dozens of times. For you, my delicious Daddy.

I lift my fingers to my lips, coyly before letting them trail down my throat and collarbone. Dipping them into the strained fabric barely covering my breasts and pulling down slightly to expose one of my thick, pink points.

I pinch and twist it, gasping and closing my eyes, while my other hand snakes it’s way under my dress. I stroke my dripping lips, still hidden from you, beneath my skirt and moan softly, making you groan and rub your hard cock through your jeans.

I drop my other hand from my breast to lift the hem so you can see. You take in a sharp breath at the sight of my pretty fingers kneading my smooth pussy. As I push my fingers through my slit and into my quivering cunt, you groan again, making my knees weak.

“No panties, baby doll?” You whisper, as you kneel in front of me.

I shake my head, tossing my braids slightly as you grab my fingers and guide them into your mouth.

“Mmmmmm,” you rumble, sucking off my silkiness before guiding my hands to hold the hem of my dress at my hips. “Sugar and spice, sweet girl.”

I moan before you even touch me, your presence is like liquid heat. I steel my knees to hold me up and watch you stroke a single finger over my swollen clit, peeking from between my puffy lips.

Your touch nearly makes me explode. I hum when I feel your breath and watch you touch your lips to me. Your tongue presses flat while your finger slips inside. I’m shuddering and clenching immediately until you growl, softly, “If you cum before I give you permission, I’ll send you straight to bed.”

I whimper and force myself to settle, looking down into your pale eyes. My heart races as your tongue returns to my clit, circling softly, and you add another finger inside me. My whole body shakes with my restraint as I hold myself back from the edge of bliss.

I’m not sure how long I manage to fight the incredible pleasure pushing me to soar, but at some point I realize you are now standing, facing me, working me with your magic fingers and rumbling, low, from deep in your chest.

I open my eyes to find yours flashing, lips curled in a delicious grin and slick with my juices. “Such a sweet girl, do you want to cum?”

I nod, panting and very close to complete desperation when you lean in until our lips touch. “Cum,” you growl, increasing the intensity of your fingers.

I release my dress and cling to your shoulders, knowing my knees will not hold. You wrap your arm around my waist and kiss me while I come apart and freefall into the waves of orgasm. You wring me out thoroughly until I’m bucking and squirming to break free.

But still, you won’t relent. Your fingers are merciless and your tongue demands to dance with mine, stealing my breath, my will and my strength. You turn us both and release my waist, to slide the china off the end of the table to the floor. I gasp, as it shatters, but you only smile that beastly grin against my mouth before kissing me again.

You guide me onto the table and cover my body with yours, but your fingers continue their play inside me. I’m panting, each time you let me up for air, and grinding against you feverishly, tiptoeing the edge of oblivion yet again.

“Oh, please Sir, may I cum again?” I plead against your mouth and you nod before your tongue darts between my lips, once more. Your hunger ignites the blast within me and I convulse, yet again, muscles firing and liquid desire dripping between my thighs to the surface below. I don’t know if it was ejaculate, of if I’m just that wet, but you don’t quit.

“Please, fuck me Daddy, please!” I beg, in the midst of your kiss. You roll off of me to stand, staring down at me, and I can tell that I’m in trouble by the gleam in your eye.

“How many times have you cum, little girl?” Your voice is so low and gravelly, I almost can’t answer as your fingers continue their torment, teasing and light, at the moment.

“…I …Twice, Sir.” I breathe, panting and writhing against your hand, trying to get just a bit more.

Then you jam your fingers inside of me, spreading my thighs and palming my clit. My eyes roll back in my head until I hear you rumble, “Don’t stop it, just let them go… I want them all, baby.”

Your free hand finds my throat, and I climax again. You suck and bite my nipples and I have another. You hum, and growl and tell me what a good girl I am, and take one more.

You tear orgasms out of me as though it were your purpose in life. I can barely breathe and have no idea what has happened by the time you climb on top of me again, undressed, crushing me with your kiss, then pinching and twisting my nipples.

I open my eyes to see you pulling my legs up and staring down at me. You practically roar as you slide inside of me, and within moments, you are drilling into me like a wild animal. I’m too weak and senseless to brace myself, which you quickly realize and grasp my throat to hold me steady.

The mind blowing combination sends me up over the edge in mere moments, and as you continue fucking me with the might of some crazed beast, I can’t tell where one orgasm stops and another begins. I start gasping, which causes you to release my neck, and instead brace yourself by gripping my tits, tightly against my own chest, which still leaves me breathless, but with more pain.

You let go, and I think I have another orgasm. You wrap yourself around me, bucking your hips into me so hard, I think I just might break open, but I cum again, anyway. Flopping about as if there were no bones inside my limbs.

You pull back and I open my eyes to see you grinning down at me, “My beautiful rag doll…”

Your ownership of me is far more than is needed to send me into a million pieces, one last time. And this one grips you fiercely, milking your own climax free, and sending your seed in long, shaking pulses deep inside me.

When you collapse on top of me, I somehow remain conscious long enough to thank you.

You lean on your elbows over me, pulling the ribbons from my hair and snaking your magical fingers through the waves. “Sweet girl, my precious baby doll…” You kiss me with the tender sweetness that coats that inner wildness of yours, that keeps the beast docile and in check.

Oh, how I love those sticky layers of yours, Sir.

And how I love being your rag doll.

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