The rubber doll waits

She shivered as his hand lightly brushed her head. She couldn’t feel him, not directly at least, as the latex formed a barrier between the two of them. It was thick, translucent latex, intended to turn her from a living, breathing human being into a fetish doll for him to amuse himself with. It clung to her, pressing on her, transforming her body into a pastiche with its carefully moulded shapes and perfectly placed seams. Her feminine shape was redefined as her nipples flattened, her breasts became mounds and her genitals hidden.

The doll, she had been told when she first put it on, is not allowed to speak. It is not allowed to express an opinion or do anything but what it is told. It is purely a plaything for HIS pleasure.


There was a mask over her head, completing her transformation. As with the rest of the suit it fitted her perfectly, moulded to her shape when it had been prepared. There were small holes at the end of her nose, each fitted with a stubby tube that slotted into her nostrils. For her mouth there was a slit whose edges seemed to grip her lips and press them into a pout. Given the lack of access to her pussy and anus it wasn’t unusual for Him to find this access useful.

It was her eyes that had troubled her most when first she wore it. There were no slits for her to look out of, leaving her with the foggy shapes that the latex allowed. At first she’d found it disorienting being unable to see clearly, but now she accepted it didn’t matter what she could see. All that mattered was He was happy.

The doll’s mouth opened, responding to the hand pressing on her jaw. It stretched wide, wide enough for the ring to slip between its teeth before clamping down. There was more than just the ring. A tube extended into its mouth, forcing its tongue down.

She managed to hold back a murmur of pleasure. The doll was not allowed to show emotion.

With the strap fastened behind its head the doll was ready for the final stage. It was kneeling on the cold floor, held down by straps round its thighs and ankles, fixed to slots that kept its legs apart. Its back was straight, straps around its stomach and beneath the breast-mounds holding it upright. Arms were held out to the side and finally, the last touch that he completed as soon as the gag was in place, a strap across its forehead to keep its head back and up.

Immobile. Presented for those who wished to see. A faint reflection almost visible in the white tiles opposite it.

He stepped back, admired His creation, then turned off the light and left it in the darkness.

Where it waited. Where it listened to the sounds of people in the house. A scene was being acted out. It could hear spanking and crying and begging and all those other wonderful noises that came with someone being hurt for His pleasure.

She felt jealous. It should be her up there in the playroom being tortured by Him. She wanted to be there for Him so badly and yet this was where He had left her. A discarded fetish doll left alone in the dark with nothing but her own thoughts to frustrate her. She tried to think of other things, of mundane and vanilla things, only for her efforts to be thwarted by the sounds of the unfolding scene flooding through. It fuelled her jealousy. Amplified her torture.

Her limbs started to ache. There was a little movement in the bonds, thought barely enough for her to stretch and move and keep the blood flowing. More torture.

Then silence. The scene had ended and she found herself straining to hear what was happening. Was He holding His plaything as He did her when they finished? Was He whispering words of reassurance? Were they making love?

The stairs creaked. She took a deep breath and held herself still, ready for the inevitable. He was outside the door, she could sense it.

As the door opened the doll returned. Still. Unemotional. Ready to obey. Jealous thoughts were pushed to one side and replaced with the calm obedience that He commanded.

He was not alone.

Before Him was the foggy outline of a creature hunched over by chains that held its collar to its wrists to its ankles. It shuffled forward awkwardly, its bedraggled state exposing the torture it had taken. Torture the doll wished had been its.

“Stay,” was the crisp, clear order.

The creature stayed, but He stepped forward. He placed his hands on its head, triggering a shiver of pleasure that momentarily betrayed the human beneath. Ignoring it, He unfastened His fly, put his hand inside and removed his cock.

The doll looked at it, admiring the beauty of something it had come to worship. And then confusion. If it was meant to worship Him as it had been taught then neither the gag nor the strap would allow it. Was this a test?

A drowning sensation gripped it. A hot, steady stream of urine was flowing into its wide open mouth and down its throat. Instinctively it swallowed.

More was coming. It could feel panic growing inside it, a fear that this was too much for it to take. It swallowed again. And again. Only it couldn’t take all of it. What it couldn’t started to drip out of its mouth and down its front.

The flow stopped. A pause for it to regain its breath, struggling to keep control and present the emotionless doll.

Again He urinated, only this time His target wasn’t its mouth. It aimed higher, pissing on its forehead and face. He managed to hold the stream steady, targeting its eyes, reflex causing it to close them before opening them once more to watch. A few last spurts landed in its gagged mouth.

“Dry me.”

It felt His cock inside its mouth and its tongue reached out, licking the tip until it was dry. Apparently satisfied He stepped back, zipped himself up and grabbed the creature’s chains. They left, the light switched off to leave the doll in darkness again. The entire experience had lasted bare a couple of minutes.

In the darkness, her mouth still thick with the taste of His urine and her face tingling from the sensation of being pissed on, she felt degraded and used.

And wanted.

Spread the love...

About Razz

I'm a creative dominant type with a love of BDSM and fetishism. This blog is an outlet, so don't take anything you see or read too seriously.