Fantasy Zones

A click. The gate opens.

It's time.

Crawling out of your cage, you look up at Sir. Your eyes are wide and eager, your mouth stuffed by a large pink ball-gag, drool dribbling from your stretched lips. With a soft click, he atttaches the chain to your collar. Or, more accurately, His collar, that wraps around your neck that marks you as his.

He doesnt say a word, just one demanding look from his eyes triggers drooling from your other end. Such lovely symmetry.

Your bottom sways as you crawl behind him, and you feel his control as he activates the toy stuffed into your pussy. He has crafted the vibrations to inflict maximum stimulation and minimal release. He's made you so needy, yet he denies you. You cannot even beg.

Your brain between your legs, you crawl behind him, buttocks swaying, nude and on all fours while he walks upright, fully dressed and calm, while you quiver and drool, aching to cum, desperate to be used by Sir.

The walk is slow and languid, he walks elegantly, you crawl sheepishly behind, leaving a trail of your drool and cunt juice, a mark of your loss of control, and a statement of his control over you.

Sir stops at a door, and takes out a key, opening the private room. With a tug of his leash he bids you follow, and you crawl, your bum swaying, and gaze upon the array of toys and straps and benches.

Your eyes widen. Sir smiles at you. He pats your head, then looks into your eyes as he turns up the toy, and you grunt and moan through your gag.

Will he let you cum? Even as you drip needily and moan, you know the answer.

The room is lit in blue and purple lighting, like a nightclub.

Standing at the centre of the room as men and women chat and drink, your arms are raised and locked into a metal yoke, collaring your neck at it's centre. Your ankles are held far apart by a spreader bar, making you not only fully displayed, but also acessible to the guests.

You drool from the large red ball-gag that stuffs your mouth, unable to do much more than groan and awkwardly waddle about the room.

This was your punishment for speaking out of turn a few days ago, despite knowing that Master's rules were very clear on publicly contradicting him and "womansplaining".

The Yoke was a device which your Master found particularly pleasing and apt. Your arms were outstretched making your tits fully available, as they glistened in the purple and blue ambience. Your habit of gesticulating when speaking was an annoyance to Master, and so the Yoke helpfully put paid to your gestures, keeping your hands dangling and helpless. It made you pleasing to his eyes.

Another annoying habit you had was crossing your legs. Master deeply disliked that, and so had you locked into a wide spreader bar, which kept you in the correct position; wide open and available to Master, with every part of you visible and available.

And so you waddled about amusingly, because Master had instructed you to approach everyone at the gathering. Around your waist is a chain with a tag at the front, "TOUCH ME ANYWHERE", it read.

Those gathered, friends of Master, men and women, took full advantage, groping and slapping you as you awkwardly waddled, utterly helpless., an ornamental toy. You feel embarassed and yet your pussy drips, it's juices dribbling onto the floor alongside the drool from your mouth. Master has made a reality of your deepest fantasies, degrading you, yet also elevating you. Your inner truth drips onto the carpet, a signature of your submission.

Then He returns to the room, you feel his hand on your head, as he pushes your head forward. Your pussy excitedly throbs as you realize that not only is he going to fuck you, he is going to fuck you in front of everyone gathered. You feel great excitement at him showing everyone what kind of woman you truly are. They will be left in no doubt, and just thinking about that reality causes you to moan, moments before Master stuffs you with his Cock and begins slowly pumping you.

Your hands dangle helplessly from the yoke as he mounts and thrusts you in front of his guests, his masculine will eviscerating your pussy, for the entertainment of those present, who very much enjoy your humiliation. Objectified and used, you squelch and moan, becoming an extension of Master, bound to his will, as he fucks you.

Back and forth.

In rythmic motion.

Again, and again.

Back and forth it rocks, in steady motion, as you, mounted upon it, moan and drool from your ball-gag.

Daddy's birthday gift was certainly more for his amusement than yours, though you were certainly not unrewarded, just not on your terms. Daddy always dictated the terms, and you...well you were always easily bent to his will.

He's dressed you up like a cute doll in white stockings with pink bows, a pink leather collar, and white mittens, which are bound behind your back. Your thighs and ankles are tightly strapped to the horse, keeping you in place. Atop your head is a large pink girly bow, matched by the pink ball-gag stuffing your mouth.

You look like a doll. Daddy's little fuckdoll.

You had thought Daddy was just making you ride a rocking horse, that you could retain some control of yourself, but, as you were now discovering, it was a rocking horse with a sybian cleverly built into it. Bound to the horse, there was zero escape from the sybian's overpowering dirge, its intense vibrations surging up into your honeypot and eviscerating your self-control.

Daddy gave you no respite. He had no time for niceties. You squirmed on the stimulating steed, becoming an entertaining ornament.

Back and forth.

You dribble drool from the large pink gag stuffing and stretching your mouth, struggling to even hold even a single thought as your pussy throbs and pulsates.

The motion, combined with the merciless stimulation between your thighs, creates a circular, inescapable rythm. Your squirming on the horse makes it rock back and forth, as your body behaves as Daddy's dumb marionette.

Pleasure courses through your body, exploding upwards from your twat, rendering your eyes glazed and dumb. The vacant expression of a bimbo, as the demands of your pussy forbid any thinking. Every minute on the rocking horse makes you dumber and wetter, and needier.ĺ

Daddy looks upon you and smiles, as you brainlessly rock back and forth, drooling from your gag like an idiot, a slave to your primal lusts, his adorable dumb fuckdoll, unable to defy what you are.

You rock back and forth, tits bouncing amusingly as you moan helplessly, as the rocking horse slowly but surely melts your brain and molds your purpose, becoming a vacuous toy for Daddy, who smiles at you and levers at you, his amusing, dumb little toy.

Abigail, your intern, was suspended in the centre of the lounge, no longer dressed in her smart pants and blazer, instead encased in a luridly pink tight latex bodysuit that exposed every curve of her nubile young body. Her ankles either side of her shoulders, her arms bound behind her in a strappado, and her mouth stuffed by a large pink ball-gag from which she drooled, all she could do was hang their, like an ornamental piece of sexualized art.

He spun her around for you to examine, and you could not help but enjoy it, as he slapped her ass casually, then smiled at you, and handed you a small pink remote. 

"Try it", he said, his eyes warmly gazing upon you. You paused for a moment, then thought, "might as well try it", as you tapped the button.

Abigail squirmed and writhed helplessly, swinging about as she dangled like a sexual bauble. You could hear a soft vibrating sound emanating from her crotch. He again smacked Abugail's tight, peachy bottom, making her yelp through her pink ball-gag.

You could not help but grin at her pathetic moans and yelps, especially as she was one of those girls who put on a classy, cerebral demeanor, as if she was too good for cock.

You pushed the button again, increasing Abigail's pleasure-torment. She squirmed and wiggled, drool dribbling from her pink gag as you derived immense satosfaction from her defenestration.

As you enjoyed her humiliation, he discreetly fastened a collar around your neck, his hand gripping your neck delicately, yet powerfully. The  combination of Abigail squirming and drooling, and his touching and collaring of you, proved overwhelming.

Two weeks later.

Elizabeth arrived, grinning at the two bound and gagged, objectified sluts suspended in the centre of the lounge.

Abigail and you, suspended and drooling, dangled like helpless, dumb fucktoys, as Elizabeth, like you before her, used the same remote you once held, controlling Abigail's pussy and yours, and as she did so, he discreetly fastened a leather collar around her neck.

She would soon be joining you and Abigail in the toy collection.