Mar 302022
 

Fucktoy was bent over on the kitchen island. The counter was cold against her bare breasts. The corset around her waist held her in a tight hug. A black hood over her face shrouded her in darkness. The thigh-high leather boots arched her feet and presented her ass for Master.

If Master was even looking at her. It was Wings Day; that one day of the month that Master deep-fried chicken wings and French fries without a care for his diet. Master made all the preparations himself. He marinated the wings, prepared the oil and arranged the cooling racks according to his own system.

He didn’t need, nor want, Fucktoy’s help when it came to cooking. Fucktoy had other uses.

She waited in the kitchen. Her hands were bound behind her back with oven twine. The black gloves she wore kept the twine from cutting into her wrists but they were still tight. She kept her cheek pressed to the counter and resisted the urge to fidget.

It wasn’t easy. She knew what was coming. Her pussy was dripping in anticipation.

There was a loud crackling sound. Fucktoy’s buttocks clenched. It was the fries being dropped into a cast-iron pot boiling with hot canola out. The fries took the longest to cook.

Fucktoy moaned. It would be any moment now. She thought she heard the beep of a timer being started.

A moment later, something flat pressed against Fucktoy’s ass. She knew what it was. The flat object rubbed against her ass in lazy circles, sensitizing her for what was to come.

A whimper escaped Fucktoy’s tight lips.

WHAP! A The wooden spoon slapped against her ass. The hard wood stung like few toys did.

WHAP! WHAP! WHAP! Master spanked her ass with the spoon. He was in a good mood which meant he was especially cruel today. The spoon stung the sides of her ass and sometimes the top of her thighs. It was a fast barrage of stinging bites that avoided the rounder, more padded parts of her ass.

Fucktoy whimpered. Tears sprung to her eyes under the hood. She clenched her ass and fought the urge to stand.

The spanking stopped. Fucktoy almost didn’t notice. She winced from a hit that never came. The hot stings on her ass and thighs lingered.

Another crackling sound. That would be the wings going into another pot. The thunder of twin pots filled the kitchen.

A moment later, a hand touched Fucktoy’s hips. She stayed perfectly still as Master guided his cock between Fucktoy’s thighs and up into her wet cunt. Only when his full length slid into her did she squeeze her spanked ass in front of him.

Master grabbed Fucktoy’s ponytail. He wrapped her long hair around his hand and then pulled. Fucktoy’s head was jerked painfully back and she clenched harder around his cock.

The twin pots continued to boil furiously. Master began fucked her. Short, hard thrusts into her soaking wet pussy. He moved at a leisurely pace as he pounded his toy in the kitchen.

Fucktoy sunk into her body. She was aware of her heavy breasts grinding against the counter. The marks he made on her ass and thighs burned with their own heat. The tugging of her hair sent delicious sensations through her scalp.

Most of all, she aware of her Master’s dick filling her aching cunt.

Too soon, a beeper sounded. Master pulled out of Fucktoy without hesitation. Her head was released and she rested her hood-covered forehead on the counter.

The beeping stopped. Fucktoy knew what Master was doing. He was fishing out the wings and giving them a moment to rest. Soon, they would go back into the fryer for a second fry. How soon, was hard to tell.

Suddenly, there were hands on the back of Fucktoy’s thighs. Master spread her legs apart and then a mouth touched her sex. A hungry tongue parted her folds.

“Yes!” Fucktoy cried out. Electricity flowed through her pussy from her Master’s tongue. He had never done this before on Wing’s Day!

Master ate her pussy. The crackling of the fry pot drowned out the slurping sounds of Master’s mouth. Strong fingers dug into her thighs as a tongue lashed deep within her.

She was going to come. The shock of Master’s mouth was going to push her over the edge. All she needed was a few more licks.

And then Master was gone. There were no more hands on her thighs, no more hot breath on her pussy lips and no more tongue inside her. The sweet gift was over.

Loud crackling came from the stove. The wings were being returned to the pot. Another timer was being set.

Hands pressed against the outside of Fucktoy’s thighs. She brought her legs together, a little confused. The hands held her legs together as something hard and slippery pushed between them.

It was Master’s cock. It was slick with lube and a few inches below Fucktoy’s pussy. The hands slapped her outer thighs with a quick double -tap, Master’s signal for her to hold a pose.

Fucktoy obeyed. She kept her legs tight tighter around Master’s cock. He grabbed her ponytail once more and pulled her head back.

Master fucked her thighs. It was unbearably cruel. Fucktoy’s pussy was neglected and leaking desire.

Fucktoy bit her lip. She was allowed to beg. Master was very clear about that. What she wasn’t allowed to do was whine and that was a problem. Right now, Fucktoy wasn’t sure what sound would come from her mouth.

Master’s belly slapped against Fucktoy’s spanked ass. The angry welts on her skin stung with protest. She didn’t have the euphoria of her pussy being fucked to counter the pain.

He pulled harder on Fucktoy’s ponytail. The thrusts into her thighs picked up speed. A hand pressed down on the back of her corset.

Fucktoy knew what this meant. He was close. Master was going to come between her legs and deny her cunt his sweet come.

There was only one thing Fucktoy could do. She clenched her thighs together to make the bast damn sleeve that she could for her Master’s cock.

He came. Hot seed splattered against the kitchen island and onto Fucktoy’s thighs and boots. Master pulled harder on her ponytail and her back arched as much as the corset would allow.

The timer beeped. Master laughed and pulled out from between her thighs. He paused to wipe his cock on the crack of her ass before returning to the stove. It was time to pull the wings and fries out to let them cool before eating.

Fucktoy stayed on the counter, waiting for Master’s permission to begin cleaning the mess he made.

Sep 022020
 

Fucktoy tugged on Master’s cock. It was dim underneath the desk, but the lube caught what little light there was and sparkled. The head of his dick almost shimmered.

She wished that she could taste Master’s cock but the hard ball gag in her mouth prevented. Besides, she had been commanded to only use her hands this evening. Master wanted a handjob, and that is what he would get.

Where was she going to direct his seed when Master came? Should she lean in and pump his load onto her bare breasts? Maybe she should aim Master’s come at her ball gag? If she leaned back, could she shoot it down to her wet cunt? Probably not, but it might be fun to try.

On top of the desk, Fucktoy heard clicking. Master was typing. Was he writing a letter? Maybe some filthy message to another of his toys? Was every stroke of Fucktoy’s hands inspiring Master’s instructions to another slut?

Jealousy burned within Fucktoy. There was also annoyance over being under the desk out of Master’s view. Most of all though, there was lust. Her wet cunt was dripping onto the carpet, neglected, needy and so much nearer to Master’s cock than some whore online.

Fucktoy stroked Master’s cock. She used both hands. It was a requirement. Master had ordered both hands was to be on him at all times. There was no way to sneak a hand away to pinch her nipple or stroke her pussy. Master would know and his punishment would be unpleasant.

There was a groan. Fucktoy knew that groan. Master was aroused. Surely, it was from her hands and not from something he read? No words written by a skank online could compare with her hands.

But a picture might. Fucktoy thought of the pictures that Master makes her take. He often made that same groan when he saw her pictures.

Fucktoy increased the pace of her pumping. The lube made loud squelching noise. She leaned closer, tempted to rub her nose against Master’s tip but knowing better.

Tonight, he only wants her hands.

Aug 312020
 

Fucktoy found the dildo. The ball gag mouth muffled her moan of excitement. The dildo was floppy but it would serve her needs. She tugged at it but it wouldn’t move. It was secured to the wall.

Another sob of relief was choked by the ball gag. The dildo hadn’t been easy to find. Master only told her that one was somewhere in the house, and if she found it, she could use. It hadn’t been easy to find with a leather hood blocking her eyes. The heavy plug in her ass hadn’t helped as well. Neither did the six-inch boots she wore, or the sharp clamps biting her nipples. It had been a struggle to search the house blind and she had the sore nipples, sore ass and collision bruises to prove it.

She wondered how many minutes were left on the timer. The loud ticks had followed her around the house. Did that mean Master had followed her around with the timer? Or was she hyper-sensitive to the ticking as she made her search.

It didn’t matter. Fucktoy had found the dildo and it was hers to use until the timer dinged. She would enjoy for as long as she could.

The dildo was two and a half feet off the ground. Too high to back into on her hands and knees and too low for her to simply back into it. Fuck, she was going to have to squat.

Fucktoy squatted down to the ground. The plug in her ass continued to split her in half. Her feet wobbled on the high heels. She leaned forward and the clamps pulled her nipples downwards. A whimper peeked out from her ball gag.

The dildo touched her sensitive sex. She trembled. How long has it been? Fucktoy knew the answer. It had been nine days and twelve hours since Master had touched her pussy. It had been eight days and one hour since anything had filled her cunt. It had been seven days and eighteen hours since she had been allowed to even touch her sex except during her toiletries.

It had been too long.

Fucktoy reached between her legs. She took hold of the floppy dildo and leaned forward. There was a brief sense of vertigo. It was an awkward position to balance and the hood made her feel like she was on the edge of a precipice.

If she fell, would Master be there to catch her? She’d like to think so, but she knew better. Her pleasure was her own to earn.

Fucktoy bent over at the waist and stretched out a hand. She touched the floor. Her breasts fell forward; the clamps sending bolts of pain through her flesh. She used her other hand to guide the phallus into her sex lips. The tip pushed inside of her.

Shudders racked her body. The tip almost slipped out. The butt plug felt like it was going to drag her body down to the ground. The vertigo increased.

Fucktoy bit down on the ball gag. The shudders stopped. She slid backwards.

The dildo filled her cunt. Stars exploded in the darkness of the hood. Spit fell from her lips. The plug in her ass shrunk in comparison to the fullness she felt in her pussy. The dull sting of the clamps became gentle kisses.

Fucktoy fucked herself on the dildo. There was no grace in the awkward position. Her right heel slipped an inch but she didn’t stop. Every thrust sent her ass, and the plug, crashing into the wall behind her. It was a violent fuck, and she did it to herself.

How much time was left on the timer? Could she come before the tiny bell rang? When the timer was over, would Master take the place of the dildo with his cock?

Fucktoy didn’t know, which is why she humped the dildo with everything she had.

Jul 312020
 

Fucktoy was grateful for Mistress’ cruel fingers entwined in her hair. She was especially grateful for Master’s hard cock pulsing in her mouth. Most of all, she was grateful for the pillow they put on the floor for her knees. Fuck that hardwood floor.

Mistress pulled on Fucktoy’s hair. Pain danced along Fucktoy’s scalp. She pulled her head back, following Mistress’ guidance. Master’s cock slid between her lips. When Master’s cock was almost free from Fucktoy’s mouth. Mistress pushed with her hand and Fucktoy slid forward. The head of Master’s cock hit the back of Fucktoy’s throat and Fucktoy moaned.

Fucktoy looked up to see Master and Mistress leaning over her kneeling body. Master’s pale hands groped Mistress’ large brown tits. He was gentle with them, showing a kindness he never had for Fucktoy’s bruised breasts.

She could hear them kiss. It was a wet sound as they devoured each other’s mouths. There was an occasional growl and Master’s hips would buck or Mistress’ fingers would tighten.

Mistress pulled on Fucktoy’s hair. Fucktoy’s head slid back and forth. Master’s cock fucked her mouth.

Fucktoy moaned. No one fondled her breasts. No one kissed her lips. The heat in her own pussy was ignored. No permission had been given for her to touch herself. She was forbidden from gripping Master’s strong thighs or reaching back for Mistress’ unearthly soft skin.

Adoring eyes were locked on each other, but not the Fucktoy they had between them. This wasn’t about her. Tonight, she was a toy for their lovemaking.

It was enough.

 F-Toy, Fiction Bite  Comments Off on Fiction Bite: A Sleeve For His Cock, A Glove For Her Hand.
Apr 232016
 

ftoybday2016 003

Today I turn 43. Wow. I’m still writing. I’m still living. I’m still happy. Now bad.  I feel like I should have more wisdom than that but with the passing of David Bowie and Prince recently, I will happily take still being alive and still creating stuff. here’s to another year of doing that!

 

Birthday sketch card was provided by the always great, Jim8Ball

Mar 282014
 

F-ToyMichael Powell did this drawing of a not-quite character of mine that I call F-Toy.  I use the term not-quite because I have her in my head but I don’t have any stories for her at the moment and she has become a sort of ghost in my head.

Years and years ago, I read an erotica book with a title I can’t remember.  It was about a woman who lives with a couple as they train her to be their sex toy. I didn’t like the book because it was more about suppressed the submissive’s identity to nothing and I was still in a romantic frame of mind when it came to BDSM fiction. It also included some sex that was squicky for me which prompted me to trade it in.

The weird part of that book was the last 50 or so pages. That is when you find out that the cellar of the couple’s house has hundreds of sex slaves, all without identity, all masked and all in a sort of sexual limbo of fucking. The ultimate goal is to have the main character become one of these creatures and it sort of baffled me. It was the most interesting part of the book and I wished the whole book was like that.

Now that I am a more mature pervert, my interests have changed. Romantic BDSM holds little interest and I am more intrigued by the surreality of weird fiction.  Too much of BDSM fiction deals with the psychological quandaries of desire, submission and motivation. It justifies, quantifies and in my mind, normalizes BDSM to something mundane. Weird fiction however deals with other realities without the hindrance of realism. Things exist because they do and for no other reason. I find myself thinking back to that book that I wonder if that was a theme that I had missed in my younger worldview days.

And that is where F-Toy comes from. Originally I called her Fucktoy but that almost seemed too specific. F can stand for fetish, fantasy or freak. F can be as much of a designation as a number.  F-Toy appeals to my sense of mystery. F-Toy also asks the reader or watcher what they think the F stands for.

I don’t have a story for her yet and I doubt at this point that I will.  She exists as a concept. A story would tell too much. A story would give her conflict and motivation. A story might unmask her.

So I had a drawing made of her. I wanted to capture her visually if I wasn’t going to do so textually. Maybe it is better this way. F-Toy exists in my head and on paper as the toy she was meant to be.

I also want to take a moment to praise Michael. He took my reference pictures, my incoherent thoughts and my goals and he made it all come to life. He nailed it and it is a special moment when an artist creates what only existed in your head.