Tea time

**Another, longer, one shot I’ve been working on. Hope you like it! As ever, feedback and comments are welcome.**

“But mummy, I want Oolong tea this time.” Shit. Typical. You’d not been doing this job for long, but you already knew exactly what that meant.

You glance down at the mother and daughter sitting politely at the table and try not to betray your annoyance. “Yes, of course. you say, as sunnily as you can muster “I’ll just have to pop into the back and get some more.”

Ugh. Of course the Oolong runs out in the last hour of your shift.

The mother smiles up at you sympathetically, while the daughter just beams unrestrainedly from across the table, her tufty blonde hair barely visible over the mountain of crockery in front of her.

Teapots, cake stands, sandwich plates and all manner of tea making equipment strews the table.

She’s wearing her Sunday best, as is tradition at Hazel’s, but it’s nothing compared to the outfit they make you wear. A floor length black skirt, a frilly white blouse fastened with a pearlescent brooch at the neck, a little black fascinator.

You imagine you’re supposed to look like an Edwardian housemaid, but with your pale complexion it’s hard to shake the impression that you’re a sort of vampire cosplayer.

The skirt makes it hard to walk quickly, but you’re already pretty good at it, so you balance as much of the crockery on your arm as you can and stagger back to the kitchen.

You pick up a cloth and wipe some of the kitchen surfaces down absent mindedly. Anything to put off going to the storeroom. While the little café may look picture perfect from the road it’s actually built into the front of an old department store, the tiny premises only taking up a tiny fraction of the cavernous space on the lot.

Through the kitchen and out the back is the storeroom, the rest of the old shop, which is a truly vast space the business uses to keep stock and spares. It’s also where the mannequins live.

The other staff call it the ‘valley of the dolls’ as a joke, but you don’t think it’s funny. From the little patch of space where the stock is kept you can see them, clustered at the far end of the room by the back wall.

You assume they were left behind by the department store when it closed, and while they’re nothing to do with the cafe, you don’t like being alone in the room with them.

You can see them now as you fumble about in the dim fluorescent light, frozen in permanent carefree poses and staring at each other, the walls, the floor.

Gathering up some spare packets of tea, you almost run back to the safety of the kitchen door, slamming and bolting it behind you. The café is quiet now, so it’s easy enough to wind down the rest of your shift without incident.

Cleaning the tables at the end of the day you spot Katie, your manager. She always changes into her cycling lycra before she leaves the café and she’s just preparing to go, strapping her helmet round her chin and bunching her long brown hair underneath.

She seems busy, so you just give her a small wave to see her off. She smiles and waves back before pushing her way out of the door with her forearm.

The next day you manage to end another shift without having to go to the storeroom again, but this largely uneventful day hasn’t been without its complications.

A fat, angry man complaining that he’d been double charged. Your efforts at examining the receipts in the till and the limited information on the computer hadn’t yielded any results, so with a promise to get back to him by the end of the day, you launch your own investigation.

You can’t get at any of the accounts in the files without a manager’s password. Shit. Your recall having seen Katie slip out through the kitchen, her gym bag tucked under her arm.

She must be changing already.

Shit. Shit shit shit.

You know she uses the old department store changing rooms, right at the far end of the Valley of the Dolls.

Shit, I mean the store room. That’s what it is, a room for storing things. That’s all it is.

You flick the light on and wince internally as the pallid glow illuminates the mannequins at the back of the room, right where you expected them to be. The pair of curtains that represent the changing rooms is right next to their tightly packed little flock.

Oh fucking hell, really?

You struggle to will yourself to begin the journey, and it feels like an almost physical block is stopping you from moving, but memory of the man’s fat angry face convinces you to swallow your fear and take that first step.

One step quickly becomes a dozen, and you’re half way there before you know it, though your eyes remain fixed on the half-clothed dummies throughout your journey.

“Katie?” you call, nervously. “Katie are you there? I need some help at the till”. There’s no response.

One of the curtains is pulled back, revealing the small changing room within, but the other is still closed. Surely she’s in there? Your mind races.

“Katie? Are you in there?” No response. You reach out and tug sharply on the curtain. There’s nobody behind it.

You jump back in surprise and bump up against one of the mannequins behind you. You reach back and grab hold of a single frozen hand to stop it toppling over and to your surprise it is warm and fleshy, almost like a person.

Your heart jumps into your mouth and you let out a little squeal of terror. Whirling round you see, not the blank expressionless face you expected on the head of a dummy, but Katie’s face staring placidly out into the gloom of the huge space.

She totters slightly on her immobile frozen feet, but then settles back exactly as she was. She’s still wearing most of her uniform, the perfectly pressed ruffles of her blouse almost glowing with the sickly yellow light from the lamp above, but underneath you can make out the ghostly impression of her little brown nipples against the fabric.

She’s not wearing a skirt at all, and her small white panties are bunched up in the lurid camel toe of her shaved pussy.

You’re about to shout at her, to cry out and demand an explanation. What the fuck is she doing? Why is she not dressed? Why is she lurking about in the dark? But a loud noise from the back wall of the store chokes your shout in your throat.

You didn’t even know that door could open, who could it be trying to get into the shop at this time? With only seconds to react you quickly push your way into the silent forest of mannequin bodies and try to slow your panicked breathing.

As you investigate further, to your horror, you see that only one or two of the statuesque at the front are truly dummies. The majority of the silent, unmoving figures are actually people too.

You recognise a couple: The temp girl you met a week or two back, the one who couldn’t work the till, stands wearing just a skimpy night dress. That girl who got fired the day you started for missing her shift stands next to her in just a bra and panties.

Gemma, the one you got on with, stands naked from the waist down. She was supposed to be sick but here she was right now, looking bored as if she were waiting for a bus, but with her neatly trimmed bush on display and a small t-shirt pulled tightly over her large, heavy breasts.

The sound of shuffling feet from behind the bunched up collection of dummies and people gets louder as a person approaches. You hear them fiddling and fumbling with something as you try to stay stock still, as still as the mannequins around you.

As still as your poor, frozen colleagues. As the figures passes in front of the dummy you’re hiding behind you can see the silhouette of a short, heavyset man wearing a cap and hoodie.

He flits slowly from mannequin to mannequin, busying himself with their clothes and postures. From the far side he picks up a person, a girl you don’t recognise, and moves her over to a new cluster on her own.

Gripping her in a bear hug round her waist she doesn’t even seem to acknowledge him, and her head simply lolls slightly forward while her arms and legs swing freely like a doll’s. Her dyed blonde hair hangs limp in front of her face.

As the man moves further away you realise you’ve been holding your breath, and you allow yourself a few quick gasps to get the air you need. The let up doesn’t last long, however.

No sooner has the man finished moving the first girl, he comes back for a second. This time he chooses Katie, who is only a couple of figures along from you. For a second he stands in front of her, merely surveying her motionless form, then he fiddles a little with a brooch that appears identical to the one on your uniform.

While it may be a trick of the light, you think you see your own brooch glow slightly in response. This only lasts for a second, before the man resumes his work.

Seemingly satisfied, the man begins to unbutton her frilly blouse. It’s quick work, and the man moves her arms to allow him to more easily tug and pull at her shirt.

From your position you watch in horror as Katie’s flat chest is exposed, the slight mound of her tits surmounted by hard brown nipples.

With a businesslike air, the man then picks her up in a fashion similar to the first girl, offering no resistance as she is hoisted limply into the air and carried to the same spot as her colleague.

Returning to his task, the man wanders back over to your cluster, taking his place in front of the next figure he chooses. You. “Hmm, you’re a new one” he muses, out loud.

Right, this is it. Time to run. You tense for a second, find the strength to move, and push off with your foot in a run.

Except… you don’t.

The brooch on your neck feels heavy. So heavy that it pushes down directly into your feet like a lead weight. Your heart nearly explodes with effort as you try and move, but the effort is useless. You’re stuck completely still.

The man reaches out with fat, sausage fingers for your top button.

No. Fuck no. Get off me. Get the fuck away from me. You could punch a wall down with the energy in your mind, but your body stays still, limp like a china doll.

The man’s hand brushes the top of your breast as he continues to undo your buttons. The white, porcelain skin of your perky little tits is exposed, covered only by a white strapless bra.

Your shirt falls open entirely, and the man hooks one chubby finger in the centre of your bra. You feel it snake and worm alongside the little white orbs of your tits.

Fuck you, you old creep. Get the fuck off me.

He tugs downwards, and the creamy white mounds of your breasts pop out of your underwear. You feel his eyes staring hungrily at your dark little cleveage, your tiny pink nipples.

A dark fog of rage and humiliation floods your brain. Leaning forward, you feel his hot, wet breath on your chest, and you blood runs cold with disgust as he takes one of your rosy nipples in his mouth.

You feel his tongue slurping and sliming over your virgin tits, his teeth nibble slightly, his sucking lips squeezing and squashing.

Despite your revulsion, an uncomfortable wet patch develops in your panties. Seemingly satisfied, the man disengages and grabs you round the waist in a familiar bear hug. Hoisting you in the air with surprising strength he carries you to the new group and puts you down with the rest.

From here you can see a new feature you hadn’t noticed, a hand written sign on a chalk board stand.

“Tea party, tonight. All welcome”

The next hour passes in a blur for you, as your helpless body struggles uselessly against the seeming paralysis inflicted in it by your strange brooch.

The heavy, wheezing man continues his work moving your similarly lifeless colleagues around in the darkness of the old shop, their bodies limp and unresponsive but their minds presumably wild and active like yours.

First, another two or three women are moved over into the separate cluster that already contains your manager Katie and other girls you recognise. Secondly, the man clumsily dresses you all with his flabby, sausage fingers, draping you all in a collection of elaborate, frilly dresses.

While you’ve never seen these clothes before you realise with a start that they fit you perfectly, as if they were made for you in advance. The realisation makes you sick to your stomach. Has this creep been watching me for weeks?

You reacted with horror and revulsion as the man earlier stripped off your top, revealing your perky young tits and sucking lustily on your virgin rosy nipples. This was nothing however, compared to his stripping off your skirt, catching a fat thumb in the waistband of your panties and exposing your quivering, shaven pussy.

How he exploratorily rubbed a single hairy finger along your little pink slit, grazing the soft pearl of your clit before popping the digit into is mouth.

That was the point where you would have vomited, screamed until you were hoarse, scratched his piggy eyes out. But you did nothing, standing exactly how you’d been posed with your legs open, inviting.

You were completely naked for a few seconds, your young tight body seemly incongruous among so much rough, careless junk. Then, with surprising swiftness, the man posed your body so that the elaborate dress pulled easily down over your head and arms.

You could tell you looked like Mary Poppins, except the dress fitted well. Too well. It synched perfectly at your waist and flared out at your hips down to the floor where it ended in an elaborate lacy hem, while it clung and gripped at your pretty little tits, squashing them into a dark and inviting cleveage.

So attired, the man left you facing away from the rest of the group, so all you could do was to stare and seethe into the darkness.

Another hour passed before you realised you were moving again. You probably fell asleep, exhausted with fear and anger, but you were snapped awake by a familiar arm around you waist that hoisted you into the air and dragged you back along the old shop floor towards the café.

The journey passed quickly, and as you travelled you catch glimpses of the road ahead. The café lights were on, and several of your colleagues were already in place, lounging around the café in a carefree manner.

That is, except they were completely motionless, posed by the heavy man who still dragged you closer.

Putting you down just inside the door, he continues to move around the room, fussing and fiddling with your colleagues’ postures and clothes.

They’re all wearing similar dresses, all with the familiar brooch clasped to their throats, and they all seem to be staring coquettishly towards the door. As if they’re waiting for someone.

All except Katie, who stands directly by the door.

Everything else looks as it does during the day, except that the specials board has been wiped clean and replaced.

Instead of the usual cakes, soups and pastries prepared fresh that morning, a list is scrawled in its place that makes your heart skip a beat.

Feel free to touch. Clothes: POA, Pussy: $50, Mouth: $75, Ass: $100. Is that supposed to be about us? About me? And who the fuck are the customers?

The horrifying realisation fills you with the will to struggle, to escape, but you have no more power than before.

Your brain boils over with anger and frustration, and you scream and cry in your head, but your face remains calm and unmoved like a doll’s. You jump as the man suddenly appears in front of you.

He grabs hold of your arms and holds them out in front of you, placing a tray of champagne glasses in your hands. Almost as soon as you’re posed, there’s a knock at the door. Still fussing and worrying, the large man shuffles quickly over to the door and cautiously cracks it open.

Satisfied with the faces he sees on the other side, he allows in a crowd of eight or nine men, all elegantly dressed in suits and ties. They smell like cigarette smoke and perfume, like they’ve just come from a casino.

“Welcome gentlemen” he bows a little and mutters, obsequiously.

“Welcome to Hazel’s, the world’s first interactive doll experience.”

The first man looks around and smirks a little “I’ve not played with dolls for a long time, I have to say.” his friends chuckle amiably “I do hope tonight will be worth the fee. And..” he adds, quietly “that we can count on your discretion in this matter?”

The large man winces a little “Oh yes, of course sir. I won’t breathe a word. I promise you’ll like them. Here, a refreshment?” The leader of the group glances over at you, holding the tray of drinks.

His eyes trace over your face and hair, a strand falling prettily over your eyes, before he locks onto your high, pale bosom rising and falling behind the glasses. The large man quickly interjects “No, no sir – here, look.”

He places his hand on Katie’s shoulder and applies some pressure. The motionless girl responds immediately, lowering herself gently to her knees before the group.

The lead man smiles to himself, surprised. Katie’s brown hair cascades onto her shoulders, and you can just see the tip of her nose and her red lips from where you’re standing.

Reaching down the large man pulls open the front of her blouse, and the small sandy mounds of her tits flop out into view. “Not the biggest” he says, cautiously “but she’s excellent with her mouth. You can all fuck it free of charge as a welcome gift.”

The rest of you, why not browse our price list and our girls while you wait? The lead man gazes down at the young woman, her cherry red lips open expectantly and her tiny firm bosom rising and falling with heavy breaths.

He gratefully unzips his pants, quickly taking out a long hard cock into his hand. Pressing it against the girl’s crimson lips he lightly pushes on the back of her head, and she hungrily takes the whole shaft into her mouth. You see her lips touch the man’s belly, a slight bulge appearing in her throat as the cock penetrates.

He lets out a satisfied gasp, and Katie begins to gently suck on his thick, girthy cock. The room is totally silent but for the slight gagging sound Katie makes as she takes him deeper into her throat, and after a few seconds light chatter breaks out.

The other men leave their fellow and begin to explore the room, running their hands through the girls’ hair and squeezing their tits idly. You feel tears prick in your eyes as they pass you, creeping revulsion at their thought of their touch enters your mind, but you continue to stand emotionless with the glasses on a tray.

You heart beats faster as you see a bunch of notes slip into the hand of the large man. One of the men points to a girl you don’t recognise, lounging on a couch in the corner, her head propped up on her arm at one end and her feet stretching all the way down to the other.

The large man pulls up her dress to reveal a manicured pussy with a single landing strip of fuzz, then lifts one leg acrobatically up to accommodate the man. With extraordinary athleticism, the girl holds the pose, looking completely impassively out into the room.

From your position you watch as he climbs onto the couch with his rock hard cock in his hand, then pushes the engorged head against her eager wet pussy lips. They part readily, and he slides easily inside her. Her generous tits jiggle as the thrusts faster, bouncing in a gently rhythm until they almost pop out of her dress. You catch a strain of conversation.

“… Just a simple beta wave inhibitor, actually” the large man is talking, pointing to the girl’s brooch. Another well dressed man listens with interest. “Completely blocks all motor control, so you can move them about as you like.” the well dressed man looks impressed.

“And… do they feel it?” he asks. The large man nods quickly “Oh yes, the more aroused they get the less the brooch works. It’s quite amusing really, that’s their only way out.” he points to another couple. “Look over there, for example”

The girl you remember being fired is bent over a table, her dress is bunched up around her waist and a man in a suit grunts and heaves as he penetrates her roughly in her little pink pussy.

At the front end, to your amazement, she appears to be moving freely. One hand pulls her dress open to reveal her round, firm tits to a second man, while her other hand gropes at his cock.

While her mind appears free, she mewls desperately at him. “Please sir, make me your dolly. Make me your pretty little fuckdoll. I’ll be good.” The man looks lovingly down at her. “Please, fuck my mouth. Pay for my ass. I can’t wait to feel your cock inside. I’ve never had a man in my ass before.”

She seems completely sincere, desperate even, and the faster the man fucks her the more she seems able to move.

She frees the second man’s cock and begins to stroke it. But as soon as she begins, the man fucking her lets out a loud grunt and cums noisily inside her.

“Fuck, no! Please!” the girl hisses through her teeth. But the man begins to stagger away and with every passing second the girl becomes stiller, until she’s frozen like a statue again, bent over the table.

The second man gratefully jams his prick between her lips and her cheek bulges as he fucks her mouth. You shudder with revulsion inside, but freeze suddenly as you feel a hand snake around your waist.

Oh god. Oh shit. The hand brushes up your body and lightly gropes you, squeezing your tits and brushing against your pussy. You feel an erect cock inside pants pressed up against your ass.

You try to focus on the world in front of you. Katie’s face and tits are glazed with cum as she begins work on the next man, her hot little mouth sticky and dripping. A deep, gravely voice whispers in your ear.

“I can help you escape little girl.”

Your heart hammers in your chest.

“I can make you free. All you have to do is my obedient little dolly. Funny, isn’t it?”

Your mind races. What do I do?

“You walk out of here tonight. Just do exactly as I say.”

I’m listening, you think.

Immobile, you have no way to give your assent to the man standing behind you. Part of you resists, violently, the thought of having anything to do with him, but how else are you going to get out of this.

Logically, it’s the smart choice. It’s almost as if he can sense your thoughts, and he continues. “Or you can end up like poor Katie over there.” your heart beats faster. He knows her name? “Night after night she won’t move no matter how hard they fuck her, and now they’ve got her on mouth duty.” Shit.

If nobody fucks her now, she doesn’t even have a chance of moving.

“Such a shame, she has such a tight little cunt. And her ass…”

he trails off, wistfully. Your mind is made up now. Fuck, let’s do this.

The man suddenly drops a hand down the front of your dress, and between the dark crack of your cleveage.

Internally you gasp in shock as his palm steers round your breast, cupping and holding it, your nipple hardening against his fingers. What the…?

Then in one fluid movement he subtly hikes up the back of your dress. You feel a hand on your ass with something in its grip, then you feel the metal cigar shape of a dildo pressing against your skin.

Your heart is hammering in your chest now and you feel like it’s about to burst as he expertly presses the little shape against your pussy lips, guiding it inside you with a firm, gentle hand.

“Sorry, needed you to be wetter” he says, quietly. He removes his hand from your dress and reaches into his pocket, pulling out a tiny remote control on a key chain.

“Anyway” he continues “you’re mine now, dolly.”

He activates the remote, and the dildo springs to life inside you. It’s a strange sensation when you can’t move but you begin to feel the warm heat of pleasure rising up from your cunt into your core, and the electric pluses radiating from your clit.

Almost at once it’s as if the brakes have been taken off, and suddenly you feel yourself capable of movement again. It’s working! Fuck me, it’s working! Nothing extravagant at first, just the freedom to slowly move your arms and legs, but it feels like a gift from heaven after hours of helpless stillness.

“That’s better, isn’t it dolly?” the gravely voice continues. “Now, please me, and you’ll carry on your merry way. But fail to please me, and…” he presses his thumb against the remote and the dildo hums to itself at a much lower speed.

The hot, orgasmic sensation dims in your belly. In response, the fluidity that returned to your limbs feels more and more sluggish, like walking through tar. You get the message.

The dildo resumes its original pace. “First of all, dolly, I want you to make my friends jealous. Perform for me.”

Oh shit, what? Do what now? You slowly turn to face him and see that he’s actually quite young and handsome.

He has short, wavy brown hair and a faint ghost of greying stubble on his cheeks. His nose is long and prominent under a heavy brow, making his eyes deep set and shining in his face. He looks at you expectantly. Ok, this can’t be that hard. Just go with it. Just try your best.

You close your eyes. You imagine you’re in a club. There’s a guy there. A hot guy. You want to fuck him. You’re damp with anticipation. The lights flash and race across the room and the bass booms, filling the air until it’s thick with sound.

You press against the hot guy. You can feel his muscles squashing the soft flesh of your ass. Your tits. In real life, your hips begin to sway. You run your hands seductively over your breasts and down to your hips.

You back up onto the man’s leg and suddenly slut drop to the floor, your bare ass touching the boards through your dress, then grinding against his leg and his crotch as you rise back up. His breaths are short and sharp.

“Do you want me, dolly?” he breathes into your ear. Fuck. Say something. “Yes… master. Please… fuck me.” you add quickly “…Master.”

Damn, you’re good at this.

You turn to face him confidently and grab his shirt, dragging him against you. “Do you like my pretty little tits master? They’re just for you. Please master, please suck them” you squeeze your cleveage with your arms for added effect.

“Slut!” he breathes, impressed. “Show them your body, dolly. Show them what I’ve got.” The speed of the dildo intensifies in your cunt, and you barely have time to think.

Just remember the hot guy. The hot guy in the club. It’ll be ok. You close your eyes and slowly begin to hike up your dress. You feel the room watching you, as if every eye not on another girl is boring into you from every corner.

Your long, shapely legs emerge and you lean forward, slowly exposing the fat bubble of your tight ass. You bend lower and you feel the shaved, quivering mound of your pussy exposed to the crowd, complete with the tiny buzzing plug within. Before the crowd get the chance to enjoy themselves, you drop your skirt back to the floor.

You catch the eyes of a few of the men in the crowd and give them a sultry look. All eyes are on you now. Growing in confidence, you hook your thumb under the capped sleeve of your white, frilly dress and gently push it off your shoulder.

Your thin white shoulder glints with sweat in the low light of the café, and the expectant crowd catch a glimpse of the swell of your breasts as the dress falls lower. You push off the other shoulder and the dress clings to your body, held up only by your firm little tits.

Not that the white fabric leaves much to the imagination, as even you can see your hard pink nipples through the gossamer fabric. Time for a little flourish. You swipe a glass of champagne from the tray on the couch and tip it down your top, the froth and bubbles clearing to reveal a practically see-through wet patch that your tits poke proudly through.

You turn back to face the handsome man, your master, confident in the hope that you’ve won him over. You’re slightly shocked to see that he’s standing right next to you, and before you can react he grabs the front of your dress and rips it off your body.

Your creamy white tits spill out before the eyes of the crowd, and you stand completely stunned. The man saunters gently backwards, drinking in your naked body, and you fight the urge to cover yourself with your hands. Come on. I need to do this. Every man present has his eyes fixed on your lithe, slim body and your perky little breasts in the dim lamps.

Your master walks backwards even further, catching his calves on the couch and allowing himself to fall backwards into its soft embrace. You notice with a jolt that he is sporting a huge, rock hard erection. His cock must be seven or eight inches at least, and as thick as you’ve ever seen, even on the internet.

Fucking hell.

He eyes you arrogantly. “Come on then, dolly. Come and suck master’s cock” Fuck. Shit. Fuck. You remember the fired girl. You remember Katie. If he cums in my mouth, that’s that. I’ll be back to being a statue again.

You stare down nervously at the man’s huge erection. Shit, got to keep going. In one, swift movement you sashay over to your master on the couch and kneel down in front of him. He wets his lips in anticipation and leans his head back.

His cock is even bigger from down here, way bigger than any one you’ve seen before. Thick, and engorged. Nervously you approach it, your nose centimeters from the base of his shaft, so sloe you can feel the heat from it.

Here goes. Ok.

You stick out your tongue and lap gently at the base of his shaft, drawing upwards and running it along the hot, sinewy dick. He quivers and purrs in response. Your tongue reaches the thick head of his cock, and for a second you run it around the sensitive rim. You place your lips teasingly on the head, in preparation to take the enormous shaft into your throat.

He leans back again and closes his eyes. This is it. Let’s go. As swiftly as you can, you thrust yourself upwards, hopping onto the couch on your knees. With one hand you grasp the vibrator inside you and pull it out. You only have a few seconds.

Taking the thick, hard shaft of his cock in your hands you straddle him. He opens his eyes. Without missing a beat, you thrust his cock against the slick, wet lips of your pussy. You stare intensely into his eyes.

“Fuck me, master. Fill my pussy with your cock.” you whisper, hoarsely.

You thrust yourself downwards, his cock easily penetrating you and thrusting deep inside you. Deeper than you’ve ever been fucked before. Your breath is knocked out of you as the penetrating shaft hits your cervix, but you keep composed. You keep going. Leaning forward you begin to ride your master’s dick, your pussy taking the whole thing greedily, the tight muscles of your cunt gripping his cock deep inside you.

Your tits bounce and sway before his eyes and sweat runs down into your face. Your master stares, open mouthed.

“Fuck your doll!” you growl into his face “I love having you inside me. Give dolly more cock.”

He no longer looks so cocky, and you feel his dick begin to tremble inside you. Around your throat you feel your brooch vibrate, you sense it glow in your peripheral vision, and then go dark.

The cock inside you is sending you mad with pleasure, and you know it cant be long until the electric shock of an orgasm rocks your body. You reach out and grab his throat.

“Cum, master!” you shout “Fucking cum for me, you asshole”.

You barely get the words out when you feel his cock spasm and twitch inside you. As your pussy shakes and contracts with orgasmic bliss, you feel thick gouts of cum fill you.

You sit astride his cock, exhausted, sweaty. Free. First things first, you remove the brooch. It falls limp in your hand. You stand. You walk. Your orgasm begins to fade, but the heavy, immobilising weight doesn’t come.

Outside you stand in the cold night air with your breath steaming from your mouth, a thick coat wrapped around your shoulders over the hastily arranged dress. The sounds of revelry continue from inside, but you’re not part of it anymore.

The coat belongs to the man you called master, and the pockets are full of old receipts and gum wrappers. It smells nice, like aftershave and airport terminals.

A light flashes down the street, and you see him struggling with the unlocked door of his Mercedes. It’s frozen over in the time you’ve been inside, a thin film of ice holding it shut. You begin to wander over. He isn’t expecting you to flop into the passenger seat next to him, and he nearly jumps out of his skin.

“So where’s home, master?” you ask.

Source: reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/rxn4oh/tea_time