A slender body shivered within an overlapping embrace. Fingers travelled slowly up her stomach, along her ribs, gently cupping one of her breasts, two fingers gently petting them, running over her nipples over the delicate cloth, hooking her steady against his body, over layers of delicate clothes he had chosen, he had given to her to wear. He reveled in how she shuddered and squeaked and winced cutely, helpless and pliable to his every will. Her fingers clenched nervously around her ruffled skirt, arms supporting her weight against the floor, his hold keeping her from leaning forwards any further to get away. If she tries, he would pull her back, but she didn’t. His arms were wrapped under hers, pressed and rubbing against her as they moved. He could feel every hesitant, lovely breath.
Explorative and teasing, his fingers slid towards the tie of her blouse, playing with it. Her breaths quickened, and her back went weak. Pulling her more securely against him by her waist and his other arm, he bent down without warning, brushed aside her dark hair, laid a kiss upon her neck, and bit. Started, she whined in embarrassment and turned her head, and he tugged her knot loose in that moment, pushing the clothes that looked so precariously telling of her form downwards, below her chest.
Her cheeks burned, and she squeezed her eyes shut, heavy breaths, and he savored that. She could feel the lack of friction against her breasts, imagine where he was looking, expect what would come next. But it seemed to take an eternity. He was just staring at her, his hands gripping her waist, keeping her there, her head turned up, his against her neck, comfortable and indulgent, as though to show that he possessed her. She could feel the ticklish, hot breaths against her clavicle.
She opened her eyes, and not too long after, she heard a soft chuckle. His hands slowly slipped off of her, and she heard the ruffle of fabric, and he got up and walked away.
Cheeks burning with embarrassment, she sat there helplessly, stunned. Her wide eyes drifted downwards, another wave of shame coursing through her as she spied her displaced blouse. Her hands wrapped around her chest, feeling the raw sensation of contact against bare, tender skin. It was cold from being exposed, her nipples poking out, sore.
He hadn’t touched her directly, though. Why? Just to mess with her? To warn her that he could, to impress it deeper upon her that he owned her and could do anything he pleased? Or was it even more impersonal than that? Had he simply wanted to see her breasts? Or did he view her like a sadistic toy to unpack slowly, nothing more?
Carmenia pulled her shirt up, fingers unsteady and weak as she re-tied the knot. Her fingers wondered up to meet her neck, and met saliva, a groove imprinted pronouncedly upon her skin, where his teeth would have been. Her cheeks went hot again, and she would have curled up and died in shame.
Memories of the man petting her head and praising her in passing, or the many times he’d merely have her stay by him and let him embrace her, and run his fingers across her, or through her hair, or hold her hand against his chest flashed through her head. But that…that last exchange… That was lewd. She covered her face, and wanted to scream, but if she did that he might hear her, or worse, take entertainment from the humiliation he’d brought her. She curled forwards, hugging herself. What did he want with her?
Source: reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/vhqhyt/his_living_doll_part_1_dubconnoncon_domsub