Living Doll Read online

“Are you serious?” I could hardly believe it. I tried to imagine my life with a permanent ‘pet.’ Coming home every day to blow jobs and bondage with no strings attached. The idea was phenomenal.

  “To make it more interesting for me, I will place one condition on your ownership. You may keep the girl but only if you are able to make her scream and beg for mercy at least once during the next two hours.” There was amusement in his voice as he continued, “Set up the web camera you’ll find in the toy box so I can watch the experiment.”

  “Um.” I didn’t know what to say. Klosterman was an extremely rich and powerful man. Who was I to say no?”

  “And since you seem to especially enjoy breast play as do I, let’s limit the tortures to that and see how you do.”

  “How did you know I like—?”

  “Good luck. Iliana has been schooled to equate pain with pleasure by being manipulated to orgasm every time she’s tortured. The more you punish the girl, the more likely she is to wail in ecstasy than scream in pain. She has a high level of tolerance for twisting, poking, clamping or what have you.” He chuckled, and then the line went dead.

  I hung up the phone. What had I gotten myself into? I stared over at Iliana, still bent obediently over the couch where I’d placed her. “Come here,” I ordered.

  She rose and walked toward me. Her face was red from hanging head down so long and her tits were an alarming maroon. I wondered how long she could stand the compression of the plastic cones and decided to let them loose to see what other pretty colors they might turn.

  I opened the clasps, removing the cones, and the breasts swelled back to their natural round shape. Iliana sucked in her breath with a hiss as blood engorged her tits once more. They turned from purple to a bright scarlet red. I ran my hand over the soft, round globes, massaging them gently.

  They looked so beautiful, aching and red, that I couldn’t resist tasting them. I bent over and sucked one into my mouth. The nipple ornament clicked against my teeth and tickled my tongue. I sucked as much of the tit into my mouth as I could. The mouth full of flesh felt phenomenal and I couldn’t resist the urge to bite down hard.

  Iliana choked back a cry at the unexpected bite.

  I rolled my tongue across her nipple and slowly released the pressure of my jaw. Standing back, I surveyed the circle of red teeth marks with which I had decorated her tit. For symmetry’s sake, I bestowed a matching circle of marks on the right tit, grinding into the firm globe. Expecting the assault this time, the girl didn’t let out a peep.

  As I set up Klosterman’s video camera, I realized that the next two hours had the potential to be the most exciting of my life. I rummaged through the toys and found exactly what I wanted to begin her torture. It was a long, thin cane. I snapped it against my hand and it stung like a bitch. Perfect.

  Iliana stood in the center of the room, awaiting my next instruction like a good pet. I walked over to her and flicked the tip of the cane lightly across the rosy ends of her tits. Her body tensed slightly but she stayed frozen. I wanted to see those round melons jiggle so I snapped the cane right across both breasts with a vicious thwack.

  They bounced erotically and the cane left a red welt across the white flesh.

  Still, Iliana barely moved. I was getting annoyed.

  I rained hell down upon her tit, flailing the cane repeatedly. The pliant melons bounced and swayed with each blow. I couldn’t tear my eyes away from the erotic sight. But despite the intense pain she must have been feeling, Iliana didn’t move or cry out.

  Her lack of reaction was pissing me off. I wanted to make her scream for my own satisfaction as much as to win her from Klosterman.

  I found a spool of thin leather in the supply box. It was no wider than a shoelace, perfect for binding any body part I might desire to bind. I wrapped a length around Iliana’s beautiful, full breast, pulling the leather tight.

  Her tit ballooned into an unnatural ball as the leather cut into the base of her breast. It immediately began to turn plum-colored, delectable as the actual fruit itself.

  I tied off the first binding and repeated the same on the other breast. Her tits strained as though they would burst, the nipples poking sharply out from the center of the perfect, round boobs.

  Iliana moaned quietly and shifted her thighs together. There was no doubt that the leather cutting into her skin turned her on, especially when I reached down between her legs to graze her clit. She moaned louder and thrust herself against my hand.

  Damn. This wouldn’t do at all. She was supposed to be screaming, not moaning in pleasure.

  I went back to the tool kit, withdrew a packet of sterilized needles and held them up for Iliana to see. “Come on, baby. Scream for me,” I whispered. “It’d be so easy.”

  She shivered in anticipation as I approached her. I drew the first long, silver needle from the packet. Not having experience with this before, I wasn’t sure how much pressure to apply when inserting the sharp barb, but I jabbed hard and it broke through the bulging flesh.

  Iliana jerked, swallowed down a cry and bit her lip. She stared down with fascination, but still, she remained silent.

  I stitched the needle through a piece of purple skin just behind the areola. The sharp needle poked back through the stretched skin with a satisfying pop, emerging with a trickle of blood. “Just a little yelp,” I pleaded. Picking up a second needle and twirling it before her eyes. “Say the word and I won’t stick you again.”

  She kept her eyes downcast and I was forced to insert the next needle. I placed it a couple of inches from the first. Again I had to press hard to pierce her soft skin and again it felt so satisfying when the needle broke through. Now she had two tiny bits of silver piercing her tit.

  But there was still no reaction on her part. When I added the next needle, she didn’t even jerk. It was as if she’d entered a Zen state and refused to accept the pain.

  I quit worrying about eliciting a reaction as I decorated her chest with the entire set of needles, circling one dusky areola then the other in a glittering sunburst of metal.

  Her forehead was beaded with sweat and her body shivered like a racehorse by the time I was finished. Her pelvis rocked slightly as if aching for stimulation. I reached down to feel her pussy again and it was wetter than ever. She thrust against my hand with a whimper. The sharp pain from the piercings had only increased her wanton lust. My dick was rock hard from witnessing the slave girl’s suffering and the obscene pleasure she took from it. I wondered how much more she could take and was eager to find out.

  Blood trickled down from the needles encircling her areola. I ran my finger around the entire circle of pins on one breast and then the other, flicking over them to give her additional pain. Iliana gasped and shook. Her eyes welled with tears. Her jaw was clenched so tight that the muscles of her neck were corded, but still she wouldn’t give me the scream I longed to hear.

  “This is only the beginning. You can stop it now if you just beg me.” I paused a moment, giving her a chance to respond, but she shook her head.

  Her silence was an act of overt defiance. What kind of obedient slave girl was she?

  “All right, let’s heat things up a little then.” My gaze had settled on the candle sitting on the coffee table. I walked over and lit it, then passed my hand over the flame to see how hot it was. Moving my hand three inches above the fire only made a warm glow in my skin. Holding my hand steady at two inches burned like hell. I jerked my hand away and licked my burnt palm. That would do nicely.

  I walked toward Iliana and her eyes widened. For the first time, she appeared truly afraid. She backed away from me.

  I smiled. “You have a problem with fire?”

  She opened her mouth as if to speak and I paused waiting to hear, ‘No. Please!’ But she closed her mouth again without a sound.

  “All right then. You got it. Fire it is, but I’m going to let you think about it for a while, savor the anticipation.” I slapped a hand over both of her deep purple b
reasts, knocking some of the needles askew. The tortured tits jiggled attractively.

  She let out a small yelp, but snapped her lips tight.

  I decided her boobs must be almost without feeling at this point and I wanted her to feel every second of the burning. I tried to slip my fingers under the leather cord to pull it off her, but it had cut so deeply into her flesh that I couldn’t get a grip on it. I got a knife from the handy torture kit and sliced through the binding, nicking her flesh in the process. A fresh trickle of blood slipped down her chest and dripped down her stomach.

  Iliana gasped as blood coursed back into her mangled melons. Again, they turned bright scarlet. A thin, purple line circled her entire breast where the leather thong had bitten into it. The perfect circle, the sparkling needles and the dangling nipple ornament made her delectable tits a work of art. I stood back and admired them for a moment.

  But time was slipping by quickly. It was time to seriously push the envelope of pain before my two hours was up. “Put your hands out, wrists together,” I ordered.

  I tied her with more of the sturdy leather, then led her over to a corner of the room where an eye-hook for hanging a plant basket was anchored in the ceiling. I climbed up on a chair, threaded the leather through the hoop, and pulled until her arms were raised above her head. Luckily the eye-hook was embedded in solid wood and I believed it would support her weight without tearing free.

  Back on the floor, I pulled the leather tight so that Iliana’s hands were stretched high above her head. Only the balls of her feet rested on the floor. I tied off the cord to keep her that way. Her breasts looked beautiful drawn up high and proud with a bloody crown of needles decorating each one.

  Just then my phone rang. It was Klosterman.

  “Yeah?” I was irritated at the interruption.

  “Move the camera. I can’t see,” he said. “You’re doing a beautiful job, by the way. Very inventive and she looks so good I’m almost changing my mind about giving her up.” He paused and chuckled. “Although it looks like that won’t be a problem since I still don’t think you can make her scream.”

  He hung up and I snapped my own phone closed, more determined than ever to win my prize. I moved the camera for Klosterman then marched over to Iliana.

  Her chin was resting on her chest and I raised it to stare into her dark, liquid eyes. I brushed her hair back with one hand, kissed her soft mouth deeply, and drew back. “Give me what I want and the pain ends.”

  I tested the strength of the hoops through her nipples and found that they were made for more than decoration. I pulled as hard as I could, elongating her breasts like malleable clay, but the rings didn’t bend nor rip through the rosy flesh of her sturdy nipples. They would do for hanging.

  I attached more of the trusty leather strips to each of the rings and tied the individual cords to a longer piece that would stretch up to that useful hardware in the ceiling. My heart raced in eager anticipation as I climbed on the chair once more and ran the leather through the loop. There were two things that might break and spoil the suspension; one was my shoddy knot-work and the other was the nipples themselves. Could the metal rings in her tits really support her entire body weight without ripping through her nipples? I couldn’t wait to find out.

  I released the cord holding her arms up just slightly so her feet could rest on the floor then I tied it off again. Now came the exciting moment. I pulled the line to her breasts taut and watched her nipples raise toward the ceiling, higher … higher … higher. The dark nipples were distended to almost a full two inches they were pulled so tight. The breasts were elongated like fat sausages. I’d never seen anything so thrilling as the sight of those stretched boobs jutting toward the ceiling and the struggling girl trying to keep her balance.

  I continued to raise her inexorably off her feet. I pulled harder and a low, keening whimper came from her throat. The skin of her breasts and her whole chest was straining upward. I found it impossible to believe her nipples could withstand the pressure. When only the very tips of each of her toes were anchoring her to the ground, I finally tied her off and walked up to her to examine the results of my labors.

  Up close, the dramatic effects were even more stunning. Her breasts were stretched to their limit. The metal rings had elongated the holes in her nipples through which they were pierced. It looked as if they might not hold her weight much longer without tearing through.

  Iliana breathed in short, panting groans. Tears and sweat ran down her face and she stared at me with beseeching eyes but still no words of entreaty.

  “Just scream,” I said, caressing her trembling cheek.

  “I can’t,” she whispered. Her eyes glazed over and I wondered if she was about to go unconscious or if she had achieved the ‘sub-space’ I’d heard about. I reached down between her legs, stroked her tiny pink clit, and tugged at the pretty jewelry dangling from it. She arched toward my hand, aroused even in the middle of her intense torment.

  “I can take you down and make you feel so good,” I enticed. “Say please.”

  She shook her head.

  “Then it’s time for some fire.” I turned away from her and went to get the candle again, but first I released her tits a few inches so she could at least rest on the balls of her feet.

  Her breath sobbed in and out as she recovered from the intense treatment. But I only gave her a moment’s respite before I moved in with the candle. At first, I moved it around in little circles beneath her breasts, only warming her skin, turning its blush a rosy pink. Sweat poured down the woman’s body. Her tits glistened in the candlelight. Her eyes were wide with fear as she stared at the candle flame.

  I held it closer to her skin and stopped moving the flame. In a brief moment, Iliana sobbed loudly and jerked against her titty restraint. I truly feared for her nipples as she bucked hard in her attempts to escape the burning flame. I took pity and moved the candle to a new spot on her breast. Already the first spot had turned bright red. I couldn’t smell burnt flesh so I figured the burn wasn’t too serious, but the fire had left a visible mark.

  An idea struck and I moved the flame up close to several of the needles still poking crookedly through her skin. I would cauterize the wounds of the piercings by conducting heat through the metal of the needles. Slowly, I torched needle after needle, searing Iliana’s flesh both inside and out.

  Her low, keening wail had become continuous. Sobs racked her body and I prayed that these sounds of agony would satisfy Klosterman enough to win me the girl. But the phone didn’t ring. Evidently, screaming and begging meant exactly that to him.

  I redoubled my efforts on the second breast, heating the needles until they were almost glowing, and then scorching the rest of the breast meat in various places. When I finally pulled the candle away and surveyed Iliana’s tits, I was amazed by the amount of fiery red I'd inflicted. I was also amazed at the streams of juices that trickled down the insides of her thighs. I decided it was time to cut her down and take stock.

  I released her breasts and Iliana staggered as her feet met the floor once more. Her arms were still stretched above her head so she couldn’t collapse, but her head bowed and silent tears dripped down her face.

  I examined her breasts. There were bright red burn marks everywhere. The needles still protruded at random intervals around the circle of her now tightly crinkled aureoles. The ornaments in her nipples hung down as gravity took hold once more, but the pressure of the suspension had widened the holes through her nipples. The marks from my earlier caning still striped her tits as did the cruel cut from the leather noose. I had managed to inflict a tremendous amount of torture in a very short time.

  Time! It suddenly occurred to me that I had been completely wrapped up in playing with my living doll and had completely lost track of time. I checked my watch and found that there were only minutes to spare before Klosterman’s deadline. My prize was slipping through my hands and all for lack of a scream.

  I grabbed a handful of tit
in each hand, stabbing myself with needles in the process. I squeezed and twisted the swollen flesh as hard as I could. “Scream!” I dug in my nails and twisted her boobs counter clockwise. “Fucking scream!” I slapped them until they shook and the nipple rings jangled. “Just let it out.”

  Iliana had her bottom lip trapped between her teeth. Her head shook continuously. Her face was contorted with pain.

  Desperate, I ran to the bathroom and came back with a bottle of alcohol. I uncapped it and doused her tits with the clear liquid. She jerked against her arm restraints and her breasts bobbled, but she didn’t as much as yelp. I slapped the mangled tits again sending a couple of the needles flying.

  My phone rang. Klosterman.

  “Damn you bitch,” I muttered, squeezing her chin in my hand and forcing her to look into my eyes one last time. Her eyes were pools of agony, yet at the same time, a weird light shone in her eye, an exultation that I didn’t understand.

  “Yes.” I answered the phone.

  “Sorry, you lose. Thank you for playing. It’s been a most entertaining evening.” Klosterman’s voice was jovial. “Cut the girl down now and tend her wounds.”

  “All right.”

  “Oh, one more thing, tell Iliana, congratulations.” He chuckled warmly before hanging up the phone.

  “What the fuck?” I said into the dead receiver. I looked up at the exhausted woman hanging from the ceiling in my living room. “Congratulations? What the hell does that mean?”

  She raised her head and smiled through her pain. “I have won my freedom and one hundred thousand dollars. That was the price of my silence tonight.”

  “Shit!” I was astounded. Both of us had been playing Klosterman’s game tonight. “Un-fucking-believable.” I cut the cord, releasing her from her bonds.

  Iliana’s arms fell heavily down in front of her and she staggered. I grabbed her shoulders to keep her from falling, then cut the cord binding her wrists together.

  “I needed the money to send to my family in Russia,” she explained as I sat her down on the couch. “But I don’t care about freedom. I chose to become a submissive. It’s what I am. Now that my old Master doesn’t want me, I can give myself to whomever I choose.” She looked up at me with bright eyes. “I have never felt such pain as you have given me tonight. It was exhilarating.”