by Michael Jade
Short Fiction/ Werewolf/ Paranormal/Erotica/MF/MM/Dubious Consent/Exhibitionism
Available April 2016 on Amazon
An erotic short story...
Warning…contains scenes of dubious consent and doll play
Christina is an assistant for a straight-laced boss, one who
seems to enjoy screwing up her after-hours naughty plans by sending her on
ridiculous errands. The worst is when a night of clubbing turns into a trip to
pick up a gift from some weird doll shop…until she discovers that work and
pleasure can mingle—and titillate—in the most bizarre and unexpected of ways.
Excerpt:
She heard shuffling
sounds, just out of sight. Someone was in there with her. “Hey!” she cried.
“Who’s there? Driver? Is that you?”
She almost
called out again, but snapped her mouth shut. What if she was attracting the
attention of whoever had tied her up?
Again, the
sounds of fast scuffling, almost like a small animal scurrying across the tiled
floor. Christina’s eyes welled up with tears, fear threatening to overwhelm
her. Paranoia was setting in—she could swear she saw one of the dolls turn its
head to look at her. She became aware of all those eyes again, how it seemed
like every doll had its head turned towards her.
Christina’s
entire body jumped when she felt something tugging at her blouse from the
sides. She looked down with a gasp to see her blouse being tugged, the fabric
pulling tight across her ample chest, the buttons on the front of the blouse
straining. “What the hell?”
She tried
to wriggle and shake away whatever was near her, but her struggle failed to
dislodge the unseen visitors. With a sharp tear, the fabric gave way, buttons
flying. Her breasts, heaving within a red lace bra, rose and fell in the half
light. Christina’s eyes darted around, desperate to understand what was
happening. Was she losing her mind? Maybe that was it. She’d snapped under the
stress.
Christina
saw them at last, or at least, her hallucination came to light. One on each
side of her bra, using the straps to climb atop her chest, two army dolls, the
kind a young boy would play with, dressed in fatigues with painted-on beard
stubble and little belts with toy pistols strapped to them. As she watched in
utter disbelief, the military dolls went about their mission to climb up her
chest, gazing down at her with impassive, unblinking eyes. She couldn’t
breathe, could barely even think. She had slipped and hit her head, right? That
would explain this wild hallucination. Sexy boy dolls didn’t come to life and
help themselves to unsuspecting girls. At least, not since she’d hit puberty
and had indulged some inventive and twisted fantasies involving the dolls she’d
been rapidly growing out of playing with. That was all this was. In her
concussive state, her brain had combined the presence of dolls with her
horniness to conjure up the only memory it had involving the two.
The
soldier dolls turned from her and focused attention on her breasts. Small,
plastic hands pressed and prodded the soft flesh, exploring. The tiny hard
hands made their way boldly across her chest, sliding into the cups of her bra.
With surprising deftness, they plunged inward, cold, hard hands sending tingles
of sharp pleasure through her when they reached her nipples. They hardened to
their touch, one soldier attending each nipple between his two capable, strong
hands. Yes, she remembered this.
Despite
herself, Christina let out a soft moan as her nipples were tugged and pulled by
the two dolls. One pinched hard, and her eyes rolled back in her head.
“God,
yes,” she heard, realizing it was her own voice.
