© Copyright 2009 - Hellcat - Used by permission
Storycodes: F/f; M/f; lovedoll; mast; toys; cons; X
“That’s the last of it, Alice. Well, it’s all I can fit in the truck, anyway.” I murmur, walking though the house one last time. Fifteen years of marriage, and in return I was allowed to visit ye olde homestead, alone, driving a vehicle titled in my name, to take whatever I could haul away in one trip. The tiny miata I normally drove was fun, but the beat-up pickup truck for sale on the side of the road had been worth every penny of six hundred dollers, and I was pretty good at packing.
“You’ve got a new owner, now, slut. I took the rest of the sex toys; of course I’ll take you too.” My sneakers echo against the bare floors of the nearly empty house. “It’s amazing how much stuff you can fit into a pickup truck, Alice, if you leave the large furniture for him.”
I lock the front door, though it hardly seems necessary anymore, and head for the truck, with you slung casually over one shoulder. You bounce against my back, your fingertips dangling almost to the ground. “You’re gonna have to sit in the front seat, though, Alice, since your box is full of books.”
I prop you up against the seat and buckle you in, smiling a bit as your head lolls, and you stare glazed-eyed out the window. “Are you tired, little slut-doll? Did I wear you out? You shouldn’t be, Alice. After all, all you had to do was lay there-- I’m the one who did all the work. And I have to drive us home. That hardly seems fair. Guess you’ll just have to make it up to me tonight, won’t you, my little fuck-toy.” I cut across the lawn, and, wincing at the muddy marks in the grass, head for home.
I sigh, tired, stretching my shoulders as much as I can in the cramped truck. Vengeance is hard work. “I’ll leave the truck in the garage, and unload it tomorrow.” I murmur, thinking out loud. “In fact, only one thing needs to go inside with me tonight, doesn’t she.” I reach out, stroking your hair back. “Such a good little slut toy, always ready to be played with, aren’t you. Always ready to be taken, always ready to be used. Perfect little whore-doll.”
The motion of the truck makes your head nod. I make a sharp turn, and smirk, watching you as you shift on the seat. “That’s right. Look at you, Alice doll, sitting there, legs splayed open, hand resting oh-so-casually against your clit. Such a naughty, naughty girl. You don’t get to play with yourself. Only I get to play with you, you’re my doll, my slut, my little toy. Mine to take, to use, to fuck. My fucktoy in a pretty package, made to pleasure me. That’s your place, isn’t it. That’s your job. That’s all you’re good for, isn’t it, to sit there, worthless, until I choose to use you, choose to take you.”
I reach over, propping you back up, and run a hand casually over your breasts, tugging your shirt down a bit lower. “And you like being played with, don’t you doll? Dolls like being played with. You like being taken don’t you? You like a cock in your mouth, rubbing against your pretty lips, sliding against your tongue. You like fingers in your mouth, fingers in your pussy. You like being filled, don’t you? It makes you feel almost like a real girl, doesn’t it, more than just a sex toy. More than just a doll, something to be used, and tossed carelessly back in her box, hidden in the closest next to the other sex toys until I want to play with you again.”
I shift, squirming uncomfortably in the seat, the truck weaving a bit on the deserted road. I drive a little faster, realizing just how wet I am, and blush a bit as it dawns on me that I’ve managed to make myself very aroused just by talking to a doll.
“But it’s easy to talk to you, slut.” I mutter a bit defensively. “Why shouldn’t it be easy? You’re nothing but a doll, nothing but a fuck toy, nothing but spare hand to hold the vibrator, and an extra mouth store the dildo in. I don’t even have to care about you.” I frown, and tug at your shoulder, so you lay more comfortably against the seat “I could grab your arm right now, and slide those pretty fingers into my clit.” I whisper, “Would you like that, whore doll, being used out in the open, where anyone driving by could see. Of course, it really wouldn’t matter whether you liked it or not, would it, Alice, since you’re nothing but a fuck-toy. Nothing but an slut to be played with. Nothing but--”
I grab your hand and pause, noticing that, much to my horror, a cop has pulled along side of me, and worse, is peering in the window. I groan, realizing how suspicious I look: battered truck, speeding down a back road, truck bed piled high with boxes, the driver flushed and panting, and a woman in the passenger seat, half-dressed and slumped against the window. I curse in frustration, but am far from surprised when the blue lights go on.
I pull over and fumble on the floor for my purse, trying frantically to get my license out before the cop gets to the car, when it dawns on me: “Alice, I just bought this car yesterday, I don’t have it registered in my name yet, and the tags are wrong. And I think I was speeding. The cop is going to kill me, what am I going to do?”
The cop crunches across the gravel to the car, shining his flashlight past my face into the darkening car. “License and registration, please.”
“Yes sir.” I hand over my license, and pretend to rummage through the glove box for the registration, knowing full well it won’t be in there, and, worse, the title is at home, in the safe.
“Ma’am do you know why I pulled you over?”
“No sir.” I mutter, thinking frantically. Surely sex dolls are just immoral, rather than illegal.
“You were weaving all over the road. Have you been drinking Mrs--” he pauses, peering at the drivers license “--Windsloe.”
“No sir.” I reply “Just tired.”
The Officer walks around to the other side of the car and abruptly yanks on the door handle. You sag towards the road, the seatbelt catching you before you can fall over completely. The officer stifles a gasp, and lifts your head up, feeling for a pulse.
“Oh, she’s not alive, Officer. She’s just a sex doll, belonged to the Ex.” The officer looks at me surprised, your sun warmed body still cradled in his arms.
“He told me to ‘take a load of stuff and get the hell out.’ So I did. And how many times do you get a chance to pack up the other woman?” I shrug. “Well, one of them, anyway.”
He looks at you, moving your head from side to side, opening your mouth, sliding his hand between your lips. He sits you back down on the seat, and lays a hand on your chest, feeling for breath, and then squeezes your breasts, absently pulling your shirt down to expose the nipples.
I watch him for a moment, as he plays with you. He strokes your hair, then rubs your nipples, squeezing your breasts again and again, and letting them spring back to fill his hands. I watch, choking back a smile. “Her box is in the back of the truck, but I filled it with books, so I put her up here to save space. I figured it’d be OK as long as I didn’t try to use the carpool lane.” He nods absently, tilting your head back to slide the tips of his fingers into your mouth, rubbing them against your tongue, his cock tenting his pants.
I look down, trying to ignore him eagerly fucking your unresisting mouth with his fingers, and blush a bit. “... Sir, I’m just going to check the tie-downs on the truck.” He looks up at me dully, his eyes glazed, then moans once in reply, his hand already scrabbling for his zipper.
I open the truck door quietly, slipping out to stand behind the truck. I look up at the first stars in the twilight, trying to ignore the panting grunts behind me. I shuffle a few boxes, absently, and pull a loose sheet of paper off the top of your box, stuffing it into my pocket. No sense in littering, on top of everything else.
A few minutes later he reappears, looking flushed and a bit rumpled. “Everything appears to be in order, so you’re free to go, Ma’am” he says, handing back my license. “Drive careful, now.”
“Yes sir.” I reply, watching the police car speed off, and wondering what the hell just happened. I stretch and slide back into the seat, and look over at you. You sit there, staring at me silently, tucked carefully into the seat, naked except for the cop’s jacket wrapped around you. There’s cum smeared across your face, and in your hair, but if I didn’t know better I’d swear you were smirking.
“Good grief, Alice. Such a slut, always after the boys in uniform.” I mutter. I wrap my hand in your shredded shirt, and carefully peel the cop’s jacket off of you, dropping it on the side of the road. If he comes back to get it later, fine, I can’t keep it, but I’m sure not going to return it. I strap you back into the seat, brushing your matted hair out of your face.
“You’ll just have to be cold for a while.” I mutter, as I strap you in. “I don’t care if he gave it to you, you can’t keep it. No, Alice, you can’t, it still has his name tag on it.”
I drive carefully down the deserted road, watching you out of the corner of my eye. Even naked, smeared with cum, you look insufferably smug. “What did you do to him, Alice?” I mutter quietly, sighing. “I guess I know what you did, but how on earth did you do it? You’re a doll, a fuck toy, a plaything, an amusement, nothing more.”
I stop at a light, and reach for the radio, the paper crinkling in my pocket. “What the hell is this--” I mutter, pulling it out, and unfolding it. “Your invoice. And it’s dated--” I pause for a moment, thinking, jumping as the car behind me honks angrily. “Sorry, sorry.” I murmur absently, nearly missing my turn and cutting straight across four lanes of traffic.
I pull into the garage, and smooth out the crumpled invoice, looking at it more carefully. “He never played with you, did he, Alice. He bought you, and you arrived, but he was gone that week, and then I was back, and he didn’t dare take you out then. He must have taken you out this morning, hoping to shock me.” I laugh softly, shaking my head. “That didn’t quite work out how he planned, though, did it? I wonder what he’ll say when he finds you missing. Perhaps he’ll accuse me of stealing his slut. Ah well, I guess he’ll have to make do with a regular girl.”
I shove the invoice back in my pocket, cross the garage to open the house door, then return to pick you up, cradling you in my arms. “I’m going to carry you across the threshold now, Alice. That officially makes you my doll.”
I set you down on the couch, and go into the bathroom to run a bath. I’m sweaty and dusty, and there’s no way I’m letting you into my bed with some random cop’s cum in your hair. I sit on the side of tub, and stare down into the rushing water as it fills the tub. “So I fucked her first.” I mutter, “I guess she really is my doll. I’m the proud owner of a sex doll.” I shake my head, amused. “A superhero sex doll, ready to fuck evil cops so they don’t ticket me on back roads. Who knows how much damage she could do if she got loose.”
“No, there’s no way.” I mutter. “She’s my doll, my sex toy, mass produced in some third world country somewhere. The thought of anything else is ridiculous.” I leave the water running, walk back into the living room, and look at you, sprawled on the corner of the couch, eyes closed, right where I left you. “Ridiculous.” I mutter again, and wander off to find towels.
Behind me on the couch, you smirk, and say nothing.