Toying With My Toy

I sit straddling him on the bed, my shiny coin in one hand, the other holding his hand. His eyes are lidded as he watches the coin turn back and forth, the light catching on the rippled silver of the metal.

"Good boy. You're doing so well for me. Just feel yourself dropping so slowly, so gently, like being carried downwards."

His eyes finally drift shut, and I lower the coin, watching him for a moment. His breath is even, his face slack and peaceful. If I didn't know better, I would think he had dozed off. He's beautiful when he goes under-- so placid, so pliant.

"What a lovely little puppet you are for me. Such a good toy, such a good pet. I know you love being my good toy, don't you, honey?" Slowly, his chin dips a fraction, raises, and dips again. Agreement. "Good boy," I coo at him. "Just drop down on my words. You can feel my words, can't you? Feel them as they wriggle into your ears, into your mind, into every crack in your brain. Feel my words begin to tangle with your thoughts, quieting them fully, replacing them. You don't need those thoughts." Gently, I stroke the back of his hand with my thumb.

"In fact, you don't need any thoughts. Do you, honey?" The slightest whisper of a frown creases his brow as if he's struggling to think, and then his head turns slowly from side to side. "That's right. You don't need any thoughts. My words are your thoughts now. My words are all you can hold in your head. And every word helps you drop deeper and deeper into bliss. You feel so good when you drop, and every word makes it even better." I set down the coin and use my hand to gently tilt his head up. "Open your eyes." Obediently, his eyes flutter open, and stare at me with a sleepy fascination. It's such a lovely look on him, and I caress his cheek. "What a good toy."

I sit back slightly, smiling at him. "And good toys want to be used, don't they? Because that's what toys are made for. You're just a toy, and I like to play with my toys. Isn't that right?" He nods, and I squeeze his hand. "Good toy. I'm going to take off your shirt now, and you're going to love it." I let go of him and slide my hands under his shirt, slowly lifting the fabric as I glide my hands up his stomach. "Every touch is pleasure. My skin touching yours is bliss, my toy. You love to be touched. You love to be caressed. You love to be used." His breath catches slightly as I hover my hands over his nipples, gently tweaking them with my thumbs, before continuing to pull his shirt up and off.

"You love to be used so much," I continue, "That even when I'm not touching you, you crave use. You need to be a good, obedient toy. All that matters is what I say, and what I command."

As soon as I say it, I see his eyebrows scrunch again, not into a frown but into that desperate look I've seen so often. Even under my trance, he's so expressive. It's lovely.

"I'm going to wake you in a moment, my pet. And when I do, you'll be my perfect, obedient toy. Won't you?" That little nod again. "Good. Up, up, up."