Page 28 of Make Believe

“What’s your color, Kiki doll?”

“Green, Daddy.”

As his hand encircles my cock, I remain limp against his side. I have no say in the matter. It’s my honor to be his plaything. I might as well be a fidget spinner. My hardening length is just something to absently occupy his hand.

I feel so free.

Yet again I think about how good he is with my kink despite only just stumbling into it. Except it’s a distant, floaty idea that’s dancing somewhere in the distance. I don’t need to worry about big thoughts right now. Daddy will make all the decisions.

He doesn’t acknowledge me now that I’ve shaken off my dreams and calmed down. His eyes are on the movie as he strokes my cock. I breathe deeply, not letting myself squirm the way I want to. It helps that Rafferty isn’t trying to make me come. But he is keeping me hard.

I’m not sure how long he watches the movie for while he plays with me, but I’ve leaked enough pre-cum to slick his fingers, which he starts probing my hole with. My cock twitches as he pushes one digit, then two, inside me, stretching me out.

Without a word, he withdraws then pushes me down the length of the couch, so my face is smushed into the pillows and my dress falls down my back, leaving my ass exposed. I hear the click of a cap and the snick of his zipper, then smell more fruity lube. It’s the only warning I get before the fat head of his dick is pressing against my entrance.

My head is slightly turned so I can breathe. As he starts to rock into me, the image on the large flatscreen dances at a ninety-degree angle, several feet in front of my eyes. With my gaze unfocused, the colors are just blurs. The voices, music, gunfire, and explosions seem far away.

All I care about is the slow rhythm of my Daddy’s cock as he luxuriates in pulsing in and out of me, using my hole to make himself feel amazing. His length strokes my prostate, making my heart race and my skin perspire. The side of my face rubs against the pillow, and I worry about my make-up smearing on the fabric.

Rafferty is rich, he can afford to clean or replace it. And I can reapply if necessary. So I stop worrying.

All I need to care about is the way Rafferty moans as his pace increases. How his fingers dig into my hips, anchoring him as he ravages me. I lie limp, embodying the sex doll I promised him I would be.

As he comes, he gasps and shudders, but otherwise makes no sound. The movie on the TV plays on, the hero saying something to the heroine that just sounds muffled to me. I lie still as Rafferty slowly extracts himself. The sofa dips, and I hear him huff and pull some tissues from a box before zipping his pants back up.

To my surprise, he rolls me gently onto my back. My hole drips with his cum and the lube, but luckily I think my dress catches the worst of the mess. My reddened cock bounces almost painfully against my stomach. With the movie’s soundtrack swelling in the background, he leans down and once more takes me into his mouth. My stretched and slippery hole offers little resistance as he pushes two fingers inside me and aggressively massages my prostate.

I do my best to remain inanimate, but my orgasm crashes over me like a tsunami. I gnash my teeth, breathing heavily through my nose as I screw up my eyes, tears leaking down my cheeks. He swallows down every drop I give him, sucking on me gently as I go soft in his mouth until he finally lets me go.

He reaches back for the box of tissues once more, and carefully wipes me down before sitting me upright again and tucking me under his wing, pressed against his side. He pets my hair as the movie credits start to roll.

“Good boy,” he murmurs.

I sigh, letting Kiki go as I wiggle my stiff fingers and squirm my aching body against him. “Thank you, Daddy,” I whisper.

There’s a fair amount of food on the table, not to mention juice and an ice bucket with a wine bottle nestled inside. It’s like as soon as I notice the spread, my stomach rumbles.

Without me having to say anything, Rafferty reaches forward and picks up a wooden charcuterie board laden with all kinds of goodies. He rests it on the wide arm of the couch, then begins feeding me bite-sized morsels like he did at breakfast.

No one’severfed me before. I try not to grin too much as I lick his fingers and waggle my eyebrows at him. Now that I’m not in doll mode anymore I can show my appreciation.

“You like that, huh?” he says, clearly amused.

“I love it, Daddy,” I say sincerely. “Thank you.”

He rubs his thumb against my lower lip. It’s salty from the little cubes of cheese, slices of garlicky meat, and plump olives he’s been feeding me. I suck it and even though I’m sure neither of us is ready for another round just yet, I still feel the spark of chemistry between us.

The credits finish, and the screen goes back to the homepage, suggesting other movies in the same sort of genre. “Can we watch something else?” I ask hopefully. His TV is almost as large as my whole bed, and I’d quite like to pay attention to something this time.

“Of course, baby doll,” he says warmly. “You pick.”

He hands me the remote and I don’t waste much time selecting a movie I saw once a couple of years ago at the theater. I want something I don’t have to give all my attention to but that will still hold my interest somewhat.

Rafferty continues to feed me, and also insists I drink a full glass of juice followed by some water. Only then does he let me have some wine. Full and calm, I snuggle against him under a blanket, enjoying how he plays with my hair.

We’re about halfway through the movie when I realize that this is aftercare. He snuck it on me. But that’s not even the most disturbing part.

I love it.

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