Archive-name: Bondage/lovedoll.txt
Archive-author: 
Archive-title: Love Doll


     I walked up to the silvery metal framed contraption,
not exactly knowing what it was. It's construction was of
chromed tubes and bars that glistened in the soft lights.
The frame approximated the figure of an adult, but there was
much more to it. There were straps at ankle and waist level,
along with various restraints for the thighs and shoulders.
I felt very apprehensive about it's purpose, but reserved
any mention about my hesitancy. She had me walk up to it
frontwise and place my feet into some sort of holders, which
simply consisted of the act of "stepping" into them, and
therefore, into "it". The holders were actually spike heeled
ankle boots permanently fastened to the device. My
stockinged foot slid easily in, and I became acutely aware
that these holders would literally keep me on my toes, for
they felt like ballet boots, stretching my toe joints to
their maximum. I felt very little actual weight on my heel.

     As I stepped up to the device, my neck fit up to a
semicircular ring, or collar, that was also permanently
fixed to the framework. I could have pulled my upper body
back, to remove my neck from contact with the ring, but saw
no immediate reason to do so. The core of the ring, while
obviously metal, was covered with a plush padded wrap. A set
of small diameter holes could be seen around the top of the
ring. She wrapped a soft strap about each thigh and pulled
them snug to the frame. The front on my legs were pulled
into a set of pads that kept my legs straight, and slightly
spread. It wasn't uncomfortable, but it was obvious that I
had lost control of my leg movement. Another soft strap went
about my lower torso, slightly above my hips, and another
just below my armpits. As she tightened both of these, my
body was likewise pulled tight to the frame. There were no
pads or other obstructions in proximity of my breasts, but
there was a curved plate, with two round cut-outs where a
larger set of breasts could fit. My chest was forced tightly
against this plate. I could feel pressure all about, but
aside from my bra, there were no sensations from my breasts.
She left my brassiere in place, my small mounds now
protruding firmly out from my chest.

     My right hand was raised straight out from my shoulder
and pushed into an oddly shaped latex mitten that did not
resemble any mitten at all. My right wrist was fastened by
soft straps, of a material similar to that used about my
thighs and torso, to an extension of the frame. The thumb
was separated from the rest of the fingers, which were
tightly pressed together and forced into a curve, a position
you would use to pick up a round object - like a small cup,
with my thumb around the other side - but there was no cup.
As hard as I tried, I could barely manage to bring my finger
tips together with my thumb tip to form a perfect circle.
The mitt was rigid enough to prevent me from either closing
them too hard or opening them too far. She raised my left
hand and fastened it in a similar manner, into a similar
latex mitten.

     At this point, the only movement I could make of free
will was to drop my head backwards, from the collar ring
that circled around the front of my neck. As the thought of
doing this came into my head, I heard a click on both sides
of my head accompanied by a soft pressure on the backside of
my neck. I realized that she had snapped on the back half of
the ring collar. The ring was positioned at the base of my
neck. Even if the rest of my body were free, the strength of
the ring prevented my head from similar freedom. She cooed
in my ear. I flexed my muscles, testing for free movement,
but found none, except for my head, which was still free to
swivel about. I was effectively attached to this metallic
frame.

     She walked from left to right in front of me, eyeing me
up and down, with a half smile on her face. It wasn't a
wicked smile or a pretty smile, perhaps more of a smirk. Her
look made me appreciate how helpless I was at the moment.
She left my field of view. My curiosity fully aroused, I
felt it was time to ask what was next, for it seemed her
restraining activities had ceased. I had no sooner opened my
mouth when I felt her fingers slide something between my
teeth, forcing them open perhaps an inch. I instinctively
pushed my tongue forward to explore this invasion of my
mouth only to find nothing there; my tongue went right past
my teeth and out through my lips! I felt around with my
tongue to discover that an insert had been placed to prevent
my teeth from coming together. The restraint had a large
round opening directly in front, between my upper and lower
teeth, and was obviously pliable at the inner circular edges
with the force of my tongue. With it in place, anyone could
force something past my lips and into my mouth, without my
able to bite down on the foreign object or otherwise prevent
them from doing so. I could open my jaw further, but not
close my teeth closer than maybe an inch or inch and a half.
This restraint did not prevent my lips from closing however,
with effort I could bring them all the way together. I could
feel tiny rods extend from the sides of the insert outward
past the corners of my mouth. My exploring done, I
considered opening my mouth as wide as I could to force this
thing from my mouth.

     Before I could try this, I was distracted by something
sliding down over my head. I could not readily tell what it
was, but my eyes did catch a glimpse of a thin wire cage-
like affair being lowered about my head. The look
immediately reminded me of that which encloses a fan blade,
a device constructed to prevent one from accidently touching
the blade. She came around to my front, raised her hands to
grab this thing on each side and adjust it into position.
Her eyes met mine briefly and she smiled again, this time a
knowing smile. She said simply that "this was for my
protection". She fit the bottom spokes of the cage into the
holes in the ring encircling my neck. The wires of the cage
must have been spaced closer together behind my head than in
front, for I could barely feel but a few over my face. She
adjusted here and there by some unseen mechanism, and I
could feel the cage-like device come to assume the same
shape as my head. The cage-like spoke wires essentially
followed every curve and camber on my head. I found that I
could no longer push the insert out of my mouth for it was
held in place by the two small metal rods that ran out the
corners of my mouth, presumably attached to the cage-like
affair enshrouding my head. I could bring my jaw closed just
enough to swallow, thank goodness, for my mouth had started
watering from the presence of the insert. I was appreciative
that the material in contact with my teeth was soft and
rubbery, causing me no discomfort beyond the fact of keeping
my jaw apart.

     With her done playing with the device on my head, I
experimented moving my head about. Because of the cage and
ring's unique construction, it was still possible to swivel
my head, but the ring around my neck, obviously a mechanical
affair, only allowed about 15 degrees movement in any
direction. My head simply would not go beyond that imposed
limit. This seemed odd to me, the whole experience seemed
odd to me. I was rigidly strapped to a metallic tubular
frame in a sort of spread eagle position, my arms
outstretched, hands inserted into some sort of gloves and
held in a peculiar position, my head encased in a wire cage,
but allowed to move about. I didn't feel like I was in any
danger, at least not in the traditional sense. None of the
bindings were particularly tight or uncomfortable. I was
however, exposed to any and all, and unable to defend myself
against any advance. She came back around to my front and
spoke to me.

     She informed me that I was to have a most unique
experience, one that I would surely enjoy, or so she hoped.
She told me that if I thought what has happened so far was
bizzare, the best was yet to come. Instead of trying to
describe it, she had to finish "setting me up". Once the
preparations were complete, I would understand. She walked
to my side. I could hear metal on metal, and all of a
sudden, my body was allowed to pivot about my waist, to bend
over forward. As I had come to be in a relaxed state,
somewhat limp in the frame, I immediately started to fall
forward. My legs were kept vertical by the frame, my feet
unmoved in the ballet boots. She caught me as I moved, and
lowered me gently until my upper body had dropped about 45
or 50 degrees. A load CLICK was heard as the frame locked me
into this angle. Thankfully, my body rested upon the frame,
as I don't think I could have sustained that angle long
unaided. My cock dangled in front of me, free to enlarge if
it so desired.

     I could raise my head slightly and see her go directly
in front of me, sliding open a large door to an adjoining
room. The floor level in the next room was significantly
higher that the floor I was on, perhaps two feet higher. I
could make out that the room was small, perhaps 6 by 8 feet,
and decorated like a sitting room; nicely furnished with
rich appointments. She went behind me and pushed. I looked
down and realized there were two small tracks on the floor,
and my frame was slowly riding on them. She pushed me until
my head was in the next room, but not much more of me. With
movement restricted as it was, I could no longer view what
was behind me, or to my side behind my shoulders. I could
feel slight air movement signifying she was moving around
the room, doing something.

     I became aware of a structure of some sort being
assembled around the rest of my body. Her activities took
several minutes. Something was placed tightly around my
waist. I could feel it fastened, but only tightly around my
lower waist. Otherwise I would have likened it to a
corsetted feeling. Several minutes later, I could feel her
moving my hand around. A loud click, and my arm was moving
freely, although still attached to the frame. Another click,
and it was locked into place again in a new position.
Something was placed around my wrist and I could detect
significant other activity in that area. A few minutes
passed and similar things happened to my left hand and arm.
This already was the most bizarre thing that I had ever
experienced, and this still was only the "set up"?

     After several minutes of quietness, I saw a side door
in front of me open and she walked in. I tried to talk, but
unable to operate my teeth, all I could do was create
humming noises. She walked to the door between the room that
she had slid open initially and moved it back towards
closed. Obviously, my shoulder was in the way so she stopped
it when it touched my right shoulder. She went to the left
and slid another door towards me. This one had a cutout that
allowed it to close and seal with the first door, leaving my
shoulders, neck and head sticking through the wall at about
her waist high. This must have looked awfully peculiar, this
upper bust of a caged head sticking out of the wall in this
decorated sitting room. The reason for this became obvious
at her next movement.

     I could not see earlier what she then brought out from
the corner of the room. It looked like a cross between a
mannequin and one of those inflatable love dolls with one
notable exception - there was no head. It was flexible, for
I noticed she had to squeeze to grab it. She brought it over
to me, placing it directly below me, propping it against the
wall like some Raggedy Ann doll. It was perfectly sized so
that it's neck came up to where my neck was. I was beginning
to understand. As it sat there, I looked at how it was
dressed. I recognized the style as one of Victorian times,
like the younger women had dressed in the movie Dangerous
Liasons. The busoms were stuffed into and overflowing from a
tight satin bodice with a wide flaring skirt. I could see
oodles of lace and petticoats peeking from below the low
hemline. I was appreciative that the model had large breasts
that enticed, nothing like my manly mounds. She came back to
me, and started pulling a rubbery latex head piece down over
the cage like spokes on my head. She had to work it
carefully, for it was very tight. I could do very little but
try to keep my head still, to assist her in this most
difficult task. After she made it past my ears (my ears even
fit into it's ears!) it went easier. The piece came down
around my cheeks and chin, around my neck, and down around
the ring collar around my neck. She spent several minutes
working around my neck, pulling here, poking there,
fastening this and that. When she was finally finished, she
stood back for a long moment and stared. I moved my head
around and upwards, straining to see the look on her face,
but I could not draw my head back far enough to see above
her breast level.

     She backed off across the room, to a wall table, and
grabbed a hairbrush from it. As she turned and came back to
me, I could make out her face, a look of determination
across it. I could see much was on her mind. She came to me
and began brushing my new long hair. I could see wisps of it
fly past my eyes as my head was pulled back and forth. My
head could only move so far before the ring collar prevented
it from moving further. It would come to an abrupt stop when
maximum travel was reached. Her brushing done, she went back
to the table and grabbed a hand mirror. At last, she gave me
a view of myself. My first since this predicament began.

     She had to hold it for me, since my hands were
somewhere on the other side of the wall, doing who knows
what. I looked, and marvelled. It was me, at least my
consciousness. What I saw was not me. What I saw was a
rather striking young woman, dressed as I had described
earlier, Victorian era, sitting on the floor of a nicely
appointed sitting room. I appeared to be simply sitting
there against the wall. I could move my head slightly about.
The angle that I was protruding through the wall matched
rather well with this sitting body. As long as my head
didn't move too far in any direction - and it couldn't -
there was the perfect illusion of a young woman sitting,
waiting, with her head bowed. My head was joined to the body
in such a way that was not discernable without very close
inspection. Anyone entering this room would see the young
woman and could take advantage of her willing waiting mouth,
which was really my mouth. At this point, I couldn't see any
way I could stop them. My teeth were forced open, unable to
prevent entry, while my lips were pursed in anticipation.

     She knelt down beside me and spoke. She told me that my
rear end was outfitted similarly, and showed me a Polaroid
she has just taken. I looked aghast at the image. At first I
couldn't believe it was me, but taking into account the
transformation I had witnessed to my head, my mind fit the
pieces together to believe what was in the picture. I saw
the backside of a woman, mostly naked except for an
extremely tight corset, standing with her arms stretched up
to either side of her head then fastened to rings on the
wall, her forehead tipped towards the wall. A wooden bench
with large velvety pillows on it was in front of her at
pelvic level forcing her to bend forward over it as her
hands were secured tightly high against the wall. She had on
a garter belt that I recognized as the one I was wearing,
with tight stockings in tippy toe boots. The bench was
exactly where the cleverly disguised tubular frame really
was. The ass and legs were mine, but the upper torso, head
and arms belonged to a mannequin, the joint between me and
it was secreted under the corset. I could see the straps
around my ankles and upper thighs, now apparently attached
to the mock bench. Obviously the plot here was that any
perpetrator could come up to my backside and invade my ass,
receiving a real ass from the body of a doll. I made a
babble sound of protest. I also hadn't found out what
happened to my hands yet.

     She took my question and flipped to two other pictures.
Again I could not believe my eyes. The pictures were similar
in composition. In each picture was a woman, or reasonable
facsimile. One was kneeling, dressed in a classic tweed
suit, knee length skirt, champaign blouse with ruffly neck
and suit jacket matching the skirt. She was wearing pearls
and had every look of success. Her head was pitched slightly
forward. The other picture was a classic New Orleans hooker,
overly glitzed and whorishly dressed. She was also kneeling,
but I had not yet made the connection between them and me. I
was told that the latex "mitten" I wore really was inside
each doll's head. My hands formed round receptacles ready to
milk any man that needed the servicing. I looked closely and
saw how the dolls were positioned. Each was in the corner of
a room and had their back to a chair or pillow that
concealed my arm.

     So that was it, I was to be a 4 station fuck machine.
As the reality of my predicament set in, I barely listened
to the rest of her words. All that I remembered was that the
"ass" users would be provided with KY jelly on the table
next to me so as to not cause too much pain since they were
told I was a "virgin". As she was telling me this, I
realized I could already feel light stroking moving up and
down my buttocks. I remained still (as if I could move
much!) while the strokes gained in force. A little fondling
around my anus hole preceeded a feeling that I became very
familiar with in the hours that followed. A cock was
entering me, slowly. The slight pain of penetration was
followed by a constant force that seemed to take forever to
fully enter me. The unknown cock paused, then slowly began
drawing out. He would draw back until the head was just
about to pop out, then push back in. He made long slow
sensuous strokes. I silently thanked him for being gentle.
His movements continued as I felt his hands come around my
hip bones and grab me. He used my hip bones as handles,
controlling the in and out motion. My ass felt oozy as I
realized it was the lubricant assisting my butt fucker. I
mumbled some sounds and she told me that at any time I would
feel someone behind me. I had news for her! I already did! I
made more mumbles containing obvious pleasure. She paused,
realizing what I was feeling, then whispered that she hoped
I was enjoying my ass fuck. She stood and finished tidying
the room, only glancing at me occasionally with a
flirtatious smirk. I felt action at my left hand. A back and
forth movement was happening and I realized I was milking
some guys cock. My pulse, already increased from the
servicing I was receiving at my ass, caused me to gently
squeeze my left hand to add to his pleasure. Perhaps it was
a release of energy from the fucking I was undergoing. She
took one last look at me from the door. I looked at her wide
eyed, pleading, a cock in my ass and another in my left
hand. She smiled, blew me a kiss and disappeared.

     I sat / stood / layed there. I enjoyed the slow
rhythmic stroking of the cock making friends with my rear.
The sensations were much more pleasurable than I ever would
have believed. The person availing himself in my left hand
was pounding the poor dolls head in a nonstop frenzy. I
tried to match my contractions to his pumps, but his furious
lovemaking was hard to follow. I squirmed my ass and tried
to wiggle the best I could to get the most out of my rear-
end lover. Thoughts of him made me forget the scenario
before my eyes, until I saw the side door open.

     In came a man, well-dressed, wearing a dark pin stripe
suit. I did not move my head to see his face. I remembered
her final words as she left. She told me that none of my
"customers" tonight knew that there really was a person
inside the dolls. As far as they were concerned, these were
life-like mannequins with special features to accentuate the
experience of sex. To this end, I did not move my head, but
tried to observe his motion with my eyes. He removed his
shoes, leaving them neatly under the bench against the right
side of the room. He dropped his pants to the floor and lay
them carefully on the bench. I then saw him turn and observe
me, and my apparent situation.

     All he saw a young woman in a period costume. Bulging
breasts begged to spill from the top of a satin bodice.
Puffy sleaves delicately caressed milky skin while large
furls of skirt and petticoat mountained about feminine legs
and could hide forbidden delights. He reached and stroked my
hair. The back of his hand brushed by my cheeks. I could
barely feel the rubbing through the latex of my head piece.
It took every bit of restraint to avoid making any noises
with all the action occuring to other parts of my body. I
was positioned sufficiently high to accept him with him
still standing. It didn't take him long to pull his manhood
from his underwear. He grasped it causing an instant
erection. As I was being thrust from behind, I was all ready
for something, anything. He straddled my (my?) legs and
moved towards me. For all purposes, they were my legs, my
breasts, my petticoats he gingerly stepped around. He moved
the tip of the head to the dolls lips, my lips. As I
breathed in I could smell the muskiness of his cock, trapped
in his underwear all day. He was hard enough to push in, and
did so, gently, not knowing what to expect. I held my tongue
against the floor of my mouth. I didn't want to scare him
off. With the heat I was in from my behind, I could have
bitten off his cock, anxious to release some energy had my
jaw restraint let me. His cock entered my warm moist mouth.
I could feel it make it's way past my lips, through the hole
in my jaw restraint. He pushed it straight in. I brought my
mouth to close around it, to give some sensation of
tightness. As I felt the tip at the back of my throat, he
strained the hole in my jaw restraint to it's limit. He let
out a slight sigh, mumbled something about how amazingly
realistic it felt, grabbed both sides of my head with
surprising strength and started pumping slowly. Withing 20
strokes he began increasing tempo. The hoop earrings in my
ears rocked frontwards and back, banging against my cheeks.
I opened my mouth slightly more. I could do nothing more but
allow him to fuck away at my mouth.

     I began to understand why my head was allowed limited
movement. He pumped into me, moving my head forward and
backward in a matching rhythym. The ring collar prevented
him from moving my head too far, to stress my neck and
possibly hurt me. This way, he can fuck me as hard as he
wants. He gets a realistic blow job (more than he realised!)
and be as forceful as he wants. As he began fast pumping my
eager mouth, I suddenly realised I was also milking someone
else with my right hand. A brief thought flew across my
mind. I wasn't sure which hand was the whore and which was
the prim and proper businesslady.

     At this moment I was simultaneously having sex with
four different people. Presumably not one of them knew about
the others. Each was within feet of the others, separated by
walls in their own little room, with me literally at the
center of attention. My butt-fucking lover kept up his slow
but substantial ministrations, my left hand was still
furiously being pumped, my right was receiving slower action
but more forcefull, and my mouth was filled with some
businessman's cock. The person behind believed that he was
ass-fucking some tight corsetted whore strung up by her
arms. My hand-job lovers believed they were mouth fucking
their respective love dolls, and the guy in front of me is
thinking he's giving a Victorian era harlot his special
load. I felt warmness in my rectum, and the rear-end strokes
slowed. I felt him pop out of my ass leaving a strange
feeling behind. I wanted him to re-enter me, to fill me.
Instead, he released my hips, and that was the last I felt
of him. At about the same time, my left hand fell still.
Evidently this guy's stamina ran out. I don't know how he
kept it up as long as he did. I kept squeezing the cock in
my right hand, masturbating to the best of my limited
ability. After a few minutes, I felt hands and a towel
wiping off my ass. Was it my lover? Probably not, someone
probably preparing me for the next one. I concentrated on
the cock in my mouth. I began to give small tongue massages
as he pumped me. My right hand lover stopped also. He didn't
last long! The cock in my mouth increased in speed again. I
felt he would come at any time. The next cock entered my
ass. This one didn't feel as big, but he jumped in with a
fury. No gentle rocker this one, I could tell he wanted to
wham bam and thank me ma'am.

     I could taste saltiness in my mouth, I knew the
inevitable was near. As his thrusting became increadibly
pronounced, I felt warm spurts at the back of my mouth.
Knowing my only option was to take it, I swallowed quickly,
not even thinking of what I was doing. I milked him for all
I could. After all I had been through, his cum tasted good,
almost a relief. The guy behind continued to pump the
shackled corsetted whore in the ass like it was his last
fuck, unaware this little whore really just received a
delicious present down his throat. I was glad my chocolate
cherry had been broken by Mr. Gentle before this speed freak
got to me. The guy in my mouth slowed and shrunk. I pressed
my lips together tightly, to seal his juices in me and give
him a little going away present when he popped out of my
mouth. He withdrew and released my head, which I let drop,
like it should have. I felt a new customer start working on
my right hand, with slow deliberate pumps. I watched the
business man put on his pants and shoes while my ass was
worked like some common whore's. He stood next to the door
for a moment, I guessed there was a mirror there, then left
the room. I mumbled an unintelligible goodbye and ran my
tongue over my lips to clean up for number 2.

     While I squeezed the cock in my right hand, I again
felt warmth in my ass as I took another load in my rectum.
This customer didn't wait around, but made a hasty retreat.
I suppose one could think of this as the ultimate fantasy.
It is one thing to day dream about being a woman and being
made love to as a woman, but being four women at once! I
could do little but to enjoy it, and service my lovers the
best I could. After all, I was strapped in and forced to be
the vehicle.

     It had been several minutes since the businessman had
left. My ass was still smarting from the two invasions I had
endured. My right hand was feeling fatigued from the
relatively large effort it took to milk the cock I was
somewhat grabbing. I heard a click and the side door again
opened. I watched a man stroll in. Again I could not see his
face, but could easily see the dress, causing my eyes to
widen. He was wearing chicly faded black jeans, an unzipped
black leather motorcycle jacket with a wide shiny zipper up
the middle, straps hanging from various parts and other
zippers sprinkled across other parts, a black tee shirt with
some rock group's insignia emblazoned in the center, and
black motorcyle boots that shone in the dim light of the
room. I could see him walk to the center of the room, facing
me, apparently eyeing me and sizing up my situation. Again
feelings swept through me as I became the part of the scene
in which I sat. I was a Victorian harlot slumped against the
wall, my dress slightly wrinkled as I had just serviced a
gentleman's fine cock for a smile. I wished I could reach
and smooth my skirt and straighten my bodice, perhaps
pressing together the bulging of the two creamy bosoms, my
two aereolas barely peeking from the lace edging of the
scooped neck. My waist constricted to a breath taking size
serving only to connect my enhanced feminine hips to my
desirable overflowing breasts. I noticed an inordinate
amount of arm hair escaping from the sleeve of his jacket.
My earlier feeling of enthusiasm turned to dread as I
suddenly realized what he was there for. At the moment, I
did not have a love pole ramming home a message of desire at
my tail end as I had before. My arm and torso muscles
instinctively contracted as I involuntarily felt a keen need
to escape from the tubular frame.

     My fruitless efforts at escape lasted but a few seconds
before he walked to me. I tried to pull back but of course
could go nowhere. He put his ape hand under my chin and
lifted to view my face. Afraid of giving a clue that I was
indeed human, I froze my eyes still and looked straight
ahead as he lifted. In my periphery vision I could see a
clean shaven rather handsome face, young, perhaps late
twenties. My nose caught a slight scent of cigarette and Old
Spice. He looked me over for what seemed like an hour but
was actually fifteen seconds. I would like to think he found
me attractive, although, on the outside I only looked like a
love doll. He lowered my head till it stopped, put both
hands to his wide black belt, and undid the buckle. He
folded back the top corners of his jeans to expose his white
Jockey underwear and pulled his already stiff cock through
the fly. By now I caught the unmistakable musky smell of
pent up cock. I braced myself for the inevitable, trying to
run visions through my mind to "put me in the mood". He
wiped the head across my latex lips a few times, then pulled
back slightly and with his right hand holding it like you
would grab a hammer, pointed it straight towards my pliant
doors. He placed his left palm squarely across the back of
by head, grabbing some of my hair between his thumb and
forefinger. With control over my head, he angled my head
back until my face was vertical to the floor, perpendicular
to his rod. I looked down my nose at the immense length of
his shaft as he edged the head to my lips, breaking them
apart with a slight twitch of the domed end. Again, I
dropped my tongue to the bottom of my mouth. With his left
hand as a back stop, he smoothly and swiftly slid into me
and found the back of my mouth as an arrow finds it's
target.

     Unfortunately, his arrow was longer than my mouth was
deep. The curvature of the back of my mouth guided him well
into the opening of my throat. His left hand had firm
control for I'm sure I flinched at this, involuntarily
recoiling, what little I could move. He seemed not to
notice. He withdrew after a pause until the ridge of his
head was at my lips. I was dazed by the suddenness of having
his manhood forced down my throat. I had almost gagged but
had caught myself from making any verbal noises. I resolved
with urgency to relax my muscles as much as possible to let
him have his way, to accept him as far as he could push, to
not reveal that I was real. He again moved towards the back
of my throat, his long cock moving like a freight train in
the night. Again he hit the back of my mouth and was guided
down my throat. This time I was prepared as he slid to a
stop at full bore. He paused again and let out a gasp. I had
turned him on! This man in leather was getting off on my
mouth! This time, although ready, it was still difficult to
keep composure. I just wasn't used to giving deep thoat. As
he withdrew to my lips, I felt two hands spread my ass
cheeks wide and the ridges of a lubed up head of an unknown
cock pop inside my ass hole. As the man in leather again
pushed his arrow to the target down my throat, another rod
took a forcefull journey up the avenue of my ass. The one in
my mouth had already stopped in my throat as the one behind
kept coming. Maybe I was preoccupied with longness at the
moment, but it seemed that this one travelled alot further
into me than the previous two had. It felt like it was going
to bump into the one down my throat before I finally felt
his body bump my buttocks. They both began to withdraw
together and both ram together. I wondered briefly at the
unlikely probability of two men in separate rooms pumping a
mouth and an ass in syncronization. Some brain cells on the
side of my head took notice that the guy in my right hand
was done and had withdrawn. I let my hand go limp.

     They stayed in synch for at least 30 strokes. I had
lost count. In fact, the intensity of being had by extra
long rods in both ends put me into a delirium. I resigned
myself that I was powerless to do much about the invasions I
was undergoing. I let the man in leather have my throat to
his liking. Whenever he paused at full stroke, my nose was
forced into his leather jacket. I drew in overwhelming
scents of fresh leather that drove my olfactory system into
overload. If I had ever been in euphoria, this was it.

     The man in my ass kept his strokes long and smooth. He
always took me to full length. I marveled at both of their
staying abilities considering the sensuousness they were
experiencing, longer than I could have ever gone without
cumming. The ramming of these rods seemed to go on forever.
The man in leather finally gave three short strokes, all in
my throat, and held me tight, never releasing the back of my
head from when he started his campaign. The head of his cock
stayed down as far as he could push. I could feel cum
running down my throat as I held my breath for dear life. I
could feel the waves pulse along the bottom of his shaft
with my tongue as I stroked it inward, helping him empty
into me. All the while, long steady strokes pumped at my
back end. I lay there, a willing receptacle for his cum,
pleased that I had survived and, yes, even enjoyed this man
in leather.

     As he withdrew, I all of a sudden realised that both
hands were busy holding cocks and I was instinctively
milking them. The man in leather pulled the head of his cock
from my lips and held it about a foot from my face. I eyed
it, watching a few drips of cum drip onto the skirt of my
satin dress. He stuffed it back into his underwear and let
my head drop. I watched him walk across the room, zip his
jeans and fasten his wide belt with an easy motion. His
boots clunked as he walked to the door and stepped out.

     I gasped for air several times in disbelief of what I
had just been through. I swallowed hard several times to
flush his cum down my throat, although I never tasted much
of it in my mouth. The man in back quickened his pumping
and, grabbing my hips as his thrust handles, came to orgasm
banging my buttocks hard like I was being spanked on both
cheeks at once. I felt like my body would split in half as
his rocket left the launching pad and carve a path through
me, exiting somewhere from my head. I constricted my ass and
hands in unison several times and, as the man in my rear
injected me with his milky juices, let go with an ethereal
howl as I reached the closest I could come to my own orgasm.
I rocked hard back and forth into his pole, even though I
don't think I physically moved. I gave my hands a few final
squeezes, hoping to bring off the guys lucky enough to be in
my clutches.

     My whole body fell limp, my muscles exhausted, as I lay
breathing hard. I noticed the man behind me pull out and a
towel wipe me clean. I felt nothing at my hands and figured
the cocks were done and gone. With no external stimuli, I
drifted into a dazed, post-orgasmic stupor.

     After several minutes of idleness I heard the door open
but did not bother to even raise my eyes to watch whoever
entered. Soon I saw two legs come into view. They were nylon
clad and the feet were in servicable heels. Their appearance
seemed familiar and I vaguely recognized them as belonging
to the woman that had fastened me into this multi-port fuck
frame. I just wanted to lay and rest. I could feel her
fumbling with something around my neck, reaching under the
false face. After a half a minute, she raised the chin
portion of my doll head and pulled the restraint out of my
mouth. She gently let my mouth close and reattached the doll
skin to me. I mumbled an unintelligible sound of
appreciation as she walked to the door and disappeared. I
slowly moved my jaw around, regaining the pleasant feel of
being able to control it once again. My stupor continued.

     Laying spent, I felt another cock enter my behind and I
began to service another ass screw, as I lay emotionless and
unresponsive. I did not notice the door open until I saw a
pair of business wingtips and dark grey pinstriping adorning
some legs come towards me. I did not have any time or desire
to respond before the palm of a hand under my chin raised my
head. I looked down the shaft of a man's cock and watched it
enter my mouth. With the mouth restraint gone, I could have
refused entry, but did not. I was tired and spent. They used
me as I lay as lifeless as the love doll itself, becoming
nothing more than a love doll myself. Since the frame
propped me and held me in position, it took no effort on my
part to allow the men to enter me and use me. I felt at one
with the latex, corsetry and satin that enclosed me. They
pumped for awhile, and shot me full of their sperm. I
allowed it to flow down my throat and up my ass. I liked
servicing them with my mouth much more without the mouth
restraint in. I formed a perfect circle with my lips to
mimick the shape of the orifice. At times I felt cocks in my
hands, but still I let them do all the work.

     Several cocks came, and several cocks went. I allowed
them me as they wanted. Occasionally I would tongue one, or
squeeze my anus, but generally I lay still as I was fucked.
After all, I was nothing more than a love doll, provided for
use by any man that desired me.

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