Dear toys
"I keep my hand on your pulse"
All of Elizabeth's toys unequivocally fell into one of two categories she had invented. She was a pedant and never changed her rules—this beauty always labeled things exquisitely. She preferred to languidly and long enjoy expensive items of European standard, while the cheap Chinese trinkets Elizabeth would break and ruin in a short time, throwing them in the trash like useless garbage.
In her collection, there was only one special item, like an expensive rare book. Naturally, the item itself had no idea it was something special; its position didn't even allow for such a thought.
The toy had a peculiar name, in her opinion—Danila. But she never called him languidly Da-ni-la, exhaling the last vowels with a moan and savoring the melodiousness of the sound combination. She preferred to pronounce "Creature" with malice and strictness in her voice, or with a chuckle, "Pacifier." These two words gave her the most pleasure when her possession was under her absolute control.Elizabeth was getting ready for the ballet: trying on an expensive necklace from her rich suitor and a pair of ruby earrings, examining her reflection in the mirror. Her favorite possession replaced a stool and, gritting his teeth, strained all his muscles, afraid to slacken and drop the Mistress from his back.
"Shut up, creature!" the girl said roughly, grabbing her possession by his wet, post-shower hair and lifting his head up. "Your sniveling is making me forget what I was thinking about."
The red-haired fiery beast knew that her expensive possession had to be handled very harshly, otherwise he would stop obeying and Elizabeth would no longer feel the refinement of her taste. From her dressing table drawer, she took out a gag and immediately put it on the guy's mouth, squeezing his soft, shaven cheeks hard. Here and there on Danila's face were cuts from a razor, and over these Elizabeth ran her long nails with particular pleasure, digging into the fresh wounds.
"I have a gift for you, wretch," the Mistress said with anticipation.
The possession was silent—Danya could not disobey. Complete silence finally reigned in the room. Elizabeth grinned, smiled lightly, replaying her fantasy in her head over and over.
"My lover left for a press conference in Minsk today, so you will accompany me to the theater," the girl said quite boredly and ruffled her possession's hair, sinking her fingers into the wet curls. She felt her expensive possession shudder at the news—a blissful moment.
Elizabeth finally got up from her slave and went to the closet, pulling out hangers with shirts and suits. She liked to choose clothes for her erudite possession herself. erotic stories It should be noted that her property was not among the usual henpecked men, of whom there are plenty anyway; he was talented and smart, with an extraordinary ability to attract others to himself. He wrote his doctoral dissertation at night and, it seems, sometimes in his dreams, historical scenes and complex concepts were replaced by dreams of the Mistress.
The domineering woman chose a marble-colored suit, a burgundy shirt, and instead of a tie, threw a leather collar with a single ring in the middle for a leash onto the bed. She wanted not only to publicly show everyone her expensive possession but also to enjoy the evening, dispelling boring moments during the ballet with a cocktail of sweet words from her slave.
Half an hour later, the couple was already sitting in a taxi. The Mistress smoked a cigarette, holding it in a long holder, and flicked the ash into the open palm of her toy. She didn't even grant him a glance, only moved the red, like her hair, ember away from his hand in time to avoid leaving burns on Danila's soft skin. She liked his hands, the well-groomed manicure on them, the clear intertwining of veins. Spoiling his beauty was unacceptable, even if he himself begged for it.
"May I do something else for my Mistress?" Danil asked timidly, afraid to move his numb hand.
Elizabeth could amaze with her calmness. She didn't ignite like gasoline from a single spark of anger. Master... this word concealed her ability to instantly find the right words and actions. From her purse, she took out a bright scarlet lipstick, took Danila by the chin, and carefully outlined his lips with a thick layer of cosmetics, then gently took the slave's ash-covered hand and used it to smear the lipstick over his surprised face. She knew perfectly well how hard it is to remove red lipstick from the skin.
"I told you to hold your tongue, what will this cultured driver think of you now?" Elizabeth asked ironically and returned to the scenery outside the car window.
The gaze of the stranger was full of condemnation, contempt. She felt that a host of unpleasant words was on the tip of his tongue, and that if pushed, the stranger would say everything he thought. Then her possession would blush even more, become vulnerable. But Elizabeth never allowed anyone to open their mouth unnecessarily, especially regarding her property. She alone had the right to humiliate the wretch with whom she was going to the ballet.
The Mistress paid for the taxi and dragged her companion out of the car by the collar. They stood a little away from the road, where all the people waiting for the performance were clearly visible. Some were hurrying into the theater, some were nervously smoking, hating their wives for ruining their day off, and some were hopelessly waiting for someone. The young, graceful Elizabeth wrapped her arms around her slave from behind and slipped her hand into his pants, biting his earlobe hard with her teeth.
"Look at all these people and remember every glance in your direction, you depraved slut. And tell me how the Russo-Japanese War ended, you fucking encyclopedia."
Daniil nervously swallowed, as if a lump was stuck in his throat. A slight tremor of growing excitement ran through his body, and his voice merged uncertainly with the city noise. He was a good storyteller, perhaps the best of all...