Chapter 6
Toy
Despite embarrassment my body obediently followed Roger as he led me down the stairs toward the dinning room. I tried to stop myself, but the only external sign of my struggle was the soft “No!” I uttered as he pulled me out of his room.
The high heels on the boots and the stiff back on the corset forced me to wriggle my hips a lot as I walked. And my swollen breasts were jiggling and swaying enough to make balancing difficult, especially on six inch heals.
My nipples and clit were not as sensitive to every movement as they had been, so I wasn’t being driven insane with lust again. I was getting somewhat aroused though. Each time I thought of how I had looked in the mirror, I would blush with embarrassment, and my pussy and boobs would tingle in response.
As I approached the bottom of the stairs, I got to see myself in motion. A mirror positioned across the hall from the stairs gave me an excellent view of myself as I descended the last few steps. The swaying of my hips, and the jiggling of my boobs was incredibly erotic. I looked like a complete sex toy with no other functions!
As I looked at the image in the mirror I realized “That’s what I am, a sex toy for Roger. And I’m stuck this way until he lets me go!”
I didn’t have much time to contemplate that revelation. Roger kept moving into the dining room, and I felt myself forced to follow him.
My mom looked up from setting food on the table as I walked in, and stared right at me. I blushed hotly as her gaze traveled the length of my body, lingering on my pussy, and breasts. I tried to say something, anything to her, but I could only stand at Roger’s side, and smile.
Finally my mom looked me in the eyes and said “My! How nice you look in that outfit. I’m glad you felt well enough to join us for dinner.”
I thought that I couldn’t blush any harder than I had while my mother looked at me, but I managed to when her husband walked in from the kitchen. He did a thorough job of looking me over, spending a lot of time on my breasts and crotch.
Finally he spoke to my boobs saying “You certainly do look good in that outfit dear. You should wear it more often.”
As everyone else began taking their places at the table, I found myself sitting across from Roger, and between my mom, and her husband. A gasp escaped me as my bare bottom touched the cold wooden chair, and I blushed again as Roger looked at me and smiled.
The meal actually went normally for the most part. Mom’s husband kept looking at my boobs when he wasn’t talking to someone else. But, other than that, both my mom and her husband acted as if everything were perfectly normal. They even treated my lack of speech as normal, and the idea of taking me to a doctor seemed to have been completely forgotten.
I found myself thinking about my current situation while eating. I wanted to feel angry at Roger. He had effectively raped me, even if I had been begging for sex at the time. He had turned me into this erotic parody of a girl, then stripped most of my education from my mind. Finally, he had made sure that I couldn’t even complain about this, or anything else, to anyone but him!
As these thoughts went through my mind I did feel some anger. But the flashes of arousal I felt whenever I thought of my current condition, and especially the memory of the magnificent orgasm he had given me kept interfering with the feelings of anger.
“What’s wrong with me?” I thought. “I should be furious with Roger for doing this to me. These boobs are ridiculous! I have to sit a full foot from the table, or I can’t see my dinner plate!”
“I guess I’ll just have to endure whatever he wants to do to me.” I thought. “Maybe he’ll keep his promise and let me go when he leaves for school.”
Somehow I couldn’t generate as much enthusiasm for that idea as I wanted to.
“He must be playing with how I feel!” I realized. “That would explain why I’m not very angry with him!”
I felt much happier with that thought. I couldn’t really like any of this. It was too degrading!
The end of dinner brought the end of the limited freedom I had enjoyed while eating. I found myself standing up and walking into the kitchen. Soon, much to my disgust, I found myself filling the sink with hot water, and preparing to wash the dishes.
My mom looked in as I started and said “Thank you for volunteering to wash the dishes dear. Roger will clear the table for you. Give a yell if you need any help!”
With that last piece of useless advice she ducked back out, and I found myself washing dishes. Roger came in and out a few times, bringing loads of dishes from the table, and giving my rear, or my boobs a squeeze each trip.
Washing dishes was something that servants had always done for me, and I had liked it that way. Now though, I found myself scrubbing each dish as if my life depended on getting it perfectly clean.
“Why don’t they at least have a dish washer here?” I said.
The sound of my voice startled me, but with no one else around, I guess the prohibition against talking wasn’t in effect.
Roger startled me even more when he spoke from behind me saying “They do. Her name is Tracey!”
He walked in with the last few plates from dinner, deposited them on the counter, and gave my tush a squeeze. I tried to turn and glare at him, but I discovered that I couldn’t pull my eyes away from the dishes.
“I hope you enjoy making me do this menial work!” I said.
“What?” Roger replied. “You think you’re too good for this sort of work? I’ve washed dishes at least once a week any time I’m home, and lots of times when I’m away. And right now you’re not educated enough for a more demanding job.”
Roger thought for a few moments and said “It’s tempting to give you a compulsion to wash dishes at least once a week for the rest of your life. People who think they’re too good for hard work annoy me, and you could use a little taking down.”
A shiver went through me as I thought about that possibility. How could I explain compulsive dish washing to my friends?!
Roger paused, looked regretful, and said “But I promised to put you back the way you were when I leave, and I keep my promises.”
My relief must have shown, because he continued.
“That’s right, my flight leaves tomorrow at 11 a.m., and before then I will put you back the way you were, with no memory of this episode. Except, of course, for the gift I’ve promised you.”
“You should probably start thinking about what you want.” He continued. “I really do intend to give you something you will like, and I can do a lot to make life easier for you. For instance, think how pleasant it would be to stay as thin and fit as you are normally, without worrying about exercise and dieting.”
With that suggestion he left me to the dishes and my own thoughts. The sight of my enlarged breasts was unavoidable. They eclipsed half my normal field of vision when I looked down, and served as mute testimony to his power. To have that sort of power used to change my body in the way I wanted was more than slightly tempting.
“This might actually make it worth going through all this!” I thought.
Thoughts of the possibilities kept my mind occupied as I did the dishes, but I couldn’t reach a decision. Nothing seemed to really set off any sparks for me.
“Maybe when he lets me go I’ll be able to decide. The way I get horny every time I think about these enormous boobs is really distracting! And I’m forced to look at them every time I try to look down at the sink!”
Once I was done with the dishes, I found myself free. I realized that for the first time since this morning, my entire body seemed to be obeying my commands!
I couldn’t help thinking of escape, and looking at the door that led outside from the kitchen. But I quickly discarded that idea.
“Don’t be stupid!” I said to myself. “Where would I go? I look like an illustration from a porno magazine, I might as well be naked for all I’m wearing, I can’t read, or even count, and I can’t even talk to anyone but Roger! Besides, Roger would probably just twitch his nose or something when he found me gone, and I’d find myself running back to him as fast as I could.”
I had been trying to ignore the arousal that I had been feeling during dinner, and afterward, but it seemed to be growing. Worse, the idea of Roger making me run to him, the way I looked now, quickly had me thinking about him taking me to bed! The emotions that idea inspired were confused, and disturbing. I decided I needed to do something to distract myself from this line of thought.
“Well, waiting here isn’t going to do me much good. I might as well join them.”
With that thought, I walked out into the living room.
I found myself blushing again as the three of them stopped talking to look at me. As before, they all took their time looking me over. I realized, at this point, that my enlarged nipples and clit made my increasing arousal obvious. I blushed harder, and tried to retreat to the kitchen, but it was too late. My legs had stopped cooperating with me again, and I was stuck there.
My mother spoke first.
“Finished with the dishes already dear? Would you like to join us? Why don’t you sit with Roger while we talk?”
As soon as she finished saying this I found myself walking toward Roger, relaxing in an overstuffed chair near the front door. There weren’t any other chairs near it, and I wondered where I would sit when I got there.
I found out as I stepped in front of him, and sat in his lap. Soon I was cuddled up to him, with my arms around his neck, and my head on his shoulder. As a final indignity, I felt a smile paste itself on my face! I must have looked like I loved being in this position.
I felt my breathing quicken as conflicting emotions flowed through me. My mother and her husband were watching me as I wantonly pressed myself against Roger. I was acting like . . . like . . . his sex toy! Right in front of my mom and his dad!
Soon I discovered that he wasn’t just going to leave me sitting there. I felt his left hand slip around my back and start stroking my breast. The arousal the caresses caused was mixing with the embarrassment of being put on display like this. The resulting swirl of emotions left me gasping and red faced.
Then I felt his right hand begin to move up between my legs. Despite my frantic attempts to squeeze my legs together, I felt them parting easily for him, practically inviting his hand in to my pussy! It didn’t take long for his right hand to reach my pussy and begin stroking it.
Each touch of his hands on my body sent a wave of erotic pleasure through me, and left me needing the next touch a little more each time. Before long I was writhing and pressing myself against him like a tramp. If I could have spoken, I would have been begging him to fuck me and let me cum.
The last coherent memory I have of that part of the evening is my mother saying how nice it was that we were getting along so well.