I smile. I can’t not smile.

I am a toy. 

Mistress made me. Mistress plays with me. That’s all I know, because I am a toy and that’s the only thought She lets me have in my pretty little head. 

I am a toy. 

Those four little words are all that exist in Her toy’s mind – but it’s not empty. They’ve grown – they fill my brain, leaving no cracks, no room for any other thoughts. Am I wearing clothes? Is it still today or has it been a year? Who knows? Who cares? Not this toy, because I am a toy.

I could have shoes on my hands and peanut butter on my feet. There’s no room left in my brain even to tell that – and certainly none for worrying about bills or work or rent. Like those things are even relevant to an empty-headed piece of injection-molded plastic like me. 

Because I am a toy. 

Mistress comes near me again. A part of me, conditioned to respond to her on a level deeper than thought, notices her out of the corner of my unfocused eyes, smells her perfume and her sweat. But I am a toy. 

She kneels down and takes my chin in her hand. Gently she rotates my head so that my unseeing plastic eyes are looking into her beautiful ones. 

“I want to check in with you Rachel, how are you doing?” 

I blink once or twice. “I’m doing great, darling. This is everything I hoped it would be.”

She smiles. “Perfect. I got the feeldo out – are you up for it?”

I smile – a real human smile, this time. “Been looking forward to it.”

“Well, then, by all means, go back to being a good little toy for me. It’s time to play with you some more.”

I am a toy, again – always. 

Mistress moves out of sight and then She returns. Holding my head by my chin again, She puts a brilliant red lipstick on my lips and, satisfied, opens my mouth into an “O” shape. Then She guides the realistic strapon into my mouth. 

“Now be a good little toy for me and suck my cock.”

I am a good little toy for Her.