“Comfortable in there?” Milo asked.

“I’m a fucktoy,” Hailee replied, staring up at him raptly. Its eyes were wide and frightened, but its voice, although high-pitched with evident anxiety, was as docile and timid as ever, and it made not one movement to try and escape - not so much as a twitch.

“Good,” he chuckled. Reaching down, he slightly rearranged the pile of dildos next to Hailee, giving it a little more room. He made sure to brush his fingers over its bare tit as he withdrew his hand, making it shiver appreciatively. “Think you’ll be warm enough?”

“Use my holes,” it mumbled, snuggling deeper into its bedding. It was curled up on a layer of pillows and cushions lining the bottom of the large wooden Ottoman chest, surrounded by an assortment of other toys - some sexual, and some that at least appeared more wholesome. Hailee was currently cuddling one of the latter, a lilac plushie star. It must have known the soft toy hadn’t been cleaned since Milo had made Hailee hump it until ruining earlier that evening, but it didn’t seem to care.

“OK, hold on.” Disappearing for a moment, he loomed over Hailee a moment later, holding a blanket the same shade as the plushie, which he draped over his hypnotised plaything, tucking the edges under its body. It wriggled contentedly, fully enveloped and comfortable. “How’s that?” he asked, patting its butt through the blanket.

“I’m a fucktoy,” it said gratefully.

“Excellent. Now remember, if you need anything during the night, I’m right out here.” He smirked. “But of course, you won’t need anything, because you’re just a fucktoy, isn’t that right? Just a blow-up doll, with no wants or needs of your own, to be used for my relief and then stashed away with my other toys when I’m done with you.”

“Use my holes,” Hailee answered meekly. That was all it was capable of saying, alternating between that invitation and declaring itself a fucktoy, the two pre-programmed phrases going around and around in a loop. It didn’t matter that its holes still ached from the thorough use they’d already received that evening. It knew that if Milo wanted to use it again - if the urge for sexual relief seized him even at this late hour, and he decided to take it out of its box and play with it again - that was his prerogative.

“Well, exactly! Good night, Hailee.”

“I’m a fucktoy,” it announced again, as if that wasn’t well-established by now.

Milo lowered the Ottoman’s lid into place, leaving Hailee with only a little light through the airholes. It heard a click, as its owner attached the chest’s padlock. It listened as his footsteps padded away across the carpet of their bedroom, growing fainter with the increasing distance.

Then suddenly, the scant remaining illumination was extinguished too, as Milo turned off the light. “Use my holes,” Hailee gasped softly, taken by surprise by the total darkness. It squirmed in the blanket’s embrace, holding its plushie closer, rubbing its thighs together, scared and thrilled in equal measure.

It was going to lie there in the small, dark space and wait until morning for its Master to let it out. Maybe even longer than that. He might not need it as soon as he woke up, after all. He might just leave it in its toybox until he had a use for it. Again, it was entirely his decision. He was a person, whereas Hailee...

“I’m a fucktoy,” it reminded itself in an excited whisper, burying its face in its pillow.

***

Lying in bed, his eyes slowly adjusting to the darkness, Milo gazed over at the toybox in the corner of the bedroom, smiling adoringly, a hand under the duvet idly stroking his cock through his boxers. Hailee’s capacity for punishment and degradation never ceased to amaze him, even after over a year together. If anything, its desire to be abused and dehumanised had grown even stronger since they’d dispensed with its female pronouns, so it could identify more strongly as a toy rather than a woman.

He knew it felt extraordinarily lucky to have found a man who would treat it with the cruelty it craved - who could still be trusted never to go too far, and to never forget that however far their power exchange escapades went, it was still a human being deep down. He hoped Hailee knew how unbelievably lucky he felt - it was an honour to be with such a beautiful, brilliant woman, to build a life and a relationship with her, and to spend most of their evenings stripping her of her independence, her sharp intellect, her personhood, and reducing ‘her’ to ‘it’, his dutiful, reverent, exquisitely talented fucktoy.

Of course, it thought he was being much crueller right now than he actually was. As much as he knew it loved pain and discomfort (this was the same ex-person who once went to work with a clothespin on its cunt), he didn’t want it lying in an awkward position in a confined space overnight. That could risk causing its body actual harm, and he didn’t want that. The toybox was large enough for a human adult to lie inside for a prolonged period, and he’d taken numerous other measures to make it more habitable.

In addition to the thick heap of pillows and cushions he’d laid on the floor of the chest, he’d also stuck soft padding to the sides, so Hailee wouldn’t injure itself on hard wood if it kicked out with a limb reflexively during the night. He’d drilled a dozen inch-wide airholes - four on the bottom of each long side, and two on each short side, seemed sufficient. Hailee was naked, of course, but he’d always intended to give it the blanket for extra warmth (he’d only checked so he could hear its pre-programmed responses again, because that never got old).

Finally, and most importantly, the padlock was entirely ornamental - it clicked shut through a brass ring that protruded from the lid of the Ottoman, but there was nothing else to link it through, nothing to hold the lid shut. So Hailee wasn’t really trapped inside the toybox, and if there was an emergency - if it needed to use the bathroom, or if there was a fire or something - it could escape easily enough. On a subconscious level, Hailee knew that - but it would only remember if it needed to. Milo felt confident it wouldn’t remember otherwise. It was very good at responding to his hypnotic suggestions, obeying the compulsions he gave it, losing itself to the scenarios he devised, and keeping secrets from itself until it needed to know them.

Besides, it wanted to feel locked away, stored in the chest like the simple toy it was. It loved to be a sex object, owned by its Master. It wanted to be treated like a thing, a possession, to be used when Milo needed it and stashed away when he didn’t.

And he loved to give it what it wanted.