Toy

Not for those under 18 (or whatever the legal age for this sort of stuff is in your area). If you’re not that old, Boo! Go away now. If you are offended by graphic descriptions of sexual activities, especially non-consensual ones, then don’t read this. All characters and situations are fictional.

Copyright 2025 greyscribbler@yahoo.com

Archived on the Read Only Mind web site by permission of the author. This story may be downloaded for personal archiving as long as this notice is retained.

“I think this is a nice spot,” Finn commented.

Lucy had to agree with that, even if something made her frown. The view was gorgeous, the grass sweeping away from the low hill they stood on to the stream in the distance, a few trees providing shade in they wanted it. Just the spot for picnic.

Why?

“I like your dress.” Finn was spreading out a blanket next to one of the trees.

“Uh, thanks? I guess?” Lucy glanced down at her dress, its bright floral print. She couldn’t even really remember putting it on. But she must have. She was wearing it. It did seem to fit with where she found herself. Even if it wasn’t something she’d normally wear, the cami top snug around her chest, two thin spaghetti straps holding it up, the hem of the two-layer skirt so short. The only thing covering her shoulders was her long brunette hair. Not at all her usual style. She was more a loose jeans and comfy top type. Something told her that the dress was almost backless, just a large, neat bow holding it in place.

I’m not wearing a bra. What? I never go braless…

“Come and sit down,” Finn smiled, patting the spot on the blanket next to him.

Lucy’s thoughts dissolved, heading over and sitting down next to him.

“It’s nice out here, isn’t it?” There was a smile behind his voice, that said he knew something she didn’t. “Quiet. Just the two of us. I could just lie here all day, watching the clouds.” Lucy realised that he was already lying down, his hands laced behind his head. “Why don’t you try it? It’s so relaxing.”

Finn’s voice flowed over her, easing the little knot of worry at the back of her mind. Calming. Relaxing.

She lay down.

“Wasn’t it such a good idea of mine, suggesting we come out here today?”

It had been Finn’s idea. Lucy could remember that. That they go on a picnic today. She wasn’t sure why she had said yes. It wasn’t like they were a couple or anything. Although they had been spending a lot of time together lately. It had started, when, exactly? Lucy wasn’t sure. They’d met through class, assigned to work on a project together. And then Finn had… Lucy wasn’t sure what.

“Just look at the clouds,” Finn said. Lucy did. It was so much easier than trying to catch thoughts that stubbornly eluded her. “So light and fluffy and high in the sky. So easy to watch them.”

It was. So easy. Finn was right. Maybe they were a couple or at least heading that way. Maybe that was why she’d agreed to go on a picnic with him and wear a skimpy dress that she’d never wear otherwise. It made more sense than anything else.

“It’s so easy to look at the clouds. Drifting along. Drifting away. Like your thoughts are drifting away.”

What? Why would she want her thoughts to drift away? But they were.

“So easy to let them go.”

It was. So very, very easy to let her thoughts drift away. Like she’d done this before.

“Going down and down and down. As down as the clouds are so high up. Deeper than that. Always deeper.”

Lucy was simply staring, wide-eyed, at the clouds.

“So deep now, letting all those thoughts drift away.”

There was barely a thought in her head.

“How deep are you?”

Finn had asked her a question. Something told her that she had to answer. “So deep.” It was so easy to answer, just lying there staring up at the clouds. Not a thought in her head.

“I could have done this somewhere else.” There was a low chuckle in his voice. Lucy could somehow sense that he had turned on his side, towards her, his head resting casually on his hand. But she was still staring up at the clouds. There was no need for her to move. “Your place. Mine. But I wanted somewhere special. And you just said yes when I suggested a picnic. And then I gave you this dress and told you to wear it. It really does look good on you.”

Some bare memory of thought wondered if Finn had watched her take off whatever clothes she had been wearing and put the dress on.

“I didn’t watch, if that’s what you’re wondering. Are you able to wonder that? It doesn’t matter. I didn’t.”

Oh. That’s good that he didn’t watch me change, right?

“You’re not ready for something like that. Not yet. And it’s more fun this way, anyway.”

She couldn’t think enough to make sense of his words. It was easier to just look at the clouds.

“Roll over.”

She did. She couldn’t see the clouds anymore, but she knew that they were still drifting above her. Like her thoughts were drifting away.

“God,” he breathed. “Your legs. They’re fucking amazing. So long. And your thighs. Not too thin, not too thick. Just right. And with how short this dress is. Man, it barely covers your arse. It’s not just your legs, you’re gorgeous. You could be a model, you know? Like on those clothes sites, online. Your legs are as good as any of theirs. Not sure it was your legs I first saw. But they’re amazing. And your tits. They’re not big, but I like them that way. Just right. And your face. Fucking gorgeous. ”

Something warmed in Lucy at his words. He was complimenting her. That was good, right?

Finn’s hands were behind her knees, slowly running up the length of her thighs, gently kneading the muscles.

“It’s so relaxing when I do this. Your thoughts just drift away.”

They did. She was lucky she was lying down, her body just a gooey mess she was so relaxed.

“Your skin is amazing, you know? So smooth. Just, wow. And you’ve got a good tan. Not too much, just healthy. Is it all over? Well, if it’s not, we’ll take care of that.”

Something should trouble her about that. Or at least, Lucy almost thought that it should. But more and more of her thoughts drifted away with each pass of his hands. Before she knew it, Finn’s hands had moved on to her arse. Lucy didn’t worry about that. Everything seemed so right.

“You won’t remember, but this is how we started. Well, not with your arse.” His hands felt so good on her arse, so relaxing. “I offered you a massage. We started with your shoulders.” His hands were on her shoulders now. So relaxing. He was straddling her, but Lucy didn’t worry about that. It felt so good, his thighs constraining her. If anyone could have seen them, they might have thought it was just a boyfriend giving his girlfriend a nice, relaxing massage.

“You went under so easy. Relaxing, letting your thoughts go, letting them all drift away. Like clouds on the breeze. Prop your chin up so you can see the clouds. See how they drift across the sky? So soft and fluffy and nothing to them at all. Like your thoughts”

With her chin propped up on the blanket, Lucy could just see the clouds, drifting across the sky. What little was left of her thoughts drifted away with them. It was if she’d done it so many times before.

“We’ve done it so many times since. So now you should be ready.” Finn’s hands stopped, resting lightly on her shoulders. “Sit up,” he added after a moment, rolling off her

Lucy did, without thinking. Not a thought in her head.

“Oh that’s cute,” Finn smiled, flicking a strand of Lucy’s long brunette hair behind her ear. “Sitting straight up. Not what I had in mind. God, your legs are amazing. And the rest of you.” He sat across from her, playing idly with her hair, his fingers just brushing her scalp, even that relaxing her more.

“Sit back down,” Finn ordered. “Resting your arse on your heels. Hands on your thighs. Yeah, just like that.”

It was so easy to do what he said. She had no thoughts of her own, so what else would she do?

“There are no thoughts in your head,” Finn declared.

It was true, so true.

“You love having no thoughts. It turns you on.”

Something almost rose in Lucy at that. But she had no thoughts, so whatever it was sputtered and died. She was turned on, warmth spreading from her centre.

“It’s so much better to have no thoughts than to think. You much prefer having no thoughts than thinking. Having no thoughts turns you on so much. Tell me that.”

“It’s so much better to have no thoughts than to think.” The words spilled from her mouth, so easily. Why wouldn’t they? She had no thoughts. That turned her on so much. “I much prefer having no thoughts than thinking. Having no thoughts turns me on so much.” That warmth had filled her body, her centre burning with arousal.

“Let that sink in. Let that become your truth.”

It was, it was true. It was so much better not to think, the lack turning her on so hard.

“You’ll think if I tell you to. But you’ll always prefer having no thoughts. Being mindless. Having no thoughts turns you on so much.”

The words sank into Lucy’s mind. But she had no thoughts, so she didn’t think about them. They were simply true.

“You are turned on,” Finn commented wryly. “I can see how hard your nipples are. I bet you’re so wet. Well, you’re going to get wetter.”

Lucy didn’t react to his words. That would have required thought.

“You love being in this position. It feels good. Being on your knees. It turns you on.”

It did. Kneeling on the ground, hands on her knees. It felt good. It felt right. She was so turned on.

“But there’s something even better. Put your hands behind your neck, fingers laced together, elbows out, spread your knees. Wider. Yes, like that. Arch your back.” Lucy simply did as she was told. She had no thoughts, so what else could she do? “This is your natural position. If you don’t have anything else to do, you’ll adopt it. Instinctively. It turns you on to be in this position.”

If Lucy could have thought she’d have been amazed at how aroused she was. From now on, her body would always return to this position. She was so turned on, dampness leaking down her thighs. Being in this position would always turn her on.

“You may not have any thoughts, but you have memories. Let’s see about that. Picture a box in your head. Big and solid and strong.”

Lucy did. It was the only thought in your head.

“Picture a memory. Let’s say. Um. Your twelfth birthday. Put the memory in the box. When you put a memory in the box, you can’t get it at. You don’t remember it. It’s there, but you don’t remember it. Put your all memories of your twelfth birthday in the box.”

Her twelfth birthday had been when there’d been a pinata. Lucy had screamed and laughed so hard when she’d been the one to burst it. She put the memory in the box. She didn’t remember her twelfth birthday anymore.

“Putting memories in the box turns you on so hard. It makes you cum. You’re so turned on, you want to cum. Putting memories in the box makes you cum. Put your memories of your favourite pet in the box.”

That was Koko, her first dog, a cute little poodle. Lucy put her memories of Koko in the box. She couldn’t remember Koko anymore. Had no memories of owning a dog called that.

She came, her hips jerking.

“Good girl. Let’s put some more memories in the box. Your first day of high school.”

Lucy put that memory in the box. And came.

“Going to the beach.”

She came as those memories went into the box. Had no memory of ever going to the beach. No memory of letting the water wash over her feet.

“Your family.”

Those memories went into the box, another orgasm ripping through the mindless girl.

“Going to college.”

On and on, orgasm after orgasm.

“Holidays.”

“Where you live.”

“Going to school.”

“Everything before today. You love having no memories of anything before this place. It turns you on that this place is the first thing you can remember.”

It did. She was on a small hill, with grass all around them, clouds drifting above. It was the first thing she could remember. That being the first thing Lucy could remember turned her on so much that she came.

“Put your name in the box. You have no name.”

Her name went in the box. The now nameless girl came again, her hips jerking.

“You love having no name. You can think that much. It turns you on to have no name. Having no name is the right thing for you.”

It was. Somehow, she was allowed that much thought. She loved having no name. It was the right thing for her.

“Having no name turns you on. What’s your name?”

“I don’t have a name,” she replied. God, it was so good, having no name. It was right for her to have no name. Having no name turned her on that much.

“So,” the man in front of her smiled. She didn’t know what his name was either, but, somehow, the girl thought he had one. It didn’t matter. She had no name and she was in her natural position, kneeling, back arched, hands laced behind her neck, knees spread. She was so turned on. “You have no name. And no memories before this place. Think about that.”

She could. She loved having no name and no memories of anything before this hill. It turned her on so much. Even if it would be so much better to have no thoughts at all.

“A person would have a name. And memories. So you’re not a person.”

The girl almost frowned at that. Maybe a person would have amnesia? She didn’t want to think about that. She wanted not to think. Not thinking was so much better. She preferred not thinking. Just being empty and mindless and turned on. But the man had told her to think. He must be right. She wasn’t a person.

“If you’re not a person, you’re an object.”

Something about that didn’t seem right. But the man was right. And she didn’t want to think. Objects didn’t think. So she was an object.

“You love being an object. It turns you on so much being an object.”

Yes! That was it! She was an object. It turned her on so much being an object. Objects didn’t have to think. She wished she could stop thinking.

“Objects don’t get to make decisions. You don’t get to make decisions. You love not making decisions. It turns you on so much to not make decisions. To have others make your decisions for you.”

Of course it did. She was an object. Objects didn’t make decisions. She was so turned on, being an object, not making decisions, having other people make decisions for her. So close to cumming…

“Objects don’t get to decide when to cum. You only cum when I allow you to. It turns you on so much, only being allowed to cum when I say so.”

It did. She was so turned on, so close to cumming, But she wouldn’t cum. Couldn’t. Not unless the man told her to. That turned her on so much.

“You’re an object. You don’t make decisions.” That was so right. She was so turned on. “Objects don’t move by themselves. You only move when someone adjusts your pose or tells you how to move. And if you’re not told anything else, you go back to your natural position. I told you to do that, so that counts too. You love not being in control of your movements. It turns you on.”

It did. It did so much. She loved not being in control of her own movements. Why would she want to, when not controlling them turned her on so much?

“You much prefer not moving or having someone change your pose to moving by yourself. You love holding a pose. It turns you on.”

“I’m going to move you,” the man said. “When I do, hold that position.”

He reached around behind her neck and gently pulled her hands out until her arms were stretched to either side of her. She wasn’t in control of her movements. That turned her on so much. He pushed her knees together, her pussy pulsing with arousal as her movements were controlled.

He left her there. She wasn’t moving. That turned her on so much.

“Now resume your natural position.”

She did, her hands returning to their position behind her neck and knees spreading. She wasn’t in control of her movements. He’d told her what to do. It was so good to be in her natural positions. It turned her on so much.

“Good girl. Such a good object. You can cum.”

The girl, the object, did, gloriously. It was so good having her movements controlled.

“You will move when you have to, though. Even if you don’t like it. Even if you much prefer being still or having someone control your movement. If someone tells you that you have to move, it will turn you on, even though you’d much prefer to be still and thoughtless.”

More truths sank into her mind. She’d move when she was told to, turned on by the command, even if she’d much prefer to be still and thoughtless.

“There’s a box in your head. Can you see it?”

“Yes, I can see it,” the girl, the object, replied. It was so good, being an object, not having a name, being in her natural position, not able to cum unless he allowed it, everything adding to the burning arousal constantly coursing through her.

“Inside that box are memories,” the man said. “They’re not your memories. They’re the memories of a girl called Lucy. You won’t worry about how you got them. Lucy died.”

The girl, the object, was sad for a moment. But she was so turned on that it didn’t last long.

“You look like Lucy. You were made to look like Lucy. When I tell you to, you’ll be able to access those memories. Able to act like Lucy, moving like Lucy, talking like Lucy, but only because I told you to. If you pretend to be Lucy, then people won’t be sad that Lucy’s gone.”

That made sense as much as the girl, the object, was able to think. She was glad that people wouldn’t be sad about Lucy.

“And if I told you to do it, then it’s not you in control. That turns you on. It turns you on to be told to act like Lucy.”

It would.

“But you’re nameless, an object. Lucy isn’t your name. You’ll just sometimes pretend to be her. And if you’re an object, someone must own you. You love having an owner. It turns you on.”

The girl, the object, wanted an owner so much. The thought of having an owner turned her on so hard, her breath coming in gasps.

“I’m telling you what to do. You’re obeying me. So I’m you’re owner.”

He was! He was her owner! That thought turned her on so hard, she almost came. Except she couldn’t cum unless he told her that she could. Which turned her on even more.

“Tell me that, tell me that you’re mine.”

“I’m yours,” the girl, the object cried. “You own me.”

“Very good,” her owner smiled. “Except objects don’t get to be ‘I’ or ‘me’. You’re an it, a toy.”

“A … toy?”

“That’s right, you’re a toy.”

It made sense. She was an object. So she needed to know what sort of object she was. If her owner told her that she was a toy, she was a toy.

“You’re ‘this toy’,” he continued. “From now on, that’s how you refer to yourself. That’s how you think of yourself. Even when you’re pretending to be Lucy, even if you have to use ‘I’ or ‘me’ when you’re speaking while pretending to be Lucy, you’ll think of yourself as ‘this toy’. It turns you on to think of yourself as ‘this toy’. Now, try again.”

“This toy is yours,” the toy replied. “You own this toy.” It felt so good, being a toy. It would always think of itself as ‘this toy’. That would turn it on so much. Of course, it preferred not to think at all. Like a good toy.

“Now,” the man smiled smugly. “What sort of toy are you? Let’s see… You’re pretty. And so turned on. But you can only cum when I say. Sounds like a sex toy to me. You’re a sex toy. It turns you on so much to be a sex toy. My sex toy. Tell me what you are.”

“This toy is your sex toy,” the toy replied. It was so turned on.

“Yeah,” the man grinned, reaching and out grabbing one of the toy’s breasts. The toy didn’t object. It was a sex toy after all, so of course its owner could do whatever he wanted with its breasts.

“Fuck, I thought they looked good. But man… Get on your hands and knees, then hold that position.”

They toy did exactly as it was told. It wasn’t controlling its own movements. It was doing as it was told. That was so good. And then, once it was in position, it stopped. So still. Not moving. That was even better. Was its owner was going to fuck it? It was a sex toy, after all.

Its owner flipped up the toy’s dress, reaching between its legs. “You’re fucking soaked. Well,

you’re so turned on all the time now, so…” The panties were ripped away, a tearing sound. The toy didn’t care. It was just a toy. It didn’t own anything.

“Hmm, we’ll have to get rid of that,” its owner mused, his hand cupping the place between the toy’s legs. “Good toys should be nice and clean. We’re going to get rid of all the hair below your neck. You’ll love being hairless from the neck down. It will turn you on.”

It would. The toy would be hairless from the neck down. That would turn it on so much.

Like it was turned on now. Like a good toy. From behind it, there was the sound of jeans being undone. The toy didn’t turn its head. Not being able to move turned it on so much.

“Fuck, yeah,” its owner moaned as he mounted his toy. “So wet. So fucking tight. I fucking knew it. Tell me how good this feels. Tell me how much I’m filling you up.”

“You feel so good inside this toy,” the toy cried. “You fill this toy up so much.”

“Lucy!” her owner cried, thrusting deep inside, “Call yourself Lucy!”

“You feel so good inside Lucy,” the toy repeated, its breath ragged. “You fill Lucy up so much.”

“God, yeah,” its owner cried, filling her insides with his cum. “You can cum too”

The toy shuddered and exploded. But it held its pose, like a good toy. It was so good not to move.

“We’re going to do that again,” the toy’s owner whispered into the toy’s ear. “Except this time you won’t be thinking. You’ll just lie there, mindless, a big smile on your face, like a good little sex toy.”

Yes! The toy would be able to stop thinking. It much preferred not thinking. That turned it on so much.

“Let’s get this dress off you.” The toy held its pose on its hands and knees as the dress was slipped up its body and over its head to bunch around its wrists. “And roll you over.”

The toy could see the clouds again. It didn’t think about them. Why would it? It didn’t care as the dress was thrown aside. “Let’s straighten these legs. Spread them a bit. Now the arms. Up by your head, I think. Yeah. Just like a fucking doll.”

The toy was so turned on as its owner arranged it in a new pose. It wasn’t controlling its owner movements. It loved that so much.

“Smile,” its owner ordered, the toy’s expression turning into a big smile. “Now hold that. And stop thinking.”

“God, you’re still so wet,” its owner mused, cupping the toy’s pussy, one finger slipping inside, the other hand fondling a breast. “Still, with all those commands I’ve given you, you’re going to spend your whole life turned on. Every fucking minute.” Grinning, its owner mounted the toy. “Geez, you are so fucking tight, I’m never going to get enough of this.”

The toy simply lay there, unmoving, not a thought in its head, as its owner fucked it again.

“When we’re done,” its owner mused, pausing between thrusts. “You’re going to dig into Lucy’s memories. And tell me who her prettiest friend is. Who says I should only have one toy?”

The toy didn’t respond.

It was a toy.

It had no thoughts.

(The end)