Read all about it

The online diary of an ethical pervert.

Sunday, 31 January 2010

Dolly Part 1

Every time I go over to see Captain I can be certain of only two things. First, we will do at least one thing that I have never done before, and second, the experience will be intense enough that I will need at least a day to recover. On Friday we were doing doll play. A doll for him.

The first part was to scrub away myself, physically then mentally. I'm naked and on all fours wearing a large padded, leather blindfold that covered both eyes and nose. My first thought is that I'm going to be beaten, "cleansed" through mortification, so I'm a little curious when there is no pain. Instead I feel a squirt of cool lube against my arse as my legs are spread and something plastic is inserted. There's the noise of liquid stirred in a glass and then a heavy, bloating pressure inside me. Enema. I tense automatically, when the plastic tube is removed and I'm instructed to hold tight.
the sensation is not painful, but deeply uncomfortable and certainly unpleasant. A strong need to go to the bathroom and a slightly sickly-sloshing feeling. After a minute or so - it felt longer - he grabs me by the hair and I crawl towards the bathroom and am placed on the toilet. He looks at me, I look at him. I wait for permission and am very relieved when I get it. It's a horrible feeling, invasive liquid literally pouring out through juddering, confused muscles. I feel very queasy, unsettled and vulnerable because this is effectively duplicating having diarrhoea so I get the mental side-effect of feeling unwell. I'm not embarrassed per se, but I am starting to suffer from a minor body-shock at the unfamiliar and extremely intimate situation being imposed upon me. He watches for a while then leaves me with the instructions to clean myself up and scrub down in the shower.

I take my time. I feel sick to my stomach, which is cramping and my legs are wobbling as I eventually get in the shower (20ml of glycerol into one pint of water had quite a pronounced effect on my clearly sensitive system). I'm very glad of being able to clean off, I enjoy this part of the process as an extension of what I naturally do when visiting a partner - I always take pains to make sure my skin is soft and smooth and that all of me is ready so it's nice to make double sure. Finally I'm done and dried and can step out of the bathroom and into some fishnet hold ups and very high heels. I can just about walk in the heels, tottering.

He straps me to a chair in a darkened room. I'm facing a single candle burning on the bench in front of me. The track from the night before plays in the background. I can hear his voice against my ear, calm and low and I recognise the hypnotic cadence from play and conversations with Different Drummer I relax and let his voice take me wherever he wants me to go - as much a part of becoming his doll as letting him put my body where he decides. What he wants is a passive, unmoving "dolly". Something that stays where it is put and does not respond or react. But does feel. More than that - is hyper sensitive to every touch. My internal reaction is mixed, first I'm very excited, the idea of an encapsulated state - present, unmoving but still feeling is very hot, but I'm concerned as to whether I can actually do it, given how jumpy I can be. 'm worried I'm going to let him down before we have even started. I try and shake these thought away, aware of self-fulfilling prophecies, so I concentrate on the candle in front of me, my breathing and his voice, attempting to push everything else away.

I get to a light trance state by the time he pulls me up into the doll persona, firm, heavy limbs, fuzziness around the brain and tingling skin, like the moments before sleeping. He puts a heavy latex mask on my head - zipping it closed at the front in an act of "putting me away", he's talking to me more than usual and his words are something to hold on to in the otherwise dark and far away world of my own body. He moves me around a little finally securing me in place with a rope harness around my chest to the ceiling. A hook inserted in my arse gives slightly more stability, but it is an uncomfortable, at times painful presence, especially when I lose my balance and fall against the ropes, circling around on my heels, helpless. Then it really hurts, but there is also a pleasure in swaying like this, collapsed yet strung up. It emphasises my lack of control and volition. The pain is a needed sensation - it reinforces the requirement to stay still and rigid. He waits a while and then pushes me back into a standing position. I become aware of just how wet my cunt is, I can feel liquid dripping down my thighs and when he presses into my back and grabs my breasts it is extremely hard not to lean into him and keen to be fucked.

I'm not sure how long I'm left standing there. Sometimes he leaves me alone, sometimes he touches me, either to slap my face or my bottom or to pinch my nipples. Once or perhaps twice he kisses my shoulders, plays with my cunt and the tenderness surprises me. He keeps talking, telling me I'm pretty, his pretty dolly and the words hold me under as much as the rope or the mask. The invisible line between user and use-object. As I hang there, alternatively used and watched I start to feel a heaviness upon me, it's getting harder to breathe. I'm still not entirely sure what caused this, whether the rope, the mask or just being in that particular headspace, but I feel the world go darker around the edges and fall away, I realise I'm about to faint. It is actually quite a pleasant experience as I truly loose control and am no longer able to even hold myself upright. By which point he has already taken most of my crumpling weight and removing the ropes. I pool gratefully onto the floor, limbs still in doll positions, like a broken toy. Waiting for the next time.

No comments: