Suzi is Rebuilt as a Sex Toy ch 01

Michael chose a strange point for me to start telling you my story, but that’s not a surprise. Ever since we met, he’s done everything he can to keep me off balance. It’s my feet. He wants me to tell you about my feet. Later, I’ll tell you about the other parts of my body he’s had – as he calls it – “customized”.

It’s terribly humiliating to me to have feet like this. After a year of training and three surgeries, I can no long keep my balance unless I am wearing ballet boots with six inch heels. I wear them to the grocery story, to the bank, everywhere I go. I wore them to work until they fired me. One of the two dozen men I was servicing passed my name along to the wrong person. He ratted me out to upper management. After they took me away for a weekend of fucking and beatings, they fired me. No severance package, no letter of recommendation, nothing. In fact, their going away present was to put up a website with my phone number and movies they’d taken of me that weekend.

For weeks after that, I was constantly taking calls from strangers. They would phone me and tell me where to come to fuck them, or they would let me get them off over the phone. The funny thing about that is that’s how I met Michael. I’d been making my living doing phone sex for six years. I had a steady clientele and was making good money. My record year was sixty thousand dollar. Tax free. Michael had been a customer for about a year when he showed up at my door. I’d been careless and dropped some clues about local sites, summer events in town, my high school sweetheart and the like and he’d used those clues to find me. He showed up at my door with audio and videotapes of our sessions, an organization chart from the place I worked part-time as a lawyer’s assistant, and a handful of legal documents. In less than an hour, I’d signed over my house, my car, my bank accounts and everything else he asked for. Life as I knew it was over.

In the following weeks, he had me keep working both at the lawyer’s office and on the sex lines. At the same time, he started initiating me into his world. I spent most weekends bound and naked or servicing men and women he brought home. I was flogged and spanked regularly, and teased for hours and hours before I was allowed to cum. He had me cut off ties with my friends and family then moved me into an apartment, taking over my four bedroom home. Nobody knew where I was, I had effectively vanished from the planet.

Michael had a series of regular customers. Some were just fuck-and-suck types, but those were rare. He gave me out to the freaks, the weirdest of the weird. It made sense, his fantasies on the phone had always been the farthest out. His life was the same.

There are three customers in particular who are the hardest for me. They all have two things in common: a latex fetish and a desire to see me drink as much cum as they can provide. Their names are Peter, Marco, and Thomas. Peter loves breast torture, Marco loves having me on exhibit at his parties, available to swallow cum for all of his guests, and Thomas loves…well, Thomas is the hardest. Thomas fancies himself a body sculptor. He’d heard of the Barbie doll girl and it set him off. He thinks of me as raw material from which to create the perfect submissive woman. He showed her to me. More about that later.

Michael wants me to describe at least one episode with each of them for you. He has edited this story four times, telling me to be more descriptive, trying to create the perfect catalyst for your pleasure. He enjoys imagining you using me and this story is the conduit. Please enjoy me, please enjoy what they do to me vicariously, please post your comments to me on what else you would like to know about me. Please let me know what Michael and his friends should do to me next for you to read about.


PETER

My titties are 40D. They are firm for a woman of my age (42) and have been used and abused by a series of doms and dommes over the years. Michael introduced me to Peter one night in May in the basement of a bar. We’d arrived half an hour earlier and Michael had left me alone at the bar and sat in a booth with Peter. Michael was describing me to Peter, how many men I’d fucked that week (six), what I was wearing underneath the dress (a latex body suit with openings that left my tits exposed), and how much I was going to cost Peter ($500 for the evening).

My cunt was twitching like mad already just watching the two of them talk. Michael had given me to dozens of men since he took over my life and had continued my training. I was no longer bound and abused on the weekends, it was a daily thing now. I craved cock all the time. And pain. For months now, I could not cum unless I was in pain.

Three men hit on me during that half-hour. I wanted to fuck them, but every time I looked at Michael, he shook his head no. My frustration was building, nipples stiff and excited, every move I made rocketed lust to my nipples and pussy. One of the men actually rested his hand on mine on the bar and I nearly wet my pants. He saw it and leaned in for a kiss. I kissed him deep and hard, my hand starting to reach for his crotch but I looked at Michael and he shook his head again. I pulled back and shook my head. The man called me a tease, splashed his drink in my face, and walked away. I stood there with the cold liquid dripping down my face and didn’t move. The humiliation was so arousing, I wanted to swim in it. My cunt oozed. When the bartender handed me a towel, I took it reluctantly and wiped my forehead. I let the rest of it trickle down my skin, enjoying feeling like a rejected whore.

“Follow me,” Michael said. I saw him and Peter walking toward the hallway that led to the stairs. I got off the barstool, feeling the latex tugging at my legs and cunt, wiggling my ass as I walked. The stairs were dark and led to the bathrooms in the basement. The basement was dimly lit too, just a 60 watt bulb hanging uncovered from a fixture. I was in four-inch heels at the time and made my way carefully down the stairs, still learning to balance on the toes of the ballet boots.

As soon as I stepped off the last stair, Michael turned around and smiled at me. “This is your new friend Peter.” I nodded. I watched anxiously as Michael handed Peter an old-fashioned wooden ruler. Peter smiled. “Raise your dress and offer him your breasts.” I looked around, saw the doors of the Men’s and Ladie’s rooms and the store room. Michael had often shown me off in public but this was close quarters and I was afraid.

“Suzi, please recall that hesitation will result in another visit to the Box.” My gut tightened but I immediately reached for the hem of my skirt and pulled it up until it was around my neck.