Luxury Doll

Luxury Doll

January 28, 2026

Dear Diary,

Boston. Him. The man who has somehow become more than a client—closer to a friend and lover , a confidant, and something far more dangerous to my self-control.

As always, he chose my lingerie. This time it’s a full-body black lace stocking, sheer enough that my nipples push through the delicate pattern, hard and impossible to hide. Fire-engine red stripper stilettos match my manicure and pedicure—wet, glossy crimson he paid for, my fingers and toes looking like they were dipped in fresh paint. My makeup is perfect….dark, smoky eyes, heavy and dramatic, deep burgundy lips. It will probably be smudged and running down my face by the end of the night anyway. This is the first time I’ve really indulged him with this level of makeup, because I enjoy giving him what he loves. He spoils me, dresses me, takes care of me in all the ways that make me feel cherished, and in return I get to pamper him the way he deserves. It’s our rhythm — he gives to me, and I give back to him, willingly, happily

I gather my bag—change of clothes, something to pull my hair up with, a baseball cap for later. I know how I’ll leave his house: hair a wreck, body loose and spent. Over the lingerie, only my coat. My bare pussy is already damp beneath the lace as I walk through the hotel lobby. The drive there seems like an eternity.

The walkway to his house crunches with ice and snow. It’s freezing, but my shiver has nothing to do with the cold. It’s anticipation, the kind that settles low in my belly and makes my thighs press together.

Inside, I drop my coat and walk straight into the living room where he's waiting. A pillow is on the floor between his legs and I don’t hesitate. I know my place. I go right to my knees and begin to unzip him, freeing the cock I’ve developed a deep, aching hunger for. Half-hard already, pulsating, throbbing for me in my hand. I start slow—just my tongue, barely there, letting him feel my breath, my warmth. My tongue moves between gentle and all-consuming, the wet sounds building as I take him deeper. I watch him looking down at me, appreciation and gratitude reflected in his eyes. I’ve perfected this technique that he loves so much.under his instruction, now knowing exactly how to use my mouth for him. 

When I finally take him fully, my lips seal around him, my throat opening, my tongue working until his moans tell me I’ve done exactly what I wanted.

He pulls me up for a kiss….urgent and hungry. His hands go to my wrists, tracing the soft, supple leather of the restraints I'm wearing, another gift from him.  His fingers linger there for a moment before he guides me across the house, lifting my arms above my head. Whether I’m secured or simply obedient, I don’t even remember. What I remember is his breath on my neck as he moves my hair aside and kisses down my neck.

His hands cup my breasts through the lace, squeezing, my nipples hard against his palms. He trails his fingers up my arms, over my wrists, over my nails, then over my diamond tennis bracelet—his gift, and a story in and of itself. I know he’s admiring it, the way it catches the candlelight, sitting in contrast against the black lace of my lingerie.

He uses his foot to spread my legs, his fingers reaching between them, finding my heat, my wetness. His hands are warm, masculine, controlling—moving me, positioning me, claiming my body.

He plays me like a finely tuned instrument….. one meant to be played by his hand.  Knowing there are others only adds to the intrigue and mystery that is me, and hearing about them gets him stroking his cock, I think because he enjoys the idea of me being desired, of knowing what I bring back to him. I don’t know why it works that way—but who needs a reason. I just know he’s one of the few who can truly play me right, who understands exactly how to touch me, take me apart, and put me back together in ways very few ever can.

I feel his fingers inside me, deep,  moving with expert precision, buried in my cunt. The sensation is maddening. Slowly, he slides them in and out, in and out, my legs trembling more with every movement. The more I moan, the more urgent he becomes, driving me harder toward the edge.

Two words...“Good girl.”

It shatters me.

My knees go weak as he brings me to my first orgasm of the night, my body clenching around his fingers, my release coating them.

He wastes no time, my legs are still shaking as he lowers my arms, blindfolds me, and leads me across the room. I don’t need to see to know what’s waiting. I already know.

The machine — the most recent addition to our collection of sex toys. He’s been wanting it for a while, ever since he saw it in a porn video. I know it’s waiting for me tonight because he told me...or maybe I should say he warned me.

He positions me on my knees, pouring the slick, cool lube down the crack of my ass until it slides over my cunt. I shiver as it spreads, my body already reacting before the machineeven touches me. The lube flows slick and cool before everything turns hot and overwhelming. 

The feel of the silicone attachment—soft, velvety—driving into my already swollen, wet pussy is delicious. Blindfolded, I don’t know if he’s watching, if he’s in front of me or behind me. I brace myself, never knowing when he’ll turn it to full speed, full thrust. The machine works me with relentless perfection, bringing me to one orgasm after another. My pussy, swollen and on fire, clenches so tightly around it that it nearly stops moving when I come. I wonder how he can stand there watching without touching himself. Or maybe he is. I wouldn’t know. I only know that between the positioning, the chemistry, and the way my body responds, it completely overwhelms me. His magnificent cock has found its way to my mouth again. I suck with everything I have, the motion machine driving my face into them, over and over quickly, urgently. How can he have this much restraint, be able to?hold back when I cannot.?

I come hard. Then again. My pussy  walls clutch and spasm, my body holding the toy deep inside me, my own release slicking my thighs. I’m already spent—and the night is only beginning.

We take a break, sharing a cocktail and lighting a joint. He takes the first hit, inhaling deeply before exhaling the cloud of smoke into my mouth. I breathe it in with his kiss. It’s deeply.intimate and some help incredibly personal.

In the bedroom, French doors stand open to the stunning deck and the river beyond, frozen and glistening in the moonlight. I glanced at the hot tub, recalling so many and talk skating evenings we've spent in there.

 I move to the bed, my mouth ready again. He loves the obedience he brings out in me, the way I give myself to him. When we first met, he told me he wanted his cock sucked for an hour straight and I remember thinking he was out of his mind. And hanging my head over the edge of the bed? Too vulnerable. Too dizzy.

Yet here I am—moving into position without being told, hanging my head as far over the bed as I can, inviting him into my mouth. His fingers touch my face as he slowly enters, my mouth tender and eager. My moans and movements encourage him...to enjoy not just a blowjob, but to really fuck my mouth. He doesn’t need any coaxing as he naturally takes control, filling my throat, driving down through my soft lips and wet mouth. He shows me no mercy. I remember thinking my makeup must be running down my face by now and the  idea turning me on...sexy in a dirty, trashy way. He fucks my mouth so hard, so deeply that I start to slip off the bed, not knowing if my head is spinning because everything is so intoxicating or if I’m about to crash onto the floor. He senses my panic, and immediately his hands grip my shoulders, keeping me from falling.  I climbed back up onto the bed, spent, satisfied, and ready for more.. I need another orgasm.

He drops down next to me, and I waste no time climbing over him, guiding him inside  me, riding him with all the strength I have . This angle is different, deep, filling. I sit down with all my weight, wanting him as far inside of me as possible. I grind, slide, rock...never letting his cock leave my pussy, just enjoying it moving inside me. I use him like my own sex toy, knowing I'm loving it as much as he is. I know he adores the way my pussy, slick and sticky from my own cum, drags along him, clinging, coating him. I lift myself just enough to let my juices trail down his shaft, slow and deliberate. I don’t need to say anything. He knows.

“There it is.”

“Let it go.”

At his command, I do. He moans in pleasure as he feels me seeping over him. I keep grinding, wanting him deeper and deeper, feeling my own cum pushing out of me, dripping down my thighs, soaking us both.

Only after that does he turn me over.

On all fours, he takes me hard, fierce, animal like. His hands grip my shoulders like he can’t get deep enough, can’t fuck me hard enough. I’m in that place where I want to crawl away and pull him closer at the same time. The pleasure is overwhelming as the night blurs into one long, continuous orgasm. The more I lose control, the harder and faster he fucks me, his sounds turning primal. I know what it means. He’s close.

We’ve already fucked for hours, but I’m selfish. I slip in one more orgasm for myself and I know he feels it because that’s when he lets go.

He asks me where I want it…if he owns that pussy tonight. He knows he does, and I prove it by begging him to fill me, my  voice hoarse, breathless. I don’t know if I actually say it out loud or only think it—but I can’t wait to feel it dripping back down my thighs later.

He buries himself deep and lets go, his primal grunt filling the room. The sound alone is enough to make me lose myself yet again.

Afterward, we collapse together…. ice, melted in the cocktail, joint burning low, falling asleep tangled in both the sheets and each other’s arms.

Two lovers.

Spent.

Satisfied.

And still starving for more

Right now, I’m sharing these stories here as a taste of my life, my desires, and my secrets. This is just the beginning. The deeper, more intimate entries will soon be reserved for those who choose to step fully into my VIP world.

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