Kara

We started out as friends, me visiting occasionally, staying with her and her boyfriend when I was in town. I had no idea she was into me, so it came as a surprise when she emailed me and said she'd be showing up in the same town that I was going to be in the following week.

I knew we had a lot in common, but had no idea how we'd hit it off in bed, which was clearly the direction we were heading. In fact, I had no idea what she looked like, really, but I liked her as a person so that didn't bother me too much.

Kara was a doctor, and knew how to wear a loose white doctor jacket OK I assume, but I had never seen her in one. I had only seen her at home, in her usual hippie dress code, which was always some variation of baggy shirts and dresses on top of one another, making it impossible to tell whether the person underneath was shaped like an egg or a pear or something in between.

After we were finally alone together, and Kara lay down beside me, fully clothed, I touched her, and it was a bit like touching one of those ridiculously furry cats, that look very big until you pat them and realize that most of what you thought was a large cat was actually a very small cat with a lot of fur. By the time she removed her clothing I was expecting that she was a lot smaller than I had realized, but I was not prepared for the image of petite gorgeousness that I found before me.

Even naked, she still looked like an unreformed hippie. The baggy garments were off, thank fuck, but the fur remained. Despite the slightly dank smell that a mop of wet pubic hair tends to adopt, it was easy enough to overlook. I'm a big fan of petite, and here before me was the very image of the well-maintained little vegan, with every perfect little dimension -- the thin waist, small hips, perfect, pert breasts about the size of her fists.

We had a fair bit of sex during those brief two nights we had together at that time. It was really nice, but a bit awkward, and by the end of our visit Kara was in some pain from apparently more hard fucking than she was accustomed to. Throughout our two nights together I had never even managed to figure out how to make her come.

She was intent on seeing me again, though, and also intent on keeping in touch, and she wrote me at length about her life as well as her sexual fantasies. Seemed like her life at home was good. She and her boyfriend had gentle sex together that she enjoyed and that even made her come on a regular basis. But, she explained to me, what she really wanted was to submit to someone who wanted to really dominate her, and her boyfriend wasn't into that sort of thing. And she really liked the idea of being humiliated, and being called names and such, which he also wasn't into (and neither was I).

She was planning on visiting me again, and as a doctor, she was able to afford the very long international flight involved with doing so, even though we'd once again only have two nights together. Crazy, but flattering.

After all the communication, I still wondered how awkward this would be. Of the three things that really got her off -- gentle sex, overt forms of humiliation, and having a dominant lover, I was really only into the dominance part, and last time, her fragile little body was only able to take so much of the more vigorous forms of dominant that I tend to like.

Through cyberspace I had also shared with her some of the role-play scenarios that I have enjoyed at times. I thought she might like some of them, such as the ones that might steer towards the things that turn her on -- more gentle sex, or being in a position where a certain amount of humiliation might be called for in the role play. But the one role she fixated on, right from the start, was the one she announced to me as soon as we had finally gotten into bed, after her long flight.

She was so excited she could barely whisper. "Can I be your sex doll?"

This was one of the role plays I had mentioned, but I don't find it's one that appeals to many women, even among the more kinkster types. There are things a person might want, that might require them to at least be able to move or speak in order to at least hint at what it might be that they want. Even if the game is that they consistently tell me the opposite of what they really want -- which I think is a fun one -- at least then I know what that is, and can have some chance to decide whether to do what might please them or not.

But sex doll, with someone I barely knew, I wouldn't even necessarily know how to be nice or mean, but only how to do what I felt like doing. Other relationships might have gone on for a while before we got around to such sex games, but this was a new one.

"Yes," I replied, and she went completely limp.

I had been ready for more awkward sex with someone who had various conflicting desires that never quite worked themselves out, like last time. And I was looking forward to that. But here was something different. This stunningly beautiful, little woman lay before me, immobile, and silently eager for me to do with her whatever I pleased.

I had explained to her in an email what was entailed with being a human sex doll. No ropes or anything of the sort needed. You just moved into whatever positions I moved you into, and stayed in that position until moved again. So it's not like a sex rag doll, but more like a sex doll that remembers positions you put them in. (Having never seen a real sex doll, I have no idea if something like this exists in the world of sex dolls.)

Suddenly I felt relaxed. The pressure was off completely. Kara had no expectations, other than for me to do whatever I wanted with her motionless body. I moved her into a position where I could be on top of her, but kind of lying beside her, with most of my weight on the bed beneath us. Slowly I moved in and out. How she felt about it, I have no idea, but her hippie mop was certainly wet.

I knew I had fucked her too hard the last time, but I had no idea how much too hard or any of that. I had no idea at this point what the parameters were there. I knew that Kara could call a time out whenever she wanted to, and hoped she would do that if she needed to, but I didn't give that too much thought as I moved her onto her side, with one leg straight beneath me, and the other up, with that knee close to her chest. In that position, I fucked her hard and deep, as she lay perfectly still.

I lay down behind her and held her body close to mine, enjoying her little waist and squeezing her perfectly squeezable breasts. I slowly fucked her as I held her, until I was ready for deeper and harder. Then I moved around and on top of her, with her legs spread out beneath me, and fucked her long and deep.

After a couple minutes I pulled her legs up, so her knees were on her chest, and I sat up. Pulling her close to me every time, I fucked her this way fast and hard. I started to feel guilty. Maybe I was hurting her a lot, I had no idea. She wasn't moving or saying anything, true to form.

Honestly, petite little women can rarely take this kind of fucking, I have found. But at least after a little while, they'll start moving their legs out of position, pressing against you, trying to get into a position that involves slightly less depth of fucking. Kara's legs, however, stayed completely immobile, exactly in the position I put them in.

This then seemed like some kind of a challenge. If she really wanted to be my sex doll, I felt like it behooved me to make that task difficult for her. I tried to forget that she was a fragile little thing that couldn't be fucked too hard. I imagined she was the sort who might have a big orgasm if I fucked her hard enough, long enough. I knew she wasn't built like that, but I imagined she was, to alleviate the guilt a little, as I fucked her and fucked her and fucked her some more. I don't know how much effort was involved for her to keep her little legs in that entirely compromised position, but she kept them there, diligently, entirely at my mercy, and I showed very little.

Occasionally I'd feel another pang of guilt, and I'd wonder if she was OK. But I managed to convince myself that whatever happened, it probably wouldn't result in permanent injury, and I brushed the guilt aside. She wanted to be my sex doll, and she would be. Dolls feel no pleasure and no pain. Of course this one did, but I alternately tried to forget that, or was briefly overwhelmed with the stimulation that comes with knowing that this is only a pretend sex doll.

Whatever contradictions I felt about the situation were overpowered by the fact that I had never known, in all my life, a woman who could stay still as well as Kara did. Nothing I did changed this solidly reliable fact. It was overwhelming. I felt I had to do to Kara that night all the things I had never been able to do to similarly petite women. No matter how much some of them may have wanted to please me, there was only so far they could go.

Not Kara, not that night. This motionless, gorgeous woman was the very embodiment of every petite woman I had ever fucked or wanted to fuck, and I fucked her for all of them. I did everything to her that I had ever wanted to do to someone who looked like her, but never could.

I was eventually too sweaty and worn out to keep going like that. Finally, I was stopping because I felt like stopping, not because she couldn't take any more. Apparently, she could, somehow, unmoving, expressionless. Well, it was too dark to see her expression, but I imagined there was none.

I lay down beside her, still inside her.

"I'm gonna go to sleep now, and fuck my sex doll more when I feel like it," I said. "You're the best sex doll I've ever fucked," I added, truthfully.

At this, for the first time through the whole ordeal, there was a quick intake of breath. She wanted my approval, and she had it. Perhaps she wanted other things. An orgasm, who knows. She didn't get that -- just a really sore pussy, and high praise, but that seemed to be enough.