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Ornamental: An erotic holiday story

A red Christmas tree ornament on a wooden table.
Photo by Markus Spiske on Unsplash, shared with a Creative Commons License:

“And so, shrunk down, strapped to a tiny dildo, little more than decoration for a party she should have been hosting, Mora shuddered and spasmed and cried out with her first orgasm of the day.”


Hello, my lovelies! One of my goals for the new year is to share more imperfect writing, so today I’m sharing a Winter Solstice gift: an 11K word sizeplay story featuring lesbian sex at a holiday party, succubus magic, shrinking, objectification, mind control, humiliation, dubcon, unaware, scissoring, mouthplay, insertion, and so many orgasms I literally stopped counting.



I was inspired by this tweet from @CallMeIthaca:

I responded with this retweet, but the fantasy stayed with me and I decided to try it in a story.

[Author’s note from 2021:

Now that I have more experience on Twitter, I’ve realized in hindsight that writing her fantasy into a story without permission and then quote tweeting her original tweet was not an okay thing to do. Ithaca and I are not mutuals and don’t have any kind of friendship or relationship. I need to own that I didn’t comment on her tweet or DM her to ask permission to explore her idea OR put a size-kink spin on it, and that’s a problem.

We all take inspiration from a lot of places, and people participate in kinky twitter partly as a way to share our fantasies, but do that for a variety of reasons. Sometimes a person is tweeting a fantasy for the purpose of inviting strangers to interact with them in that fantasy; sometimes a person tweets a fantasy with the hope other creatives will take that idea and run with it; but in either case, you don’t know until you ask. Just like a sexy piece of clothing is not an open invitation to do something sexual to a person, sexy tweets are not open invitations to start roleplaying publicly.

This isn’t exactly roleplay, but I didn’t ask. I ran with the idea, and then I basically involved her in my version of the fantasy by quote tweeting her original with my new story inspired by it. That’s a problem, too. If I’d gotten permission and she was into that, quote tweeting in this way would have been a fun way to share the work, give her credit, and promote her account. I think I did it this way because I started in Tumblr, and that platform revolved around sharing and building on others’ work. But it’s not how Twitter works. Doing that without asking was crossing some boundaries, and I am sorry for that. I DM’d her an apology. She was gracious and understanding, and I have decided to leave this up because I would prefer that others be able to learn from my mistake.]


Writing it quickly, sharing it quickly

I wrote it in one marathon writing session, and I’m deliberately giving it to you after only two hours of editing today. Why? Because stories that collect digital dust in my files don’t bring pleasure to anyone. Editing is good, but editing as a way to postpone being vulnerable is not serving my goals as a writer. I have to learn that it’s better to let them go before I’m completely satisfied. (I’ll never be completely satisfied.) In an effort to re-calibrate my sense of “this is good enough to release into the wild,” I’m going to share more content with deliberately fewer rounds of editing. I’m tired of holding back, so I’m going to let myself be imperfect. It seems like the only way forward.

One other thing holding me back is that I know I will need content for Kindle once I begin publishing. I write a story and stare at it, deliberating. Should I post it to my website and share it for free? Should I hold onto it and polish it more and publish it on Kindle? Or is it possible that maybe, just maybe, these questions are keeping me frozen in place, not sharing content or moving closer to my goal of publication?

This story is a little messy. It’s a little dark, because I was in a dark place when I wrote it, and all I wanted was to be owned and objectified and to lose myself in pleasing someone else. There were parts I considered cutting, parts I think need more polish and clarity.

But you know what? Sex is messy, too. I have never had a single experience of perfect sex, and if I had waited for perfection I would have missed so many wonderful, beautiful, intense moments of intimacy and connection with real, genuine, messy, and sexy people. I would never have had any sex at all, and sex is one of my favorite pastimes! So. Fuck perfection. Have some free erotica.

[Update on 11/27/20: I wanted to share this again but couldn’t resist one more round of edits for clarity and consistency. I should probably ask someone to tie me up before I go in for more…]

“It’s magic,” Irena whispered. She, too, ran a finger down Mora’s tiny body and the tiny woman felt more beautiful under their shared gaze than she had in years. She felt strangely powerful, in spite of her size…



Read the full story behind the cut.

Ornamental: An erotic holiday story

By Elle Largesse

Copyright 2019, all rights reserved.

Content warnings: Themes include microphilia/shrinking, lesbian sex, rope play, objectification, mind control, humiliation, dubcon (dubious consent), unaware, scissoring, mouthplay, insertion, and delightfully unrealistic expectations for orgasms.

Word count: 11,323

Disclaimer: This short story is intended for mature audiences. If you’re under 18 and are seeking sex positive resources, stop now and visit All characters depicted are above the age of 18 and exist only in fiction.


Mora was on the verge of having a meltdown over the state of her half-decorated apartment, and her girlfriend Irena was not helping. “People are going to be here in two hours!” she groaned, gripping a tomato-stained kitchen towel with two hands. “What’s the use of having a magical girlfriend if you don’t ever wave your hand and help with the damn housework? Can’t you just… I don’t know, levitate some mistletoe onto the ceiling?”

Irena frowned at her significant other from the stove with a spoon of steaming hot pozole halfway to her mouth. “I’ve never lied to you about my powers, love. I’m not hiding some secret-clean-it spell handed down through generations—trust me, Spanish women take too much pride in keeping house to ever want to cheat using magic. Well. Most Spanish women.” She rolled her eyes and slurped up the soup. “Mmm, you’re definitely magic in the kitchen, though. I feel like I ought to hypnotize you and get this recipe out of you… or at least reward you for making it so delicious.” She raised an eyebrow at her lover and pulled her closer by taking hold of the kitchen towel. 

Mora almost gave in to temptation. Her sweet, surprisingly kind succubus girlfriend was two inches shorter but vastly more charismatic. Irena’s full lips had been irresistibly kissable since Mora first laid eyes on them three months before at a bookstore. They’d shared a ferociously sensual moment in the art history aisle, and Mora had fallen hard for Irena. She never would have admitted it to her friends, but the likelihood that her feelings were inspired by Irena’s powers actually turned her on even more. Her grip tightening on the kitchen towel, Mora pressed her lips onto the shorter woman’s mouth, warmth and spices and sex lifting her mind out of the stress for a blissful moment. 

She broke away, resting her forehead against her girlfriend’s and smiling wryly. “Well, you can find this recipe in any Mexican cookbook. My mother would have scandalized yours with her complete lack of interest in housekeeping, or cooking, or having parties. Everything I know, I learned from my aunt and past girlfriends. I’m glad you like it, I just want to be really, genuinely good at something for once.” She pulled the kitchen towel from Irena’s hands and took a step back. Irena caught her wrist.

“I’m sorry I haven’t been helping as much as you hoped. It’s hard to gauge when you’re anxious and when you’re really freaking out.” Irena shrugged, smiling wryly. “Kind of seems like your natural state, most of the time.” Mora shot her a sarcastic look. 

“Okay, not helping. Look, maybe I can’t wave a hand and give you the apartment of your dreams, but I could wave my hand and trance your guests into at least believing your place is Pinterest-perfect.” She licked the spoon suggestively.

“Irena. Behave!”  It was one of Mora’s favorite requests, usually delivered with a scandalized expression that Irena found especially charming. “Nobody consented to illusion magic today, much less a play party. They consented to a Christmas party where they can meet my sexy girlfriend. You know, the girlfriend who asked me to keep her secret? What if they found out? Are your powers even strong enough to trance a dozen people?” 

Irena waved her hand, irritated and proud. “I can handle twelve people! Maybe not to believe your home is a winter wonderland, but I can at least keep them in a little bubble of normalcy. That way they just don’t notice anything is out of the ordinary. Easy.”

Irena pulled Mora closer again and began to kiss her neck. Mora’s knees went weak, but she resisted. “Babe, this is hot as fuck, but there’s no time! I don’t know if you noticed, but this place is still a wreck. Maybe you can keep them from noticing it’s not normal, but I still know it’s a mess. And I love you, but you’re not helping! You haven’t even put your ornaments on the tree like you promised.” 

Irena frowned at her girlfriend again, concerned at the stress lines on her forehead. The jittery, anxious energy coming off her was almost painful. She was sure a good quick fuck would help, but perhaps this called for a deeper healing. 

She leaned closer again, letting her breath caress the skin of Mora’s shoulder and neck. “Let me throw this party for you.” She tilted her chin and moved her mouth closer to Mora’s sensitive earlobe. “I know you didn’t sleep last night. You can rest, you won’t have to worry. Your friends would want you to take some time for yourself. They won’t even know, and I promise they’ll leave feeling like it was the best party ever.”

Mora shivered, her lips parting.  The part of her that wanted to give in became louder than the part of her that wanted to make this work. 

“But who will introduce you?” she managed to ask. It sounded like a weak argument, even to her.  “Is this what you really want?”

“Since when have I ever met a stranger?” Irena pulled back slightly to look Mora in the eye. “I just want a life here with you, with your friends.”

Mora smiled back, touched. “I want that, too.”

Irena tucked a lock of Mora’s hair behind her ear, letting her fingertips trail down her throat and making her shiver. “I want you to stop stressing,” she said, moving closer again so her voice could tickle her girlfriend’s sensitive skin. “I want you to see how beautiful you are, how much pleasure you bring to my life.” She said this last hovering millimeters from the shell of Mora’s ear. The moan that escaped Mora’s lips gave her a rush of pleasure. “You can trust me, lover. I can help. Say yes.”

The towel slipped from Mora’s hands. “Yes. Help me.”

Irena kissed her ear then, and Mora’s knees seemed to give out from the pleasure of it. The shorter woman caught her and held her tightly, licking and sucking on her sensitive earlobe until she couldn’t think straight because of the sheer sensation. 

“You’re going to have a nice break for yourself, pobrecita,” she whispered in her ear. “What you need is half a dozen orgasms and a good, long trance.” Mora wondered if that was right, but it sounded so fantastic that she just nodded with relief.

“Since you’re so worried about holiday décor, I think I’ll add you to the list of decorations. You’ll be the prettiest ornament on the whole tree! And you won’t have to stress or worry one little bit, pobrecita.”

Mora’s eyes went wide as she felt a shift in her body and realized she couldn’t touch the floor. Her shoes were missing, somehow, and her clothes felt uncomfortably loose. Irena was holding her tightly against her chest, seemingly supporting her entire body weight. “What’s going on?” She said, her anxieties flaring up again. “What’s happening?”

Irena kissed her on the lips, distracting her with a flare of desire. Irena, so beautiful and powerful and caring. Her lips seemed especially powerful now, and her arms pulling tighter around Mora’s waist. It was as if Irena was drinking in her love, and leaving her a more concentrated version of Mora. 

Strange feelings caused her to push back. Her hands no longer reached around Irena’s back, and she could feel her feet and legs brushing against Irena’s stomach and dress. “What are you doing to me?” She said, and blinked to see Irena’s face from a low angle, her lips enormous, her eyes almost glowing with arousal. 

Mora felt small and confused, as if she were looking at a badly taken selfie, except that this was real. She tried to push back but discovered that Irena held her entire body in her hands like a doll. She craned her head around and saw her clothes and shoes in a heap on the kitchen floor far below. “Irena! Help me!” She could feel herself shrinking now and had no idea how to stop it or the thrill of feelings rushing through her body.

“Hush now, little one. You’re going to be wonderful.” Irena kissed her again, her lips pressing full against Mora’s face and now completely bare chest. She gasped with pleasure, struggling and writhing under the sensual weight of her girlfriend’s lips as she continued to shrink. Her hands reached for something to help her pull herself away from that incredible and suffocatingly sexy mouth. She was horrified when her hand caught a metal band and she realized it was a ring on Irena’s finger. She pulled anyway, freeing herself from the kiss. She lay nude and trembling in the hand of her girlfriend, barely five centimeters tall. “What the hell, Irena? How is this helping?”

“You’ll see, you sweet little thing.” Irena tilted her hand and Mora slid down off it into a long, terrifying drop into the lovely soft cleavage she had kissed and nuzzled many times in the past three months. Now the soft flesh closed in around her as she slid between the two round mountains. She barely kept her head in the air, gasping for breath as she surveyed the distant realm of her now gigantic apartment. It was still a half-decorated wreck. 

“The cleavage of a succubus has healing powers, did you know that?” Irena said, her voice reverberating from all directions. “You rest there for a minute and I’ll show you what a treat I have in store for you!” With that, Irena placed a fingertip on Mora’s head and pushed her deep within the confines of her bra.

Mora fought and tried to climb her way out, wondering how any of this had seemed like a good idea. Of course Irena meant well, but this was getting out of hand. What if some of her guests arrived early? What if Irena’s powers wouldn’t work on so many people? What if she couldn’t—or wouldn’t—grow Mora back to human-sized? And how the hell was this supposed to help her anxiety?

Even as she asked herself that question, Mora noticed that her heart rate was no longer belting along at the frantic pace it had been before. She rotated her wrist, amazed to discover that the ache of a burn on her wrist had disappeared. She was certain she’d burned herself the night before on the oven rack trying to remove a tray of polvorones. She’d stayed up late attempting a recipe of the Spanish cookies to surprise Irena, but she’d dropped the tray and had ruined most of the delicate, crumbly things. But now, somehow, the burn was gone, and so, too was her exhaustion. 

She could feel Irena’s steps through the sway of her breasts, and the deep heartbeat lulled her into a half sleep, half trance. She had to admit, this was extremely calming. Maybe she didn’t need to sleep for a week anymore, but in here she kind of wanted to. Perhaps Irena was keeping her in here while she cleaned? As a way to surprise her? Mora smiled, and moved a hand to stroke the skin of her giant girlfriend in gratitude. 

“Awake, are you? I thought you’d dozed off, mi pequeña muñeca.” Fingers appeared in the close, hot space, pressing in around Mora and lifting her back into the light. She shivered in the cooler air and blinked, trying to make sense of what she was seeing. There was her half-decorated Christmas tree. Irena’s arms and hands, and if she looked up, Irena’s beautiful smiling face. Mora blushed as her girlfriend’s words percolated into her mind. Little doll. She was Irena’s little doll today. 

“You look a lot less stressed. What did I tell you? The tits of a succubus! Why do you think you love nuzzling me there so much? I mean, besides the obvious.” Irena shimmied her shoulders to set off an earthquake of cleavage. She grinned at where Mora clung to the ring on her hand. “Still worried, are you? I know just the cure for your anxiety today, little lover.”

Irena set her on a table near the Christmas tree and produced a round Christmas ornament made from red metal, a sprig of plastic mistletoe, a length of red ribbon, some craft glue, and, to Mora’s mortification, her large red silicone dildo. She stared up at it as if it were completely alien to her. How could she have used that thing when it was now towering over her, nearly three times her current height? 

Without warning, Irena lifted her up and set her on top of the red dildo, which was so huge she was practically doing splits to balance herself on the tip. “Hey!” she said, indignantly. “What the hell are you doing?”

Irena raised one of her eyebrows down at her in a perfect expression of Castilian pride. “I’m decorating. You’re going to be the prettiest ornament here, don’t you remember?” Mora blinked, her mind whirling with conflicting feelings. She knew she should be embarrassed to be shrunken down and made to play on a sex toy. But at the same time, she couldn’t deny that the idea of being the prettiest ornament on the tree appealed to her in some inexplicable way. Still, she eyed the glue suspiciously from her perch atop her sex toy. “Okay, but you’re not gluing me to anything.”

“Of course not.”

Irena’s enormous fingertip descended to the top of her head again, but this time instead of pushing her into cleavage, it pushed her gently down on top of the dildo. Mora started to protest but stopped when she realized the gentle pressure wasn’t harming her at all. Instead, the toy beneath her seemed to give a little. Then it gave a lot. In a rush of seconds, the dildo had shrunk so much that Mora found herself kneeling on the table with a dildo almost too large for her to straddle at this size. She took it in her hands and looked at it, dumbfounded. 

“A perfect doll accessory!” Irena said, lifting Mora and the sex toy up in both hands. “Just need to make sure it fits properly. Let’s get you wet, first.”

And then, with complete nonchalance as if she was playing with two inanimate objects instead of one, Irena tilted her body back, nudged her thighs open with a thumb, and lifted the tiny woman to her mouth. 

Mora cried out as the succubus’ lips and tongue latched onto the lower half of her body, warm and hotter than a kiss because it encompassed her sex, her thighs, knees, calves, and feet. Her vulva pulsed with arousal at the shock of sensation and she groaned in her girlfriend’s hand, twisting to writhe and bury her face in Irena’s huge palm. Just as quickly as it began, the sensation halted and she felt her saliva-coated body cool suddenly in the air.

She looked down to see with surprise that Irena was angling the now toy-sized dildo towards her pussy. She pushed it inside without hesitation, causing Mora’s body to arch with the sudden penetration. “It fits! What did I tell you? A perfect doll accessory!” Irena frowned, working it in and out. “Well, maybe it could stand to be a little bit bigger…” She worked Mora and the toy together a little bit, for all the world like she was playing with toys and not her girlfriend. “I’ve got it! I’ll just shrink you a little smaller, muñeca.” Mora had no time to react or ask her to wait, but felt her whole body contract. She was perhaps only a millimeter smaller, but the feeling of the dildo filling her up made her moan with a new intensity.

Without warning, Irena pulled out the dildo with a pop, and set Mora down on the table on her back. She lay there for a moment, panting as she tried to process why being treated this way turned her on so much. Did her succubus powers give her insight into turn-ons even Mora wasn’t aware of yet?

Mora sat up and watched the giant woman pick up the craft glue, the dildo, and the round ornament. Soon it looked like someone had taken one of the large bouncy balls you see in physical therapy offices and given it a lewd attachment. Near the top of the ornament, where the small silver ribbon looped into the red metal, Irena dabbed a drop of craft glue. She mounted the base of the dildo there, then set the ornament on the table and moved Mora to stand beside it. “Here, stand still and hold this in place while it dries.”

Embarrassed and frustrated, Mora found herself doing exactly as she’d been told. She stood perfectly still and held the lewd craft project together while watching Irena move around the distant apartment. At least she was finally tidying up, Mora thought to herself. But what would it matter if people came over and were confused to not find their friend Mora hosting the party? What the hell was Irena thinking?

Anxious thoughts swirled around her again, now that she was no longer in the safe, comforting space between Irena’s gargantuan tits. Still, she did not move, and then wondered at her own obedience. It felt wrong to do even shift from foot to foot. She breathed and struggled to find her own calm.

After what seemed like an eternity, Irena came back and leaned over the table. She picked up Mora like a doll again, and the ornament in the other hand. “What a good little toy you are,” she said, and Mora was dumbfounded to feel a rush of pleasure from the praise. Irena’s eyes narrowed as she looked down at Mora. “You’ve been worrying again, haven’t you?”

Mora felt vaguely like she’d been caught doing something naughty, but she asserted herself quickly. “Of course I’m worried! What if someone sees me? What if your magic doesn’t hold?”

Irena shook her head. “Looks like I need to give you the full trance treatment, little lover. Just for today, you need a break from worrying. You’ll get to enjoy the party, I promise.” She held up the ornament and it began to glow faintly. 

“As soon as you ride this little dildo, you’re going to become the prettiest and happiest—and horniest—ornament ever. Everyone who sees you and compliments how lovely you are will reinforce your trance and your desire to be the best and most obedient decoration ever. The more pleasure you bring to the guests, the better you’ll feel about your task.” Irena tilted her head, watching Mora try to absorb this information. “Here’s the catch. You’ll only be able to orgasm while people are paying attention to you.” 

Mora’s face had been growing steadily hotter as her succubus girlfriend explained the rules of this little game. The last rule made her face go pale. “Wait, they have to be watching me? I thought…”

“Thought you’d be able to fade into the background?” Irena grinned and shook her head. “What good are ornaments if they don’t shine brightly and bring beauty to a space? I’m not going to hide you away, my little muñeca. I’m going to take away your anxiety, but I’m going to display you for all to see. You’re going to feel as beautiful as you are.”

A distant, thunderous knock at the door set Mora’s nerves on edge. She ducked lower into Irena’s hand as if to hide. “No hiding, little lover. It’s your time to shine.” 

As casually as if she were putting an angel on the top of the tree, Irena slipped Mora onto the ornament. The dildo penetrating her felt so huge it was almost filling her to the limit, and her legs slipped down the sides a little with the saliva from Irena’s mouth still slick between her thighs. 

She clung to the ribbon as Irena lifted her up and spun her gently. Her large and distant living room swirled around her as the knocking came again. The sheer audacity of this experiment became all too real with the sound at the door. There were real people out there, about to actually lay eyes on her nude body. How could she be a good decoration if she was mortified? “Wait! Irena!” Her girlfriend caught the note of desperation in her voice and paused, watching the smaller woman hide her burning face in her hands. “I don’t know if I can do this. I want to, I promise! But what if I pass out from embarrassment?”

Irena looked down at her with kindness and a mischievous shrug. “That’s easy to fix! Any embarrassment you feel? It will instead fuel your arousal.” She laughed at the look on Mora’s face. “Already working, isn’t it?”

She blinked, her vulva pulsing with fullness, aware of her nudity and the way her girlfriend was looking at her with such satisfaction. She took her hands from her face. She was still blushing, but damn if that wasn’t the best blush she’d ever felt.

Irena grinned at her, clearly proud of her plan. “Promise me you’ll behave and be the best pretty little ornament you can be!”

Mora thought she should still be worried about the knocking, should be the one asking Irena to behave. But something about balancing on the sex toy, becoming this absurd little ornament, even learning to enjoy the embarrassment… she felt a strange wave of rightness. “I… I promise.”

Irena dangled her closer to give her a quick kiss. Just a brushing of her lips, really, but Mora was grateful for it, anyway. “You’re going to be wonderful!”

Instead of hanging her on the tree right then and there, Irena kept a firm grip on the ribbon of Mora’s ornament, lowered it to her side, and walked to answer the door. 

With each swinging, shaking step, Mora’s heart beat faster. She knew she should be anxious, but waves of happiness floated up from between her legs. Each wave seemed to radiate with Mora’s own innate beauty, a quality she never really trusted or believed in. 

Now, something about straddling the top of the bright red ornament, the knowledge that her friends would soon lay eyes on this ridiculous predicament, all of it turned her on in dizzy ways she could never have achieved herself, even with her hands down her pants. What had Irena done to her?

The massive door creaked like a drawbridge as it opened. Irena’s singsong voice welcomed in her friends. “Happy holidays! Welcome, welcome, come on in!”

From her vantage hanging down at Irena’s side by her hip, Mora could see a man in jeans and a woman in shiny stockings under a black dress. She strained her head back to see if she could guess which of her friends had arrived. Just as Irena began to close the door, four more women arrived. All of them nearly unrecognizable from the extreme angle. 

“So great to finally meet you!” said one woman, hugging Irena. Was that Laura? Her knee nearly brushed Mora’s perch and she gave out a tiny yelp that nobody heard. Legs were everywhere, and she clamped her thighs down as tightly on the metal ornament as she dared.

“Mind if I put on some music? Mora asked me to break out my playlist from last year.” That had to be Stefan, the grad student she’d tried dating years ago. A minute later, she gave up trying to identify voices as Stefan’s music filled the apartment and more people arrived. Silently she prayed that Stefan would be her only ex to arrive. She wouldn’t have invited past flames if she’d known that she’d be in a predicament like this. 

And through it all, as she jostled back and forth on her dildo and clung to her ornament, Mora could feel the physical equivalent of a glow spreading through the party. Irena’s magic, making all of this seem normal. It eased the slight heartache from the fact that none of her friends had asked why she wasn’t at her own party. 

“Stefan,” Irena said. “Can you grab that mistletoe off the table? And the ribbon? I need someone tall.”

Mora felt her stomach drop out from under her as her ornament soared upward. “Here,” Irena said. “I’ll trade you. Hold this ornament up for me, would you?” Mora hung on for dear life as the ribbon slid off Irena’s hand to a decidedly more masculine hand that lifted her up to be examined by large brown eyes. Mora’s heart pounded. She hung suspended from the fingers of a man she once dated, and under his scrutiny she stared up at him with wide, embarrassed eyes. He looked her over, slowly spinning her this way and that. 

“Well, what a cute, kinky little ornament,” he said. Mora gasped. A shudder ran through her body and mind. He liked her. He thought she was cute and kinky. A strange desire filled her to be thoroughly and perfectly ornamental. She was decoration, she knew that. But now she wanted to be the best decoration she could, to please this guest at her party. She frowned a little for a moment. Her party? But she was an ornament, and ornaments don’t host parties. Whose party…?

Irena. It was Irena’s party. Mora felt a wave of pleasure and happiness as the succubus’ hands appeared with a red ribbon and some mistletoe strung between them, and began wrapping Mora gently around the hips and waist, looping over and under her thighs, in and around her shoulders. Leave it to a succubus to pull off shibari rope harness on a moment’s notice. A minute passed this way, then another, as Stefan admired her and Irena’s handiwork. 

“You’re a patient man,” Irena murmured, glancing between him and Mora. I could’ve told you that, Mora thought. But it was hard to remember her time with Stefan. It felt like another life. Here and now was a much more comfortable place to stay, feeling the way Irena’s fingertips were confident and soft against her skin. A knot here, adjusted with a tug. A knot there, another tug.

“It’s easy to be patient, watching you work,” he said. “You’re really good at that.” Mora wasn’t sure if she wanted his eyes on her or not. A low burn of embarrassment crackled with warm arousal all through her body.

Finally, Irena anchored the red ribbon with a bow on the silver ribbon that had originally been attached to the ornament. Irena moved her hands away and a sudden weight settled on the red ribbon, tugging back and forth on her left hip, then her right. Mora was grateful her arms were still free to cling to the silver ribbon, and as she looked down, she saw the mistletoe swaying beneath her. She shivered to realize she’d be getting even more attention than if she’d been suspended from the tree.

“Hang it up, would you? Not too high. I want people to be able to admire it. Maybe even interact with it, you know?”

Stefan strained to reach the little nail at the archway leading from the kitchen to the living room. Mora soared upwards again, more secure in her perch but also more helplessly aroused. She was barely a few centimeters above Stefan’s head, easily still within reach.

“Did you say you liked my little ornament, Stefan?” Irena asked, looking up to watch Mora’s face. “What do you like most about it?” She left a slight emphasis on the word “it” which sent a strange thrill through Mora’s body.

“I’ve never seen anything quite like it,” he said, looking closely again at Mora, who could have died of embarrassment. “It’s so lifelike, moving and everything. Such a sexy little woman, like a pinup doll or something.” Mora’s face heated and she found herself panting from the sheer potency of the arousal that his words invoked in her. 

“It really is a special, beautiful little thing, isn’t it?” Mora moaned at Irena’s words, which seemed even more powerful than Stefan’s. “It’s got moving parts. Watch this.”

To Mora’s eternal embarrassment, Irena reached up and wrapped her fingers around her torso. Then she lifted. Even with the mistletoe weight anchored with the ribbons around her hips and thighs, Mora felt Irena raise her up with ease. The motion revealed the thick, penetrating dildo, and then concealed it again as Irena let her slide back down on top of it.

“Wow!” Stefan said, impressed. “That’s really hot. Mind if I try?” Irena laughed and gave Mora’s ornament a shove. She swept through the air towards his waiting hands and whimpered as he took her up easily, in his warm, callused fingers. 

She was torn between pleasing him and asking him to actually see her—I’m not a doll! Please! Don’t you remember me

As much as she wanted him to remember her, she wanted to be beautiful and sexy for him even more. So when his thumb and forefinger lifted her off the little dildo, then back down again, then up again, she began rocking her hips and actually riding the dildo. “Oh, wow,” he said. “That is seriously fucking hot. How is it doing that?” Mora moaned and thrusted herself harder and harder against the dildo glued to the ornament. His fingers moved down her body admiringly, and she arched her body at his touch. 

“It’s magic,” Irena whispered. She, too, ran a finger down Mora’s tiny body and the tiny woman felt more beautiful under their shared gaze than she had in years. She felt strangely powerful, in spite of her size. As if her beauty were a real and tangible power hypnotizing Stefan and Irena, not the other way around. She felt drunk on the feeling, as if the rational part of her were willingly taking a back seat to the glorious rush of pleasure and power.

And so, shrunk down, strapped to a tiny dildo, little more than decoration for a party she should have been hosting, Mora shuddered and spasmed and cried out with her first orgasm of the day. 

Stefan was delighted. “It comes, too!” He laughed at her. Mora froze in his hands, staring up at him, equal parts vulnerable and mortified that he was laughing at her. Close on the heels of that feeling, her embarrassment washed away under a tidal wave of arousal and desire to please. 

“Don’t tell anyone, Irena, but I think this little ornament is turning me on.” Mora groaned as her mind grappled with this new information. She was bringing pleasure to one of Irena’s guests! It was the best feeling in the world for a moment, as she considered how easy it had been to help him enjoy the party. She began riding the ornament again, partly trying to impress him with her sexual prowess, partly trying to please him, and partly trying to get herself off to ease the arousal that had overwhelmed her again so quickly.

But before she could orgasm again, his eyes slipped to Irena, then to the mistletoe hanging beneath Mora’s ornament. Then back to Irena again. Mora cried out with frustration and surprise as the two slipped into a passionate kiss right below her. Their attention on each other left her hanging—literally.

She watched with growing alarm as Irena seemed to glow with more power during their kiss. She heard some whistles from the living room and realized that people were applauding the display. Jealousy and frustration warred with embarrassment and arousal at her predicament. When they finally broke the kiss, they both bowed jokingly to the rest of the party, which cheered. “You guys have got to try this mistletoe,” Stefan said with a laugh and a gesture to Mora. “Best decoration I’ve ever seen at a Christmas party, that’s for sure!” Mora marveled at the way this simple praise gave her a rush of endorphins. She clung to the silver ribbon, swaying and almost drunk on the phrase that looped in her mind. “Best decoration…” 

He and Irena moved away and rejoined the party, but not before Mora caught Irena’s wink. Was she growing stronger off the sexual energy? Magic filled the room like a thick, invisible fog. Mora decided that since it was Irena’s party, the woman could kiss who she wanted to. She was there to decorate, not get jealous.

Mora hung suspended above her friends, watching the room fill with new guests until it was well over the dozen she had originally invited. She found herself thrusting up and down on the dildo in time with the music as people danced with Irena, as if she wished she were dancing with her girlfriend instead. While that was true, she was also strangely content with this place and this role. She grinned down at the couples who came together beneath her mistletoe to kiss. She sighed with envy at the people dancing or necking on the couch. Her jealousy would rise up, fizzing with frustration, until she’d feel Irena’s eyes on her. The desire and pleasure in that look was enough to send her back into arousal. 

In fact, the longer she stayed here, the more sensitive she became to the occasional gazes that swept across her. At first, all she noticed was that the thrusting suddenly felt like it was heading somewhere. As if her arousal were a train barreling down a track with no end in sight, and for brief moments she could catch a glimpse of a destination. An orgasm on the horizon, coming closer with each pound of her hips grinding onto the red dildo. But it would fade instantly without warning. Eventually she accepted that it was connected to people’s attention, just like Irena had promised.

She watched a positively euphoric Irena pour more alcohol and serve up bowls of her soup to keep up peoples’ energy. She had to be thriving off the sexual attraction in the room, and though Irena hadn’t touched any alcohol herself, she seemed almost drunk. Mora wondered when Stefan’s playlist had been traded out for this sexy heavy-beat music, and also wondered when her neighbors or maybe the cops might show up. 

She jumped at the feel of a touch on her leg. A tall woman in a dress with a plunging neckline was spinning her around to examine her more closely. Irena was nowhere in sight. 

Something about the woman seemed familiar, but Mora’s mind was fuzzy and the angles of their size difference were too extreme for her to remember how she might have known the woman. She was tall enough to actually look down at her a little. Mora shivered.

“Stefan wasn’t kidding,” the woman said, seemingly to herself. Her fingertips caressed Mora’s thigh, hip, stomach, and then circled around one of her breasts. “So lifelike… y buenas tetas.” Any lucid thoughts and worries about the party Mora might have had dissolved under the trance-like joy she felt at the woman’s compliments. She ran her own hand over her breasts, looking eagerly up at the woman’s face to see if this response might bring her pleasure and enjoyment. Her tiny finger touched the woman’s own and the woman leaned closer, fascinated. “It moves, too.” 

Mora bit her lip, embarrassed but also desperate to get the woman to compliment her again, or to keep her attention long enough to reach another climax. Looking coyly at the woman, she lifted her hips enough to reveal the dildo, then began bouncing up and down on it. The woman’s hand almost pulled away, but Mora caught her fingertip in her own small hand, pulling it tighter against her breast. “Please?” she mouthed to the woman. She’d been unsuccessfully trying to pleasure herself for half an hour up here, and now that she had someone’s attention, she could feel her own orgasm in reach. 

“Incredible,” the woman said, her bright red lips so close that Mora could almost reach out and touch them. Mora rocked herself harder, panting and moaning. To be so full with this dildo for so long, yet so desperate for release that she was aching! Even as much as she wanted to please herself, though, she found that she wanted to please this person more. Irena’s guest. Mora knew her role here was to bring pleasure to Irena’s guests, but some part of her really wanted to please this guest in particular. So she pushed the woman’s fingertip lower, down between her thighs. The woman gave a small “oh” and watched with amazement as Mora attempted to lift herself off the dildo and onto the woman’s fingertip. She gave a grunt of frustration as the red ribbon holding the mistletoe seemed to hold her tight to the silver ribbon of the ornament. She could lift herself up only 90% of the way. But the woman’s finger would have been too big for her to ride anyway, what had she been thinking? 

She gave a surprise gasp when the woman’s fingertip began rubbing tiny circles over the top of her vulva. She slid back down onto the dildo and thrust her hips and clit against the woman’s fingertip, rubbing with abandon. She began cresting into orgasm right when the woman turned away to someone else at the party, taking her fingertip with her. A cry of frustration left Mora’s lips as the orgasm fizzled out instantly.  

If she hadn’t kept the woman’s attention, she must not have done a good job of being a pretty, shiny ornament. She leaned against the silver ribbon, panting and aching and on the verge of tears. Where was Irena? She scanned the room, unable to distinguish much between faces any more, especially now that so many people seemed to be kissing and cuddling. The fog of arousal from Irena’s magic seemed to be everywhere, but Irena herself was nowhere to be seen. Maybe she’d left her here as punishment because she needed to learn how to be a better ornament.

“Querida,” the woman said to someone, pulling them closer. Mora’s head snapped back up, surprised to see two tall women closing in on her. “I swear to God, this little thing was masturbating a moment ago.” She laughed in a flirtatious, possibly drunken way. “Bésame.” 

Mora smiled in spite of her sexual frustration, happy for the couple who was about to be kissed under her mistletoe. At least she was a useful ornament, instead of simply being hung and forgotten on the tree. She’d get to watch these two kiss right underneath her. Maybe they wouldn’t have kissed if not for Mora and her mistletoe.

Except that the women were both tall enough to be models, or softball players. And they weren’t leaning in to kiss under the mistletoe… but leaning in to kiss with her in-between? Mora half yelped, half-moaned to be suddenly pressed between two pairs of lips, one bright red with lipstick that tickled her face and breasts with vanilla scent, and the other with a heavy lip gloss that coated Mora’s back and arms. Warmth, so much warmth. Softness, wetness, warmth. The kissers broke apart as the new woman began laughing. Again, Mora’s embarrassment flared up, with an even heavier dose of arousal. 

“I can’t believe we just did that!” said the newcomer, coming into Mora’s dizzy view. She was running a finger around her lips to clean off the smeared lip gloss, which Mora could see was a frosty pink shade. “Kind of kinky, don’t you think?” She laughed again. “Come on, let’s go get some more of that punch.”

“Wait, Jenny, I want to try something,” the original woman said, her red lips grinning as she eyed Mora. “I wonder how you change the settings on this thing. You should’ve seen it masturbate, it was so cute and coy and horny. I’ve never seen anything like it.” Her fingers traveled across Mora’s body, poking and pressing on her skin as if to find a switch or a button hidden under the surface. As if she were an actual sex toy someone could buy in a store. 

Mora wondered if she should say something, or play the part. But as soon as she wondered it, her objective seemed clear: as an ornament, she was supposed to bring the guests at the party pleasure. So she waited until the woman pressed one of her feet and then pretended to activate. With the eyes of both women on her, she began pumping furiously up and down on the dildo, moaning and running her hands up and down her body. “Fucking hell,” breathed the woman with pink lip gloss. Jenny, Mora thought. Her face hovered mere centimeters to Mora’s left, and the lady with red lipstick came in close on Mora’s right. Their scrutiny should have embarrassed her, but instead she just became more aroused, as if she really was a sex toy from the store with various settings to activate. 

The lady with red lips spoke, her breath hot on Mora’s skin. “Kiss me again, querida.” Their lips met around her body again, but this time Mora was already pumping herself up and down on the dildo. Lips, saliva, lip gloss, and suddenly two tongues sliding around her, exploring her and each other’s mouths. She cried out in a glorious climax, but the kiss continued and she found herself cresting on a second orgasm, then a third as one of the enormous tongues found its way to the front of her vulva and began licking her there. By the time her body rocked with a fourth mind-melting orgasm, Mora was almost insensible with pleasure and happiness. 

She didn’t even notice immediately when two fingers began untying the red ribbon that held her tightly to the mistletoe and the ornament. She looked down in confusion to see that the woman with red lips was struggling with Irena’s knots, but eventually Mora and her red ribbon harness came away from the silver ribbon.

She groaned when those same fingers lifted her completely off the dildo and cupped her in a wide open palm. It was the first time in nearly an hour that she hadn’t been penetrated by the sex toy, and couldn’t decide it if was a relief or a disappointment. She knelt on the warm skin, panting, dizzy, and proud to have served well as an object of enjoyment for Irena’s party guests. Fingers closed around her and movement rocked her back and forth as the woman walked somewhere. She heard a door open and close, then the flick of a lamp switch, then giggles. 

The fingers opened. The woman with red lips held the tail end of the red ribbon in her other hand and slowly lifted Mora up, dangling her and her harness from it like a cat toy. She felt a pang of humiliation at this, followed by an immediate rush of arousal.

Then she looked down and gasped with the sight of the beautiful vulva of the woman with pink lip gloss. She lay on what appeared to be Mora’s bed, with her dress pulled up and her knees spread. Mora had time to wonder if the woman had been wearing panties at all, until her thoughts were interrupted.

“What better way to get you in the spirit of the holidays than to tease you with a Christmas ornament?” asked the woman holding her ribbon. Mora’s mind shivered with purpose and pleasure at being called an ornament again.

“Well, I have heard you’re a tease.”

“Querida! How dare you.” She jerked on the ribbon, pulling her hand back playfully. Mora swung backward as if on a carnival ride.

“Ramona!” replied Jenny, mimicking her tone as she arched her back on the bed. “How dare you threaten me with a good time and not follow through on it?”

Mora frowned. Ramona? It sounded familiar. Did she know a Jenny or a Ramona? She didn’t spend much time thinking about it, instead finding herself eagerly awaiting her next chance to please one or both of these party guests. Ramona lowered Mora down to graze across the smooth curves of Jenny’s stomach, then up to her pert breasts, up her throat and chin and face. Mora didn’t find this sexy, exactly, but Ramona’s words echoed back to her and with them she knew a strong, clear desire to bring pleasure. 

She reached a hand out on her next pass over Jenny’s breasts, and managed to cup her palm around a nipple. “Oh ho ho!” Ramona held her ribbon still so she dangled above the breast. “The ornament wants to play. Such a pretty little thing. If she were life-size, her tetas would be much larger than yours, querida.”

Mora felt herself glowing with the praise, happier than she could remember being in a long time. She leaned down, straining to reach the nipple while they laughed at her. It only fueled her desire more. Finally she latched both hands onto the nipple and pulled herself down to nuzzle and suckle on it. Jenny’s laughter gave way to a deep, resonant moan. Her hand came down on top of Mora, massaging her into her soft flesh. It was like making out, Mora thought, her hands and arms caressing the skin beneath her as her legs moved against Jenny’s fingers. Her confidence grew as Jenny’s hand pressed her harder. Maybe she could be good at this? Like, really, genuinely good at this!

“God, that feels good. Hang on, I want to see if the attachment works to turn it into overdrive again.”

“You brought the whole thing?” Ramona thought that was hilarious, and Mora’s face burned with embarrassment, even though she couldn’t focus on what they were saying. She continued licking Jenny’s nipple, disappointed that the moaning had stopped. What else could she do that would please these two immense women? Maybe this role would be harder than she thought. It disappointed her more than she wanted to admit. She just wanted to do well at something for once. 

“Not the whole thing,” Jenny was saying. “Just the important part. It was only held on by a little glue.” 

“Wait, I have an idea. Let’s not waste this on your tits.” Ramona tugged upward on the ribbon and lifted Mora up as easily as a real ornament. Unlike a real ornament, however, Mora soared through the air and found herself deposited between Jenny’s thighs. She looked up with awe at the vulva that stretched taller than she currently stood. Ramona tugged on the string again, lifting her up off her feet and landing her against Jenny’s pubis mons among the soft curls of hair. “I wonder how we get it to lick your clit,” she said aloud. 

High on the endorphins of obedience, Mora didn’t need to be told twice.

She crawled forward through the thicket of soft hair, breathing in Jenny’s musk. Feeling with her hands, she searched among the folds until she found the large pearl of Jenny’s clitoris. It pulsed under her hands and she pulled herself down to gently lick and suck on it. She was as pleased by the prospect of being able to give Jenny real pleasure as she would have been by the chance to hold a genuine pearl the size of a grapefruit in her hands. Jenny jumped with surprise and gave a deeper moan than the one inspired by Mora licking her nipple. Mora grinned and licked her less gently.

“Let’s see if we can kick this into a higher setting,” Ramona said, and it was Mora’s turn to jerk with surprise. Ramona’s warm, heavy fingers on her thighs were her only warning as the familiar dildo from the ornament shoved deep inside her exposed pussy. She let out a strangled moan against Jenny’s clit and found herself bucking against the sex toy, which Ramona was allowing to fall out of her body before pushing it back in with her thumb. 

“Okay, that moaning vibration setting is weirdly hot, but the toy’s not working on my clit anymore.” Jenny’s hand came down and pressed against Mora’s head. “Lick me harder, you little slut.” Mora’s humiliation was more powerful this time, and she braced for impact against the onslaught of sexual desire that flooded her whole body. Her mind leapt to obey. She’d been an ornament, and now she was a toy. Or a slut?

This time the humiliation didn’t disappear, but looped on itself to build more and more humiliation and arousal. She was a slutty toy who needed to please these guests. She leaned into Jenny’s folds again and began licking and sucking her clit for all she was worth. “Wow, babe, you have got to try this,” Jenny said. “Where can we get ourselves one of these? It’s fucking amazing.” A pang of pride, pleasure, and happiness reinforced Mora’s actions, and helped her see clearly that this was her role, this is what she was meant to do.

Tears sprang to her eyes, but she couldn’t have said why. She only knew that she felt so completely aroused that it seemed like if she orgasmed, she might never stop. 

She noticed when Ramona began untying and unwinding her ribbon, but she didn’t think much of it until the band of sweat-soaked fabric pushed up between her legs, as if to mimic a pair of panties. Ramona wound the ribbon back and forth over one hip and though her legs, over the other hip and through her legs again. Mora was grateful it didn’t seem to be too tight, but it did mean that she was trapped with the dildo inside her once again. She bucked her hips to fight against the ribbon, which caused the dildo to move within her at a frustratingly slow pace. Then Ramona tapped between her legs, hammering the dildo in firmly. Mora orgasmed on the spot, shouting and shuddering and losing control of herself. 

“There,” Ramona said, tapping again twice, each time harder than the last and sending Mora into two more ecstasies in a row. “Now it will hopefully stay in overdrive the whole time. What a weird design. It’s impractical, but kinky. Maybe we should wait until they come out with a new and improved version?”

“I don’t know,” Jenny said breathlessly. “Try it and tell me that’s not the best sex toy you’ve used in years. Feels so slutty somehow.” Mora’s heart did a somersault in her chest, torn between a surprisingly painful level of humiliation, and an arousal so intense that her arms and legs almost felt numb in comparison with what was happening between her legs. 

I was an ornament, she found herself thinking. I was a pretty ornament for people to admire. For Irena’s party. That felt good and right, and I did my best to obey. But then Jenny and Ramona kissed and told me I’m a good sex toy, and they’re both so kind to compliment me on how sexy I am and what a good job I’m doing, so I think this is what I was meant to be all along. And sex toys are inherently slutty. So if I’m being a good and obedient slutty sex toy, then why am I crying?

“Come on, little slut with las buenas tetas,” Ramona said, “let’s get you lubed up.” She lifted Mora up by the ribbon harness and held her close to her face and mouth. She licked her and teased her with that enormous tongue, flicking her breasts with the very tip and then sucking most of her body into her mouth. Mora cried out, moaning and writhing as every part of her beneath her shoulders was encompassed by hot, wet, Ramona. 

“Mmm, Jenny, it tastes like you.”

Ramona’s tongue explored between her legs again, and even wrapped in ribbon, the dildo had slipped out a little bit. Ramona pushed it back in, just as she had when Mora had been laying above Jenny’s vulva. And again, just as before, the sensation of the full thick dildo ramming into her pushed Mora over the edge. She screamed and climaxed hard, still trapped from the shoulders down between two enormous red lips.

“Wow,” Jenny said, leaning in to watch Mora’s expression. “It really is so damn lifelike. Guess you found the orgasm button!”

Ramona chuckled with her mouth full of the sex toy, clearly pleased by the reaction. So she did it again. Let the dildo slip out, then shove it back in. Orgasm. Slip out, shove it back in. Orgasm. Slip, shove, orgasm. Slip, shove, orgasm. Never in her life, even dating a succubus, had Mora experienced so many orgasms. 

With the focused attention of both women on Mora’s excitement, she couldn’t escape the cycle of humiliation, arousal, attention, and orgasm. She writhed and moaned, unable to keep count because her mind was as empty of thoughts as the sex toy they called her. 

Ramona pulled her from her mouth with the ribbon, and as she slipped between the massive plush lips, her skin was so sensitive that she orgasmed again. “What a gorgeously sexy thing you are,” she said, and Mora flushed with the blushing endorphins of praise. “Pity you’re not a good solid six inches tall.” 

If another party guest had said it, it probably wouldn’t have had much effect. But after orders and obedience and praise, coupled with countless orgasms, some force of magic and deep desire reacted within Mora and her body obeyed. She felt herself expand, glowing and beautiful, to the exact dimensions Ramona had wished her to be. The ribbons fell away and the too-tiny dildo slipped out, falling to the bed with a quiet wet sound.

Ramona and Jenny stared at each other, then again at Mora. Jenny ran a hand down her body and Mora shuddered, her own smaller hand touching Jenny’s with a clear display of desire. Jenny’s pinkie finger caressed her front, then down her thigh, before exploring Mora’s wet opening. “Pity your body isn’t the perfect size to be finger-fucked by me,” she said, and both Mora and Jenny gasped as Mora’s body expanded ever so slightly to admit the wide, thick digit nearly up to the second knuckle. Her finger was warmer and thicker than the dildo, and she groaned at the sensations in her throbbing, still eager vagina. Jenny moved her hand and lifted Mora up off her feet to suspend her just with that contact and penetration. Mora braced herself against Jenny’s ring finger and began desperately rocking her hips.

“Now I have an idea,” Jenny said, coming up to kneel on the bed. Mora watched as Jenny’s free hand pushed Ramona back on the bed. Jenny worked her finger inside her a little, the way a puppeteer would get a better grip on a doll, and carried Mora down between Ramona’s legs this time. 

Mora could guess what was expected of her. She nuzzled the dark folds of Ramona’s vulva, her memory tickled by something half recalled. Somehow this was familiar to her, wasn’t it? She shook her head. She was, at best, a decorative ornament for Irena’s party. At most, she was a slutty sex toy. And as such, it didn’t matter what she did or didn’t remember. 

She licked the massive folds until she found Ramona’s clit, half hidden under its hood. As she began stroking, it grew until the fold had all but pushed back, revealing a clitoris much longer and more phallic than Jenny’s. At six inches tall, Mora was practically performing fellatio on it while Ramona bucked and heaved beneath her. She was grateful for Jenny’s finger inside her, the steadiness of her hand that allowed her to pleasure this wild animal that Ramona had become. 

She soon became even more grateful for Jenny’s finger inside her, as the woman began working it in and out and Mora was caught off guard by a sudden orgasm. She cried out with her mouth full of clit, then returned to sucking as if she’d been born to it. With her hands, she massaged the inner and outer labia of this big, wonderful woman, and sucked and sucked, glowing with pride as Ramona climaxed and her thighs clamped together hard around Mora and Jenny’s hand. 

The thighs parted and with almost no warning, Mora felt Jenny lift her up and off her pinkie finger. Jenny forcibly pushed her body into a sitting position as if handling a doll, then mashed her ass against Ramona’s vulva. “There’s got to be a way for this to fit…” She lifted Mora and set her down again roughly, until Mora finally understood what Jenny was attempting. 

She reached a hand between her own small thighs and felt for the hard, throbbing oval of Ramona’s clit. It felt small to her, but if she held onto the base she might be able to make this work… She guided it inside her own small pussy and smiled at the reaction of the immense woman, who began bucking and rocking underneath her. Jenny grinned. “Pity you’re not the right size to really fuck her clit, are you, little toy?” 

Mora cried out as her body obediently shrank, tightening down on the phallic clitoris until it was almost too big. She was practically back to her ornament size again. It didn’t matter, though. What mattered was that she was pleasuring a woman many times her size, in a way she never would have been able to before. “Incredible,” Ramona groaned. “Fucking incredible! Oh, fuck, FUCK!” she spasmed and orgasmed hard. Mora joined her seconds later.

Jenny raised an eyebrow at Mora. “Damn good job, little toy. Should I be worried you’re gonna steal my girlfriend?”

Ramona laughed breathlessly. “Let me see it. There’s something I want to try. I have to know if this will work, or I’ll always wonder.” 

Jenny plucked her off the thick clit and handed her off to Ramona. “How did we say it?” she asked Jenny, then fixed her eyes on Mora again. “Pity you’re not six inches tall again.”

Mora felt the change shift her size easily, then watched with the exact correct level of arousal and interest that a sex toy should have while being lowered feet-first into the pussy of a giantess. Her heart rate spiked and she moaned at the slippery warmth traveling up her feet and legs. Ramona released her and Jenny’s powerful muscles began tugging on her, pulling her in, until she was once again shoulders deep in warm, wet, heaven. Her whole body tingled. 

She looked up to find Ramona’s curious face watching her with intensity, as if she were trying to remember something but couldn’t. Then she leaned in and began licking Jenny’s vulva and Mora’s exposed face and shoulders, licking up and down and circling around the clit that Mora had suckled on earlier. There was no mistaking the moment when Jenny orgasmed. Intense muscle spasms squeezed around Mora, twitching as Jenny moaned. “Good job, sexy little slut,” Ramona murmured with a grin. This time, the endorphins, humiliation, and arousal all crashed down into Mora’s mind at once. Without even touching herself, she climaxed too. 

Ramona leaned in close again, licking up from the base of Jenny’s vulva until she came to Mora. Then the barest tip of her tongue trailed up Mora’s shoulder and ear. She cried out in surprise. Had she known that was the most erotic part of her body? How?

“You’re such a good slut,” Ramona murmured, sending shivers through Mora’s body that Jenny reacted to with shudders of her own. “Puta. Whore. Our beautiful little fucktoy.” Mora felt tears brimming in her eyes again, but didn’t know why. The humiliation was raw and left her thirsty for more, like a natural aphrodisiac. Without even meaning to, she moved her hand between her legs within the hot sticky warmth of Jenny’s pussy, and began pleasuring herself. Ramona’s lips brushed her shoulder and she moaned. Her tiny voice was lost under the woman’s next words. “Pity you’re not big enough to be a thick, double-ended dildo. If you were a good enough sex toy, then you could service us both.” 

Mora groaned as her body expanded again, eager to comply even before Ramona stopped speaking. “Jesus fucking Christ,” Jenny said as her pussy stretched and quivered around Mora’s new size.

Ramona pulled herself up kneeled at the angle she would need to thrust her body down against her lover’s. Scissoring, some distant part of Mora’s mind recalled. She remembered that Ramona loved scissoring.

Mora frowned, even while her body grew with strict obedience to suit the larger woman’s whims. How had she known that? 

But did it matter? She savored what Ramona had said. Such a good slut. Such a good puta. Beautiful little fucktoy. Mora glowed with the praise, even as her heart stung with the humiliation. Her hand in her own cunt reacted to the thoughts racing through her mind, until it all calmed down to one singular goal: she would be the best damn sex toy either of them had ever used. 

And with that, Jenny’s tight pussy clamped down on her lower half, Mora looked up to see Ramona’s beautiful flower of a vulva glistening as it descended on her. “Please,” she said, and didn’t know if she meant the word as in “please stop,” or “please yes,” but as soon as she had the thought, her path became clear. She wasn’t even a slut, she was a slutty sex toy. And toys obeyed.

She had a moment of doubt. Would she be good enough to please them? Ramona’s dark red vulva lips grazed her face like a wet, sloppy kiss. She opened her mouth to taste the glory of this beautiful woman, and found herself completely subsumed by the warmth of both the giant lovers. 

Red. Hot. Tight. Suffocating. Sensual. The power of both women’s bodies felt so immense that Mora felt positively pathetic by comparison. Something about being within them, fully owned by the sex and willpower of these women, caused a barrier to fall within Mora’s struggling, anxious mind. 

No room left for doubt. No room left for anxiety or worry. None of that would help her now, anyway.

The only way to be good enough would be to surrender to the straightforward and beautiful simplicity of becoming the sex toy in heart and mind. 

It was no longer Mora. It was the sex toy.

They worked up and down against it, and with it, and against each other. The sex toy had no sense of who was thrusting, if it was going deeper into Ramona’s lush, expansive pussy or being pulled back into Jenny’s tight cunt. One of them rotated directions and the sex toy’s face and free hand felt the rough bumps on the upper inside of Ramona’s vagina. Smiling with the joy of a toy that’s just found a surefire way to please its owner, the good little slut pressed its hand up and into Ramona’s G-spot. 

It basked in the simple joy of pleasing its mistress this way. It even let its hand slip away from its own meaningless little cunt, so it could brace itself fully against the G-spot. Ramona’s distant moans grew louder. Distant and still close, muted yet still beautiful. The sex toy thought it probably shouldn’t care about beauty, but it fueled its passion to serve this goddess from within. It never wanted to stop. Jenny’s divine strength pulled at the lower half of the sex toy in a tight and sudden clenching orgasm, thrusting onto it and pushing it ram-rod hard, face-first against Ramona’s cervix. Deeper, deeper, both women pulled against each other—the sex toy remembered what desperate fury that felt like—

The sex toy wavered for a moment, feeling the most profound mortification at the understanding of how it had lost itself in this shameful, pathetic identity. But the thrusting began again and as the mortification passed, with it came the most exquisite arousal the sex toy had ever known, pushing it to orgasm deep within the two women. Shuddering and still bracing against Ramona’s G-spot, the sex toy sensed that Ramona’s climax was close. It writhed and shoved with all its might into the G-spot and was rewarded with the most intense crushing strength clamping down its entire body, pushing it into yet another mind-melting orgasm, one that threatened to never stop. 

When the sex toy drew its next conscious breath, it was hanging suspended up-side down from a familiar thumb and forefinger. The face that greeted it seemed important somehow, more important than the goddess Ramona. 

The hand holding the sex toy turned and brought it closer to the face for a more thorough inspection. The sex toy looked up at it with pure adoration. This was Irena. This was Goddess. 

“What happened?” the Goddess asked, visibly shaken.

“Pleasure happened,” the toy said, smiling peacefully. “So much pleasure.”

“Mora?” The toy didn’t respond. “What… what are you?” the Goddess asked. 

“I’m a sex toy. A slutty little sex toy,” it answered promptly. 

Irena’s eyebrows lifted and the sex toy admired the grace in that movement. So beautiful! Her eyes seemed to shine extra brightly, not with power but with emotion.

A voice behind the sex toy gave an exclamation of surprise. “It can talk?” Ramona’s face came into view, happy and full of afterglow. 

The sex toy smiled proudly. “Yes. It was wonderful to pleasure you and make you happy.”  

Irena shot a look at Ramona, and now Jenny, who appeared behind her clutching her clothes to her chest. “Where can we find one of those?” Jenny asked. “It’s the most incredible sex toy I’ve ever seen!”

“This is one-of-a-kind,” Irena said. “Do you remember Mora?” Jenny shrugged and Ramona frowned thoughtfully. 

“Of course I remember Mora, I dated her for a year,” Ramona said. “Where is she, anyway?”

“I’m sorry to say she’s elsewhere,” Irena said quietly. “So, so sorry, mi muñeca,” she whispered, looking directly at the sex toy. Then she spoke in a louder voice again for the benefit of her audience. “Before she left, she gave me this beautiful toy. Isn’t it lovely and sexy?”

The sex toy glowed with the praise, reassured that all was right with the world. Irena’s eyes sparkled with unshed tears.

The sex toy had been waiting patiently for the goddesses to stop talking and start using it again, but at the sight of Irena’s tears it tapped her palm in an effort to get the Goddess’ attention respectfully. 

“It if pleases you, this sex toy would be happy to give you pleasure to cheer you up.”

“It would, would it?” Irena wiped her eyes with the back of her free hand. 

“What else are sex toys for?” Asked the toy, glowing with a kind of happiness that can only be achieved through knowing one’s place in the world, and knowing how to achieve a singular goal of bringing pleasure to one who needs it. 

Irena nodded down at the toy, smiling in spite of her tears. “If that’s what you really want.” The sex toy nodded its head enthusiastically. Irena laughed. “What’s the use of having a magical sex toy…” she said, then trailed off. She picked up the toy and lay down on the bed as Ramona and Jenny watched with surprise.

Irena held up the toy, making sure to admire every part of it. “What a beautiful toy you are. And so kind, to notice I was worried.” As she lowered the toy down between her legs, she thought she’d never seen that face so full of joy, or so free of anxiety. “I’m sure you’ll be wonderful.”

Published inEroticaShort FictionWriting

One Comment

  1. Olo Olo

    Dayum, Elle.

    “It’s your time to shine.” What a relief to be given such a role. For a succubus, Irena makes a foresightful guardian angel.

    I couldn’t see any sign of this one being unfinished or unpolished, Elle. Your depiction of surrendering oneself to others’ desire—voyeuristic, handling, tasting, engulfing—was complete and fulfilling.

    Speaking of polishing, this brought me off before I got to the end, and I expect to return to it often. Bon hiver, indeed.

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