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 THE TOY --------

   He'd been serving her for a year; living in her house full time for just
over a month.  He'd gotten used to her schedule, her rhythms, meeting her
needs without having to ask what they were most of the time.  She didn't
even need to talk to him half the time now.  A simple gesture or look could
direct him to what she wanted.  He was as well trained as a dog.

   He was waiting patiently by the door for her to return from work,
kneeling and wearing nothing but his chastity belt (he was too small for a
cage to even fit), when she stalked in the door, fuming.  He hesitated for
just a second, but proceeded to help her out of her heels, kissing each
foot as he did.  He took her briefcase and jacket and set them in their
place.  Everything in that house had a place, even him.

   She hadn't even looked at him yet, hadn't acknowledged him; just walked
off to the living room and poured herself a splash of scotch and then
curled up on her favorite overlarge chair.

   "Toy," she called to him, snapping her fingers for good measure.

   He crawled to her, always being careful to be below her, knowing that
was where he belonged.  He stopped by the chair and knelt, looking up.

   "Robert is out of commission.  He had an accident doing a stunt and has
broken his leg.  Anthony is on a business trip.  Henry is off climbing some
mountain or another.  There is no one to fuck me tonight." She blew a
strand of her curly copper hair out of her face with a huff.  "You
certainly can't fill in for them.  I've seen outie belly buttons with more
length."

   He waited patiently beside her, knowing this disrupted her schedule. 
She was very precise and had a routine that was followed with no
exceptions. Robert, one of her three boyfriends, was scheduled to be there
tonight to fuck her.  She required it daily and to go without made her
deeply unhappy.  His job, as related to her sex life, was to orally service
her before one of her men showed up to fuck her, to clean her up
afterwards, either with his mouth again or with a cloth, depending on her
mood, and to bring her anything required during sex - lube, a dildo, a
drink, etc.

   She glanced at him and then took a sip of her drink, staring out the
window.  "I'm going to need you to do something for me.  Something that
might be difficult, but I fully expect your compliance and assistance."

   He shivered a bit at her level but firm tone and the anticipation of
what she might ask of him.

   "You must have some well endowed friends.  Call around until you find
one who is willing to come over and fuck me.  Explain to them the woman
you've moved in with requires a real cock, and you don't have one."

   She didn't look at him as she said this, simply kept looking out the
window and sipping her scotch.

   He hesitated.  This was a bigger ask than anything up to this point in
their relationship.  Did she really expect him to call up his friends? 
People he knew and hung out with and reveal to them his inability to please
a woman?  He turned bright red and stared at her, open mouthed.  He knew he
could call red and end this, that was a clear part of their understanding.
He tried it out in his mind...  imagined saying it to her.

   She looked down at him and extended one leg, poking him in the groin
with her stocking covered toes.  He felt himself grow hard at the pressure
of the belt against him; the head of his cock emerging like a turtle from
its shell to poke out and strain towards her.  That's all it would ever do,
strain toward her as if she were the sun and he was desperate for her
light. She pushed harder, pressing with her heel now.  "Can you even feel
that?  Or do we need to get a tighter belt for you?"
   He let out a small moan.  Then he turned and crawled to the phone.