I didn’t hate her. There wasn’t any reason to at this point, but I hadn’t hated her before turning her into an impotent little toy, either.

“Ohh! Ohhhh…”

Well, maybe not impotent. She was definitely giving me a powerfully athletic performance from deep inside my cunt. In fact, if I’d known how good she’d be, I might even have shrunk her earlier. She might not enjoy worshiping me, but I was certainly enjoying her, and honestly, that’s all there was to it. After all, why would I hate my favorite toy?

“Mmmmm….”

I sat up from my bed of pillows, moaning mostly from my body’s annoyance at the sudden movement and only a little from her delightful little flutters. With only the barest hint of regret, a couple of fingers, and a small but satisfying squelch, I pulled her out from me. I lifted her, limp and dangling by her legs, so that I could inspect the minuscule details of her body. She was sopping wet. Her blonde hair was dark with my cum; her skin positively gleamed with it.

She was also, fortunately, still breathing. Even if she weren’t my new prized vibrator, I wouldn’t have wanted to kill her. She hadn’t done anything to deserve that. I mean, sure, I didn’t care much for her personally. And yeah, when Steve mentioned that he wished that his ex-girlfriend Jessica weren’t around anymore, my response might have been a little… unorthodox, but that was no reason to kill her. She just needed to understand that she had a new place in life. She would never again be taller than a toy, she would never again have time to herself, and she would never again choose her next action. She wasn’t a real person anymore. She was mine, and her place was wherever I put her.

For now, that place was hanging from my fingers only a few inches from my face. Her torso heaved steadily as she recovered her breath, but she was so small that I could only barely make out the motion. Her eyes were closed, probably to keep my cum from dribbling in. She looked exhausted, but more to the point she didn’t look entirely conscious. Well, I could fix that.

I popped her between my lips until only her legs stuck out from my mouth. Almost automatically, my tongue began to probe the nooks and crevices of her body. Damn, she tasted great. But when I thought about it, it was really my cum I was licking. Damn, I tasted great.

On the other hand, enjoyment is really all about texture, and that was where she shined. The wet crawling of my tongue over her body seemed to wake her from her stupor, and she began to writhe and scream out of… well, I’m actually not sure what exactly motivated her newly energetic little squirms. It could have been pure, animal panic, the instinctive response to the humid, asphyxiating trap of my mouth. Or maybe it was the horror of staring into the dark abyss and realizing – knowing – that the abyss was alive, willful, and hungry.

Either way, it tickled deliciously.

Alas, now that she was up and kicking, we needed to keep moving. We needed to stay on schedule today. That wasn’t to say I couldn’t have some fun, though, and I may have deliberately exaggerated the suction when I pulled her from between my lips so that I could hear a wonderful little pop. She was almost comically bedraggled. The top half of her body was coated in a layer of saliva, the lower half still held its glaze of cum, and splitting both halves from each other was a violet belt of lipstick.

She still screamed. In my mouth, I had felt the vibration of her wails more than I’d heard them, but now I could hear her shrieking in that little helium voice of hers. It was barely audible and even less intelligible. When I’d first shrunk her, I’d tied her up to an earring so that I could hear her, but I’d only been able to understand her when everything else was silent. She’d ranted and raved, and to be completely honest, I was actually a little impressed with the string of invective she’d thrown my way. I would have let her do it more often, but when she called me “a hell-bound bitch-hound” in a voice that made the chipmunks sound like baritones, I’d laughed so hard that she’d flown off the earring and smacked hard into a wall.

Another time, I’d held her up just an inch in front of my eye so that I could try reading her lips. There was a chance she’d been begging me to let her go, but I could’ve just been a bad lip-reader. For all I knew, she’d been passionately crying, “Please shove me up your vagina!” That’s how I interpreted it at the time, at least.

Anyway, she could scream on her own time. “Quiet, titmouse.” Her hysterics stopped mid-breath and her facial expression froze in wariness. She wasn’t stupid. She knew she wasn’t going to like what came next, but she also knew I could always make it worse.

“We’re going out to see someone.”

Still dangling her between two fingers, I got up from my bed to get dressed. But first, I made a detour to my jewelry box. With my other hand, I dug around until I found the piece I was looking for: a small, silver barbell. I held it up to her.

“And I know how much you love worshiping my breasts, so here’s your ride.”

Putting the barbell down for a second, I dug through the box until I found the short, fine thread that I used for excursions like this. I almost didn’t notice until I looked at her, but she’d started wiggling ferociously, like she was struggling to break out of my fingers’ grip. She hated my breasts. She hated my cunt. She hated being forced to worship at my unholy altars. She detested me. And I had to admit that her abhorrence of all things me wasn’t unfair. She’d been a person once, and I’d made her into this pathetic thing. She didn’t even know who I was, even after I’d taken her and made her mine. I deserved her hate… and I loved it.

I was positively enraptured by her loathing for me. I understood everything I was doing to her, and I understood the unfairness of her fate. None of that mattered. I didn’t hate her, and I didn’t have to hate her. But something about her had tripped a switch in my mind, and I just couldn’t get enough of making her life an emotional hell.

I couldn’t wait till she figured out where I was taking her. If she really knew me and had any imagination, it wouldn’t have been hard for her to guess.

I secured the barbell in the piercing of my left nipple and, taking the thread, tied her arms tightly to each end. I made a loop using the same string and pulled it tight around her head. She didn’t open her mouth to accept the makeshift gag until the pain became too much, but eventually she gave in. I took a look at us both in the mirror. At first, it felt a little blasphemous to think about how she looked like she’d been crucified on my nipple, but then again I was already in hell for a pound at this point. What was another penny?

That task completed, I finished getting dressed and went out to my car. I couldn’t resist fiddling with my breast a few times on the drive to our destination, tracing her outline with my fingertip through a thin layer of cotton. A jolt of pure sensation gave me shivers every time I felt her twitch under my touch.

When we arrived, I parked the car and cut the engine, but I didn’t get out immediately. From the outside, it might have looked like I was talking to myself.

“You don’t need to worry about anything tonight. You don’t have to do anything but watch as my boyfriend eats me out. He’s going to be between my legs, looking up at me and my cute little nipple ring.” I gave her a proprietary tap through my shirt, and I shuddered when her wriggling made the barbell twinge against sensitive skin. “His tongue is going to pleasure my pussy until we both pass out from exhaustion, and all you have to do is ride it out. That’s it. You won’t make a sound, got it?”

The question was academic, really; she was bound, gagged, and utterly powerless to do much of anything. I chose to interpret her silence as cheerful obedience anyway. “Perfect.” I stepped out of my car and started walking toward the nearest apartment building. I pressed the intercom button for my boyfriend’s unit, and the door unlocked with an electronic buzz just a couple of seconds later.

It was only a few steps to the elevator, thirty seconds of ignoring offensively insipid jazz music on the way to the third floor, and then another few steps to my boyfriend’s door. I knocked.

I heard the faint click of a turning lock a few moments before the door swung open to let me in.

“Hey, Paige. Come on in.”

The girl on my nipple ring reacted violently to the bland welcome, jerking with feverish abandon and, I could only hope, with dawning realization. It had taken her long enough. I smiled at her former partner and walked into his apartment.

“Hey, Steve. I have an idea for tonight.”