Lolita Sex Dolls/Slaves/Toys

I create Lolita Slave Toys. In case you are wondering what I mean, it is very simple: I transform young girls in easy, manageable sex toys. That's it. The girls can not walk away, can not resist, can not tell anything; they are just there for your sadistic amusement. Curious how? I am a surgeon living in one of those countries at the eastern outskirts of Europe. A pretty rough society still, poverty is enormous, and unless you have money and connections, you are fucked. Needless to say, I have both. We also have beautiful girls here, Eastern European countries are well-known for that. Fortunately (for me), some of these girls don't have parents or relatives anymore and live in orphanages. Actually, I would not call that living, it is unbelievable what you will find there. Some very young girls are lucky and get adopted, but at an age of 8 or 9 they are too old. Some of the more pretty girls get sold into prostitution, and you could consider it luck for them too, instead of slowly fading away in filth and poverty. And a few girls I buy. I generally pick the attractive girls around 9 or 10 years, before puberty starts. The orphanage is very cooperative, they are glad they have one mouth less to feed, one new place to fill. They also gladly accept my donations for the girls. They never ask and I never tell. They know I am a surgeon; they probably think I do some experiments with the girls or cut out and sell their organs. But no, I found a much more profitable business: I turn the girls into sex toys. You can order a Lolita Slave Toy if you want. They are not cheap; I charge in between 30.000 and 40.000 US dollars for a toy. That is without shipping costs. But: you will have a Lolita Slave Sex Toy that will give you satisfaction for many years, she is like a doll, but she is a living doll! Let me tell you how I turn a young orphan girl into a living doll. When I have found a new, suitable girl, I will ask the orphanage to deliver her at my villa. She will arrive naked, tied and blindfold. After a brief inspection and a quick medical check, I will take her to my special clinic in my villa. First, I will clean her very thoroughly. These girls really smell and are filthy; they have not seen a bath for ages and they are really neglected. When she is finally clean, I put her in a hospital bed and give her an injection that will put her to sleep. I will create her a new identity and give her a new name - I don't know the girls' real names, I just know their age; that's all I need. At the orphanage, any data they have from her will be destroyed. She never existed. She will from now on only exist as a toy. I have a couple of Lolita Slave Toys myself; Dasha, who is 11 years old and is just in the final stage of her transformation, Tanya, who is now 12 years old, two years since I created her, and Luda, who is 14 years old and 4 months pregnant. The next morning is the big operation day. The girl will be still sleeping because of the anesthetic from last night. I put her on the operation table and administer anesthetics for the operation to come. So if you were wondering why my Slave Toy will not resist or walk away, very simple: I amputate her legs and arms! I will amputate her arms right above her elbows and her legs right above her knees. Easy, isn't it? This girl will never run away from you... For the girl this is a very heavy operation and it is probably the most critical step in the transformation process. But most of the times they survive. Now, I am not just leaving the girls with stumps on their arms and legs. I will attach a 5 cm metal bar very tightly to the bone on her arms and legs before stitching up the wounds. The other end of the metal bar has a screw thread, where I can attach an o-ring. When she is ready, you easily secure her with a chain or padlock to any object you like! My Tanya and Luda normally have a chain behind their back attached to both o-rings on the stumps of their arms. It will keep their arms nicely close to their body. In the beginning you have to really take care of the wounds on the stumps to prevent infections. Once the wound is healed completely, I will place a silicone cover over the stump. The outside of the cover is covered with white velvet and this actually looks quite sweet, despite the rather cruel o-rings at the end of what is left of her arms and legs. After a few months, when the legs and arms have fully recovered you can put some more strain on the o-rings. I started a year ago to hang Tanya and Luda on their arms and legs from the ceiling. It is such an interesting form of decoration in your room to have a naked Lolita hanging from your ceiling! And it is very nice to use her cunt or mouth when she is hanging like that. But before that it is a long way to go. The operation is not ready yet with amputating her arms and legs. Next I will also cut her vocal cords, so she can no longer speak or even make noises, and remove her teeth from her mouth. When I have removed all her teeth I implant a silicone layer with a soft top layer on her jaws. She will still be able to give blowjobs, but she can no longer bite on your dick. It is actually quite nice now, when she more or less chews a little bit on your cock; the soft top layer gives you a kind of massage. The silicone implant is however absolutely necessary; if not, her mouth would look like a toothless granny's. This will keep her good looks. To further keep her mouth in good shape, she will wear a ball gag most of the time. That does sound somewhat obsolete, because I cut her vocal cords and she cannot speak anyway, but this is just because of esthetics. A gagged girl simply looks good and besides feeding, drinking and fucking, she does not need her mouth anymore. Once the operation is ready, I will give the girl one or two weeks to recover and let the wound heal. Then her training begins. She is no longer an ordinary girl, but became a toy, there is a lot of things she has to learn. Since she has no teeth anymore, she cannot eat. She has to be fed again like a baby. I actually feed her once a day with a baby bottle and infant formula, because it contains all minerals and vitamins. I don't give her more; I don't want her to get fat, because she cannot more anymore. You have to be careful with that. She gets to drink a baby bottle with water, tea or lemonade three or four times a day, so she gets at least 2 liters of liquid per day. That is sufficient to keep her healthy. In the beginning I will put the bottle in her mouth, but pretty soon I will just put the bottle next to her, so she has to put it in her mouth herself. It takes some practice to get the bottle in her mouth herself without having arms, but eventually she manages to grab a bottle with her mouth, roll on her back and drink. Once she gets the trick, I will blindfold her before she gets her bottle; before her training is finished, she must be able to find the bottle and drink it without being able to see. The food and drink has to come out again too, so you have to put her on the toilet a few times per day. Since she cannot move, you have to lift her up and bring her to the toilet. When I am out for business, I normally put a catheter in her urinary tract. Since she does not eat much, she does not shit much either. Although she can no longer speak, I can still communicate with her [and] so teach her some elementary things. I will teach her to give a proper blowjob, I will teach her to enjoy sex when her clit and labia are stimulated with a vibrator. I will also teach her what it means to be a slave. I will whip her pussy every day, mostly in combination with using a vibrator, so she will at some point in time no longer be able to discriminate between pain and pleasure. I will put clamps and pegs on her nipples and labia, stretch her labia. I will intensify her training when I treat her pussy with more and more needles. Her pussy will be treated with hot wax, her clit will be tortured with needles, her cunt will be electrocuted, her cunt will be sewn shut. Any possible form of torture she will have to endure before she gets to the next stage of her transformation. In this phase I will blindfold her most of the time, but I will take care she will also actually see how I torture her. I have a camera running most of the time, and she will have to watch her own torture, plus some more really hardcore torture movies, at least an hour per day. At some point in time she is not only physically a slave, but also became mentally a slave. Her mind no longer resists, she has become totally submissive. Then I will make the last modification to make her to a Slave Toy. She is already immobilized and unable to communicate herself, because no longer able to speak. Until now she was still able to see and hear, she was not completely sensory-deprived. A true Slave Toy can no longer move, speak, see or hear, but only feel. Before depriving her of her last senses I will give her a mild anesthetic. Then I put headphones on her ears and play for several hours extremely loud noises on the headphones. This will be sufficient to damage her hearing for good, she will not be able to hear anymore. As a final touch I will treat her eyes with a laser. She will not be completely blind. My Tanya and Luda still react on strong lights, and I guess they can still see some faint shadows, but they cannot recognize anything anymore and they are almost deaf. Nevertheless I blindfold them most of the time, but that is because I like a blindfolded girl. They are completely numb, they don't even make noises when I torture them. I can only see from the reactions of her body, the increased speed of breathing, and the expression in her face she is suffering pain. When she has recovered from this, she is now transformed in a helpless little toy and ready for sale. They are very easy to keep: just a little bit of food, need only a little bit of care (daily cleaning). They are immobilized, you can attach them to any object, and even make "decoration" out of them. They cannot speak, hear or see; they are completely sensory-deprived. The Slave Toys that are for sale are still virgin and just entering puberty. Nevertheless, they are well trained for oral sex and have been tortured and abused heavily. They can get pregnant, so anticonception is advised, unless you enjoy to have a pregnant slave toy. Just let me know if you want to order one.

How about a video?

Don’t ever go to sleep facing a mirror or else...

I had just come home from a tiring day. I had to stay in school until eight because I had failed a Math test and had to go for extra lessons. I was so freaking tired. Mom and Dad were overseas for a little vacation for a few days so I was all alone at home. I was brushing my teeth while looking at myself in the mirror. It was a beautiful circular mirror with intricate designs on the glass. Mom bought it for a hundred bucks at an auction. It had been in our house for a few years. I remembered how as a little kid Mom would tell me an old Chinese superstition. “You must never sleep facing a mirror,” she warned me, “or your soul will go into the mirror and live in it.” A part of me dismissed her words as a chunk of nonsense, but another part of me believed her and hence there were no mirrors in my bedroom. I proceeded to bend down and rinse my mouth. What I saw when I looked up again had me shell shocked for the rest of my life. My face in the mirror wasn’t my face in the mirror. It was the face of a girl with BIG, really, really BIG, white eyes and long black hair. And her lips were redder than the reddest of lips. Blood was dripping down her chin and onto her white dress. Her white eyes had that gloomy look about them. It was almost as if she looked really sad. I wanted to reach out to touch her, to tell her everything was okay. That nothing was going to go wrong. I felt like I was partially hypnotized. Theklights in the bathroom went off. That snapped me out of my little trance. I jumped, taken aback. Suddenly, the girl in the mirror said in a high-pitched, girly, sinister voice, “I need to esssssssssscape… Out of thissssssss mirror… Help meeeeee…” I tried to move a step back but to no avail. I tried to move the rest of my body but couldn’t. I made an attempt to scream, but nothing came out of my mouth. I could only watch the girl/half-snake move three inches closer towards me in the mirror. At any moment now, she would probably get out of the mirror like how the long-haired girl from that horror movie got out of the television and kill me. No. No. That was not going to happen. Mentally teetering on the verge of panic, I struggled even ha2der than before. I tried to turn around and run. Still, nothing happened. The girl continued to inch closer towards me in the mirror. Shit. Any moment now… But she didn’t. “Sssssleeeeeeeeeep fasssssssing thissssssss mirror toniiiiiiiight. And yooooooou will not ssssssssuffer.” And she vanished. In her place was me. Me, sweating like I had just run a forty-kilometer marathon, with eyes wide like saucers, but still me. I tried to move my arms and it worked! It worked! I could move my legs, my head, my knees, my whole entire fucking body! I had never been so relieved. But that relief was soon replaced by what the girl, or snake, or whatever, had told me just now. No. I wasn’t going to sleep facing the mirror tonight. No way. I would rather go to school naked than sleep facing a mirror. I would rather eat shit than sleep facing a fucking mirror. All of that, the girl, the mirror, whatever, was probably a nightmare I had. I looked into the mirror again. Seeing my own reflection, I was fully convinced that it was all nothing and rinsed my mouth, changed into my PJs and went to bed. That was probably the best decision I had ever made in my whole entire fucking life. I woke up the next day to find out I wasn’t on my bed. It didn’t take me long to find out that I was in a hospital. Bandages were all over my body. Some were even covering the bottom half of my face. Suddenly, the memory of the terrifying nightmare I had during the previous night came flooding back into my head. And I began to wonder what happened after that. Why did I even end up in the hospital? I tried to call out for a nurse but all that came out of my mouth was a noise which sounded like a chicken was being strangled. A nurse appeared beside me. “Oh, you’ve woken up!” she said in a cheery voice. “I’m sorry but part of your house was burned down last night. The firemen rescued you just in time. Your mom and dad have booked flight tickets back here. You could’ve died back there, you know? “The police thought that everything else in that part of your house was gone in the fire, but they were wrong. They managed to find a circular mirror which wasn’t even burnt in your bathroom. Just about everything else in that part of your house was either badly burnt or gone.” My eyes widened. The nurse chuckled. “I know, right? I guess the mirror is a magical one. Ha ha! Anyway, your mom and dad decided they didn’t want it anymore because it seemed like the mirror had been giving them bad luck ever since they bought it. According to what I had heard yesterday, they wanted to get rid of it but were really busy so they kept forgetting about it until the fire happened. When they found out that the mirror was the only thing in that part of your house that wasn’t either badly burnt or reduced to ashes, they were so shocked that they decided to sell it to a friend who was interested in mirrors.” She shrugged. “You okay?” I nodded. “Good. I’m going to attend to the other patients. If you need anything, call me, okay?” she smiled and walked away. So, there you go – a Creepypasta with a nice ending. Just don’t ever go to sleep facing a mirror or else. Credit To: iloveitpink (http://iloveitpink.tumblr.com/)

Creepyyy

I’ve always lived a relatively normal life. I was the typical teenage girl, though I was a tomboy. I had never once been a girly-girl, or dreamed of holding frilly pom-poms and being popular. That just wasn’t my style. I much preferred to stay in my house, sitting in front of the T.V., playing video games. Horror video games, to be precise. Anything that could scare me, I went after. Though I loved the fear aspect of games and scary stories, I was easily paranoid. Thanks to this, I very seldom ever let myself feel ‘safe’; I was more-so always in a state of hesitation, like a little mouse in a cat infested home. My friends, family, all of them knew this wasn’t healthy for me. No, not in the slightest. I didn’t care about that though. Fear enticed me, drew me in… My paranoia only grew, and I let it. I watched it grow, like the little fire it was in my heart. As I lay in bed one night, reading more creepy scriptures, whatever I could come across really. soon, though, I had come to realize my throat felt dry and sore. I set down the laptop and started to try and massage it from the outside, rubbing slowly with two fingers, but to no avail. I knew I had to go from the barely lit living room, and into the dark kitchen that lay beyond the safe haven I had grown so used to these nights. My paranoia naturally did not ease up, but I knew I had to go and get something to drink, if only to ease the sore, dull burn I felt in my throat. With that, I slipped my legs over the side of the couch, flinching as my foot caught in the blanket I would sleep with. Thanks to my nearly tripping, my landing was not so quiet as I would have wished. I cursed under my breath, but shook it off. Really, I needed to get over it. It was only me and my dad in this old house, anyway. Heck, it wasn’t even old; just a bit warn. Nothing to fear from a safe, warm family home. With that thought swimming in my mind, I made my journey to the kitchen, sure to flip on the lights the instant I entered the doorway. As I came to stand beside the fridge, I took a look to my left, looking over the blinds that covered the glass-sliding doors. Despite the thick, white blinds, I always felt something would be just outside the doors, able to see through some unnoticable crack in the covering. The thought made chills run down my back, but I shrugged it off just as quick, turning my attention to the fresh bottle of water I had grabbed. Thanks to my prior thoughts, I knew it would be a long, sleepless night for me. — The days that followed went by nearly the same. My father had gone fishing for most of the weekend daylight hours, and I stayed alone to read or play games, only getting up to use the bathroom or get some food or drink when I needed to. The nights, too, went generally the same. Dad would be upstairs, asleep, and that’s when it would always happen. My throat would sting, and I would go for water… And every time, my mind felt like it was being tugged, and I would always look at the blinds, sending yet another chill through my entire being. Each time, I felt like something knew I was in there, and it was… Waiting. Of course, I knew that was just me, imagining I had gone through what others had said they have done. Some creature, waiting to spring. It was all just fear, and natural fear. At least, I hoped it was natural. The last thing I need is to be labeled crazy at such a young age. However, one night, about a week after this had all started to happen… When I walked into the kitchen, I realized one of the blinds was slightly ajar, moved to the point a bit of the night could be seen through the cover. Considering the fact I have four cats, all of which are known to cause mischief, I thought nothing of it. They had probably been chasing each other around, ran into the blinds, and ran off again. I now turned towards the blinds, ready to go and just fix it, before the all too familiar shiver coursed through me. I let out a weak whimper at the feeling, unable to contain it this time for whatever reason. Once the feeling had passed… I went to do as I had planned. Just as I settled the blind into place, however, I saw a pale, bony hand twitch from the darkness. It looked to be just outside the window pane, and I jolted back instantly with a strangled, startled cry. I stood there, shaking, for what seemed forever. Of course, my curious mind picked up, and I moved back to look… It was gone. Though my instincts told me to run, go, I shrugged the fear away. Odds are, it was just the reflection of the light in contrast to the night outside. Nothing was there, and I was getting worked up over nothing at all. I returned to the fridge for my nightly water, before going back into the living room. And… That’s when things started to go downhill. After that first encounter, I continued to see that pale, emaciated-looking hand. Shaking, twitching, just outside the windowpane, from a barely opened hole in the blinds. Every night, I would hastily move the blinds back into place, for fear of seeing more, for fear of… It. For fear of it seeing me, as I have seen it. But… I know it always saw me. Before I had even seen it… It would watch. Deep down, I knew this, but my subconscious refused to believe it. Oh, I wish I had believed it. One night, I sat in my father’s recliner… Typing up an email to my friend. However, I felt a disturbance. I wasn’t sure what it was, but I felt it. A presence, if you will, just waiting to poke out and visit it seemed. I looked away from the computer for only a moment, and that moment was enough. I saw the hand again. It reached out, slowly, from below the opening of the recliner. I felt paralyzed once I saw it, reaching for my outstretched legs, reaching… And then it touched me. The feeling was almost slimy, not what you would expect of such a human looking hand. The nails of it… It just skimmed my skin, caressing… The paralysis ended as it reached down for my foot. I slammed down on the end of the recliner, hoping to God the emaciated thing would just die, would leave me alone… That it was as weak as the frail hand looked. From below me, I heard an inhuman screech of pain, but it was abruptly cut off as the chain closed in on itself. I sat, shaking for a few moments… Waiting to feel something move. Nothing happened. I thought it was time to see just what had been under there… See it’s face. I moved slowly, hesitant with such a decision, but I knew it… It had to be done. I moved the leg of the chain carefully, almost as if I expected the hand to lash out at my face. I felt the warm substance on my hands, and knew then… I was safe. However, when I had revealed what was under there, when the leg was up, I immediately drew my breath in. The smell of metallic blood hit my nose, and I started to dry heave at the sight; there was no pale white, emaciated creature. The dead, and now nearly decapitated creature was my kitten. One of the twins I had adopted not long ago. Tears welled in my eyes as I continued to cough, almost begging to be sick, praying to everything and everyone that I was dreaming, that I hadn’t done what was laying in front of me. But as I moved my hand forward to slowly touch the brown, wet fur… And I began to truly cry. It… It made me do this. And it was still alive, watching me… Witnessing me pick up the small, limp body, probably pleased with what it had done. I felt it, felt it so close… I heard footsteps, coming down the stairs, and the presence was gone. Instead, all I heard was the faint mumbling of what I presumed was my father’s worried and upset voice. I could barely hear him over my own tears, over my own grief. I… Tried to live with myself, after that incident. But it always got harder, and harder. I could hear faint whisperings, always just out of clarity. I could understand what it was saying, though… Or what it was meaning to say. It’s your fault. You killed her. You killed your innocent little friend, your form of a child. She did nothing to you. Soon, the grief became too much for me. The whispering, the sightings, all of it bore down on me too much. If I couldn’t kill it… There was only one thing left to do. I lay down on the floor, below the open leg of the chair. Reaching up to rest my hands on it, shaking, trembling with grief, fear… But now, with a sense of finality. It would be over, and there would be no more paranoia or mental torture. I heard the noise of my father heading downstairs, and I knew then it was now, or never. As I slammed down the best I could, feeling the sudden slice of metal on my throat, I could swear I felt a cold nail skim down my leg before blackness overtook every other sense. — I was wrong… It wasn’t over. My dad, he found me, naturally. I knew he would, I heard him after all. He must have called for paramedics, instantly. I don’t know how I’m alive… I must have hesitated. Something stopped me, something made me stop. The metal… It didn’t kill me. It didn’t pierce me how I wished it would, didn’t cut far enough to kill me. I lost a lot of blood, though. It left me weak, vulnerable… I don’t know how long I was asleep, after that. When I had been awakened, I tried to speak, to tell someone why I did that, but… I couldn’t talk. All that came out was a terrible silence. I learned I had done too much damage. My voice would never return to me. Never would I be able to tell anyone what happened, or what was torturing me so… Not like they would believe me, anyway. I wonder now, why it had saved me, after leaving me to such a fate… But deep down, I already know. It wants me alive. To know of it, yet not speak of it. To feel it, but not cry out. Not only that, but to wallow in the grief it threw me into… To live as an unheard reminder that It is always watching from behind the covers. Credit To: Candid