Doll (MikaYuu)

♦31♦ - Strings

I was nearly done kicking ass in my game - so close, seriously - and then my phone buzzed. It was like he was a hawk.

From: Mika

Get in the shower.

Great. Time to try on more clothes. It was about a week or so into modeling and that phrase was like our code for Time to play Dress Up!!

I mean, it was all worth it, though. I was always cracking jokes during the whole thing and annoying Mika beyond belief, all the things I tried on were simple and easy, and of course I received amazing rewards. At this rate, I had memorized the tracings and feel of Mika's lips. It was that kind of reward.

Or sometimes a pluck to my forehead if he thought I was "difficult."

My mother found it utterly weird that I was modeling now, but as soon as she found out I was working around near-millionaires, she was packing bags for Hawaii. My pay was amazing, too. Come to think of it, my job just might've saved my parents's divorce. Life was nice. Kinda.

So I got in the shower and got my ass blasted yet again by the steamers and dryers, the usual, and found myself staring at a headband.

No, it was... A thong.

And on today's episode of What the Hell Has Mika Left for Me to Wear Today?

Curse that pervert. No explanations either. I couldn't believe I was thinking this, but I honestly missed the panties.

What the hell did I possibly have to wear today that I needed to wear a string? ...Or did Mika just have other plans? Was he even into kinky stuff like this?

I could only dream. Mika kept us disturbingly, yet sexily, PG-13 most of the time. Despite the occasional tugging session and fondling, but he won't let me anywhere near what's between his legs.

I could never blame him. That place was finally sacred.

But anyway, I did my normal thing when he left me hardly anything to wear and snuck under his covers on the bed and waited for him to show me the delivery. When I learned that he was in charge of who wears what and what goes where, my whole entire perspective of what I wore made me even more utterly grateful each time. I was always grateful for his friendly choices of wear that I was comfortable in. I was never wearing anything risqué and slightly pedophilic. Mika was truly on my side.

It was nearly impossible to leave the bed. It was large, warm, comfortable, and smelled sweet like him. Like a baby, yet so dark and mysterious. Every time I inhaled the enigmatic smell, it made me yearn for a day where we'd settle out an actual normal relationship, and I'd be able to lie in bed with him and listen to all of his stories, or just his heart if he didn't wanna talk. I wasn't sure what it was about the atmosphere of this place, or maybe it was just Mika, but it made me want to do all kinds of dumb, cheesy stuff.

Finally, he slowly opened the door, his blue eyes peering at me from behind the dark wood. His entire face was pink, which he tried to hide as he set the black box on the couch. I sat up slightly, the sheet still huddled up to my neck. It took him a moment to get the heat from his face and actually face me before he made his way over to my side of the bed. I just gazed up at him utterly confused.

"What?" I asked, feeling embarrassed myself. He shook his head slightly, giving me a small kiss like he usually did.

Still cupping my face, I stared at his own pink, flushed one. Hardly did I ever see him like this, but did it ever take so much of his composure to finally muster up out of his bafflement to ask me, "Are you wearing it?"