Barbie Gets Kinky

“Barbie Gets Kinky”

by J.D. Savanyu

Barbie Roberts sunbathed in a $500 pink string bikini behind her Malibu dream house. Watching the ocean waves gently caressing her private beach, and getting real horny. That blonde bombshell was the highest-paid fashion model in the world, with her own magazine, her own perfume, her own private jet, and more money than she knew what to do with. She also had more male groupies than she knew what to do with; banging hundreds and hundred of them all around the world. But her heart belonged to only one man: Ken Carson. That dashing blonde superstar quarterback was twelve miles away at the Los Angeles football stadium, taking practice snaps, running through obstacle courses, diagramming trick plays with X’s and O’s, and looking forward to fucking the shit out of his trophy wife.

Barbie had thousands of designer clothes in twenty dressers and nine walk-in closets. But there was still one kind of “outfit” she didn’t own. A kinky sex doll outfit. She was the very definition of “vanilla,” idolized by millions of other “vanilla” girls, so of course she never tried any kind of BDSM. But she was feeling extra bored and extra naughty today, so she decided to cross over to the “dark side.” Embracing her fate as a submissive girl-toy, and proving her love to Ken by letting him demean her. Letting him treat her like an all-star quarterback, getting blitzed and sacked hard by a hulking linebacker.

Barbie strolled into her giant art-deco dream house that was built for a notorious 1920’s bootlegging gangster. She sat down in front of a computer screen and searched for kinky bondage harnesses. A dozen sponsored leathery get-ups appeared at the top of the screen. Her big blue eyes gravitated toward a skimpy dark brown number on kinkykitten.com, consisting of a leather dog collar with a metal loop in front and seven vertical and seven horizontal straps trailing downward to the sexy hips of the brunette model, leaving her tits and pussy open for business. Four narrow chains made a U-shape over her lower rib cage, adding a nice punky touch. The harness also came with two leather wrists straps with metal loops attached, and a metal clasping hook for a dominator/domme to attach to the fifth horizontal strap around her waist for bondage fun. It was just as eye-catching as the sparkly butterfly fairy gown that Barbie wore last week during a fashion show in Milan, so she had to have it.

She gave Kinky Kitten the number of her platinum card, selected the same-day rush delivery option, clicked the “Finalize Order” button, and sank bank in the leather office chair with a rush of perverted arousal, picturing the look on Ken’s face when he got home from football practice and saw his trophy wife’s little “surprise.” Her pussy throbbed with intense desire while picturing him tying her up to the bedposts, whipping her heart-shaped ass, and fucking her dripping wet pussy like hell. She took off her Dolce & Gabbana bikini and masturbated nice and slow, willing herself not to cum. Saving her big O for her jock beau.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Five hours later, Ken knocked on the front door of the dream house, dripping with animal lust after sweating for hours on the gridiron in the Southern California sun. That pretty-boy quarterback was the clear favorite to win the Super Bowl and the NFL MVP trophy, and the media was already dubbing him “Tom Brady 2.0.” His brash alpha male swagger was irresistible to the fairer sex, including the three blonde cheerleaders he ass-fucked two nights ago in the Kansas City Hyatt Regency (after ass-fucking Patrick Mahomes and his overrated Chiefs, 52-5.) Ken Carson got jerked off by more Jills than Josh Allen, but only Barbie could make him truly happy. She greeted him eagerly on the threshold, wearing a big smile and a silky pink bathrobe.

“Hey Kenny-boy,” she uttered seductively.

“Hey Barbie girl. I’ve been thinking about you all day long. Just one look at your pretty face makes me forget about all the wear and tear on my body, and all my annoying thug-ass teammates from ‘da hood.'”

“Shut up and kiss me, #13.”

He wrapped his burly QB arms around her slender shoulders and kissed her passionately. She undulated her buxom body against his rock-hard muscles, feeling his big dick start to rise against her pilates-chiseled abs. She pulled back ten seconds later and scratched the blonde five o’clock shadow on his handsome face.

“Hey, remember when you were a cheerleader at Malibu High school, waving your pom-poms while I broke Nick Rafka’s touchdown record?” Ken reminisced fondly.

“I sure do. Remember when you popped my cherry on Point Dume beach, on my eighteenth birthday?”

“That was awesome, baby. The next eight years were crazy as hell.”

“The best is yet to come. In the meantime, I’ve got a nice little surprise for you.”

“Ooh, I love surprises. What is it?”

Barbie untied her pink bathrobe and let it fall to the floor, revealing that amazing strap-and-chain harness from Kinky Kitten. Nicely accentuating her big tits and wide firm hips.

“Holy shit, girl! Where did you get that?”

“The dark corners of the internet. What do you think of Kinky Barbie?”

“She’s better than all the other Barbies, for damn sure.”

She giggled sweetly and draped her arms loosely around his neck. “I’ve been having a lot of dark fantasies lately, and I want you to make them real. I’m your submissive sex doll, Kenny-boy.”

“I’ve also been having dark daydreams during my down time. I read all three Fifty Shades novels, cover to cover.”

“Seriously?” Barbie snickered.

“Of course not. I downloaded them from The Pirate Bay, and skipped right to the dirty parts. Arrr, matey!”

She snickered louder, and kissed him harder. Ken grabbed her right hand and pulled her toward an elaborate art-deco staircase.

“Come on Barbie, let’s go party. Mister Grey will see you now.”

He led her up the stairs, down a long hallway, and into the largest of ten bedrooms, with a great view of an epic sunset over the Pacific ocean. A king-size art deco canopy bed was surrounded by mahogany dressers that were bursting at the seams with overpriced attire. Various fashion accessories were strewn about on tables and shelves: purses, clutches, Birkins, brooches, bangles, spangles…

He threw Barbie’s leather-lined supermodel body onto a memory foam mattress, making her shriek joyfully. She grabbed her ankles and stretched her legs as far apart as she could.

“Ravage me like a wild animal, you big manly quarterback!”

“I better tie you up first, you disobedient doll-bitch.”

Ken opened the top drawer of a dresser near the window and pulled out four long purple silk scarves. The ones she wore last year during a photoshoot in a pink Corvette convertible on the Pacific Coast Highway. Those gaudy scarves trailed three feet behind her in the salty breeze, like a roaring 2020’s Isadora Duncan. Ken used them to bind her wrists and ankles to the metal bars on the headboard and footboard. Stretching her doll-like limbs in an amazing X-shape, with her wet vagina practically begging for his big cock.

“Damn, Barbie, look at your soaking wet pussy. You can’t wait for me to whip that Brazilian Malibu twat.”

“Come on, daddy. Whoop my pussy. I’ve been a baaad little girl.”

“I know you’re not lying, bitch.”

Ken opened another dresser and pulled out the braided leather pantsuit belt that she wore yesterday afternoon during a business conference with bigwigs from Giorgio Armani. Negotiating for a bigger share of the profits from her criminally overpriced perfume, Acqua di Barbie.

“Here’s a fun fashion accessory for Kinky Barbie,” Ken mused while running his rough hands up and down the leather ridges. “You better try it on before you ring it up with your goddamn platinum card.”

Barbie braced for impact, feeling like her entire life had been leading up to this very moment. The braided leather lashed her cunt lips with a crisp thwack, and her X-shaped body shuddered with masochistic pleasure. He laughed at her high-pitched shriek, then he swung the belt again, hitting a millimeter northward.

“Oh shit, that hurts so good! Whoop me harder, daddy!”

“I ain’t your conservative religious father, bitch. Call me master.”

“Please, master! Punish me good!”

He swung it a little harder, landing square on her clit. Her entire body shuddered in abject ecstasy. He hit that sweet spot six more times in rapid succession, and Barbie rattled those frilly art-deco bed bars like a raging prisoner on Orange is The New Black.

“Fuck yeah! This is better than any touchdown I ever scored,” Ken growled comically. “I can’t believe I didn’t try this kinky shit a long time ago.”

“Please whip my big tits, master!” she moaned while squirming pathetically.

“Sure thing, Dolly. I’m gonna turn those milky supermodel boobies nice and red.”

He swung that strap with gleeful abandon. Her perky d-cups jiggled nicely against the barrage, and her pretty face contorted with painful delight. Barbie’s loud moaning and groaning was answered by the shrill squawking of seagulls outside the window on their private beach. She never felt so alive; surrendering herself completely to her soulmate after living too long in a fabulous bubble in the glamor capital of the world. Filling in the emotional void that was steadily growing over the past decade, ever since she sold her soul to the golden calf of fame. She lost count at twelve lashes. The buzzing pain on her pussy and tits turned into pure electricity. Desperate for kinetic reality in a life full of static vanity.

“I’m gonna fuck those big boobies, bitch. And there’s not a damn thing you can do to stop me.”

He straddled her chest, squeezed her perky d-cups around his nine-inch prick, and titty-fucked her like hell.

“Fuck yeah, #13. Squeeze those titties like squishy footballs. I can’t get enough of your big fucking dick!”

“That’s not the only dick you love, you fucking skank. I know you’ve been cheating on me with all those fanboys and bisexual ‘fashionistas.'”