Chapters Dollhood: A Woman's Choice Book 2 Chapter 19
Jack Collins — or John Collins Sr. as no one called him — was a business associate of Lord Chittenham’s from my limited understanding. Father had been searching fruitlessly for months in pursuit of a financial advisor or a lawyer or whatever Mr. Collins was, having almost as many meetings and interviews for this role as for our future betrothals, but both hunts had been going quite poorly up to this point. Why he didn’t use his reputable bank associates I don’t know, but even in my indignation I did not suppose to understand such nebulous things as ‘business.’
Anyhow, Jack visited Father one weekend and, as was de rigueur for all guests on their first visit to the Hodkinson Estate, the four of us Dolls were presented in a neat row in the foyer, with Mother standing closest to the door as the silent matriarch and hostess. Behind us stood the whole waitstaff, autobutler and maids all present, so when Father greeted Jack at the porte cochere and walked him in, the man was visibly taken aback by us, curtsying one by one as we had practised (except Cuddles, whose ottoman scooted forward and back in lieu).
It was readily apparent our guest was not a Societyman as we had expected.
“Alan, you didn’t say you had such a lovely wife and family here waiting for my arrival. I would’ve been more punctual!” The middle-aged man looked shrewd, but still caught himself searching for a hand to kiss on Cushions’ statuesque form standing in front of him. “This is too much, good man, I thought we were going to have a casual chat or the like. Instead I’m greeted by such… such flawless elegance and etiquette!”
I swear I saw the twinkle of a salesman in my father’s eye. “Oh we are, Jack, we are. But being a guest in the house of a Societyman, the Society of Dolls I should say, well it comes with some formalities, touches of Victoria’s time that are in our hands to keep alive. You must know about this; your late wife was a Lady of Leisure, was she not?”
“Aye she was, before the mandate too… but… between you and me, her passing soured much of my taste for such pageantry and performance, and that was many years ago. Building the firm and raising John became the priority.”
“As it should, as it should…”
As modern negotiations hinged upon keeping up appearances, Mr. Collins continued. “As you are seeking out my services, Alan, you must already know I have been quite successful in my practise. Overwhelmingly so. So do not imagine me and my boy hard-pressed by our simpler way of life, I just keep our considerable assets relatively liquid. Speaking of, we just replaced our older AutoServe staff with brand new models!”
Upon the mention of staff, they began discussing topics about our maids much too technical for me to follow, until a lull in the conversation came.
“I will admit though, our terrace in Kensington has indeed lost that feminine touch that once made it a home, despite my son’s best efforts programming our smarter automatons.”
“Well, Jack, I do believe I can help you with that. You brought your pipe?”
“Of course.”
“Then let us retreat to my study.”
At this, my father guided him past the entryway and into the house proper, after which we followed, slowly, trying to hear them over our clicking heels.
“Did you know my boy will be starting his PhD this autumn, they grow up so fast!”
“Try raising girls, my friend. You have no idea…”
As the two men turned down the hall, our guides made it quite clear that we were to proceed elsewhere, back towards the doll room to resume our strict schedule, my favourite hobby of eavesdropping thwarted without a second glance.
Later, as I stood on my very own doll stand alongside my mother and sister, it’s phallic stimulators tragically removed, the saddle’s surface electrodes fired into me, sending tiny currents through my loins, tensing this muscle and that to keep my behind pert and firm in my days of inactivity. During this I was left standing, staring, inactive, much safer than if I were to do something immodest like exercise. Yes, lucky me was locked away upstairs again as little pinches ran over my inner skins, when what I really needed was a deep pounding to quench my fire, or perhaps just something to fill the emptiness below, to smoulder the flames. I was an unused Doll, and with every day I became more and more desperate for release. Had I been like this before my enhancements? It was proving difficult to see that chaste period of my life outside the lens of desire that now saturated my perspective. For not the first time or the last, my mind desperately cried out for some real stimulation, or at least a distraction, behind my innocent face. Visiting guests were the only event that broke the monotony: why were we being deprived of this too?
Little did I know then, but Father was laying the groundwork for our futures in this man he deemed quite respectable, gently educating him about the virtues of Dollhood and how a marriage projected trustworthiness upon young bachelors. Each time they met to discuss their business arrangements, Father would gently increase our presence and involvement. Perhaps Cuddles was allowed to sit next to the guest whilst the two men drank scotch, or perhaps Chas and I were doing our gait training off-schedule, albeit perfectly timed to pass them by as they strode along the grounds, to which Father would remark, “…you know they aren’t wearing bustles under those dresses.”
Sure enough, Mr. Collins seemed to warm to us quickly, soon wrapping his arm around whichever Doll was placed beside him, teasing them with his closeness, his warmth. Before long his hands were wandering whenever my Father glanced away, though I doubt he would have stopped our guest unless it was our mother in his grasp. Meanwhile, this deal of theirs seemed to go off without a hitch as papers were signed and hands were shaken only a few weeks later, after which Father held a celebratory dinner and invited a small group of friends, including some select few from the bank and their Ladies, Lord Chittenham and Belle, Mr. Battersby, Emily, and his new Doll Anne, and of course Mr. Collins, who happened to bring his son, John Jr.
John was… different. Different than any young man I had met before.
Fitted into my nicest stays, my waist compressed to an exhausting fifteen and a half inches, my dress and hair impeccable, I was sitting pretty in the drawing room with the other Dolls in my family, entertaining our guests as we were often left to do before dinner. Entertaining in this case meant listening silently to a selection of chamber music recordings that us Hodgkinsons must have heard nearly a hundred times by now. Father’s work associates, their leisurely wives, and the entertaining gossip that usually poured forth from their untamed mouths were yet to arrive, so it was just us Dolls as of yet. My maid had placed me so I was staring vaguely toward Cuddles and Chittenham’s Doll Belle, the latter of which — dressed about as scandalously as the last time we met — was not-so-subtly inching her well-rounded rear over toward my vase-like friend as if silently asking to ‘play’ when I heard the door open behind me.
A young man’s voice. “Oh dear. This is definitely the wrong room.”
The gruffer voice of Jack Collins interjected, rustling through the doorway and shutting it behind them, “No no, this is fine, I think they are deaf or something, maybe imbecilic.”
“Father, that’s not… p-please, let me return home to my studies.” he sounded like he wanted to say twenty things at once yet couldn’t muster enough courage to say anything decisively.
“Nonsense! We just arrived! No no, that won’t do.”
“B-but you have never needed me at one of these before, it’s true… uhm… especially not to arrange a simple offshore account. W-why am I even here?”
“Because of this, dear boy!”
John the younger grew nervous, obviously wanting to avoid the subject. “I’ve seen countryside manors before, Father.”
“No, look not at the house but what it houses. The furnishings, if you know what I mean.”
“Yes, they’re absolutely horrendous. Straight out of the late 30s and that gaudy nu-rococo…”
I heard a sharp clearing of the throat that ended the effeminate critique. Then a short silence. A faint sound of a light clicking on.
“No… No. Father, please! I told you! I have no use for women in my life, I am much too busy! Does limitless energy mean nothing to you? The work I’m about to begin could take us into the 22nd century!! And these? Wha… what do I even do with them?”
The patriarch cracked a laugh. “What do you do with them!? My dear boy, I’ll show you what you do.”
Now the two men strode into my field of view, and I could assess John for the first time. It surprised me to find that he was properly dashing, far more so than I had expected from the complete vacuum of confidence in his voice, and more so than the vast majority of suitors who I had entertained before. Somewhere in his mid-twenties and impeccably dressed for a dinner such as tonight’s, the young man had a lean build and tall stature, both good indicators for my real interest in the superior sex these days. They quickly turned the opposite way though, facing Althea; Cuddles.
Mr. Collins leant down and released the valve in her fleur-de-bouche, deflating and pulling out the gag only to let the fine item drop to the floor haphazardly.
Behind my eyes I balked. How crude! Now it would gather dust from the carpet and who knows what else! Whereas the old Hope might have collected the nerve to stomp at the man for his carelessness, I knew my maid was somewhere nearby, out of sight, always watching. That said, they knew full well not to interfere at a time like this.
I watched in perfect docility as the man then shoved two of his meaty fingers into Cuddles’ awaiting mouth, all the way to the knuckles, and let her throat activate and perform its new functions, before looking at his son. “I imagine you get the picture, now?”
John was visibly taken aback, more so than anyone I had ever met. “That… that’s entirely unnatural. D-does she mind?”
“Well I have a feeling she might, but who cares? Do you hear her complaining? Do you see her even notice?” He pulled his wet fingers out and wiped them off on Althea’s dress as her dollified face betrayed nothing. As if on cue her open lips started to drool steadily, her wide bosom there to catch each and every drop. I could almost see her short thighs tense, trying to endure this treatment.
As Mr. Collins laughed at the sight, John stepped back in shock, “Father I… I can’t… I won’t!”
“Listen here, boy. You will be marrying someone, something,” Mr. Collins pointed directly at Cuddles now, perched on her stool, “because you’ll be marking yourself as a degenerate otherwise.”
“I’m not queer, Father. We’ve talked about this.” John asserted under his voice.
“Yes, yes, we’ve also talked about how you can hardly even look a woman in the eye, never mind court her. What about that pretty thing I saw you with last month?”
“What?? Priscilla!? I’d never! She’d never. It’s… I…”
“Now now, I’m trying to help you, son. Look at this one here.” He gestured to Chastity, seated somewhere to the right of me. “Isn’t she a picture of beauty? And behind those eyes is a girl absolutely devoted to you, if you want her.”
“D-do you really think so?”
“Yes. No. Who knows? With a face like that it doesn’t even matter! Listen, you can obsess over the ethics all you like, but you’re not going to sabotage my arrangement here, boy. I’ve worked long and hard to get in with these people, and if the tabloids are right about Her Royal Highness, the Society of Dolls is going to be clamouring with wannabes any day now.”
John was as silent as us, obviously unable to say what he was thinking, so his father wrapped his arm around him roughly.
“John, you can see this as a favour, or a decree from on high, it makes no difference to me, but you will be on your best behaviour tonight, and you will be marrying one of these girls if Alan offers her hand as I believe he will. And don’t test me, your tuition relies on it.” A pause. “And if you truly don’t need a woman in your life, these won’t give you much trouble.”
At that the pair walked out of my view and I heard the door close, and I’m sure the only thing keeping the room from devolving into a gossipy furore was our complete debilitation.