Chapters Dollhood: A Woman's Choice Book 3 Chapter 28
Morning light flooded the dining room, shining upon all His possessions. My loving Husband slurped His coffee as I sat still in my seat to His left, perfectly dressed and prepped and eager for Him to touch me or admire me or perhaps just read aloud the paper He held in one hand as He shoveled His mouth full with the other. I wished— Knees together, heels on the floor, perfect form.
I kept my thoughts on Him, my man, ready for any request of me, attentive to each stray remark He let forth from His lips. I wanted— The night before is inconsequential, the day ahead is yet to be. Only now, only here, only He matters.
I stared ahead, toward the massive windows flooding the space with light, my plasti-skin complexion impassive and resistant to any attempts to corrupt its placidity with desire or intent. I couldn’t— I blink a breath and blank we breathe our worries clean for not to think.
And yet my blinking eyes felt like they were ready to burn out of my head.
Yet another night had been spent under the renewed tutelage of St. Werburgh’s finest, and yet another night I had slept not a wink. These eyes simply refused to close with such activity set before them, as my Teacher orated directly to me — to all the Dolls laid under those oppressive windows to the unreal, for that matter — with each word projected in bright, bold letters behind. It was quite unlike my lectures and classes when I boarded there, and not just for the extra visual stimuli. There was a cadence and rhythm to this doctrine, a metre which lulled the mind somewhat.
It was not merely my affixion to the bed which ensured I was a slave to the lesson, and around the fifth session of the night, once Teacher Eleanor usually ascended to the podium and the gentle dawn light was peeking into the Great Hall, maybe I would pass out from exhaustion, but not without the unbearable siren banging my eardrums and shocking me back to alertness — or just enough to keep these Doll eyes dutifully trained on their instructor yet again… the flashing words I could not consciously read… punctuating every point my Teacher made… as I stared at her and she stared at me…
My belly rumbled faintly under my corset and I held my breath, but He just laughed.
Jack Collins glanced over at His silent wife for the first time that morning. “Chastity, darling, would you care for some breakfast?”
Of course, dear! I chimed along in my head, but he didn’t hear that, just another well-timed rumble.
“Oh, you’re a hungry one, I know you are. Here, come, let Daddy feed you.” He said with a scoot of His chair back from the table.
My maid, the one with the golden ‘C’ on her face, pulled my chair away from the table as well and grabbed the back of my slim neck firmly, before pushing forward so I fell off the seat and onto my knees where a devoted wife like me belonged.
She silently implored me with an ever-tightening grip to waddle the few feet to my Husband, my bruised knees aching, my dress dragging under me, before she released the pressure in my bright dahlia fleur-de-bouche — unleashing an embarrassing outflow of my liquid eagerness from behind it to whet my compressed bosom — and buried my face into His groin. The zipper was down, but His manhood was still hiding in its burrow of synthetic cotton. It was my very special duty to coax the boy out of the man’s pants, and my maid let go so I could do this all by myself!
I obviously couldn’t turn my neck one bit — up, down, side to side, anything — but still I used my legs to push my inanimate Doll face clumsily against Him, my taut silicone lips dragging on his soft package, distorting before bouncing back to that eager, parted pout. I found it strange that— The reason behind a man’s desires are but smoke, folly to reason, only solid once on the brink of true satisfaction.
My eyes stared as they always did, my shoulders held their perfect drawn-back posture, my heavy chest agitated with every fumble of my face against His groin. With each inelegant pass of my lips, rubbing my nose and cheeks on the present growing against His thigh, I longed to simply look up at Him and see if He was enjoying my pitiful attentions or simply still reading the paper…
His reactions were above me, though. I had to keep my concerns on a Doll’s level. My only read on Him was the now-prominent bulge in His trousers, which He finally fished out for me, using His other hand to grip my hair and pull me back just far enough to align the head of His glorious cock with my lips and slam my face down, burying it inside me; feeling it spread my elastic lips, jaw, throat; feeling its now-inarguable stiffness confirm precisely how ready He was to enjoy me, His Chastity.
That taste.
My mouth did what it always did and proceeded to make quick work of my Husband’s erection, to release His pent up masculine energy and let Him continue with his day in a more rational, confident, and level-headed manner. I joined the contributions of my perfected body and swirled my tongue underneath, teasing His frenulum just as He liked. I had to. It is important for a Doll to give all that can still be given.
The light shone on me in the garden.
I am an essential part of His well-being, that is why He purchased me from Pappa, that is why He has invested once again in my education after I failed Him by making up lies, thinking I was a person with a name other than the one He called me by. I need to relinq—
I consciously swallowed and felt every section of my mouth and throat tighten about His turgid spear, feeling little give or weakness in Him anymore, just the solid mass I had been pining for. He was getting very close.
I reveled in the moment, being filled up top just as I was below. The plugs I wore on the daily were both of Him, of the real treasure I held in my mouth, heavy identical sculptures filling me in both front and rear, around which I constantly leaked in anticipation for a moment like right now, here, with Him!
I dared not exercise my kegels in need. Enjoy what He has offered and nothing more.
My weak knees scuffed on the pavers.
My name is Chastity and I must stay attentive to Him, I thought. Attentive to His many needs.
It was a Saturday; He was not leaving for work. Lick a little harder, swirl, all your womanly choices occur between your tongue and palate. He would recognise when it was my tongue’s routine alone and not me, I don’t know how but he always knew. He! I mustn’t become distracted!
The feeling of his dry seed on my expressionless visage as I worry about what Pappa will think.
I will be His entertainment for much of the day. It is my honour after such a long week for Him. I’ve waited so long to show Him the attention—
I wonder what John will think.
I suddenly felt incredibly short of breath. It’s too much to bear, Jack! You’re choking me! Even as the air blew easily past my fleur-de-cou as designed, the ‘blockage’ in my mouth and the constraints of my stays made me gasp silently in terror, I can’t die here, I need to get home! John! I’ve had my mouth full for too long! I need air! Please!
But the Doll on its knees wasn’t choking, and couldn’t ask. Jack sighed and pushed himself deeper into its throat as his breath hitched, his meaty hands tangled up in its prim and perfect hair, shoving the emotionless doll face deeper into his groin until its button nose was tickled by his wiry pubic hair, its legs shuffling feebly under the mess of a dress on the floor, entirely silent in its protestations save for the ungodly noises originating from its busy mouthhole.
I could feel this deep revulsion, my old body dearly wanting to throw up, but my gag reflex and the muscles that allowed such evacuation were gone or repurposed now, so my trembling nauseous convulsions merely resulted in a flurry of swallowing waves, lips to throat, concentric tightening, sucking him in, milking him more. He grunted once before my struggles and rhythmic convulsions sent him over the edge, spurting his seed down my throat before pulling my hair hard, his cock halfway out, so my tongue could meet his glans and tip alone, and be coated in the dribbles that followed. That deposit was for me to savour and enjoy, and his taste would send my reflexes a-tizzy for a few minutes, my simple Doll mind thinking I had more to swallow, sucking him over and over like a baby would a teat. It was a Doll’s aperitif before her actual breakfast.
With a deep sigh he finally pulled my head all the way back and off him, my lips appreciating every last inch of him tightly, my thick lubrica-saliva creating milky-white strings I could only stare down as his cock wilted slowly, spent and satisfied. One by one, the residuals broke off and fell, cool on my open bosom, and my mouth leaked even more. Jack was breathing deeply, and I could sense a smile in him, but I knew I had not passed his test.
“You’re getting much better at this, dearest. Until that hitch at the end, I felt that. I believe an additional week of education may be required.”
I cried silently, my cheeks beet red and my legs weakly struggling to simply scoot away, to cease my staring obsession of his wrinkled, hairy mess. Why was it always held perfectly in my plane of focus when so much else passed by as a blur? I had tried to be what he wanted, I had tried to rid myself of who I was, to stuff Hope deep within until she had the chance to truly escape this monster, and yet it didn’t work! Like a new layer of paint, the veneer I had applied simply chipped away at the slightest agitation. And now, all I had secured for myself was another week of torturous review and theory and doctrine to carve away further at my sanity!
If I had once reveled in St. Werburgh’s leaving my mind, whilst they surgically ensured my physical compliance, I was now eating those words with a cherry on top…
No, no more. Please. I need to sleep.
“That said,” the deep voice overhead considered, “I don’t want to repeat the mistakes of the past. You girls can get… overcooked, so to speak. It’s been… what?… four weeks since we re-enrolled you in continuing studies, hasn’t it?”
I knelt there between his legs, silently counting the days which all ran together, but my waking sleeps and unreliable memory made it impossible to keep track. The monotony of my days whilst Jack was working painted my recent history in broad strokes, punctuated only by moments of crueler-than-usual treatment which became less and less noteworthy as my time trapped in this mirror life — this waking nightmare — proceeded without salvation.
Had it really been a whole month?! Had it really only been a month?!
“Back when I was first buying your special telly, the brochure they provided explained why rest is not permitted. I only recall the gist, but…”
It’s essential that a Doll uphold her wifely duties whilst her behaviour is being remediated, as she evidently squandered the first opportunity to become truly refined, to learn in care and luxury, and to offer such a retreat again would be dishonourable to the institution that certified her and unfair to her husband who invested in her and who should not be deprived because of her womanly failings. A St. Werburgh’s Doll must make St. Werburgh’s proud, I recited internally, my head aching terribly.
“Whilst I appreciate the patronization, I expect it’s mainly to turn your noggin to porridge so those lessons finally stick, what do you think m’dear?” he said as his cock dripped, inches from my face.
I hated when he pretended I could respond. It always made my unresponsive mouth tingle like a dripping dam, barely holding back a reservoir of unspoken thoughts. The guaranteed lack of a breach or burst merely soured me further, and I slipped a sigh into my laboured breaths. He only asked me for my unspoken agreement when he was right, and when he enjoyed how the fact in question impacted my restrained life.
He was correct by all likelihood. I had caught myself slipping deeper and deeper into not only the fantasy of being Chastity Collins, perfect Doll wife, but also the reality of a mindless husk that my blank expression had implied for so long now. The endless hours were giving way to hallucinations both in my sight and hearing, a complete lack of will, and an inability to imagine anything but that damned hall, the podium, the Doll eyes gazing into mine…
“Well…” he paused, his dick pulsing lazily, “Perhaps a break is in order.”
I think I shook in surprise, I couldn’t believe it!
“Those old maids run a tight ship, and I can see you’re trying to be good. Truth be told, I don’t want to entirely douse your fire, dear.”
Shocked by his uncharacteristic generosity, I immediately moved to make my appreciation known, leaning forward to revive his flaccid cock with my lips yet again, but he simply touched my forehead with the back of his hand, pushing me back as easy as shooing a fly, keeping me inches from my only reliable, socially-accepted method to communicate my endlessly screaming, weeping ‘thank-you’s which were reverberating inside my golden cage of a head!
“Ah ah ah, John should be here any moment, so we will have to save any expressions of gratitude for later. We’ll see where you are in a week or two, and then perhaps resume, I haven’t decided!” he chuckled as the autobutler held out a tray with a warm cloth which he used to stroke himself clean. This man, older than my father, cleaned himself right before my eyes, yet did not extend such luxurious treatment to me, instead zipping himself and having his butler push in his chair. Being in the way, I frantically shuffled backwards, hitting my head on the table before ducking forward and underneath the box apron.
Jack hadn’t done this to me in a week or two, but him knowing I was under the table for this coming meeting — with my actual husband, no less! — my hair and outfit disheveled, my fine preparation entirely undone by his manhandling; it all excited him to no end, and I was naught but a tool to live out every last one of his fantasies, wasn’t I?
My maid climbed under and hastily wiped the jissom around my face with a dry handkerchief, which was summarily stuffed betwixt my tits to soak up the drool and other runoff, before popping my fleur-de-bouche back in my mouth so it could auto-inflate. The massive bladder imprinted the taste of Jack’s cock and seed onto my tongue, now pinned in place by the pressure, its raison d’être satisfied for now.
She reached under the mess of fabric around my legs and gripped my ankles, pulling my stockinged legs out from under my butt so I could get lower to the floor and fit under the fine oak furniture with greater ease. With my pelvis bottomed out to the parquet floor, legs still bent double but splayed out to my sides, the objects in my lower holes made a proper thud of impact, my body weight pushing them deeper within. In the front, the one avenue I had to true pleasure without reservation, Jack’s circumcised tip jammed into what once must have been my womb’s gate, but now was just the end of the road. The potential discomfort from such a deep penetration was only pleasure now, but still I recoiled from the instinct to clench or tense down there, those most critical of muscles I still had some influence over.
It was of utmost importance I did not try to pleasure myself on these solid chunks of ivory and temptation. Yet another rule this Doll had to keep in her worn-out mind, but perhaps that would get better with some proper rest… perhaps…
Even the warm waves that emanated from a simple jostling, the two loads rubbing through the thin vaginal wall, filling me, going deeper before slipping out until my underbelt allowed no more slack; I couldn’t let such stimuli affect the delicate grasp I maintained on my libido. My daily dose of ‘vitamins’ helped none in this quest. I had been spoiled by John’s reticence to fiddle with my hormones like Father had, but those rules had changed. Even in the first few days here, pining for my real life from this luxurious perch in the high-rises before the sleep deprivation really took its toll, I had to admit I felt like Jack had dumped a chemist’s cocktail in me, but no matter how good I felt inside, one rule was crystal clear:
Under no circumstance could I squeeze the twin cocks inside of me, lest they ejaculate forth their internal dosage of Chittenham’s horrid paste, the Nicean aphrodisiac! Especially not now, not with my husband coming to visit, I needed to stay alert!
In front of me I saw Jack’s hand slap his leg, and his voice reverberated from above the table. “Here, babydoll, rest your weary head on Daddy’s lap.”
I smiled inside… before catching myself. He was the reason for all my suffering, I could not praise him for relieving my sorrows! And yet I relished in being put in position with my cheek resting against his thigh, eyes still staring at his groin now all closed up again, blinking away… feeling his warmth… blinking… blinking… blink… blink—
A door opened somewhere far off, and in strode the echoing sound of two confident shoes. They were distinct from the short clipping of my steps, and the maids’ strut was nigh-unheard, so I knew it could only be Him. The man in question didn’t sound as confident as his steps though, mumbling, “Hello, Father.”
John!