The Dollhouse Society: Isabelle (New Adult BDSM Erotica)

by Eden Myles

  Dorian was standing at a counter, going over a list. Dorian loved making lists. I found them all over the house—just another part of his controlling nature, I think. He was very organized. He turned when he heard me come in and said, “Thank you for serving tonight, Belle. Do you have any issues with wearing a uniform? It’s to be a very formal dinner.”

  I thought about that. “No, I guess not.”

  I thought he would give me some kind of Maitre ‘d uniform to wear, like in a high-end restaurant—black slacks, white shirt, some kind of bowtie—but instead presented me with an itty bitty black dress and white apron combo, fresh from the drycleaners. I looked it over. It was a little briefer than I generally liked my dresses. “There are heels to go with it,” he explained. “But I understand if you prefer your own shoes. You might be running about a bit.”

  I always wore sensible Dr. Scholls with their no-slip soles to clean the Michaels mansion. In fact, I almost never wore heels. I was short, only five-two. Even three-inch heels weren’t going to make much difference in that department.

  I decided it was a sensible compromise. I took the dress from him, wondering what kind of special company the brothers were entertaining tonight. “If I can wear my shoes, then I’ll wear your dress.”

  “Excellent.”

  I waited in the kitchen amidst all the catered food in their warming trays. When it came time, Damian stepped into the kitchen, dressed smartly in his million dollar James Bond tuxedo, and looked me over. I saw the approval in his eyes. “You look beautiful tonight, Belle.”

  I beamed him a smile. “I aim to serve,” I said, then realized how that sounded kind of slutty and said, “I mean…thank you, sir.”

  He asked that I bring in the champagne. I placed a bottle on a silver serving try and arranged six glasses around it, then ushered it into the living room, where the guests were taking drinks.

  I soon discovered that all the guests were women—drop-dead gorgeous women with huge boobs, tiny waists, tight evening gowns, and painfully high heels. One was prettier than the next, like a long procession of living Barbie dolls, and I even thought I recognized at least one from a popular daytime soap. I served them all with a smile. Some nodded thanks as I filled their glasses, while others barely acknowledged my presence.

  I didn’t take offense. I wasn’t nearly pretty enough to talk to them. And besides, I was just the help.

  I cleared empty glasses and quickly ushered in more champagne, followed by wine. Damian and Dorian nodded to me and smiled and gave them A-OK signs as I quickly moved between the kitchen and living room. I thought I was doing a pretty good job for an amateur, but just before dinner was called, I accidently turned too quickly with a full try of champagne glasses and tripped over an end table. I caught myself before I fell, but a glass toppled and splashed the front of one of the women in her long, midnight-blue gown.

  “Oh god, I’m so sorry!” I said, setting down the try and plucking the bar mop from my shoulder so I could soak up the strain, but the woman rounded on me before I could approach her and slapped my hands away.

  “What’s the matter with you? Are you blind? Do you know how much this gown costs?” she spat.

  “I can imagine. I didn’t mean…”

  “You stupid bitch, I’ll make you pay for the cleaning!”

  Tears fill my eyes, but before I could apologize again, Dorian appeared at my side. “You can leave now, Tiffany,” he said in a soft, rumbling baritone to the woman.

  “Leave?” she said, eyeing me like something she’d likely peel off the bottom of her high heel. “It was her fault! You should keep your help better in line, Dr. Dorian!”

  “She apologized already,” Dorian said, his voice calm but vibrating with a faint growl. “And it’s time for you to go.”

  I turned and fled to the kitchen before I started crying in front of everyone. I leaned against the counter and took a few deep breaths, let a few tears out, then worked on trying to control myself. I thought about my support group. They said it was okay to cry, that tears were weakness leaving the body.

  I was dabbing at my eyes with my bar mop when Dorian came in. “She’s gone. Are you all right, Belle?”

  I sniffed and stood up straighter. “I’m fine.” I offered him the bravest smile I could. “I’m sorry I messed up.”

  Dorian sighed, came to me, and took a handkerchief from his pocket to wipe at my makeup. “It’s just a little spill. Nothing to fret over.”

  “I cost you a guest.”

  “They’re here at our good graces, Belle.”

  I let him dry my face. “Who are they?” I asked. “I mean, if you don’t mind my asking.”

  “Potential courtesans. They’re auditioning for the position of our courtesan.”

  “Oh.” Then I thought about what he was saying. “Your courtesan? You’re only picking one?”

  “I told you. My brother and I share.”

  “I know…but…I guess I thought you were pulling my leg or something.”

  “When my brother and I were young, we were in fierce competition with each other. It almost destroyed our relationship. But then, when our parents died, we vowed not to let that happen, as we were the only family we had left. We decided we would work together and share everything we had—the house, the practice, everything.”

  “Including girls?”

  “Including the girl who would become our courtesan, yes.” He finished wiping my face and smiled. “I’m rather glad you rooted out Tiffany for us, Belle. I have no patience for women like that. Better?”

  I nodded. “Better.”

  ***

  I made no more mistakes for the rest of the evening. I swiftly and successfully ran dinner from the kitchen to the dining room, then scooped up all the used dishes and tableware as each course came to an end and ran them back to the kitchen just as quickly. I refilled water glasses and wine glasses, and somehow managed to spill not one drop. I was feeling very good by the time dinner was done and the girls were saying their goodbyes to the Michaels brothers. They stood at the door a long time after the last girl left, whispering between themselves.

  While I was in the kitchen, loading the industrial-sized dishwasher, Damian suddenly appeared and said, “Would you join us a moment, Belle?”

  “Sure.”

  I went out into the dining room to see they’d set a place for me and a fresh bottle of wine was in the ice cooler. Another jewelry box sat next to the plate. “This isn’t necessary,” I giggled nervously, wringing my hands.

  “We think it is,” Damian answered and led me by the end to the table. He pulled out the chair for me and I sat down and placed the cloth napkin properly into my lap. Dorian brought out a plate of the gourmet lamb and mint that was the main course, then poured me a glass of champagne. The guys sat down on either side of me as I tucked into dinner.

  “Why are you being so nice to me?” I asked as Damian showed me the diamond pendant earrings in the jewelry case that they were giving me. “I’m only doing the job you hired me to do.”

  “We want you to feel valued, not just ‘the help’,” Dorian insisted. I could tell he was still feeling bad about what Tiffany said. He folded his hands contemplatively. “What did you think of the girls?”

  I almost choked on my wine. “What do you mean?”

  “Do you think any of them suit us?” Damian asked.

  I thought back to the dinner party. “I liked Jennifer. She was nice.”

  “Too nice? A courtesan who’s too nice is no fun at all.”

  I looked between them. “You mean you want a bad girl?” I giggled nervously.

  Damian smiled and Dorian pursed his lips. “Not bad, per say,” Dorian said. “We want a strong woman. Someone who can handle our demands.”

  “What are your demands?”

  Something passed between the brothers, that psychic signal again. They stood up at once, almost in sync with one another. “If you’re finished, will you follow us upstairs?”

&nbs
p; “Sure. If you want.”

  I followed them up the curving staircase to the second floor, then down a long hallway to where one of the many locked door lurked. I thought they wanted me to clean it for them, but when Dorian unlocked it with a key in his pocket, the door fell open on an immaculate room carpeted in plush arctic white carpeting and intricate oak wainscoting.

  My breath caught in my throat. There was an enormous, four-poster bed on a raised dais in the middle of the room, a huge, beveled, full-length mirror in one corner, a gorgeously carved armoire, a closet whose door was open, revealing an array of expensive evening gowns, and a magnificent collection of original Old World paintings on the walls, mostly of women in various states of reclining and slumber. Veils and strings of pearls were twined around the four posters of the bed, and ivy plants were clustered around, many with tiny blooming purple and pink flowers, giving the whole room a fairytale-like feel like I was seeing into another dimension full of magic and sleeping princesses.

  “This is all for your future courtesan?” I gasped. I realized then that they were really serious about this stuff.

  “Yes,” Damian immediately answered.

  Dorian indicated the room with a flourish of his hand. “Now who among the girls do you think of, Belle? Who do you think would be the most appropriate courtesan to fill the position?”

  I took a few steps inward, then stopped and turned to look at them. “Sleeping Beauty!”

  They laughed at that.

  “I’m afraid she’s currently unavailable,” Damian said. He and his brother moved to stand beside me. They both encircled my waist, and for the first time since before I’d met Clark, I felt truly safe. “Do you have another suggestion, Belle? Which girl do you think is best, hmm?”

  I had no suggestions. They were all so beautiful, and I hated them all.

  “Perhaps Jeri,” Damian prompted, looking on the layout of the room.

  “Angeline?” Dorian suggested.

  “I prefer Jeri.”

  “Only because she looks like Belle…”

  I listened to them bickering back and forth. A nibbling misery swept over me. I felt my heart catch in the back of my throat. I wrung my hands together. I stared at my feet, hating myself, my fear, my aloneness. The words just exploded out of me. “What about me?”

  They hadn’t heard my little whisper. They were still arguing, so I lifted my head and said, louder, “Me. Take me. I want to be your courtesan.”

  They stopped arguing. They didn’t say anything at first, so I unzipped my dress, let it drop to the floor, and went to sit on the edge of the fairy tale bed. I gave them what I hoped was a sultry look, dressed in nothing but my bra and panties, but my next words betrayed my nervousness, as always. “I mean, if you want me. If you think I’m…appropriate.”

  The brothers looked at each other, passing that signal between them once more. Damian nodded. Dorian said, his eyes pinned to me, “Ever since the dinner party started, my brother has been comparing every single girl to you, Belle.”

  “Like you haven’t, bro,” Damian drawled.

  I remembered how Damian had reacted to me the other day when I’d fallen from the ladder. He was definitely interested. I used that to bolster my courage. I told myself I was beautiful. I told myself I was strong.

  I took a deep breath to fortify my courage, pinned them with an unflinching look so they would know I spoke the truth, and told them, “If you want me, Doctors, then take me.”

  ***

  I laid back on the fairytale bed as they came to me and the soft cushiony surface took on weight on both sides of me. I kept my eyes tightly shut until I heard Damian say “Belle. Open your eyes.”

  I slowly opened them. Damian was on my left side, Dorian on my right. Both were on their sides, curled a little around me, surrounding me like two living parentheses. Damian reached out first and ran his fingers over my face, then over my lips as I tilted my head back for him. His touch ignited a fire deep inside me, one I thought to never feel again.

  “Are you certain, Belle?” he asked in a warm, husky voice. “Can you truly handle us?”

  I reached up and traced his wrist where he had a snakelike tattoo. “I know I can take you and your piercings and tattoos. No worries.”

  Damian laughed. “I’m not the one you have to worry about.” And he looked past me to his brother.

  I turned my head to observe Dorian lying so still on the pillows, watching me in that silent, intense way he had about him. I had started thinking of it as his listening silence.

  “Dorian’s the really kinky one.”

  My stomach fluttered as the man in question reached out and touched me much like his brother hand. But where Damian’s touch had been light and almost fey, Dorian’s skilled surgeon’s hands moved over my face to my lips with deliberate force and deftly inserted a finger. “Suck,” he said in a soft but unmistakably commanding voice.

  I sucked.

  Dorian grunted in response. “She obeys well.”

  “Should we keep her, bro?” I couldn’t tell if Damian was joking or not.

  He removed his finger from my mouth. “I depends on how well she pleases us. How well she obeys.” He pinned me with a sharp look. “I admit my brother can be rather indulgent, but I want a courtesan who knows her place, who knows how to submit properly to a man.”

  “Submit?” I said. My heart was thudding hard in my chest.

  “There are rules.”

  “Yes.”

  “If you wish to serve us, Belle, as our courtesan you must make yourself physically available to us at all times. You must be willing to obey your gentlemen in all things. You must be willing to put the needs of your gentlemen above those of your own. Do you think you’ll be able to handle those demands?”

  I thought about Dorian’s words. I didn’t want to just rush in and say yes, the way I had to Clark when he asked me out. That was surely the road to regrets. I absorbed what he was saying. I asked myself if I would be able to submit so completely to these two men, to become their woman…their property. Their doll.

  “I have rules as well,” I said.

  “Oh?” Dorian looked interested.

  “You and Damian must promise never to deliberately hurt me in any way. I also get a say in how far we go. That is to say…I want to be able to stop us if I find myself outside my comfort zone.”

  Damian laughed. “I knew she’d be a challenge…”

  But Dorian cut her off. “Your terms are acceptable. Damian and I will never harm you in any way, Belle. We will never frighten or scar you. In fact, we’ll devise safewords to stop our play if it becomes too much for you, physically or emotionally. You’ll get to choose the safewords.”

  I nodded. “All right.”

  I didn’t know much about the safewords or the BDSM scene, so we decided on pretty basic stuff. Green for Go, Yellow for Slow, Red for Full Stop.

  Dorian added, “Of course, we’ll need to train you well before you spend any time at all in the Dollhouse. You’ll submit fully to our training and you will not question anything we ask you to do. Is that acceptable, Belle?”

  “I trust you, yes,” I told him. “But there’s one more thing.”

  “Yes,” Dorian said, very formerly.

  “My name isn’t actually Belle,” I confessed. “It’s Isabelle. Iz, to my friends.”

  Dorian smirked, a very sexy look on him. “We’re not your friends. We’re your gentleman, and to us you’re Belle.”

  Dorian’s hand moved to the front closure of my bra. He deftly undid the satiny material so I felt the coolness of the room touching me there. My huge breasts bounced loose, the nipples immediately and shamelessly crinkling up. A little gasp escaped me when he bent his head to kiss me. It was a hard, bruising kiss, and his tongue went into my mouth like he could somehow feed from me. The feel of being possessed like that stole my breath. He observed me with a ravenous hunger that turned his face to all hard lines, and he actually licked his lips as his hand move
d to caress my big, bare breasts, the lightest, fluttering touch.

  “Pretty girl, do you belong to us?” he murmured.

  I nodded. “Yes.”

  Damian moved further down, running a finger under the edge of my panties, sliding them down my legs. I held perfectly still, waiting for their next command, trying to be a good courtesan. He kissed the dimple in my thigh. His stubble rubbed against my tender skin and his sigh made me burn inside with a fierceness of desire I’d never felt for any man.

  “Ohhh…” I said when I was finally completely naked.

  They fell upon me like wolves. Dorian kissed my lips and chin and throat and my delicate wreathe of collarbones. Damian kissed my ribs and belly button, working his way down to the ready slickness between my legs. While Dorian captured one hardened nipple between his teeth and suckled me, Damian was scenting me between the legs, his breath and the quick flick of his wet tongue making me writhe on the sheets like some hussy.

  “She’s so very wet,” Damian announced. “And she smells like mint and rain.”

  Dorian sucked and plucked at my nipples with his lips and teeth, the scrape of his stubble on my oversensitive skin making me gasp and jump. He stopped just long enough to say, “She tastes like snow and sunshine. She tastes…”

  “…like a virgin,” Damian finished, sliding one of my legs over his shoulder so I was wide open to his exploration. “Christ, she’s beautiful. Her cunt is fucking perfect.”

  There was no hesitation on his part; he nested his face in the wetness of my slit as if it were quite naturally his right to do so. His tongue went into me the way Dorian’s tongue was going into my mouth, with a sly, snakelike precision, and I was simply overwhelmed with the feelings of these two beautiful men licking and biting and sucking at me, driving spikes of frightening pleasure through all parts of my body at once.

  Damian easily parted the petals of my labia and licked me front to back. Dorian curled his tongue around my swollen nipple, sucked it deep into his mouth, gnawed upon me. My back arched and I tossed my head on the pillows. I gasped uncontrollably as they pushed me quickly and expertly right over the edge and into release.