The Dollhouse

by Stacia Stone

  "Do you normally have a plane at the ready?" I asked, practically yelling over the idling jet engine.

  "Berkmore does," Julian replied as he helped my up the narrow stairs to the cabin door. "I'm taking advantage."

  "Is buying a slave considered a tax write-off?"

  He shot me a narrow glance but his voice was gentle. "You talk too much."

  The inside of the jet was the definition of opulent. There was only two rows of chairs on each side of the cabin, each made of smooth leather and wide enough to comfortably seat three people. A circular couch took up the back part of the cabin and next to it was a low bar. A large flatscreen television dominated the wall in front of the cockpit and the image on it was of a crackling fire, so high definition as to appear real.

  "Is it just us?"

  "Yes."

  "Do you always travel this way?" I asked, a little breathless at just how significantly I was out of my depth.

  "I normally try to avoid it, actually." He moved to the bar and bent to retrieve a bottle of champagne. "I hate to fly."

  "Really?" I asked, intrigued at the idea that the indomitable Julian Berkmore-Hathaway had a weakness. "You know that, statistically speaking, you're more likely to die after slipping in the bathtub than in a plane crash."

  The look he cast me was sardonic. "I'm aware, thank you."

  "Although I suppose what makes it really scary is that you'd know the plane crash was coming. There's the turbulence and uncontrolled motion as the pilot fights to keep the plane under control and then that terrifying descent to the ground. And the entire time, you know exactly what's about to happen."

  "You make it very tempting to gag you," he growled, sending a coil of lust and fear through me.

  I swallowed hard, unable to decide if the thought of being gagged was arousing or terrifying. "I babble when I'm nervous."

  The champagne corked popped free with one flex of his hands. I jumped at the loud sound. Several types of glasses hung upside down by their stems in a rack above the bar. He slipped two champagne flutes out of the wooden rails and set them upright on the bar top.

  "Drink," he said, pouring me a glass and placing it in front of me.

  I picked up the glass of champagne with fingers that trembled and brought it slowly to my lips. Bubbles fizzed in my mouth and burst on my tongue, leaving me feeling heady.

  Julian moved past me and took one of the seats then turned it so he faced backwards. He indicated the chair that was now across from him. "Come sit."

  I obeyed him, sinking gingerly into the plush leather seat. It felt like I sank into a cloud, all comfort and floating.

  "This is amazing," I said on a sigh.

  Julian watched me with a half-smile but said nothing.

  The captain's voice came over the loudspeaker. "Alright folks, it looks like we're cleared for takeoff. Weather report says a nice wind and clear skies so we should make it to Colorado in no time."

  "Colorado?" I raised an eyebrow. "Guess the cat's out of the bag."

  "Do you remember your safe words?" he asked, obviously ignoring what I'd said.

  "Yes," I said and could feel my face reddening from embarrassment. Sitting in the Procurer's office and openly discussing all of the things that he could — and would — do to me had probably been the most excruciating experience of my life.

  "Tell me." His voice was casual, as if we were discussing the weather.

  "Red means stop, that I can't take anymore. Yellow means slow down." Embarrassed, I turned away to look out the window as we taxied down the runway. The glittering lights of the city seemed very far away. "And Green...Green is for when I want more."

  Julian took a sip from his glass, his gaze steady on me over the rim. "If you say Green, then you had better be begging."

  I shuddered hard at his words — at their darkly sexual promise.

  "From this point forward," he said, voice mild. "You will not be allowed in my presence while you wear pants or underwear. If I put my hand between your thighs, I don't want to feel anything but you. Is that understood?"

  My hand clenched on the arm of the seat. "Yes."

  "Yes, what?"

  It felt like the cabin walls were closing in on me, making it difficult to breathe. "Yes, sir."

  "Finish your drink."

  I brought the glass to my lips, my hands moving before I really had a chance to process the command. It was as if my body knew instinctively to obey him and my mind needed to play catchup.

  He watched silently as I drained the glass and placed it on the short table between us. I felt like a butterfly with its wings pinned beneath the eye of a microscope — caught and overexposed.

  "Take off your panties and give them to me."

  My hands slipped underneath the skirt, rucking it up so that I could wriggle out of my underwear. I fought off a wave of embarrassment as I balled the offending garment up in my fist and tossed it across the distance that separated us so it landed in his lap.

  He brought the ball of lace to just under his nose and inhaled deeply, shocking and exciting me.

  "Delicious," he murmured, his eyes never leaving my face. "Put your feet up on the arms of the chair, let me see that pretty little pussy."

  I swallowed hard, but moved to obey. I could feel my skin flushing with embarrassment and I wondered if he was able to see it. The skirt pooled around my hips as I balanced the balls of my feet on the chair arms, exposing myself from the waist down. Cold air moved across my sensitive skin raising goosebumps. I shivered.

  It was so much easier to do what he asked when his hands were on my skin, spanking me or coaxing my willing body to a mind-shattering orgasm. It was something else entirely to have to sit across from him like this and follow his emotionless orders.

  "Spread yourself open for me," he whispered. "And then dip a finger inside. Can you feel how wet you are."

  My face burned with the shame of it, but I couldn't fight the spirals of pleasure that coiled in my body as I touched myself.

  "Answer me, Dalea."

  I had to fight through the haze of pleasure to remember what question he had asked. "Y-yes, sir,” I said on a gasping breath. "I can feel it."

  "Show me how you touch yourself when you're alone. Show me how you make yourself come."

  I complied with a whimper, completely humiliated at the intimacy and violation of it. It was almost more than I could bear, showing him things that I had never revealed to anyone before.

  My eyes closed because I couldn't stand to look at his face, to see the predator's gaze that fixed unblinking on my exposed center. The pleasure built quickly, sparkling down every nerve-ending. I was so close. My hips rose unbidden with the movements of my fingers and I was only another moment from falling over the edge into the oblivion of orgasm.

  "Stop," he ordered, voice sharp.

  "Please," I begged as my hands fell away. I had to grip the seat arms to keep from screaming in frustration. It hurt to come so close and then be pulled away from the edge.

  "Come here."

  I moved to stand but his harsh voice stopped me cold.

  "On your knees."

  So I crawled to him, desperate and humiliated. I would have sank to the floor and licked his toes if it meant putting an end to this torment.

  I stopped just short of touching him and kneeled between his open knees. He watched me silently, his face as emotionless as granite. It wasn't until my eyes lowered that I realized how close my face was to the erection that strained against the fabric of his pants.

  "You know what I want," he murmured.

  And I did. My shaking hands rose to the fly of his pants as I sat back on my heels. It took me several tries to undo the button at the top and he made no move to help me. I unzipped him slowly, careful of the hard length of him that pressed up against the fabric. I didn't want to guess what the punishment would be for catching him in his zipper but I shuddered at the thought.

  As soon as the zipper was completely undone, his penis
sprang free and came to rest against his belly. I wondered if it had been hurting him to have it so confined.

  I risked a glance up at his face and found that he was staring at me, his gaze mesmerizing as it urged me to continue. My hand moved to the base of him and my mouth closed over the tip, moving inexpertly.

  He groaned and his fingers buried themselves in my hair, urging me forward. I was by no means an expert on fellatio but his response emboldened me. My mouth moved lower as I tried to take in more of him.

  Julian's fingers pressed harder into my scalp, forcing me to move faster. His erection swelled bigger against my throat and I nearly gagged. Then he was in control of my movements, pumping into my mouth in the same way he would into the place lower down that ached for his attention.

  As I fought off my gag reflex, I realized that he didn't care about my comfort — or my desires. In this moment, I was merely a vessel to service his needs. I didn't exist except to please him.

  The thought thrilled me.

  Julian made a low guttural sound in his throat and his hands tightened in my hair, pulling hard at the strands. The throb of his flesh against my tongue was my only warning. He held me there as a thick, hot liquid spurted against the back of my throat. I had no choice but to swallow it all.

  "Lovely," he said, stroking the back of his hand down my cheek. "I love the way your face looks stuffed with my cock."

  I didn't know how to respond to that so I didn't say anything. When I licked my lips, I could taste the salty musk of him on my tongue. I was still acutely aware of the unslaked desire that burned at my core. When would he let me come?

  "I'm very pleased with you." He leaned over me and his lips brushed my forehead. "But it occurs to me that it's been too long since I spanked that pretty little ass of yours."

  I closed my eyes against the sudden wave of anguish that washed over me. I couldn't bear anymore.

  He tipped my chin so that I was forced to meet his gaze. "But you feel like you've endured quite enough, don't you?"

  "Yes, sir," I said miserably, knowing that I had to answer him.

  "I'm feeling generous, so I'll make you a deal." The look in his eyes was frankly predatory. "You can go to sleep now and be done, I won't ask anything more of you for the rest of the night. Or, you let me spank your bottom until it burns and then I'll let you come. Which will it be?"

  I quivered under his hand. "Don't make me choose."

  "You have to."

  No more! the voice in my mind screamed. He was offering to let it be over and done, at least for the night. I desperately wanted to take him up on it. But the aching desire inside of me refused to be ignored.

  "The spanking," I said on a sobbing breath. "Please spank me, sir."

  "That's my girl."

  Julian moved forward in the seat and pulled my unresisting body up into his lap. He flipped up my skirt and his hand stroked down my bare bottom.

  "Spread your legs," he murmured and I moved awkwardly to comply. "Are you ready?"

  I had barely nodded when the first blow came down, stinging enough to make me jump. And then it was followed by another. I made small sounds of pain with each strike, but he didn’t relent. The blows were savage as he moved over the entire surface of my backside, leaving no part of my exposed bottom untouched.

  My face pressed into the arm of the plane seat and I moaned against the soft leather. The pain wasn't nearly as bad as the indignity of it and the realization that he could only do this because I had allowed it.

  "Tell me how much you need to be punished," Julian said, just before I felt another ringing slap on my bare skin. "Tell me what a naughty little slut you are."

  "I'm a n-naughty slut." I choked on the word, but still felt a blooming wetness between my thighs in response to his words.

  My reward for obeying him was another hard slap to the back of my thigh. I cried out but the sound was muffled by the plushy leather underneath my face.

  I ground down onto him, unable to stop the movement as pleasure and pain spiraled together inside of me. The blows ceased and in the next moment he reversed our positions, slamming me back against the chair as he knelt on the floor between my spread legs.

  "Are you ready for your reward?"

  "Yes, please," I begged and my voice cracked on the word.

  "Well, let's see how much of a reward you can bear." His mouth lowered between my thighs, blowing softly on the heated and oversensitive skin. His nose pressed into the tight curls as he made a low humming sound in his throat. "I'm going to lick that dripping little cunt until you come all over my face. Would you like that?"

  "Y-yes, sir,” I gasped.

  I felt him smile against my skin. "Tell me when you've had enough reward."

  16

  I woke up alone and in an unfamiliar bed. Sunlight streamed into the room from a large picture window. Snow-capped mountains dominated the horizon in front of the sun that was just beginning to rise.

  Vague memories surfaced of coming here — landing in the Denver airport and being bundled still half-asleep into a car, then driving for miles to finally arrive here.

  The silk sheets slipped across my skin as I stretched, my body sore in places that I didn't even realize existed. It took a bleary moment for me to realize that I was alone in the bed.

  I was also naked under the sheets. Had Julian undressed me before putting me to bed? I definitely wouldn't put it past him to decide that I didn't need underwear to sleep.

  I looked up and saw my own reflection in a large mirror that hung on the ceiling directly over the bed.

  "Classy," I murmured.

  "It does take a very particular taste, don't you think."

  "Jesus," I said on a harsh gasp, sitting up in bed. An older woman stood in the open doorway of the room, a bundle of towels in her arms. Her dark hair was caught up in a neat knot at her neck and her face was lined, but not unattractive. "You almost scared the pee out of me."

  "It's a good thing that I do the laundry then." She strolled into the room like seeing a naked girl in the bed was completely expected and not at all out of the ordinary. "My name is Naomi, I'm the housekeeper."

  "It's nice to meet you Naomi. My name is Dalea, I’m—“ I stopped and clutched the sheets harder to my chest, unsure how to finish that sentence. I obviously wasn't Julian's girlfriend or even really his friend. Did it still count as being a house guest when you were practically being held against your will? "I'm with Mr. Berkmore-Hathaway."

  "No need to explain anything to me, honey." Her voice was knowing but the look she cast me was sympathetic and almost motherly. "You wouldn't believe some of the things that I've seen in this house."

  "How long have you worked for him?" I asked, curiosity temporarily overcoming my embarrassment.

  "I've been with the family for years, since the little master was a child. I was the one who'd go running to the nursery when he cried at night."

  "So you probably know him pretty well."

  "Better than anyone, specially since his Daddy passed."

  I leaned forward. "Julian's father is dead?"

  "Look at me running my mouth." Her gaze suddenly shuttered, making it clear she wouldn’t make any more disclosures. "Let me start you a bath and then I'll bring you a breakfast tray for when you're done."

  "That sounds great."

  She opened a door next to the dresser that must have led to the bathroom and disappeared through it. After a moment, I heard the sound of running water.

  "Hope you like it hot," she called.

  I looked around the room but there was no sign of the shirt and blouse that I had worn on the plane. "Do you have something I can wear?"

  Naomi came back into the room, carrying with her the heat from the tub and the sweet scent of lavender oil that she must have added to the water. "What was that honey?"

  My foot kicked out of the sheet and I could feel myself blush. "I don't have anything to wear."

  She chuckled as if at some private joke. "I'm su
re we can scrounge up something for you."

  "A dress or a skirt, please," I said, remembering Julian's very clear instructions.

  "Of course," she replied pertly, giving me a significant look. "Whatever you need."

  "Thank you."

  She motioned me up with a hurrying gesture. "C'mon girl, before the bathwater gets cold. When I get back I'll have some clothes for you and a breakfast tray, Mr. Julian wanted me to make sure you got something to eat as soon as you woke up."

  I wrapped the sheet around myself and tried to climb out of the bed without falling on my face. "Do you know where he is? Is he here?"

  "Just said that he'll be back tonight" She moved to the bed as soon as I stood and fluffed the pillows. "Mr. Julian isn't one to share the details of his business."

  I wondered what Naomi thought about me being here. Or if she'd seen so much that the thought of a bought and paid for sex slave wasn't enough to even faze her. "Did he say what he wanted me to do?"

  "The pool outside is heated and there are trails to walk on the grounds. And the library has always been impressive — Mr. Julian keeps adding to that."

  "A library?" I asked, perking up. "Do you mean like a study with some bookshelves?"

  "Oh, it's considerably more than that. We had the collection catalogued last year and there's over 100,000 volumes."

  "Wow," I said breathlessly, overwhelmed at the decadence of it. What did one person need with a public library's worth of books? "That's amazing."

  I followed her into the bathroom and gasped again. It was like something out of Roman fresco. Tall columns stood on either side of a raised platform that held a recessed tub large enough for several people.

  White tile with flecks of gold was cold underneath my feet and extended from the floor and up the walls. The shower on the far side was simply a wall of frosted glass. Everything in the room gleamed silver, white and gold.

  "This is ridiculous,” I murmured.

  Naomi laughed. "Wait until you see the rest of the house."

  She left the room as I let the sheet fall to the floor and climbed into the tub. The water was hot and I groaned as it relaxed my sore muscles. Between the private plane and this, I was nearly overwhelmed with luxury. The crappy two-bedroom apartment that I shared with my family seemed like a world away from my current surroundings.