The Dollhouse

by Stacia Stone

  "The emotional need you have, the desire to be instructed and controlled — to submit," he paused. "I have a need as well, equal to yours in its power over me."

  "I don't understand what you mean."

  He stood and moved behind me. I forced myself to ignore the rapid beat of my heart as he slid one hand up the fragile skin of my neck. I swallowed hard and felt the pressure of his palm against my throat.

  Gentle pressure tipped my head back until I could see him staring down at me. Emotion swirled in his eyes like storm clouds over a dark ocean.

  "Just like you need this." His voice was rough with barely concealed desire. "I need it, too."

  Julian kissed me hard, pressing down so his teeth bit into my lips. He ate at my mouth, bearing down like he would crawl inside of me or devour me alive.

  When he pulled away, I tried to follow him but was stopped by the restraints on each arm.

  "So impetuous," he said with dark chuckle. "Patience is a virtue, darling."

  Reaching over my shoulder, he picked up one of the tall candles that sat at the center of the table. He held it up in front of me, the tiny flame flickering with his slow movement.

  "Have you ever been waxed?" he asked in a tone that was almost conversational.

  I swallowed the protest that automatically rose in my throat. I so desperately wanted to please him that it felt like I could do anything if he asked it of me. The realization of how far I would let him push me was terrifying.

  "N-no," I stuttered, balling my hands into fists on the chair arms.

  "The most important thing is to remain completely still. It would be a shame to ruin that lovely dress," he murmured, moving back behind me until he was out of sight. "The wax is going to feel very hot on your skin, but it won’t burn."

  I heard the rustling sound of his movements at almost the same moment that a hot flash from the first drops of candle wax hit my shoulder. The heat of it was nearly overwhelming, but not quite enough to be truly painful.

  "Good girl," he praised and I thrilled at the words. "Tilt your head back against the chair."

  I complied and he rewarded me with a trail of fire across the skin of my throat. I hissed through my teeth but managed to remain still.

  Julian carefully lifted the straps of my dress over my shoulders and down, one at a time. Gravity did the rest of the work and the silk bodice slipped down my chest and pooled at my waist. The cloth dipped low enough that the cleft where my belly met the curve of my thigh was just barely revealed.

  "What kind of girl comes to dinner with a man and doesn't wear a bra or panties?"

  My eyes closed against the erotic image that his words evoked. "I-I don't know."

  Wax slid between my breasts, creating a trail of heat that went lower. "You don't know, what?"

  I gasped. ”I don't know, sir."

  He squeezed my nipple between his fingers, sending shivers of reaction through me. "But I think that you do, Dalea. Tell me. Tell me what kind of girl you are."

  "A slut," I sobbed the words.

  "Arch your back."

  My chest thrust forward as my head fell back against the chair-back. Liquid wax hit my nipple, sending a shot of fire rocking through me. I moaned, fingers digging into the wood under my hands.

  "Just like that," he murmured, before decorating the other side.

  He painted me with the wax, decorating my chest, breasts and upper arms until nearly all of the exposed skin was completely covered. I loved how the wax felt as it coated my skin, the erotic heat of it and the fact that I had his complete and undivided attention.

  "Stay still."

  The line of wax dripped between my breasts and poured down my chest to settle at the slight curve of my belly, halting mere inches from the fabric of the dress that pooled at my hips.

  "You look very lovely painted, pet," he said, his voice a caress. Julian moved around me to survey his handiwork. "The only shame is that I can't put you on display for the world to see."

  An answering heat bloomed between my thighs at the thought of what that would mean. Would we ever do this in front of other people, did he want that?

  I craned my neck down to look. He had decorated my entire upper body, the wax like icing on a cupcake just waiting to be eaten.

  The thickness of the wax kept the heat against my skin from dissipating so I was burning from the outside as well as the inside. Light from the remaining candles flickered against the wax, simulating movement.

  He untied to the napkins at my wrist and lifted me gently out of the chair. He held me closely to his chest and when he spoke the words rumbled against my ear.

  "My most prized possession."

  I drifted between waking and sleeping, but even in my dreams I could hear his voice, whispering erotic commands in my ear.

  "Roll onto your stomach — yes, just like that."

  I obeyed the fantasy instruction instinctively, the need to obey him so strong that it didn't require conscious thought or intent. Everything always came back to him. His presence surrounded and supported me. Phantom hands smoothed along my skin, both relaxing and arousing.

  I opened my eyes at the same moment that I realized it wasn't a dream. He was there, kneeling over me as I lay on my stomach on the bed. His hands coasted down my back and to my flanks, massaging away the tiny hurts and aches that I didn't even realize were there.

  My body melted under his touch until all I wanted to do was curl around him like a contented cat and lay there forever.

  "Are you awake?" Julian asked.

  I made a low sound of contentment in my throat, unable to produce enough focused attention to speak.

  "On your back," he commanded.

  Blinking blearily in the low light, I raised my head. My body felt heavy-limbed and lethargic. "What time is it?"

  His voice broke through my early-morning haze, cracking like a whip. "Don't make me repeat myself, Dalea."

  I quickly rolled over onto my back, desperately fearing his displeasure. "I'm sorry, it's just so early. I'm not completely awake—“

  "Did I ask you for an explanation?" His voice was clipped.

  "No, sir," I said, my voice small. He wasn't happy with me and the thought filled me with a feeling of dread.

  "Put your arms above your head."

  I obeyed, stretching my arms up until my fingers wrapped around the slats in the headboard. He produced a length of rope from the bedside table and leaned over me to secure my hands to the wood. I tugged experimentally at the binding, but the knot only seemed to tighten more with each movement that I made.

  In other circumstances, being bound and helpless underneath him would have been arousing but I quailed under the glare he leveled at me.

  My gaze dropped.

  "Look at me, Dalea."

  And I did. He knelt over me, completely comfortable in his own nakedness. Pre-dawn light reflected off the surface of his chest, highlighting the muscles that corded and bunched with each breath that he took.

  My gaze fell automatically to the erection that bobbed gently against his upper thigh. I had to force myself to look him in the eyes. He noticed what drew my attention and a small smirk broke the stone-set of his face for just a moment.

  "I expect any instruction that I give you — particularly those of a sexual nature — to be followed explicitly." His hand slid up to my throat, pressing down just slightly more than was comfortable. He moved between my spread thighs, nudging them apart with his knees on each side. "It doesn't matter if you've just woken up or if I've kept you up all night and you can barely keep your eyes open. You must train yourself to always be alert to my commands. Is that understood?"

  I tried to nod but the movement was limited by his hand at my throat.

  "Yes, sir," I whispered.

  "I forget how new this is for you." His expression had altered, no longer angry but speculative as his gaze traveled down my body. "I have confidence that you will learn quickly. Of course, I'm happy to provide all of the correct
ion that you need."

  My heart beat faster at the meaning his voice infused into the word correction. His hand moved to his erection, gliding up and down the length of it until it hardened completely.

  He watched me watch him. An answering throb pulsed in my belly with each stroke of his hand. I was tied to his bed, unable to escape him but willingly submitting to whatever will he chose to impose on me. The thought was terrifyingly exciting.

  "Is this what you want?" he asked. The hand that wasn't pumping up and down on his shaft slipped between the damp curls covering my folds and a single finger pushed inside of me. "Or is it something else that has you so wet you've nearly soaked the sheets?"

  "It's you," I gasped. "It's always you, sir."

  "How nice." He moved over me, pressing me down into the mattress. His elbows braced on either side of my head so I didn't have to bear the full amount of his weight. "I suppose I could fuck you. Or I could leave you like this for a few hours while you ponder the importance of obedience."

  I twisted my hips up against him, the movement suggestive and desperate. He couldn't leave me here like this, I wouldn't be able to bear it. And I knew he wanted it as much as I did.

  "Please," I begged, moving underneath him in a way that was frantic. My reaction to him would have shamed me if I had room in my mind for thoughts that weren't exclusively about how desperately I wanted him inside of me. "Please fuck me, sir."

  "Why should I?" His lips touched my neck, kissing and then biting hard enough to make me gasp. The tip of him rested against my entrance, so close that my own personal heaven was less than an inch away. "What will you do for me?"

  "Anything," I gasped, embarrassed of the breathy and desperate quality of my voice. "I'll do anything you want."

  He smiled against my skin. "Such a good girl."

  With a jerk of his hips, Julian buried himself to the hilt inside of me. I writhed underneath him, pulling at the restraints binding my arms. I desperately wanted to grab his shoulders or drag my nails across the skin of his back, but I was helpless against him.

  "I like you like this," he said between slow, deliberate strokes. "You won't ever be able to get away from me, Dalea. All you can do is submit. You're mine — body and soul."

  I knew it was a perverse fantasy but the erotic idea had the exact effect on me that he intended. The filthy words he murmured into my ear sent the spirals of pleasure to greater heights.

  He shifted his body until he knelt on the bed, still inside of me, and raised my legs until both of my ankles were hooked over his shoulder. His palms were warm as they slid up my calves.

  At this angle, the pleasure was sharper and deeper. When he sank to the hilt inside of me it felt like he plundered my womb, causing my belly to tighten in pain and pleasure.

  "Jesus, you're so fucking tight," he said before pressing a close-mouthed kiss into the side of my foot.

  The orgasm came over me suddenly and I convulsed around him. He plunged inside of me, thrusts becoming uneven and erratic as he came to his own completion. We crashed against each other, bodies slick with sweat.

  He collapsed against me on the bed and reached up to untie the ropes that still bound my wrists over my head. The moment that my hands were released, I reached down to push my fingers through his hair. He rolled over on the bed and took me with him until I rested against his chest.

  His lips caught mine in a kiss that was slow and deep. I stared down into his eyes and it felt like I could fall into them.

  "You're amazing," he murmured, pulling me down so I settled against him and my head tucked underneath his chin.

  We lay there in companionable silence, broken only by the steady tick of the grandfather clock in the hallway.

  I could feel his heart beat underneath my cheek and my head rose and fell with each breath that he took. When I looked up at him, his face seemed more open and relaxed than I had ever seen it.

  The realization slowly dawned that I had never been with him like this, when the walls he kept so carefully erected between us came down. I would be a fool not to take advantage of it.

  "Will you tell me something about yourself?" I whispered against his chest.

  His hands tightened on for a moment, but then he relaxed. "You know what you need to know."

  "But you know so much about me."

  He tipped my chin up with his finger, and the expression he wore was repressive. "Do not mistake this as a relationship of equals. The rules for us are not the same."

  I knew better than to ask him about his wife, though a hundred questions about her burned through my mind. My fingers brushed across his lips and he made no move to stop me.

  I was attracted to him like a moth to a flame and with an intensity so desperate that it scared me. Even though I knew that he deliberately kept most of himself from me and that in the end he would break my heart, it didn't change a thing.

  "I just want to know you," I said softly and the truth of it was heart-wrenching.

  His expression softened. "You may have five questions."

  I sat up eagerly. "Tell me about your family."

  "That doesn't sound like a question." He moved up in the bed and propped the pillow up behind him so he reclined against the headboard. "Can you be more specific?"

  I frowned at him. "You aren't going to make this easy, are you?"

  "I hadn't planned on it." His eyebrow quirked in amusement. "And I'm counting that as one of your questions."

  "You're so mean," I pouted.

  His smile was wolfish. "You have no idea."

  "You're right, I don't. That's sort of the point."

  "Ask your questions before I change my mind, woman."

  I thought for a moment. "Do you have any brothers or sisters?"

  "I had an older brother but he died when I was a child. My sister is an interior designer in San Francisco. I see her at Christmas."

  "What about your parents?"

  "My father died five years ago, which is when I took over as CEO of the company. My mother lives here in Colorado, just outside of Denver. She prefers golfing to mountain sports."

  I was certainly no expert in geography, but it didn't sound like his mother lived far from here. "Does she come here often?"

  Julian coiled a lock of my hair in his fingers. "This house holds too many memories for her, I think. It's been in our family for a hundred years. She raised us all here."

  "This is your family house?" I looked around in confusion, even though I knew that I wouldn't find the pictures or keepsakes that normally decorated a house that had been in a family for that many generations. The house was beautiful, but sterile. Anyone could have lived here. "It doesn't really look like it."

  "The house is mine now. I am not a sentimental man." His tone made it sound like a warning. The expression in his eyes turned closed-off and cold.

  "What kinds of things do you like to do for fun?" I asked, deliberately changing the subject.

  "Besides fuck you, you mean? Nothing. Making money is my only hobby." He pulled me roughly into his lap and his hand pushed into the hair at the nape of my neck. "Those are all of your questions, pet. I even threw in an extra one."

  I couldn't hide my disappointment. "Alright."

  He laid down on the bed and took me with him, tucking my head underneath his shoulder. "Go to sleep."

  I stared up at the dark ceiling as his breathing became deep and even. Sleep remained elusive for me. It was becoming clearer and clearer that each passing day would make it harder for me to walk away.

  And I eventually would have to walk away. Julian and I didn't really have a future. He had a wife and he kept himself too controlled and walled off from emotion to ever truly be in love.

  This was like a dream — fleeting and surreal. One day I would have to wake up and face the real world.

  But not tonight, I thought as I burrowed deeper against him. Not tonight.

  18

  "Hello?"

  "Hi, Momma," I said into the cordles
s phone that Naomi had left on the bedside table. No doubt she had instructions to retrieve it promptly when I was done and return it to whatever part of the house that she kept it hidden.

  "How's Colorado? Are you getting a lot of work done?"

  "Yeah, it's great." I had told her that Berkmore Global sent me to Colorado for a temporary internship. Obviously, I couldn't tell her that I was working at the world's oldest profession. "I'm really lucky."

  "We miss you."

  "I miss you guys, too." Julian had been gone long enough that his side of the bed was cold when I awoke. I felt acutely alone. "Is everybody doing okay?"

  "Of course, things don't fall apart just because you're not around."

  "What did the oncologist say?" I asked, knowing that she wouldn't tell me anything unless I asked the question directly.

  "Everything looks good," she said.

  "That's it? When's your next followup appointment?"

  "In a few weeks, I think," Momma said in that breezy way that made me want to strangle her.

  "Did the tumors shrink—“

  "Tomorrow was Lucy's first day of kindergarten," she said, cutting me off. "She's really excited, let me go get her."

  "Wait—“

  But I could already hear the rustling as she set down the phone. It worried me that she was being so cagey, but Momma loved to keep problems from me until it was too late to fix them. I just prayed that she was telling me the truth.

  "Dal-ya," Lucy yelled into the phone, her fading lisp still putting a special emphasis on my name. "I miss you."

  "I miss you too, babydoll. Did you have your first day of school?"

  "Uh-huh."

  "Did you make lots of friends?"

  "Yeah, but Cody was mean to me on the playground. He pushed me down the slide."

  "Well , you know what it means when boys are mean to you. It means that they like you."

  "Nuh-uh. That's stupid."

  I laughed. "It is stupid. You're a lot smarter than me for figuring that out."

  "You're silly." There was more rustling and I heard barely audible voices in the background. "Momma says we have to go because it's a school night."

  "Oh, okay. I'll call you again soon, okay."