The Dollhouse Society Ultimate Boxset: 21 Books & 5 Shorts in the Dollhouse Society Series

by Eden Myles

The next smack landed on my other ass cheek, only harder, the sudden pain driving a thrill down my body and into my cock. I bit my tongue to keep from crying out. He began alternating blows, hitting me with deliberate strength, not holding back at all, the crack of flesh on flesh loud in the room. I finally cried out as the heat in my ass increased with each blow. As his tempo picked up, I felt my cock become even more engorged, and his began to dig like a knife into my stomach.

  It wasn’t long before I was crying out and begging him shamelessly to take me. All I could think about was him inside me, that pain that was so like pleasure. Then he stopped and pushed me off his knee. I slid onto my knees on the floor at his feet, and he said, “Undo me, Daniel. It’s time you learned to suck your gentleman’s cock properly.”

  I undid his trousers, letting his cock slap against his belly. He grabbed my head and guided my mouth over his swollen head. He bucked and pushed his cock deep into my mouth, guiding my mouth on and off his erection. He was incredibly thick and I had some trouble taking it all. When it hit my throat, I nearly choked. He forced himself down my throat and I gagged, but he didn’t let up. He pulled out briefly and said, “Breathe,” and then pushed it steadily down my throat all at once. “Relax and swallow me, all of me. Now, Daniel.”

  His voice galvanized me like some erotic drill sergeant. I swallowed his cock, taking him all the way to the hilt. “Good boy,” he said, and slammed his cock down my throat a few more times. “Now suck me.”

  I sucked.

  “No, Daniel. Harder.” He grabbed my head with both hands and forced me down until my face was flat against his stomach and held me there, gagging, before slowly letting up. “Now suck, hard. Suck me and make me come.”

  I sucked hard, as hard as I could. I sucked until I tasted the salty sweetness of his pre-cum. He pulled out at the last moment and came in a modest spurt against my chest, which he then scooped up in his fingers and pushed into my mouth, holding my head steady while he forced me to swallow him down.

  “Good boy.”

  I was trembling from his violence and my own excitement when he pulled me up against his body so I was straddling his lap. He kissed me, exploring me with both lips and teeth. He encircled his arm around my back and pulled my body against his so his shirt rubbed deliciously against my bare chest, and my painfully stiff cock rubbed against his leg.

  “Rub it against me,” he commanded, biting and kissing me. “I want to feel how excited you are. I want to feel how much you love this.” I started grinding my cock against his leg. Mr. Karenina groaned with appreciation but then added, “But don’t come just yet.” I slowed down with his command but didn’t stop. He felt so good against the front of my body, his heat penetrating my skin, his body fitting against mine almost perfectly.

  “Do you trust me, Daniel?” he asked, his voice steely and still commanding.

  “I trust you.”

  “Do you love me?”

  “Yes. I love you,” I blurted out. “Will you please kiss me again?”

  He cupped my face with both hands and bent to capture my mouth in a fierce kiss. I shuddered and melted against his chest, against the hard muscles there. I kissed him back, probing his mouth with my tongue. His erection stabbed into my leg and his hand moved down between us, straying to my cock and balls. He fondled them lovingly but not too gently so I bucked against him. “I fucking love your mouth and ass,” he growled against my lips. “I want to fuck that tight ass off you tonight until you can’t take anymore of me, Daniel, until you scream. Until all you dream about is coming for me.” He bit my lip until I gasped into his mouth. No one had ever talked to me like that, so passionately, so perversely. “Give me your ass.”

  I climbed out of his lap and crawled to the head of the bed, where mounds and mounds of red satin pillows lay piled. I lowered my head, propping my arms on some of the pillows, and stuck my ass up in the air. He crawled up behind me, scenting me between the legs like some wild animal. He gave my balls and ass a few grateful licks. I groaned and pushed my ass in his face, inviting him to take me, but he wasn’t ready just yet.

  I groaned as he pulled away and got to his feet. I watched him walk to the bedside table and open it, removing a series of black silk scarves. He wound the scarves around my arms, first binding my wrists together, then binding them tight to the spokes of his headboard with a series of intricate knots. The last silk scarf he tied around my eyes. Then he turned out all the lights in the room so I crouched there on the bed on my knees, in absolute darkness, with my hands bound to the bed frame, totally at his mercy.

  I felt the bed take on his weight, and then he started licking me again, starting at my backbone and working his way down my crack, stopping to kiss and suck at my asshole before continuing down to take my balls in his mouth, sucking on them thoroughly before applying the smallest hint of teeth. I whimpered and arched my ass against him uncontrollably, begging and pleading for him to fuck me.

  He milked my cock until he had enough pre-cum to cream his fingers, then he forced those fingers up my ass, lubricating me thoroughly before shoving his meaty cock deep into my hole. I arched my back and screeched like some alley cat in heat as he pushed deeply and forcefully into me, widening me and slicking me through the force of his own pre-cum and penetration. He started pulling out, but I backed against him, eager for more, eager to take as much of him as I could at once. I knew it would hurt a whole hell of a lot less than if we went slow. And besides, I didn’t want slow. “God, fuck me,” I told him. “Fuck me as hard as you can and make me come.”

  Mr. Karenina complied. He hesitated only long enough to bridge my body and reach for the spikes of the headboard, anchoring himself so I was lodged tight against the front of him, nowhere to go, then started putting everything he had into the ass-fucking he was giving me. He pounded into me as hard as he could, until my grunts turned to squeals. My cock throbbed and my thoroughly spanked ass ached from the impacts. Each of his incredibly powerful thrusts pushed me down into the pillows before lifting my ass a little off the mattress, and it wasn’t long before I found myself screaming and clawing at the spikes of the headboard while he raged inside me like some animal and pulsing waves of pleasure and pain radiated out through my body.

  “You’re a slut, Daniel, a fucking slut,” he growled in my ear as he drove himself relentlessly into me.

  “Yes,” I agreed, barely able to speak through the almost dizzying waves of euphoria assaulting my body and brain.

  “How many men have you had? How many have you offered your pretty ass to?”

  “Only you,” I answered.

  “How many cocks have you sucked?”

  “Only yours.”

  “What does that make you, Daniel?”

  “Your slut,” I choked out. “I’m your slut.”

  “I want you to come with me, slut.”

  As before, we came together. I screamed with release as my body convulsed and pearls of come jetted over the pillows, while Mr. Karenina came with a violent shudder and a growl of satisfaction deep inside me, filling me so fully that I felt it gush out of me when he finally pulled out some moments later. Still panting and heaving with exertion, he rubbed his still-dripping cock against my backbone, and then came again, against my back and ass as if he were marking me as part of his territory. Finally spent, he collapsed on top of me, rubbing himself all over me, rubbing his scent into my skin. “Now you smell like me, Daniel,” he sighed. “You smell like mine. I should leave you tied down, yes? Fuck you all night long like this. Then leave Maria to find you tomorrow morning, bound, with your beautiful ass in the air.”

  I wriggled in my bonds and thought about my inglorious position, tied to Mr. Karenina’s headboard, his come dripping down the inside of my legs from the way he’d worked my sore and tired ass, my own come splashed across his pillows. And yet, despite everything, his words made my cock pulse with new life. I wanted him. I wanted to do whatever it took to please him.

  “How would you feel abo
ut that, Daniel?” Mr. Karenina asked, rubbing himself like a giant cat against me. “How would you feel if I displayed you for everyone to see, so everyone knew you were mine?”

  I breathed roughly through my fear and my arousal. I had a feeling this was a test of some sort, so I said, “I’ll do whatever you ask, sir. I do whatever my gentleman demands of me.”

  “Are you mine, Daniel?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Mine to do with what I want?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Mine to enjoy anytime I want. Anywhere I want?”

  “Yes, sir. Now and forever.”

  He groaned with approval and kissed my shoulder as he gently undid my bonds. “My beautiful boy, my courtier,” he said as he gathered me into his powerful arms and kissed me tenderly. We settled into the pillows, and I cuddled into his warmth as we settled down to sleep.

  Mr. Karenina smiled. “Daniel, I do believe you’re ready to join the Dollhouse.”

  ***

  BOOK 3: TEACHER’S PET

  The restaurant was half-full, but Mr. Karenina had reserved a private table in a tucked-away corner, which was good because the restaurant was located not very far from campus, and although I doubted anyone I knew could afford to dine here, or would have much interest even if they could, you never really knew who you might run into. And then I would have to explain why I was on a date with a blind, retired billionaire—a man old enough to be my dad.

  Dinner had consisted of apple, bacon and blue cheese stuffed pork chops and a side dish of shrimp and pasta with goat cheese cream sauce. The food was so rich I was starting to worry about my waistline. If I kept letting Mr. Karenina feed me, I was going to need to get back into a gym routine. Not to mention it was seriously spoiling me of my usual pizza or greasy late-night take-out routine, the usual college-guy fodder.

  Mr. Karenina sipped the fine red wine he had ordered us and glanced down into the glass. He was dressed spectacularly in one of his fine, brushed black tuxedoes, the acceptable uniform in places like these, though he’d requested I wear a simple white shirt, my faded blue jeans and a black dinner jacket tonight. I’d thought at first it was because the suits he had ordered me weren’t ready yet, but then he’d admitted on the way over that it was because he liked me in jeans, liked the way they felt on me when he touched me.

  “Is something wrong?” I asked nervously, momentarily forgetting the food on my plate.

  “What does red feel like, Daniel?” he asked suddenly. He glanced up at me, his dark, almost exotic eyes hovering somewhere nearer my chin than my eyes. “It makes me curious…red. So much symbolism attached to it.”

  When he had picked me up tonight, he’d given me a dozen red roses. No one had ever given me flowers before. They were perfectly beautiful, and I was still struggling with a way of ditching them before I got back to my dorm. It was going to break my heart, but I didn’t think there was any way I could smuggle them into my room without someone noticing. “The roses you gave me tonight were red.”

  “Yes, but what does it feel like?” he asked. “What is red?”

  I wiped my mouth with the cloth napkin in my lap and tried to think of a way of describing colors to a man born blind. There were candles burning on the table between us, so I captured one of his hands in mine and drew his fingertip to the edge of the flame, not touching, but close enough for him to feel the heat. “Red is hot.”

  “Ah.” He thought about that. “Tell me about white.”

  I took an ice cube from one of our water glasses and pressed it against his palm, making a small circle. “White is cold.”

  “Blue,” he said with some challenge, like a game we were playing.

  I took his hand and guided it to the same water glass and pressed two fingers into it. “Wet.”

  He sat thinking about that a long moment. Then he said, “What color are your eyes, Daniel?”

  “They’re blue.”

  “But your hair is red.”

  “It’s auburn, actually, a sort of dark brownish red, but yeah…basically red. How did you know?”

  “Because it feels warm when I touch it.” He moved his hand so he was touching the tips of his fingers softly against my face. “Like your skin.”

  “My skin is really white,” I complained. “Everyone at home gets a farmer’s tan after being in the sun for a week, but I just turn red like a lobster, peel, then go back to being white.” I laughed. I was rambling nervously, I realized. Even my laugh sounded nervous to me. He said we would be visiting the Dollhouse tonight. I had no idea what that meant, but he kept saying things that made my nerves jump under my skin.

  He cupped my face and brushed his thumb across my lips. “Did you make all your plans for the wedding?” he asked conversationally.

  “Yes, I booked my flight.”

  “What about your friend Sheri?”

  I didn’t want to talk about Sheri. My sister’s wedding, and my plans to be there with Sheri as my pseudo-date, seemed an endless source of interest to him, but not in a good way. It just made him solemn, and a little rough when we made love. “Sheri’s still deciding,” I told him truthfully.

  “I see.”

  I almost asked him if he wanted to go with me instead, then decided to change the subject. We didn’t have that kind of relationship. Mr. Karenina didn’t love me; he just employed me. I was his courtier. His rent boy. I had to keep that in mind. “Maybe, when I get back, I’ll have a tan.”

  “I’ll warm your skin tonight,” he said, his voice low, almost a growl. Again, my insides quivered and I felt my belly fill with butterflies. He was feeling both angry and lusty tonight, a dangerous combination.

  “What…whatever you have planned tonight…is it going to hurt?”

  Mr. Karenina smirked and his steady black eyes pinned me. “I’m going to do things to you tonight that you will never forget. You’re mine, Daniel, mine to play with, mine to use.”

  I reached for my wine and drank down a large gulp. “Are you angry with me?”

  Mr. Karenina returned his attention to his half-eaten plate. “I’m a gentleman, Daniel, and it’s a gentleman’s prerogative to train and discipline his courtier accordingly. In the Dollhouse, I can do whatever I want to you.”

  I sat in my seat, before my uneaten food, and just concentrated on not hyperventilating.

  “Do you trust me, Daniel?”

  “Yes,” I answered, hesitantly.

  “Trust me.”

  ***

  Mr. Karenina’s driver took us out to a sprawling, palatial estate on Staten Island with an old stone colonial mansion set far back on a sweeping, tree-lined lawn. Mr. Karenina kept the windows cracked and told me to breathe deeply of the sweet, piney air, something you almost never experience in the inner city. “I haven’t been here in two years,” he said offhand as we ascended the long gravel drive.

  I assumed he meant since his wife Elizabeth had died two years ago. She’d been a courtesan, he’d told me. A member of the Dollhouse. She, like me, had been his to play with.

  We got out and I walked him up the long, steep stone path to the doors of the manse, taking our time because Mr. Karenina had refused to use his cane tonight. We passed through the giant oaken double doors and into an anteroom done in burnished mahogany and furnished like an Eighteenth Century drawing room. It was empty, but a great hum of activity emanated from the spacious Great Room adjacent. I gaped at the sight of the enormous space like a typical country mouse. The walls were a bright, arctic white but covered in framed grayscale photography, and there was a pristine checkerboard floor that made me feel like I’d stepped into an old black and white movie. At least a hundred people filled the room, some in groups or pairs, and some alone, drinking champagne being transported hither and yon by waiters and generally mingling. They were some of the most beautiful people I had ever seen. I saw men outfitted like Fred Astair in black tuxedoes and woman in evening gowns that shimmered like rain under the pale mood lighting. Most stopped to notic
e us as we stepped into the room.

  A small, debonair man immediately stepped forward to greet us. He reached out and took Mr. Karenina’s hand. “Alexei,” he said haltingly, the way you talk to someone who is terminally ill, “it’s been too long, my friend.”

  “Hello, Malcolm,” Mr. Karenina answered in his usual polite, reserved manner.

  Malcolm looked him up and down. He ignored me, but Mr. Karenina had already warned me about that—that a proper gentleman won’t acknowledge another men’s courtesan or courtier. I tried not to let it bother me too much. “You look well. But how are you, really?” He sounded concerned.

  “I’m fine,” Mr. Karenina answered in that clipped tone of voice. He sounded almost annoyed that Malcolm should ask. Then he changed the subject. “Has anything changed here?”

  “Nothing ever changes here!” Malcolm laughed. “Well, we had a row about a year ago. Wish you could have been here, old boy. Ian Sterling almost laid out one of the pundits.”

  “Oh dear,” Alexei answered with surprise. “We have pundits now? Things have changed. Tell me about the ball tonight.”

  Malcolm laughed and took Mr. Karenina by the arm. “When we heard you were returning to the Dollhouse, Alexei, we decided to make it a double debutante, one for you and one for your young friend here. He’s quite the handsome fellow, isn’t he?

  “Yes, he is,” Mr. Karenina agreed.

  “Won’t you let me show you around? Let me help you get the lay of the land, such as it is? It’s been too long and we’ve changed around some of the rooms.”

  “One moment, please.”

  “Yes, of course.”

  Mr. Karenina turned to me and put a hand on my shoulder. He drew me close against him. “Do you remember what I told you, Daniel?” he asked.

  “I can’t talk to the gentlemen, but I can talk to the courtesans.”

  “That’s correct. Would you like to meet them?”

  “Sure,” I said, trying to sound happy about the fact that I was about to be tossed into a social pool with like a gazillion people completely out of my league. Worried? Not me. Much.