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

by Eden Myles

I squirmed on the cushions. Kyle assessment was a little too close for comfort.

  “But then the accident happened, and you went through that hell, and you survived it, but it broke something inside you, didn’t it? You realized you were going to die someday and there was nothing you could do about it. It made you feel powerless, afraid.”

  I started asking him to leave, but before I could, Kyle took my hand and squeezed it. He gave me a serious look. “You don’t need to be alone. We care about you. We love you and we want you with us, Stef.”

  Something in my chest kicked me in the ribs. I think it was my heart. For once, I had no snarky comeback. A part of me just wanted to run away, which I guess was kind of stupid. I had two hot guys opening their arms to me, telling me they loved me, and I wanted to run and hide. That was why I told Kyle what I was telling Iz now.

  I looked my best friend and said, “We broke up.”

  Her formerly ecstatic expression vanished like it was never there. Her mouth dropped open but she quickly closed it. She seemed to search for words before saying, “Can I ask why?”

  I shrugged. “Well, for one thing, our month together is almost up. For another, I’m graduating, which means I might have to take a job somewhere else, in another state, maybe.”

  Iz glared at me angrily. “Or, you know, you could get a job right here in New York and stay with Kyle and Mr. Griffiths.”

  I didn’t tell her that I was deliberately looking for out-of-state jobs. “No,” I said as I slid the two Icees down to the waiting couple. “I can’t do that.”

  She put her hand on mine, stopping me. She studied me in silence before saying, “You’re sabotaging your relationship with them. Why?”

  I shook my head. “Why do you care, Iz?”

  “Because I’m your best friend, knucklehead! You were there for me after I was attacked. You stuck with me all through my shit, and you’re still here for me when I need you, even though I have Damian and Dorian. I want to be here for you too!”

  “Iz, I’m not into commitments. You know that. I’m not like you. It wouldn’t work out between the three of us. It’s stupid to even try…”

  She looked like she might explode. “That’s bullshit! Those two gorgeous men are the best thing that’s ever happened to you and you’re going to throw it all away because you’re afraid of committing? I won’t let you!”

  “I don’t think that’s your decision to make!” I shouted back. My hands balled into defiant fists at my sides. “This whole thing was a stupid idea, Iz! Charity or no charity, I should never have done it!”

  Someone beside Iz said, “Can we get some service here? We want that special popcorn…”

  I picked up a box of rainbow-colored popcorn and flung it at the guy so he was covered in flecks of red, blue and green. The people around us gasped in shock. Iz started saying something, but I held up a hand. I was probably going to lose my dumbass job, but I just didn’t care anymore. I crossed my arms over my head and pulled off the bright red T-shirt I wore over my long-sleeved white tee and threw it aside.

  “You can just shove your Society, Iz!” I cried and stomped away.

  ***

  OK, I never could stay mad at Iz, even when we were children, and the following morning found me parked outside the Michaels brothers’ mansion. I watched Iz step out of the house in a long silk kimono to collect the morning paper. When she spotted my car, she immediately crossed the street. I rolled down the window and shouted, “I’m an idiot. What can I say? Lemme take you to breakfast.”

  I was afraid that she’d tell me to fuck off, which, admittedly, I deserved, but there’s something so sweet and forgiving about Izzy Pop that it transcends normal human behavior. I’ve never understood it myself; she’s just better than everyone else. Her face broke out in a wide smile and she said, “You’re buying! And you know how much I love breakfast.”

  “You have a deal. Now go get dressed.”

  We ate at our favorite greasy spoon. Iz had a breakfast burrito and I ordered the Southwest omelet.

  “Living dangerously?” she said, staring at all the grease and cheese on my plate. She knew I seldom had anything more than vitamin water for breakfast.

  I shrugged. “Maybe I’m just feeling sorry for myself.”

  She put her hand over mine. “I’m sorry I went off on you, but I’m really worried about you, Stef. The auction was supposed to be for fun. I didn’t think you’d get so serious with those two, but when you did, I hoped it would be really good for you.”

  “Is that how it was for you? Was it fun…until it stopped being just fun and got all serious and shit?”

  She nodded. “I didn’t mean to get so involved with Damian and Dorian. But then, when it happened, I realized it was exactly what I needed. I guess I want the same for you. A part of me keeps hoping you’ll find someone to really ground you.”

  I thought about what to say, then decided on the truth. Kyle was right. I was a coward, scared of my own shadow. How do you have a relationship with someone—or someones—when all you think about is how it will end? I started trying to put my thoughts into words when my phone went off.

  Mr. Griffiths had already left me several voicemails. I just knew it was him again, so I grabbed it up and said without looking, “Look, I’m fine, really…”

  “That’s excellent to hear,” came the voice of a strange man with a weird accent.

  I stumbled on a response. “Sorry. I thought you were someone else. A friend of mine. I think this is a wrong number.”

  “Who knows. I may be just that,” said the man. “And no, I want to talk to you, Stefan Janovich.” His accent made me think of Mr. Griffiths, but slightly more exotic. I couldn’t place it.

  Iz frowned over her burrito.

  “Who is this?” I said.

  “My name is Jeremy Eccleston. I’m a member of the Dollhouse Society. Maybe you’ve heard of me?”

  I almost dropped the phone. “Holy Sh—” I began, then stopped myself. If nothing else, my time with Mr. Griffiths had taught me tact and decorum. “I mean, sure, I’ve heard of you. I’ve seen all your films, in fact. I’m kind of a huge fan.”

  I covered the phone and mouthed It’s Jeremy Eccleston to Iz, who only frowned harder.

  Mr. Eccleston chuckled. “That’s good to hear, young man. I saw you at the auction. How would you like to be in one of my films?”

  ***

  After I dropped Iz at home, I matched the address Mr. Eccleston had sent to my smartphone to a warehouse in lower Chelsea. It was a huge and sprawling grey brick building, with the lonely, derelict look that plagued a lot of buildings here on the piers. It was a little hard to believe a huge film mogul like Mr. Eccleston would use a place like this to make movies, but who knew what went through a rich and eccentric filmmaker’s mind? I followed his directions anyway, went down the stairs to the painted red basement-level door, just as he had said, and knocked.

  A few moments later, a perky, tanned, young blonde with a clipboard opened it. “Hi. Stefan, right?”

  I scratched at the back of my head. “Yeah, that’s right.”

  “I’m Tawny, Mr. Eccleston’s personal assistant. Come on in.”

  She led me down a series of rough-looking corridors. I followed her up a flight of metal stairs to a huge, studio loft where I found Mr. Eccleston standing over a metal and glass desk, talking on his cell. “Yes, of course I want it tomorrow, you tosser!” he was shouting. “I don’t pay you to stand around with your thumb up your arse, you know.” He hung up on the caller and turned to glare at me as if I had invaded his space without invitation.

  He was smaller than either Mr. Griffiths or Kyle, slender, and dressed in an outfit more appropriate for yachting off the coast of Los Angeles than filmmaking. He was pretty hot, yet something about the cold way he glared at me made me flinch inside.

  Tawny spoke up. “It’s your two o’clock, Mr. Eccleston.”

  He smiled and the feeling vanished. “Steven, right?”

&
nbsp; “Stefan,” I corrected him as he stepped forward to shake my hand. His hands were cool and very dry.

  “Sorry about that,” he said, referring to the phone call. “It’s hard to find good help these days.”

  I secretly thought, Maybe if you didn’t yell at them…

  “I didn’t get a chance to speak to you at the auction. That tosser Griffiths outbid me.”

  “Yeah,” I said uncertainly, though his words annoyed me. “I remember.”

  “But more importantly, Stefan, I remember you.” He walked around his desk and set his hands on it, leaning forward. He narrowed his eyes. “I wanted to win that auction. You caught my eye the moment I saw you. Have you ever done any acting?”

  I shook my head, but glanced around the vast studio. Expensive-looking camera and sound equipment was packed into every corner. I also noticed a bedroom set, complete with a backdrop, plus a spanking bench, a rack, stocks, and some other fetish furniture. “Exactly what do you film here?”

  “When I’m not working on feature films, I make adult films. It’s what broke me out in the first place.”

  “Oh,” I said. I wasn’t aware he made porn. Then I wondered why I’d never heard of it. When I asked the question, he just smirked.

  “I cater to markets overseas and in Asia. Fetish specialty markets.”

  I laughed at that a little nervously. “Not snuff films, I hope.”

  “No, but the more exotic stuff. I understand your contract with your gentleman is up. How would you like to make a film for me? It’s quite lucrative.”

  I swallowed hard. I had nothing personal against porn. I liked porn, actually, but I wasn’t so sure about making it. I stuck my hands in my pockets and shrugged. “I don’t know. Can I see some contracts and maybe think about it?”

  Eccleston canted his head to one side like a lizard. “Afraid?”

  “It’s not that…I just never did anything like that before.”

  He nodded as if my answer was perfectly acceptable. “How about a deal, then? You do a couple scenes for me today, try it out, and see how you feel about it. If you’re down with it, enjoy it, I’ll issue you a contract right here, right now.”

  I figured that was an acceptable deal and shrugged. “Why not.”

  “Good, good.” He clapped his hands. “Tawny, see Steven to the dressing rooms, then route him back here when you’re done with him.”

  “Very good, Mr. Eccleston,” Tawny answered.

  “Stefan,” I corrected him, but I still followed Tawny backstage.

  ***

  I stepped back into the studio, dressed in only a black silk kimono, my hair professionally moussed into messy spikes by Tawny, who was also a hairdresser, and saw that Mr. Eccelston had set the stage, literally and figuratively. A half dozen cameramen and lighting technicians were testing their equipment and calling out orders to one another. The set was pretty minimalistic for my first shoot, with a big circle of candles on the floor, one of those Greek-style couches, and a noose hanging a few feet above it from a beam in the ceiling. I looked things over and my nervousness jumped up into something very close to panic.

  Mr. Eccleston appeared by my side and said, “There you are, my lad. And may I say you look gorgeous, Steven.”

  I didn’t correct him this time. I did look at the noose and say, “What exactly do I have to do, anyway?”

  “Do you know about breath play?”

  “Not really.”

  “Well, there’s a big market for it in South Asia.”

  “Glad to hear, but I still don’t know what that is.”

  “Do you know what erotic asphyxiation is?”

  “Yeah,” I said cautiously. I’d known a guy at one of the fetish clubs who’d been into it. He said it was great for beating off alone, that no orgasm came close to it, but I didn’t really see the point of having a mind-blowing orgasm without a partner to share it. I’m sure he was right about the orgasm. On the downside, they eventually found him hanging from his shower head with a broken neck. “I’m not sure I’m down with this.”

  Mr. Eccleston was frowning at his smartphone. “I assure you, it’s perfectly safe.”

  “Do you use safe words and such?”

  It took him a moment to answer. It annoyed me that we were talking about my safety while he was busy staring at his fucking phone. “Sure. We can do that.”

  I took a step away from him as something occurred to me. “You won that other guy at the auction, didn’t you? What was his name…Justin or James or something?”

  “Something like that,” Eccleston mumbled.

  “What happened to him? Why isn’t he here?”

  Finally, the jerk looked up. “He’s out of commission at the moment. On holiday.”

  “On holiday or in the hospital?”

  Eccleston frowned. “I beg your pardon…”

  “You know what?” I said, cutting him off. “Fuck this and fuck you. I’m going home.”

  I marched past him and the gaping, open-mouthed Tawny and went to collect my clothes.

  ***

  Mr. Eccleston grabbed me by the arm as I was stomping out of the dressing room in my street clothes. His grip felt like steel spikes in my flesh. He locked eyes with me and I saw he was carrying a rattan cane in his other hand.

  “Let me go,” I said.

  “No one walks away from me,” he growled out.

  He lifted the cane and I prepared myself for the impact, but a familiar voice said, “Jeremy, put it down. Now.”

  I turned my head and saw that Mr. Griffiths was standing in the hallway, Kyle beside him. They were both glaring at Jeremy Eccleston.

  Eccleston never broke eye contact with me. “Stay out of this, Anton. He doesn’t belong to you anymore.”

  “Neither does he belong to you. He said no. Let. Him. Go.” The walls and floor faintly vibrated with Mr. Griffiths’ anger.

  Something shifted in Eccleston’s eyes. Fear. I recognized it all too well. Slowly, his grip on my arm loosened and I shifted closer to Mr. Griffiths. “I don’t need you rescuing me,” I told him grumpily, which was pretty stupid, because, evidently, I did.

  “When Isabelle told us you’d be here, I had no choice in the matter,” Mr. Griffiths said, his eyes never leaving Eccleston. “But, my boy, you’re not the only one I’m here for.” Reaching inside his suit jacket, Mr. Griffiths pulled out some printed papers and threw them at Eccleston. “Jeremy Eccleston, you are hereby permanently suspended from the Society, and banned from all its grounds and holdings.”

  I gaped at Mr. Griffiths’ words.

  Eccleston stared at the papers a long moment before glaring at Mr. Griffiths. “By whose authority?”

  “By the authority of the gentleman of the Society. Though if you want a name as to who filed the papers, it was me.”

  “You don’t run the Society, Anton!”

  Mr. Griffiths snorted. “True. But I submitted the order based on the deposition of Justin Beardsley, the courtier you put in the hospital. The motion was passed among the other gentleman and here we are. You are officially not a part of us any longer.” My gentleman hissed this last with great enthusiasm as he extended an arm to me. I slid underneath it and he pulled me close against the front of his suit.

  Rage blazed across Eccleston’s face. I saw him dart forward, his cane raised high to strike, but somehow Mr. Griffiths, a man at least ten years his senior, moved faster than he. He knocked Eccleston’s cane to the floor and as the two men came together. Eccleston grunted out a curse, but Mr. Griffiths managed to snag the man’s throat in his big hand and throw him down as if he were a big bag of potatoes.

  Eccleston started getting up, but Mr. Griffiths’ brought the heel of his shoe down atop his throat, not hard enough to crush his windpipe, but enough to keep him down and choking. He scrabbled at Mr. Griffiths’ shoe, but my gentleman held him easily.

  The look of outrage on Mr. Griffiths’ face made me look away, toward Kyle, who wrapped his arms around my shoulders. �
��A man who abuses his courtier is no man at all, and certainly no gentleman,” Mr. Griffiths’ spat. “If I ever see you near Stefan—or any other courtier or courtesan—ever again, I won’t hesitate to end you, Eccleston.”

  After that, Mr. Griffiths and Kyle walked me back to their limo parked outside the warehouse.

  ***

  I sat between my two lovers in the dark of the car. My head was resting on Mr. Griffiths’ shoulder, and Kyle was holding my hand so that for the moment we were all connected, all one. I heard myself take a deep breath and say, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to piss you off.”

  Mr. Griffiths’ arm encircled my waist. He took my hand in his and brought it to his lips, tenderly kissing the pulse in my wrist. It was a very sweet and old-fashioned thing to do. “I’m not angry with you, Stefan,” he said, holding me tight against the solid, reassuring warmth of his body. “You couldn’t have known how dangerous Eccleston was.”

  “But you did warn me away from him.” A thought occurred to me. “You made that big bid on me at the auction to keep him from winning me, didn’t you?”

  “Perhaps.”

  “Why? You didn’t know me then.”

  “I knew you through the stories Isabelle told about you.”

  “Oh Jesus.”

  Mr. Griffiths chuckled.

  Kyle leaned close. “They weren’t all bad.” And he gave my hand a gentle squeeze.

  I snuggled against him. “No, Iz is right about me. I’m irresponsible. I’m stupid. I’m all about the outside package. Always have been.” I looked up at them both. “I know why you came here. I’m a pretty face and a good fuck. That’s all I have going for me. And, Kyle, you’re right. I’m scared of dying. Hell, I’m scared of living.”

  Mr. Griffiths pressed his lips together as he and Kyle shared a private thought between them. “You’re more than that to us. We came here because we love you, Stefan.”

  “Do you mean that?”

  “Have you ever known me to say something I don’t mean?”

  I smiled against his suit, breathed in his heady, comforting male scent. “You should have commanded me to stay with you. Then I would have listened.”

  “I don’t own you.”