My Doll Home

I had been working at Loesser Bros. Ltd for over seven years and had worked my way up to floor manager when I was promoted suddenly to account vice president. I couldn't figure why exactly I was promoted. I didn't think I had done anything particularly spectacular, but I had held the floor men to their jobs and managed the sales reps well in the past year. I received a tremendous bonus, almost four times my previous annual salary, and was moved into a new office with a vice president named Marguerite Seldon.

Marguerite, as she asked me to call her the day after we met (I'd asked her to call me Martin as soon as we shook hands), was an unmarried (at least, unringed) lady of perhaps thirty-five. She was beautiful auburn hair; deep blue commanding eyes; a fantastic figure, as trim as her somewhat tall build (she was 5' 10") would allow. The curve of her breasts and hips was most attractive, and she made certain (I was sure) that I appreciated her figure and her stockbroking abilities, which were as outstanding as her personality.

Marguerite was very outgoing, perhaps that was what attracted and kept the clients, for she and I made a great team, bringing in commissions like grocery coupons. I soon became as attractive to clients as was Marguerite, although her clients were mostly men, while mine were mostly women. I must say that Marguerite's private (very private) remarks about our clients were occasionally caustic and very much apropos.

"Well, Martin my boy," said she about one large, very large, client, "was that trip to the moon, or over the moon?" "To the moon" was our office code for an unpleasant time.

"Not quite, Marguerite. She wanted to be put into some penny stocks that I know are worthless, and I flat-out refused. 'Sides, she wouldn't have fit. But I tried to interest her in Vanneman's new issue, which you pointed out to me, and she waffled so altogether, maybe it wasn't completely worthless, but I didn't close today."

That was a sad admission, but I'd closed six in two days of that week already, and we had been generally in a fairly happy mood.

"You should have spread some honey on her waffle, then, Mart'," was her rejoinder. I started to chuckle, then thought better of it.

"Never mind, Mart'.: she went on, "Oh, hell, do you mind my calling you Mart'?" Her mild profanity took me slightly aback.

"No, not at all. But I don't think you'd like anyone to call you 'Maggie,'" I grinned.

"True, I'd hate it. I had too many unpleasant nicknames unpleasant to me, anyway as a youngster. Other than names, I think we get along well for two completely unattached orphans, don't you?"

"Uhm... Marguerite, how did you know . . .?"

"That you were an orphan with no close relatives...or ties? Perhaps we orphans can 'feel' each other, after we work together for a time. Our secretary, Sally, is an orphan, too. What I started to ask . . . ."

"Yes?" I was fascinated by what I thought I saw in her eyes an interest in me as a person, not as a brokerage team partner. I got the impression that Marguerite was very attracted to me. I know that during the six weeks we'd worked together I had found her more and more attractive, and I was only awaiting the proper time and place to come on strongly to her I realized that I'd fallen for her! Her next statement surprised and excited me. Something in my lower belly churned excitingly.

"I want you to come to dinner at my place, and be introduced to . . . I am always a little hesitant about my hobby...I hope you won't laugh at me...."

"I promise I won't, I've had some funny... some odd hobbies...myself." Lately, masturbating and trying to cum when I thought of Marguerite, back at my apartment!

"Yes, well, I take my...particular...hobby quite seriously. I collect...dolls, you might say. You will find yourself quite...involved, I'd say. I haven't known anyone...well, one other...most people would laugh at me . . . who I'd ask to regard my hobby as closely as you."

I'd very seldom in the time I'd known her heard Marguerite hesitate and ramble as much as she did this day. I didn't care...any chance to be alone with her....

"Marguerite, I'm honored indeed. I would very much like to learn about your hobby, and I must tell you ...I feel something between us more than just office-partners' interest, if you follow me."

"Why, yes, I believe I do. I find you very attractive, Marty." There was a grin on her lips, a spark of mischief in her eye. "Do you... consent...?" I thought that an odd way to phrase it, but I said,

"Surely, with pleasure. When?"

"How about this coming week-end? We have four days off. It will give you a chance to become... better acquainted...with my dolls."

Well, that was agreed, and I felt an odd sense of relief. The invitation and the tone in which it was delivered was as sincere as I'd ever heard. From that moment I began wanting to be near Marguerite more and more urgently. As I thought of the coming four-day week-end, I thought my masculinity would assert itself, but only a tremor in my lower belly indicated any sexual arousal. I somehow seemed more content when I was around Marguerite the rest of the short week. I could have sworn that she smelled different, too.

Luckily, only two more days and it was Thursday the firm was closed every week-end anyway Friday of that week and the Monday following were extra "up-date" days necessitated by some computer programming.

Thursday, after lunch, I thought I saw some indication that Marguerite was perhaps "suffering" from similar anticipation, for I noticed on several occasions her nipples tautly erected against her tight sweater when she looked at me. Once by chance I noticed that her chair seat was, to my astonished eyes, slightly damp, and on that occasion she walked quite quickly to the door, moving slightly sideways, saying over her shoulder,

"Ladies room, back at once."

I had a client on the phone at the moment, so I could make no remark, but I was slightly distracted, sufficiently so that the client asked me if I were all right. I snapped back to reality and was closing the deal when Marguerite came back. She had on another skirt. As I put the phone down, she gave me a great wide smile which lit up those penetrating blue eyes and she chuckled,

"Sorry, Marty. I know that was distracting, but I was thinking the same thoughts you were! I can hardly wait for tonight. You'll...really come over, won't you." My belly contracted in a pleasurable spasm. I didn't notice that was a statement, not a question. I quickly replied,

"Good Lord, yes! But I thought you meant tomor . . . Fri . . . I hadn't thought . . . ."

"Makes...no difference to me, but have you anything else on for the week-end? You've consented to come...? Yes? Then come over tonight. You have the address, right?" She'd used that word "consent" again, which sounded slightly odd in context, but I let it slide.

I took the sweaty, much-creased piece of paper from my wallet I'd probably looked at it fifty times so far in two days, and I gulped in embarrassment.

"Uhm, Marguerite, I had it written down, but this piece of paper won't do me any good. I've looked at your address so much that I've sweated and erased it out of existence!"

"O K, we'll do this another way. Look at me, Marty! Now Marguerite Seldon, 12234 Drosten Way, North Harbor. You've got it now, don't you?"

Well, I certainly did. I had never before had someone's personality impressed on my mind like that. I regarded Marguerite differently; she was a forceful and much more powerful woman than I had earlier realised. A feeling of general well-being came over me and I just accepted that Marguerite was somehow a superior person. Now I wanted to be there as soon as possible!

Where I got that idea I don't know, but it made all the remaining time at work Thursday seem to go excruciatingly slowly. I left the office shortly after Marguerite, as early as possible, with instructions to Sally that I was not to be disturbed all week-end.

Sally smiled and nodded as though she thoroughly understood. I gathered with nothing said that Marguerite had given her the exact same instructions, and I knew that Sally could put two and two together.

"Going to join us...uh...I mean, see the dolls, Martin? You'll love uh...them. See you soon," said Sally, looking a bit wistful.

I thought for a second that the way she phrased that was odd, but thought no more about it, then. She was certainly good-looking and I had considered her as a prospect for some interesting fun every time I had seen her before I had met Marguerite. I wondered for a moment how Sally knew about the dolls...and was that just a slip when she said "join us?" Just the same, I thought, Sally didn't have to assume that she'd see me before Tuesday.

I got to Marguerite's she'd asked me not to drive my car, no parking available she said, so I used mass transportation on a handy bus which stopped at the nearest corner at quarter to seven. I had showered and dressed as though for a night out, yet I had a strange feeling that we would not leave the apartment all week-end.

Marguerite's "place" was not after all leased, as I had expected. She owned the entire building, and occupied the three bottom floors and the basement!

She opened the inner door to her home "dressed" only in a loosely held shawl which she dropped at once to reveal her entire gorgeous body.

I should have had a raging erection, but I felt only great desire to please Marguerite. The look with which she regarded me made my mind quiver, and I thought to myself, This is the most beautiful woman you will ever know, and she is your mistress.

I could not have kept myself from saying what I next said, in gasps of fevered adoration.

"Marguerite, I... I just now realised that I want to be yours . . . if you'll have me. You must be the most beautiful woman I've ever known!"

She smiled and kissed my cheek. I felt lavishly rewarded, and somehow as though I had been promised the world. Something on my chest prickled and rubbed, tickling, against my t-shirt. Turning away finally from a long, meaningful, heated interplay of glances, she toured me around her place like any house-proud woman, mentioning in passing,

"I would be very happy if you meant that, Marty. Can I count on it? Good." She turned to look me straight in the eyes.

"Get undressed, you'll be more comfortable.

As I hastily undressed without further thought, she continued,

"As you will soon realise, I've always taken real interest in a certain type of...person, and now that I can afford it, I've been able to obtain what I wish. I'm certain that you'll enjoy being a part of it."

I thought it quite natural that she had not shown me her bedroom yet. I wondered briefly what the rest of the space was used for, and how much it must have cost.

"Yes, I like your place very much, Marguerite, but you did mention your hobby when you invited me."

"Ah. Well, you'll have to wait until after dinner, dear Marty." She cupped my head in her strong hands and kissed me soundly. My head swirled, my knees weakened and I would have fallen, I do believe, if she had not supported me to a deep chair and plopped me in. The fabric felt very odd against my bottom. I felt slightly wider in the butt, and there was an odd sensation in my chest, as though something was swelling.

"I think you need a drink. I have some wine I'd like your opinion on, a new pressing, but I think it's got a nice bouquet, and it's not too sweet."

"Oh. Happy to." I had no idea what she had just said, nor to what I was agreeing, my head was so muzzy. I noticed the funny sensation in my chest had become more intense, and when I felt myself in slight alarm my nipples were sticking out. Were they bigger? I paid them no further heed.

Marguerite brought in two huge goblets of a deep red wine. I could smell tartness, tinged with a smell of some herb. I seldom drank wine, but in this instance I tasted, then sipped and quickly drank about half the goblet. It was excellent, full-bodied and not as tart as I had thought. I was soon hungry for whatever she had prepared for dinner, I was becoming more and more curious about her dolls, and I was hungry for Marguerite.

Although the unfamiliar swellings on my chest kept brushing against my arms as I cut whatever the meat was, I again paid them no particular heed. However, I did notice a slight sensation of tickling in my crotch, but I did my best to ignore that, thinking that I was becoming aroused by Marguerite's proximity and the luscious way she smelled.

Dinner was as good as I had expected, although I later remembered not one dish we ate. I ate a lot, yet I did not feel distended afterwards. I felt very aroused and thought I must be showing an erection, but there was no lump when I brushed a hand hastily across my lap. Marguerite noticed my gesture and commented as we rose form the table,

"You'll soon appreciate the loss of certain things a great deal, Marty. And there'll be certain gains, too. I'll take very good care of you!" She kissed me deeply again, holding me close to her with her strong arms.

My belly and crotch twitched and it seemed heavenly to rub my nipples against her breasts as she held me to her luscious body.

Something happened after dinner ...I certainly was feeling very strange, and I had an increasing desire to fondle Marguerite. Something was affecting my mind. I heard myself make an unexpected and impassioned statement.

" Marguerite, I want to be yours...forever! I adore you!"

"Do you want to make love to me?"

"Oh! Yes, if that is your wish...mistress."

In those few moments I felt a great change in myself. My lower belly tickled, and I felt a continual shrinking sensation, tickling and pleasant at the same time. My breasts and my nipples swelled. I paid little attention to myself, for I was concentrating on Marguerite's lovely breasts and belly, so rounded, so firm, her upright nipples so enticing! My own nipples and belly tingled.

"Now, Marty, we'll go to see my...dolls. I'm sure you'll be happy with them. You will appreciate me more every minute and I want you to abide with me, just like my other.... Come."

I walked alongside her, our arms about each other's waists, our hips rubbing lightly against each other's warmth. I enjoyed the sensation of my hips swaying against hers, the increasing fullness of my breasts. Mistress's breasts entranced me and all I could think of was how her nipple would feel under my finger and how she smelled and how her quim would taste. I was becoming less and less sure of who or what I was, or where, but that did not concern me, for it felt so good when she touched my breasts and my nipples hardened. I wanted to push and squirm my belly against her. I did not care what was happening, I just knew that Marguerite made me feel welcome and made me want to stay with her.

We entered a large room, I think on a lower floor of her home and I was momen-tarily astonished to see statues of what at first looked like very life-like material, each representing a still, nude, life-sized figure.

"Oh, there's a likeness of Sally!" I exclaimed, starting toward the figure to examine it. My voice was now pitched higher, yet it seemed quite natural.

"Yes, it's Sally. For quite some time she's been in my collection. Let her rest, now, Marta. My dolls. . . you're puppets really, you see, Marta. I control my puppets, you all do as I wish, but that doesn't bother you, does it?"

"No, Marguer...."

"I'm 'Mistress,' Marta, dear. You're a lovely part of my collection."

I could not quite understand, and my mind was whirling so that nothing save a strong feeling that what Mistress said was right made much sense to me. I felt very warm and happy, my belly almost burning, my inner thighs wet with my desire. I could feel my nipples tightening more as I felt increasing arousal.

"Me? Wha...? I'm...I'm Mar...ta, I am Mar...ta, Marta, yes, that's my. . . name. Mistress, I feel strange, have I been ill?"

Indeed, just then I had no memory of when or how I joined my Mistress's collection, yet I knew that I was a young and rather pretty blonde female puppet named Marta. I looked into a nearby mirror. I was standing provocatively, one hand on my belly, my other propping me up.

Marguerite's arms went around me, and then one hand dropped to my lower belly, brushing against the fuzz on my pubic mound, making me feel very strange, as though I wanted and needed something I could not define. Then she was massaging me softly, oh so softly. My pubes involuntarily pushed against her stroking hand. I felt a finger enter where not even my finger had entered before ...we dropped to a soft couch and lay close against each other. The odor of her skin was intoxicating, and I felt as though I were in heaven. Mistress spoke softly,

"Kiss my breasts, Marta. Suck gently on my nipples, I love the feeling so much."

"Ah, Mistress! You have the most beautiful breasts. I adore them."

"Yes, Marta, you will, always...and you will have many chances to kiss them."

My crotch felt very peculiar and very wet from the penetration of her finger. I wanted to rub my body against Marguerite. Indeed, her breasts were luscious, full, yet firm, with lovely areolas and large nipples, now standing upright, awaiting my eager mouth.

"My dear . . . ," Mistress murmured.

I bent my head and kissed her left breast gently, my tongue seeking her nipple which was waiting for my touch. I licked for a moment, and then sucked, at first gently, then harder. The nipple seemed to lengthen, entering between my lips so it lay rigid on my tongue. A liquid which tasted at first like milk, then something intoxicating, made me feel at the same instant euphoric and slightly dizzy. There was a tickling at my crotch which felt wonderful.

"There, Marta, you're doing well. Come now, love, kiss your way down my body. You'll like what you will find very much. Gently, dear. We have a long time."

After a slow, joyous journey with my tongue along her torso and belly, trying all the time to keep as much of my body as possible pressed against Mistress, I found my head between her smooth thighs, kissing them ecstatically her thick, soft bush tasted good to me, and I did what my mind told me would please me and Mistress my tongue licked along her labia, tickled her clitoris, and slid quickly and quite deeply into her juicy quim. The soft black hair parted easily, and imparted a spicy odor to my senses. Mistress's juices tasted divine. I placed two fingers, crossed, inside her and she squirmed with increasing passion as I sucked and tickled with my fingers. She hummed and murmured above me, and I was by now so enraptured that I failed to notice that my mind was entirely devoted to her pleasure.

"Now, dear Marta," she cooed, "you know how to make me climax and you'll enjoy your first orgasm with me. Dear, you're a wonderful, happy person."

I silently agreed with joy welling in my bosom.

My mind was in some faraway place, but I felt her quim pulsate, so I licked and sucked fast and hard at her clit until I tasted a flood of her juices on my tongue, and my brain whirled as I felt my body respond with a sudden convulsion in my quim and the ooze of juices which smeared over Mistress's calves. I had to hold tightly to Mistress Marguerite's squirming hips as she climaxed more than once, my fingers twisting inside her and my lips pressed firmly to her labia. My vagina spasmed again, then I was still for a second, and I felt something move inside me. I spasmed once more and ground my mons against Mistress's shin. My juices flowed freely down my thighs, blending with hers.

She slowly pulled me up along her beautiful body until I lay close against her, my pert breasts touching, pressing against her large ones, my nipples rubbing on her heavy ones, my inner thighs sopping wet. I moaned and clamped my legs around her thigh for the sheer pleasure it gave me.