The Witch's Dollhouse Pt. 05 - Finale

It was, needless to say, extremely uncomfortable.

The tongues swirled inside him, ran across his gums, bullied his tongue and filled him with thick globules of saliva, pouring it directly down his throat.

Not all the tongues could fit inside him however and what didn't spilled out over his face, tasting every available inch and coating him in a film of spit -- as if to mark him as the Amalgam's property.

It was like that for hours. Tossed and tumbling, one half teased by the Amalgam and the other half prey for the dolls. Eventually the Amalgam simply spat him out and left abruptly, leaving him to the mercy -- or lack thereof -- of the dolls, the skylight's rays now no longer a light of hope but a mockery of his attempts to escape.

There were others after that but they were quite mundane and ended pathetically.

And any active resistance resulted in some heavy punishment.

At one point he had had enough and had armed himself with a fire poker from the living room, attacking the dolls on sight.

He'd damaged maybe two or three before he was inevitably stopped, every doll in the mansion had gathered around him, removing his legs but keeping his arms for some reason.

They didn't attack him or engage him, just stood around him, a somewhat thunderous expression clouded their features it was a look they had never given him before and it terrified him.

But what terrified him more was the familiar wooden boxes they were waiting on, packed with attachable faux dicks that they withdrew from their containers.

Phil anticipated in fear the sudden jolt of electricity when they fixed each genital to his body but it never came. Instead it was far worse.

The dolls, each with a grin, affixed to their groins a phallus of their own, eyes rolling back into their heads and bodies spasming violently as the flesh merged right above their cunts.

When the feeling passed, they stalked over to the subject of punishment as Phil scrabbled backwards in pure terror.

Two dolls guided his hands to each of their dicks, his grip was loose at first but it tightened immediately when another doll inserted herself into his ass, eliciting a squeal from either doll.

Phil himself screamed from the sudden intrusion but the noises he made were quickly muffled when another cock slid into his mouth and plugged up his throat.

The two dolls spitroasting him began to violently jack hammer their hips against him, heedless of his well being and filled only with a desire to fuck his brains out. At the same time his hands were forced into motion by the owners of the cocks he was forced to fondle, guiding his hands up and down their magnificent shafts and striking him hard should he fail to comply.

As the pistoning reached it's zenith both of Phil's holes would forcefully consume load after load of bitter cum before a new cock entered and stirred it up before it could leak out. Some of the cloudy seed was sprayed onto his body by impatient dolls -- who had begun to vigorously stroke themselves in the wait -- or the two cocks that were getting off on his own hands.

Doll after doll took their time disciplining the poor young man even long after he could taste nothing but the thick warmth of their fake genitalia coating his mouth. They even upped the intensity when multiple girls plunged their dicks into his poorly fitting anal cavity, stretching the hole to widths it shouldn't naturally aspire to reach. When he became to preoccupied with the torture to efficiently jack off his assailants, they removed his arms and did it themselves, spurting load after load all over him in their own rhythm -- a ceaseless discharge from all angles.

Some had taken to wear him like a cock sleeve, sliding his body onto their dicks until he had taken the whole thing to the base. Another would then lie on the floor, her womanly gates spread open and inviting him in.

He would end up sandwiched between the two, his dick slamming deep inside the bottom doll only through the immense force behind the top doll's hips crashing into his rear, spearing his insides with her own phallus.

One would slam into him and he, in turn would slam into the other, it was less like he was fucking one and more like they were fucking each other with him acting as a proxy. At the time of climax all three of them shared the moment, collapsing into each other as sticky warmth linked them together. Philip would then be impaled upon a fresher dick and then forced inside another hungry cunt, the ritual continuing until every doll was satisfied in both manhood and maidenhood.

It was after this incident that Phil had fully given up and consigned his mind, body and soul to the dolls, waiting his fate in the immortal mansion.

Now here he was, lying on a familiarly soft bed in a familiar red room.

It was the Witch's room, a room he was barred from entry ever since his fateful meeting with the purple eyed succubus, the door to which refused to permit him no matter how hard he threw himself at it.

He couldn't hear any noise from behind the wooden door but he knew she was still inside, he could feel her.

Specifically he could feel her riding his dick.

Throughout his time in the mansion, one of two constants that were his companions for sanity was the ever persistent feel of a phantom warmth pulsating around his cock, the link between his soul and body remained strong as he felt the young witch's walls quiver around his shaft as she bounced on his length, the feeling of intense warmth when she orgasmed around him, it never left him even when coupled with another doll.

Indeed, the feeling stood out even when drowning in a crowd of wanting dolls.

That feeling still lingered as he got up, his vision returning as the blurry world sharpened into focus when he took in his surroundings; the giant mirror to his left, the oversized wardrobe to his right, the desk, the river blue carpet, the canopy and the painting of his ancestor gazing down at him. He noted the look should have been one of love or kindness but from where he lay, it appeared more pitying than before.

He didn't bother thinking how he got there, he had an idea. It was the other constant of his new life: upon occasion he would suffer blackouts, always while in the act of being violated.

Though his body was restless his mind wasn't so easily altered and the excessive burden of immense pleasure every day seemed to overload his brain to the point of blacking out for a brief period.

They only served to confuse him more and more, when kissing a doll with another bouncing on his cock only to blink and have the lips replaced by a nipple and the plump ass become a mouth and a winding tongue or for day to shift into night within a few seconds.

It was perhaps his brain's attempts to compensate for no longer being burdened with the need for rest, the experience likened to a dreamless sleep in a way. It was also likely what the other dolls went through when they were fully satisfied after being fucked, collapsing into a twitching pile that would get back up after a moment.

He must have been carried up to the room during one of these episodes but for what reason?

As he pondered that, the door opened and the familiar petite form stepped in.

She had changed in a velvet blue dress that tightly hugged her body, the deep azure stood out from the lighter shaded floor and an equally deeply coloured purple shawl draped over her shoulders. The dress simple and lacked any extravagant lettering or expressive patterns, relying only on the beauty of the wearing to bring out it's elegance.

Her raven black hair trailed the floor behind her like the last time he saw her, her lips were marked rouge red and her eyes glowed the same spellbinding violet that ushered a paranormal tranquillity over him.

She strode to the desk and sat at his bedside, looking down at him with an unconditional affection, far less feral than the other dolls.

"It is so lovely to see you again my love."

She reached out to stroke his face and he let her. He didn't resist, the rebellious flame inside him had all but flickered out now, instead he melted into her touch.

She seemed to like that.

"I'm so proud of you" her birdsong voice whispered "You've finally accepted us into your heart. Now our eternity together can truly begin."

He looked up at her eyes and smiled at her. He tried to get up but his muscles seemed content to let him lie there, in the soft mattress, under Cecilia's gentle gaze.

"Do you know how much time has passed since you came here?"

Time? What was that again? Such a silly word...what did it matter, was it important?

"Oh you silly little fool. Only a year in this estate and you've already banished the simplest of concepts from your mind."

Her giggle illuminated the room and warmed his soul. He felt like she said something important but he couldn't focus on it, just her.

Maybe it wasn't so important after all then.

"But maybe it's ok now? For us to finally come together? I thought I could be satisfied with just your body but...I want more. I want to hear your voice, gaze into your eyes, taste your breath on my lips, feel the warmth of your soul..."

She looked at him with wet eyes and pouted lips, her question a mere breeze -- private and solitary, for his ears only.

"Can you forgive such an avaricious woman?"

Philip forced every ounce of strength in his body to resist the comfort imposed upon him. All his strength just to nod his head, his expectant eyes watering with the effort to just do this one simple thing.

He collapsed back into the bed and Cecilia beamed at his answer, her genuine happiness was like a cure for any ailment, physical and spiritual.

"Then...I have a surprise for you"

She got up and bounced over to the wardrobe, unable to contain her joy in her step.

She swung upon the immense wooden doors and dragged into the open a statue. His statue.

There was something odd about it though, the proportions were off -- something else was attached to the figure.

He recognized it immediately, how could he not? He turned to his mistress, his lover, his wife as she removed the shawl to reveal her ball connectors where shoulders should have been.

Standing before him was a doll containing the soul of the witch, her body had remained a part of the statue she had been riding since it all began for Philip.

The edit appeared natural, like it was always a part of the original statue -- her legs locked themselves around his body's waist to support herself, her hands clung to his neck while her abdomen swallowed his groin to the root. Their lips were pressed together and her long, raven hair was wrapped around their limbs as if to fully bind the two figures together.

Cecilia crawled on top of her beloved, sitting on his cock and trapping it under the fabric that refused to hide the curve of her buttocks.

She looked bashful, nervous but underneath that her eyes burned with an intense want.

"I...wanted to be closer to you...I can still feel your wonderful girth inside me, but I want to be closer to you as only a lover can. I want to spend the rest of my eternity in your embrace, hearing your voice and availing myself of your love."

Philip's mind, beaten and exhausted after a year of sexual torment...no -- heavenly love, couldn't bare to reject her a moment longer.

"I...love you..." he croaked.

Cecilia froze in place, she looked shocked, like she had heard something simply inconceivable.

Maybe he said it wrong?

"I love you" he repeated.

Cecilia leaned forward as if if expecting to have misheard him, her beautiful eyes appeared shaken and confused, her breath caught and her hands tightened into balled fists on his chest.

"I love you"

He wanted to repeat it as much as he could, to prove that she didn't mishear him, to prove that he wasn't saying it wrong.

Tears pricked her eyes and fell onto his face, she smiled as she cupped his face and brushed them away.

"All I ever wanted..." she sniffed "was to hear those words from...that voice. To see...those lips *sniff* form those exact...*hic*...words. To hear...hear him...you...tell me that..."

She took a moment to compose herself, wiping her eyes and controlling her breathing before addressing him again. Mascara ran from her reddened eyes and a strong blush over took her normally pale face, she must have wanted to look good for this moment, for him.

The thought made him happier.

"That was...all I ever wanted...for the last 200 years...But more than that, I'm so...so happy to know that those words come...from the very bottom of your heart."

"I love you"

"I know..." She whispered, her lips now a hair's breadth from his own. "And I've never stopped loving you..."

They kissed, gently at first but gaining intensity quickly, what started as only lips-deep suddenly became a full on french-kiss.

Their tongues probed each other, dancing and twirling around one another before exploring each other's gums, tasting the other as if drunk on their presence.

Though Philip was still unable to move himself, Cecilia had no such constraints and couldn't keep herself from touching any part she could. She ran her hands through his hair, pressing against the back of his head to pull him deeper into her kiss. Her legs tangled around his own as if like a serpent coiling around it's prey to prevent escape and her butt rubbed against his penis, the thin fabric of her dress did very little to hide the curves of her body and felt pleasantly smooth against his skin.

Cecilia moaned deep into his mouth and Phil closed his eyes, accepting the comfort of the moment and letting himself drown in her love. After a short while like this, he opened his eyes

and the tongue in his mouth had become a nipple, the saliva he had tasted had changed to something more viscous and milky and the confort of the bed became the comfort of hundreds and curvaceous bodies pressing against him in the dark.

The skylight filtered sunlight into the basement revealing Philip kneeling upright on the giant bed set in the centre of the room, surrounded by the copies of Cecila crushing him between their sweaty bodies.

Even in his confusion, he was aware of one spreading his cheeks to taste his asshole, two stroking his cock and one playing with his balls. There were two others at his side, their breasts pressed against his face with one positioned in his mouth, his hand was wet from being trapped under their sopping wet cunts.

The other dolls surrounded the bed, wailing from impatience and also from excessive masturbation as they waited their turn. Phil's sight was blocked by the enormous breast pressed into his face and when it was removed, another would take it's place and he'd gladly begin suckling on the hard nub in his mouth.

Eventually he noticed her: a young girl, not a doll, with dark skin and darker, frizzy hair bound upright to a wooden frame, naked except a gag in her mouth and bulging white panties stained grey and yellow from obvious liquids.

Her eyes looked scared but her body betrayed her morbid fascination with the scene in front of her.

Phil wasn't sure if he remembered seeing her before but then again he couldn't recall every day spent in the mansion.

Maybe she'd been there to witness many of his orgies in the basement or maybe she was a new captive of the mansion, lured there by rumour and Cecilia's spell.

Either way, it did not appear as though she had long before the artificial love grown inside her dominated her heart and soul.

Strange how accepting he felt towards what he once considered abominable. What changed?

He pondered this change only for his thoughts to be snatched away as his dick was snatched into the valley of a doll's voluptuous cleavage, her voluminous breasts packed against his cock on either side.

Another doll rose up to his face and joined in the efforts to smother him under her own chest, fighting to feed him her wet nipple against her other competitors.

Phil's vision was darkened by pink flesh, his eyes blinking against the sweat rolling down their skin

only to open next to a pair of ass cheeks pressing against his face.

A sweet aroma stifled the air he breathed and a sweeter, smoother liquid than the breast milk he had previously tasted was trickling down his throat.

He was lying down now, a girl sitting on his face and another unmistakably clamping her pussy around his dick while several other bodies rubbed against his own.

The pressure on his face steadily increased and he found himself accepting it, gratefully lapping at the gift pouring from the folds of the pussy that was fastened to his mouth.

He felt the weight shift in time with his movements, the quivering walls of her pussy contract around his tongue as if to squeeze it deeper inside and the femcum becoming creamier and thicker with arousal.

Eventually the doll slid off his face, collapsing into a panting mess and Phil got a good luck at his surroundings.

The room was brightly lit, it appeared to be another bedroom like the rest and packed within were 10 other dolls.

A familiar redhead was rubbing her smooth crotch on his left arm, her rear facing him, while his hand was deep inside the holes of a dark-haired doll. His right hand gripped the cheeks of a petite blonde who was leaning over to lick his nipple along with a doll with curly ginger hair. A green-eyed and blue-eyed brunette each sucked on his toes, a gold eyed doll with braided hair fondled his testicles while the honeymooning doll impaled herself on his shaft in rapture.

A shadow descended over him as the muscular barbie set her powerful thighs on either side of his head and fell onto him, sealing her slit with his nose as his tongue trailed the seam between ass and vulva.

They all worked their hardest to satisfy him and he loved them all for it. They weren't his wives and Cecilia would never accept them as mistresses, but he couldn't help but love them from the bottom of his heart.

The bodies on him all squirmed and wriggled, getting off on any numerous little things, he felt the pussy of the bride squeeze around him as she blasted volumes of clear liquid onto his cock and he, in turn, filled her to the brim with his hot cream. Likewise the barbie straddling his face intensified her grinding, gripping his hair and pulling him as deep as she could before unloading her orgasm onto him by the bucketload. His vision blurred as she clamped his head inbetween her thighs like a vice, pushing her leaking snatch to his lips for him to eagerly gulp down her essence.

He felt another girl, the one he brought to climax before, push the athletic body off of his face and draw him into a kiss, mixing saliva with cum for a messy combo.

All the while Phil's vision continued to blur as shapes moved about and sensations flared up around his body until eventually he

heard Cecilia's wonderful voice call him out of oblivion.

"Is something the matter my love?"

He managed to focus again, returning to the red room and to the gaze of his loving mistress.

She lay on his naked body, the top half of her dress was pulled down to free her breasts, now pressed against his chest, while the bottom half had a slit ripped into it to offer her legs more freedom.

Her hair sprawled out across the bed frame, tangling with his arms as if ensnaring him and framing her eyes behind a curtain of ebony as she looked up at him in concern.

Phil waited to get his bearings before speaking.

"I was...somewhere else..."

"Somewhere...?"

He nodded then looked around. "I...don't understand...I was..."

After a moment, Cecilia sat up and looked at him carefully. She then sighed deeply and smiled as if in a mixture of relief and disappointment.

"Honestly, I had a feeling there would be some trouble."