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. 
Mistress detached me from her legs and stood me upright effortlessly.
She spoke softly, "Marta, darling, are you happy?"

"I can be nothing else, Mistress," I said.