April 21, 2012

Into the Dollhouse (Pt 1)

 Guess what? I write sequels.

The days were filled with desperate, wild sex, passionate and indulgent, more than he had ever thought he could take or give.  And yet, each time his beautiful Genesis reached for him across the cool, quiet darkness, silently beckoning to him and whispering sweet, lustful promises into his ear, Darry found himself ready, burning with a fever to consume her and bury himself in her, over and over.
He was losing weight—he was never hungry, except for her.  He was missing classes, he hadn’t spoken to his friends or even his family.
And it didn’t matter, as long as she was there.

Genesis was good to him: tender and gentle, supplicant and generous.  She let him do anything he wanted to, just as she had promised him—she let him put it in her mouth, in her pussy, in her cute, tight little ass.  She let him come wherever he wanted, on her face, in her hair, on her tits—she never said no, to anything he asked.
She’d brought him to an abandoned house off a dark little cul-de-sac, miles from his school.  Abandoned might not have been the right word for it—the rooms up above were filled with furniture covered in white sheets, and old, musty boxes piled up around windows with shutters closed and shades drawn.  There were quiet whispers up above, tittering ghosts of old memories… but nothing living there.
Below—in what might have been a basement, or a rec room for the previous inhabitants of the house—was Genesis’ real den.  No light came in from the high, tiny windows boarded over and hidden behind black drapes; what light there was came from candles in burners mounted on the walls, candles that Genesis kept lit somehow, even though he had never seen her strike even a single match.  The floor was covered in comfortable pillows of varying sizes, soft blankets and futons for reclining.  There was a bed, set in against the wall furthest from the windows, and it was huge: decadent and soft, Geni had covered it with the plushest covers and feather pillows.
This was where they made love.  This was where they fucked.  He sometimes thought he might be a prisoner in the bed, a prisoner with no chains or handcuffs or bonds or restraints—but it seemed there was never any reason for him to leave it.  He slept, and when he woke her delicate hands were tracing down the lines of his chest, to his waist; her cool, sweet, beautiful mouth was closing around his stiff, eager erection, the little pink petal of her tongue was lovingly adoring the sac of his testicles.
“How may I please you, Darry?” she whispered to him in the darkness.  Even in the low light of the candles, even with no light, he could see the glittering sparkle of her eyes.  He groaned to feel her wet lips around his head, and he delved his fingers into her hair, thrusting his cock deep in her mouth, fucking her hard until he exploded, surrendering his seed to her.  She never resisted, even when he gagged her; when he was done with her mouth, he sat up and took her by the shoulders, turning her away from him and lifting her buttocks so he could slip his still raging erection into the hot, slick heat of her perfect little pussy.
Sometimes she brought him fruit: round, crisp apples and plump grapes nearly bursting with sweet juice.  He ate when she fed him, delicately tracing the line of his lips with an apple slice and dipping it sensuously into his mouth.  Sometimes she brought strawberries, and he’d masturbate patiently while he watched her bite into one, letting the juice dribble down her lips, tracing the ravaged fruit across her breastbone and over her pale, pert breasts, painting herself with its nectar and moaning quietly.  When she offered him the remaining half, it was her permission, guiding his lips to her body to follow the trail of sticky strawberry-juice, licking it off her flesh in languid, indulgent strokes of his tongue, sucking the sweetness from her nipples and feeling them grow stiff and excited in his mouth.  He took the next berry and bit into it himself, sighing at the gush of sweetness that bathed his tongue, and he took his own fruit and painted it along the naked flesh of her pussy lips, dribbling the nectar and lapping it up, taking long, slow tastes of the mingled berry juice and her own delicious wetness.  He ate her pussy with relish, laving her moist petals with worshipful adoration, tracing his tongue along the quivering inner lips and kissing the small bead of her clitoris, hungry for her deepest, most primal and intimate parts.  He slid his tongue into her, curling it as he slipped it in her entrance and flattening it against the inner walls of her sex.  Her quiet, lovely little gasps of joy were like bells to him—he licked her to orgasm many times, drinking up her delighted arousal as though he were dying of thirst for her.
He asked her once if he could tie her up, and take her while she was bound and could not move.  She simply smiled at him, and the next night she brought him silk ropes to restrain her.  He bound her wrists behind her back and tied her ankles to separate bedposts while she was on her knees, and at the last moment he even tied her throat, a makeshift leash that he held fiercely while he fucked her from behind, jerking cruelly when she tried to make any sound but pleasured moaning.  He fucked her deep and hard, slapping her ass and bringing a bright red flush to her pale, beautiful skin, and she even cried out in pain—he snapped the leash, and she was silent, obediently surrendering to him.
He didn’t know why he’d even asked for the ropes, let alone why he’d felt so compelled to bind her and abuse her in the first place.  She took it with her usual eager obedience and he indulged in it greedily, fucking her and then leaving her bound until he got it up again to fuck her some more.  She submitted to his desire and did everything he said, licking the mingled juices of his come and hers from his cock when he had finished.
She liked to lick, and not just his cock.  As they fucked, she licked his neck, his face, his chest, his ears—she licked his thighs and the backs of his knees, licked his hips, sucked his fingers.  It was pheromones that guided her; she kissed him and sucked him, eagerly indulging in his salvia, his sweat, his come, lapping it up like a cat with cream.
He wasn’t sure how many days he stayed with her in the dark little lair she kept under the house.  All he knew was her beautiful face, her beautiful body.  He knew he desired things from her he had never desired before; he knew that she would do anything he asked and it made him wild.  His boundaries disappeared; his thoughts dissolved. 
He knew that whatever she was, she was dangerous and deadly, and she offered herself to his every wish; it made him drunk with unthinkable, erotic joy.
There was no cause to worry, then, when she made the offer to him.  They lay together after their night’s lovemaking, kissing with the strange, endearing affection that encompassed their whole unthinkable affair.  She was curled up against him, her breasts against his chest, her smooth, slender thigh stretched across his—he had fucked her every hole, left her sore and raw and filled with his seed, and yet still his cock stood at attention, brutally erect, eager for more.
“Darry,” she whispered to him lovingly.  “Darry, I’d like to ask you for something.”
“What is it?” he murmured between kisses, stroking his insistent hard-on with his free hand.
“That girl you were with when I met you,” she said.  “What was her name?”
It took him long, long moments to even remember what she meant.  There had never been any girl except her, had there?  When had he ever known any other touch, any other soft lips, any other warm, beautiful body.
Genesis grinned at him.  “You don’t remember her name?”
“Winnie!” he said as it dawned on him, like a far-away dream coming to light.  “Right, Winnie… what about her?”
“You have been lovers, haven’t you?”
“What?” he said—again, his brain refused to cooperate with the thought.  He had never desired any woman other than Genesis.
Her smile was soft, almost coy—he had to kiss her, hungrily pressing his lips to hers.
“I can taste her on you,” she whispered.  “Don’t you remember her?”
“Oh, yeah,” he muttered between kisses.  “In high school… it didn’t mean anything.”
Her eyes glimmered.  She said no more, and returned his kisses—her hand drifted over his, to his cock, and she took over the attentive stroking for him.
“I have a surprise for you, my dear one,” she whispered after a few quiet moments.  “Would you like to know what it is?”
“Oh, yes,” he moaned.  “Very much, Geni…”
“I have friends I would like you to meet.  My master, you could call him, and his sister.  They are very eager to… join us.  Would you like that?”
“As long as you’re there, I’ll like anything you tell me to,” he said.
She grinned, fingering that pewter pendant she wore, the only thing she never took off, even while they were together.
“Good,” she purred.  “You’ve made me very happy, Darry… you deserve a treat.”
He moaned softly as she slowly shifted her position, and took his cock into her mouth.

The next time he woke, Genesis was waiting for him by the stairs that led up to the main house.  She wore a pretty, knee-length tiered dress with a neat, square collar and short cap sleeves, and a smart little necktie.  When she smiled at him, he found he was instantly hard for her, and he got up from the bed eagerly, taking his cock in one hand.
“No, no, my darling,” she purred with a giggle.  “Not yet… you have to come upstairs with me first and meet my Master.”
“Oh,” he said.  He had forgotten.  An awkward moment of silence passed between them, when he wasn’t sure what to say.
Finally, he glanced around the room.
“Where are my jeans?”
“You won’t need them,” she assured him.  “Colt and Cleo will be more than happy to see you as you are.”
He raised an eyebrow—for the first time in days, his head seemed to clear a little, and a feeling of curious dread pooled in his stomach.
“Colt,” he said cautiously.  “That’s your… Master?”
“Yes,” she said softly.  “He is waiting for us.”
“He knows about…”
He glanced around them, at the bed they had shared night after night, at the room they had disturbed with their lustful congress.
“About this?”
“Of course he knows,” she said sweetly, grinning at him.  “Colt wanted me to bring you here, Darry.”
Reason seemed to return, and something in the back of his mind sent misty, creeping warning down his spine.  Then Genesis crossed the room to him, taking his face in both hands and giving him a winning kiss, driving the doubt from his mind.
“Sweet Darry,” she said.  “You will like them.  Believe me.”
The wary suspicion melted away, and he found himself reaching for her breasts beneath the gauzy material of her bodice.  She nodded encouragingly, taking his hands in hers and leading him towards the stairs.

No comments:

Post a Comment

What do you think?