His Master's Voice #2 (The Dollhouse Society) by Jay Ellison

Author:Jay Ellison [Ellison, Jay]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Courtesan Press
Published: 2017-10-20T23:00:00+00:00

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CHAPTER FOUR

He sent me back to the bedroom to wait while he showered alone. That was disappointing, but I understood his methods. It was the same as when I trained my clients’ dogs using the reward system. If I did well, I would be allowed more intimacy with Master, but if I failed him, I would need to make up for it. I was determined not to fail.

He returned to the bedroom fully dressed in pressed new clothing—the same dark navy suit I first remembered seeing on him. He wore a waistcoat with it, but no tie and his shirt open at the throat. It gave him a dangerously modern, yet dashing, look that made me hard just to see. His hair was newly washed and slicked back, and his chin had just enough razor stubble to make me melt inside. His cologne was soft and subtle, emphasizing rather than hiding his own manly scent.

“When we go out, I will choose your clothing,” he said, stepping into an adjacent room I suspected was a giant walk-in closet. When he returned, he was carrying a rather expensive-looking suit in dark grey linen and a button-down shirt. Not the kind of clothing I would have chosen, but this was for Master. His word was law. I started reaching for the shirt, but he took me gently by the wrist. “I will dress you.”

“Whatever you like, Master.”

“I like that. Say it again.”

“Whatever you like, Master.” I repeated. “Whatever you want.”

I shouldn’t have added that last, because, for the next five minutes, while he physically dressed me like a giant doll, I kept encountering the press of his partially erect cock against various parts of my body. Once he was done, he looked me over critically—and frowned, which surprised me.

“You are most certainly not a suit man,” he announced, and started to undress me. We went through a few more ensembles before he settled on a plain black tee, ultra-tight blue jeans, and a soft leather jacket with an Italian label I couldn’t pronounce. He finished me off with a thick, heavily studded leather belt and a necklace with what looked like the skull of a bird on it.

He produced a small array of makeup items and redid my black nail polish himself, then replaced my guyliner with expert precision. I could tell he had some experience and wondered if he’d been a lot like me, growing up. Some of his jewelry items suggested he had.

I didn’t mind being his dress-up doll. It felt really intimate in a way I had never experienced with anyone else. I wanted him to kiss me, to hold me down against his bed and plow his way into me, again and again, but he seemed in no rush to deflower me once more.

When he was done with the makeup, he ran a hand through my hair, letting the multicolored strands slide through his fingers, and smiled. It was the first genuine smile I had seen on him.

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