The Dollhouse Society: Isabelle (New Adult BDSM Erotica) (4 page)

“
Consort.” He offered me a smirk. “Arm candy, if you will. And no, that’s not code for anything.”

“Both of you?” I was finding it a little odd tha
t they didn’t each have high-class dates to bring—or escorts, or whatever men like the Michaels brothers took. I mean, they were doctors. Any woman in the city would kill to be on their arms.

Dr. Dorian set his notebook down in his lap. “My brother and I like to share.”

“Excuse me?”

“It amuses the investors. Two doctors who look alike. One date between them.” He shrugged. “It entertains the investors and loosens their purses. But if you’re uncomfortable…”

I thought about that. It was for a good cause. The American Cancer Society. And they were already paying me an absurd amount of money to do practically nothing. “No, it doesn’t bother me. It sounds like fun, actually.”

I smiled, and Dr. Dorian smiled back.

***

I’d found a little black cocktail dress on sale down at a thrift store on Market Street in the East Village. I’d thought it was really cute and sophisticated until I got to the house and saw
Damian and Dorian coming down the spiral staircase dressed in tuxedos that would have had James Bond panting. Then I started feeling totally underdressed and exceedingly poor.

I quickly e
xcused myself, locked the door in the downstairs bathroom, sat on the closed lid of the toilet, and speed dialed Stefan. “Oh god, I’m totally in trouble, Stef,” I said as soon as I heard him pick up. I touched my pounding heart, afraid I was going to have a coronary.

“What’s up? They didn’t pull something weird…?”

“No. They’re totally gorgeous, both of them. And total gentleman, as always.”

“So what’s the problem?”

“I’m…me.”

Stefan laughed. “You’re beautiful, Iz
zy Pop. I know because I put you together myself.”

“I’m not beautiful. I’m poor and
fat and totally out of my league.” I was breathing too hard, on the verge of hyperventilating and passing out. I hadn’t had a panic attack like this in months.

Stefan must have known because he
coached me, saying, “Breathe, Iz, breathe.”

“I’m trying!”

“Put your head down between your legs and breathe.”

I followed his instructions and took several long, shaky breaths. Finally, the nausea retracted and my fluttering heart seemed to slow
down from its frantic gallop in my chest.

“Where are you?”

“Locked in the downstairs bathroom.”

“Stand up and go to the mirror.”

I did.

“What are you looking at?”

“A really ugly, fat, poor girl,” I said, tears in my eyes.

“Iz,
listen to me: you’re a total knockout. You look like a princess, and nothing Clark did can change that. You were beautiful before and you’re beautiful now. Do you understand me?”

I breathed in and out, in and out. Stefan’s
words hit a chord. I heard similar things in my support group every week when we met up.

You did nothing wrong and you’re not to blame.

You’re beautiful and strong and indestructible.

What happened is not your fault.

You’re unbreakable.

“Unbreakable.”
I repeated those mantras we said to each other in the group until my tears subsided and I was calm and breathing normally once more. I looked in the mirror and slowly a veil lifted from my eyes. I didn’t feel ugly now. I felt almost pretty. I felt almost pure. Almost.

Stefan said in my ear, “Iz, still there?”

“Yeah, I’m here.”

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah, Stef, I am. I’m okay. I’m fine.” I patted at my makeup with a piece of toilet paper and even tried on a smile. “I’m good.”

“Good. Now go get ‘
em.”

***

I felt like Cinderella being driven to the ball. I sat on the seat of the limo with Drs. Dorian and Damian on both sides of me. I leaned back on the seat, sipped my champagne, and tried to act as casual as I could, even though there was some serious butterflies flitting around my stomach. The closeness of two beautiful men and their spicy, expensive cologne didn’t help much.

“I guess I should try and keep
my mouth shut, being the odd girl out and all,” I said.

“You’re free to be yourself,
Belle,” Dr. Damian said. “And if anyone makes you uncomfortable, just seek one of us out.” He touched my knee briefly, but it was a light touch, not sexual, comforting.

Dr. Dorian turned and slid his arm along the seat so I was sitting close enough to feel his heat.
It was a strangely possessive gesture. I never felt ill at ease with Damian, who always smiled and made jokes, despite his punkish exterior, but Dorian was another matter. If I had to peg the dangerous one, it would be he. He looked me over carefully, his eyes lingering on my dress, my neckline, everything. I always felt a little twitchy while under his scrutiny.

His hand brushed the back of my neck, raising goose bumps there.
“Nervous?”

I laughed. “Yes.” And then I blurted it out
. “The dress is just awful, isn’t it? Cheap. I look cheap.”

“I hadn’t noticed,” Dorian said. “You
wear it well, Belle. You wear everything well. You’re lovely.”

I wondered if he was just saying that to put me at ease.

He looked over at his brother. Damian whipped out a large velvet case that he presented to me like a suitor. My heart thudded at the sight, and when I opened it, I saw a long, thin gold chain with one of the biggest rubies nestled in a setting of white gold.

“You can’t say no,” Dorian said. “We simply won’t accept it.”

I blushed as Damian slid it around my neck, the ruby so heavy the necklace was weighed down between my cleavage. Damian kissed my cheek. “Not cheap at all.”

W
e reached the lobby of the building, where there was a valet to park the car. Damian and Dorian stepped out and Damian turned to help me from the limo. Both bothers offered their arms and I took them, feeling a little bit silly and a whole lot scared, and let them walk me into a crowded ballroom full of the filthy rich.

You could almost smell the money.
There were tables of h'orderves, a tabletop fountain full of champagne, a live string orchestra, and about a hundred of the wealthiest men and women in New York City. Chrystal chandeliers twinkled above, catching winks of light in the diamond necklaces and earrings that the women wore. It flashed in the depths of the heavy ruby around my neck.

I knew what to expect—the Michaels
brothers had tried to prime me—but I still held onto their arms with a death grip as we made the rounds of the room, introducing ourselves to CEO’s, VIPs, god knew who else. We met models, publishers, politicians and businessmen. I worked hard to remember names, but they soon started to run together for me.

Only a few people
stood out. One was a glamorous young model I recognized from runway shows and assorted fashion magazines. She’d been a pinup model for
Victoria’s Secret
only recently. “Is this your girl, Doctors?” she asked with interest.

“Veronica, you look marvelous…”
Damian began, kissing her knuckles.

“…and yes, this is Belle,” Dorian finished. “Belle, this is a very special lady. You’re to be her model.”

“What do you mean?”

Dr.
Damian looked to Veronica, who nodded her approval. “Veronica is an A-list model, but she had a double mastectomy a few months ago. Breast cancer, you see.”

She motioned at the bodice of her evening gown. “Falsies.”

“Oh,” I said. “Oh, dear god.” She was
so
young, little older than I was…

“
We plan to reconstruct her breasts based on your measurements.”

“Oh!” I said, feeling, as usual, rather foolish. So all
those notes that Dr. Dorian was always taking had a purpose, after all. He wasn’t just observing me out of some perverse pleasure. “I’m so sorry!” I told Veronica, but the woman laughed.

“Don’t be, hon. I’m a survivor, not a victim. And because of you, I’ll have a rack that’ll put me back in the catalogs.” She turned to the brothers. “You are rewarding this beautiful young woman for her contribution, are you not?”

“We plan to, yes,” Damian said with a smile and a wink my way. “We’ll be rewarding her for every contribution she brings to our work.”

Dr. Dorian patted my hand and leaned down, making me shiver slightly as he spoke in my ear, “
So now you see why we won’t take no on that necklace.”

I looked at Veronica. She was so beautiful
, so young and perfect. I felt honored to be helping her. I looked at my two employers. “You don’t need to pay me for this. I’m not doing anything. You and Damian are doing all the work.”

“We couldn’t do it h
alf as well without you.” And Dorian kissed me on the cheek, which made me blush.

The food was delightful, but I only drank water. I’d had champagne in the limo and didn’t want to imbibe anymore than that. I’d never b
een good with holding my liquor, and ever since Clark, I no longer drank anything suspicious in public.

Eventually, t
he Master of Ceremonies showed up and welcomed everyone, and then the string orchestra started up and I took turns dancing with the Michaels brothers. In-between dances, a tall, gorgeous Japanese man showed up with his date, a small, dark-haired girl not much older than I. They made pleasant chitchat with the Michaels brothers before the girl turned to me. “I’m Felix. Yes, you heard that right. And no, that’s not short for Felicity. Do you belong to Dorian and Damian?”

“What?” I said. “
Belong? No. I’m not their girlfriend or anything.” I laughed nervously. “Actually, I’m their housekeeper.”

“Ah,” Felix said, sipping on a glass of champagne. “I thought for sure you were part of the Society. You seem such a part of them
—exactly what they’re looking for.”

“Society?”

Felix frowned. “You’re not part of the Dollhouse?”

“Dollhouse?”

“So you’re not a doll?”

The Japanes
e gentleman stepped between us and took her hand. “Felix, my dear, I really don’t think we should be interfering this way in Damian and Dorian’s affairs.”

“Oops, my bad.” She grinned at me. “But if you
do
join the Society, we’ll definitely be best friends!”

The Japanese man dragged Felix
away even as she waved to me, and I watched the strange young woman with the even stranger name disappear into the crowd.

On the ride home
, I said, “What’s the Dollhouse?”

Dr.
Damian exchanged a meaningful look with Dr. Dorian, who cleared his throat. “That’s really no concern of yours, my dear.”

But now I w
as intrigued. “Felix said something about a Society. Is it like a secret club or something?”

Damian
smiled. “Felix, though a dear girl, talks far too much…”

“I of
ten wonder how Alex endures her,” Dorian added.

Again that psychic look passed between the brothers. Dorian nodded
his approval to go ahead and Damian added, “It’s a gentleman’s club.”

“Like…some kind of strip club?”

“It’s a gentleman’s club,” Dorian repeated.

I thought maybe I was starting to catch on. “You mean
like a sex club.”

They looked at each other and said in unison, “Yes.”

I was more than a little surprised. Both brothers seemed pretty…asexual. I never found evidence of girls being brought home, and there was nothing even remotely pornographic in the house. No porn movies, no dirty magazines. Then again, they were loaded, and Damian was a former rock star, so who knew what their sexual tastes were like?

“We’re part of what members call The Dollhouse Society,”
Damian explained. “It’s a very exclusive collection of powerful men and woman who keep trained courtesans or courtiers and show them off at Society meetings, though many of us do not have courtesans as yet. We still enjoy the Society and the pleasures it has to offer.”

“Such as…?” I prompted.

“Gentlemen and their courtesans or courtiers make love for the entertainment of the rest of the Society,” Dorian explained.

“Well, that…and other things,” Damian added with a mischievous smile.

“You’re kidding.”

They gave me a serious look I’d learned meant they were definitely
not
kidding.

“Felix said
she thought I was your doll…”

“No,” Dorian immediately answered. His face hardened and he indicated the limo. “
This
is not a primer for being our courtesan. We are not grooming you for the position, Belle, so you should stop worrying about that immediately. You’re our model, our housekeeper, and, we like to feel…”