The Dollhouse Society: Margo (4 page)

I ground my hips against him, squeezing him as tightly as I could with my inner muscles while he pumped up and up into me, slapping his balls against my ass, his whole body spasming with the work. I felt my third climax building and building, a big one this time. “Do you like this, Robert?” I gasped out. I knew now, in these last moments, that he would tell me the absolute truth.

“Sweet Christ, yes,” he gasped out in a hushed whisper as he held me in place. “You’re amazing, Margo. Simply, bloody amazing.”

“Come with me,” I commanded him. I wanted to eat him, whole and alive. I leaned down and sank my teeth into the side of his neck. I held him tight inside as my climax broke over us both. I dragged my hips up, dragged him up with me, and suddenly we were coming together, something that had never happened to me before with any lover I had ever had. He pumped into me once, twice, and my entire body convulsed around him as a deep, g-spot orgasm ripped through me like an electrical storm.

I had never been the lay-there-and-quietly-come type of gal, even as a teenager, and as my climax gripped me, I sank my nails into his chest and screamed my release against his shoulder even as my body milked him of every last drop. To his credit, Robert didn’t even mind the bite and scratch marks, didn’t complain about them at all.

Afterward, we lay side-by-side, entangled, with his softening cock still embedded inside me, both of us stunned by the experience. Robert clutched my ass and nuzzled into my ear, holding me in a way that made me feel both protected and desired.

I felt exhausted, exhilarated. “I’m glad I chose you as my courtier, Robert,” I told him sleepily.

“Yes, Margo. Me too,” he answered as we slowly drifted off to sleep in each other’s arms.

***

“Why not tell me about your new courtier?” Dr. Dmitri Nichvalodov said, narrowing his bright green eyes as he consulted his notepad. “Robert, right?”

“Yes, his name is Robert,” I told my old friend and the man who had been my therapist for the past three years. We sat in his comfy, luxurious office overlooking the city, in matching red pleather wing chairs with a small glass table between us. Dmitri never used a couch. He did serve black Russian tea in a silver samovar when I visited, though I didn’t think that was his usual shtick with patients. On the other hand, I was both more—and less—than a patient to him.

I’d started seeing Dmitri, a high-end sex therapist, right after Brent cheated on me for the first—but not the last—time, and then all through our messy divorce. It had started out as a way for me to channel my anger, but slowly, inch by inch, Dmitri had been able to excavate through the layers of emotional armor I’d developed over the years to the underlying problem. I still harbored a great deal of pain and anxiety from my attack when I was thirteen years old, I was a chronic control freak, I was terrified of being vulnerable, and I used sex to build walls around myself rather than tearing them down and letting someone in. At least, that was Dmitri’s assessment.

Dmitri was a good therapist and he and I were old friends. We’d even had a one-night stand, once upon a time, though it had ended badly. Neither of us could decide who should be on top. After quite a bit of fumbling around, we’d decided instead to go out and get some New York cheesecake. These days, Dmitri was engaged to a lovely young woman I had unfortunately never had the pleasure of meeting. I was still single, but we had remained in touch over the years.

Unlike my other friends, Dmitri knew all about the Dollhouse Society, but he certainly wasn’t about to judge me. He himself was a major shareholder in a massive sex club franchise called Surrender, Inc. It made talking to him about things like Robert that much easier for me.

“Robert’s simply lovely. We’ve been together two weeks now and he’s shaping up to be a very obedient courtier.”

“But just that?”

I sipped my tea and said, “What do you mean?”

Dmitri studied his notes, which he kept professionally angled away from me, before looking up and pointing his ballpoint pen at me. “You’re an interesting patient as well as an interesting friend, Margo. A true dominant. Not because of circumstance, but simply because this is how you’re put together. Yet, despite all your confidence, you still distance yourself from romantic entanglements. Thus, when you speak of Robert, he’s always ‘your courtier,’ and not ‘your lover.’”

I thought about his words. “You mean that even if I hadn’t sustained an attack, I would have turned out this way?”

“I’ve always thought that, yes. Some people are born dominant, and some submissive.”

“There are switchers,” I argued.

Dmitri tsked. “Switchers are just dominants in denial.” This was an old argument of Dmitri’s, but a subject he felt very passionate about. “However, you’re avoiding the source of the problem. As usual. Let me ask a different question. What do you hope to gain from your relationship with Robert?”

“A courtier, of course.” I folded my arms under my breasts. “I thought that was pretty obvious.” Few people could really irritate me the way Dmitri could, probably because we were so much alike. Two doms butting heads. It wasn’t a pretty sight. I frequently felt like I was arguing with myself, and I didn’t like myself all that much.

Dmitri made more notes. “But what’s your ultimate goal, Margo? Do you seek a real relationship? Or do you aspire to rise in the ranks of the Dollhouse?”

“There are no ranks in the Dollhouse. You’ve talked to Malcolm. You know that,” I said drily, and watched Dmitri’s eyebrow quirk up. I had long ago suspected that the Society and Surrender, Inc. were engaged in a kind of friendly rivalry in this city—the Society which was old, practically archaic, and working furiously to catch up to the new millennium, and Surrender, Inc., a newer establishment designed by a group of younger, more open-minded, individuals. If I hadn’t met Malcolm first, I might even have let Dmitri persuade me to join his exclusive sex resort.

“Still, you’re an extremely competitive woman,” he continued on. “Not unlike Malcolm…”

“Now, now, don’t go dumping on Malcolm,” I chastised my old friend. Once a month, Malcolm, Dmitri and their assorted friends met on the green and crossed golf clubs like the fierce alpha males they were. I wasn’t much of a golfer myself, and from all accounts, neither was Dmitri.

My therapist frowned. “Still, I have to admit his using you to forward more liberal views in the Society is somewhat discomforting.” He wasn’t using his therapist voice now; he was using his friend voice. “I care about you, Margo. I don’t want to see you hurt, especially with you being so vulnerable at the moment.”

I smiled at his concern. “I’m fully aware of the role I play in Malcolm’s determination to literate the Society from its more…outdated viewpoints. That’s not the reason I’m here, Dmitri.”

“Why are you here?” he asked in a softer voice, leaning forward.

“I’m having the dreams again. The bad ones.”

“Ah.” He made more notes, his face professionally blank. “Do you want to discuss them?”

“They’re not very specific, and no different from the ones I was having during the divorce. I’m usually looking for someone I can’t find, or trying to save someone I can’t save. I keep waking up angry about that.” I took a deep breath before continuing. In my darker dreams, I was always looking for a lost child or pet, something that was suffering and needing me. It left me feeling painfully vulnerable in the morning, a failure, though Dmitri always told me such dreams were perfectly normal, especially for people like myself, who found themselves in a position of power. “I don’t want to drag my anger into work. I’m having enough issues there without that.”

“What kind of issues, specifically?”

Over the remainder of my visit, I mentioned the missing funds, and the fact that we had had to bring in auditors and computer analysts to look over our whole financial system. I admitted it was keeping me up at night. We discussed his theories about doms and subs, and we wrapped things up with some light Dollhouse/Surrender, Inc. crossover gossip. Dmitri always managed to make me feel comfortable somehow.

He made a few more notes before standing up and flashing me a friendly smile as my hour came to an end. He kissed my knuckles before I left and told me, “I wouldn’t worry too much, Margo. You’ll figure everything out.”

That was another big philosophy of Dmitri’s—that he couldn’t give me the answer, only I could. His job was merely to guide me toward that.

“You always say that,” I laughed.

“I’m always right, aren’t I?” he laughed back. “Now go enjoy that courtier of yours.”

***

By the end of the following week, we still didn’t have any leads on the missing funds, but I was trying not to let that bother me too much. We could only do what we could do. A new account with a company that was a subdivision of Disney Studios lifted my spirits and boosted our activity…and our finances. That made me feel world’s better. And being with Robert was a more than welcomed distraction.

For the past two weeks, we had been meeting after work for dinner before going back to my apartment. There were days when Robert was my courtier and there were days when he was my friend and lover. I thought Dmitri would be proud of me.

On Friday, our accountant Adam finally had a breakthrough and I wasted no time couriering the information to Robert’s office and setting the file down on his desk amidst the storm of papers and ledgers there. The find had put me in a good mood, and I settled on the edge and looked him over, trying to decide if he was courtier or lover to me tonight.

“What do you have for me there, my pet?” he asked, perusing it overtop his reading glasses.

“The answer to our prayers. Adam found an offshore account where those missing funds were channeled into. Now it’s only a matter of time before we’re able to track the paper trail back to its source. Or, in this case, the computer trail.”

He spread his fingers overtop the file. “This is very good news,” he said, looking up. His eyes roved over me, at the way my dark pinstripe business suit clung to my curves. He touched me with his eyes the way he touched me with his hands and lips in the dark of my bedroom. His look immediately made me horny, like a butterfly touch over my whole body. “We should celebrate.”

“We should,” I agreed, my voice growling softly. “Robert, come service your lady.”

His silvery eyebrows bobbed up. “Now? Jesus, Margo, my secretary could come in any moment and the door isn’t locked.”

“Robert,” I said with a warning edge to my voice. Last night he hadn’t immediately obeyed me when I ordered him onto the bed and I had introduced him to my favorite martinet as a consequence. I was fairly surprised he could sit down today.

He smiled then and took my hand to kiss my knuckles. “Yes, milady.”

I braced my hands on the edges of Robert’s desk as he came up behind me and embraced me, palming my breasts and pulling me tight against the hardness of his body and the pressure of his quickly growing erection. He buried his face in the side of my neck, breathing in my scent and nuzzling against my ear. “What does milady prefer today?”

I told him as he kissed and nibbled along the slope of my neck. He touched me gently at first, going slow as he undid first my jacket and then my blouse so they both hung open, obediently listening for his instructions. He finally unhooked my push-up bra and then my breasts filled both his hands. He weighed them, squeezing my firm round globes, his thumb and forefingers pinching and teasing the nipples to hard beads until I gasped and drenched my panties. I rubbed my ass against him, against his incredible hardness, and he took his cue and slid his hands down my sides until he’d reached the hem of my short skirt. He pushed the fabric up my legs until it had bunched like a wreath around my waist.

Under my skirt, I wore only my black satin panties and pull-up stockings. I watched over one shoulder as Robert sank to his knees behind me and slid my panties down my legs. He gently cupped and massaged my ass cheeks before parting them. He nuzzled me there, his tongue tracing my seam. He flicked his tongue over my ass before finding my cunt. The moment he did, he was like some hungry beast. He sank his fingers deep into the firm flesh of my ass as he sought the wetness between my legs. I rocked against his mouth as his tongue found my quickly swelling clit, took it into his mouth, tugged on it. His teeth scraped me and I swore violently under my breath and said, “Slow down, Robert. I want to enjoy your service.”

He grunted and slowed down at my command, but only a little, lapping at my cunt juices, sucking at the folds of my labia. His fingers peeled back the layers there like the petals of a wet morning flower, and soon his tongue was deep inside me. He fucked me there with his tongue and I wound up biting the side of my hand to keep from screaming aloud.

I moaned as he sought out all my pleasure centers, wetting me back to front. A pleasurable aura of euphoria spread out from the places where he touched me, teased the juices from me. This time, when he sucked my clit between his teeth, he slowed down, gnawing on me gently, his thumb brushing a circle of fire around my ass, his thumb pressing inward briefly so I bucked under his ministrations and came hard, right in his mouth.

“Does that please milday?” he whispered as he found his feet. His voice was hoarse with his own bottled-up need.

“Milday is very pleased,” I told him. I took his hand and dragged his arm around me, sucking on his fingers. “Fuck me now, Robert. Sink that beautiful cock inside me and make me come.”