Virginia - Vol 11

[Content:] T4C, cis, lesbian, doll, strings, suspension, public, group sex, non-consent, brainwash, forced heterosexuality, dark magic

[CW:] Though it's not explicitly labeled as such, there is mention of rape (i.e. gang bang) in this section. Some language may be triggering to those who've experienced sexual violence. Reader discretion is advised.

[Spice Level:] Very hot

[Notes:] This is a pretty intense volume. It is a story told from a new narrator, and it involves dollification combined with forced heterosexuality (another huge kink of mine). This may not be for you, but this is a fantasy that I crave so strongly that I needed to put it into writing. Towel is recommended in case you start leaking ;)

[Summary:] Mme. Scarlet shares the memory of Simone, our narrator for this section. In the Roaring '20s, Simone encounters Mme. Scarlet at Le Moulin Rouge in Paris. She falls for Mme. Scarlet immediately - with dire consequences.

-----

[Narrated by Simone -- 1921]

Le Moulin Rouge is a gaudy place. The turning stiles of the Moulin are made of plaster, creaking slowly as they spiral without end. Everything about the theater is polished to a blinding sheen. It is sickening. But perhaps the show will be better than the décor.

Jean-Marc takes me by the arm and guides us to our booth. He smells of sweat masked with a musky cologne that I find disagreeable. But I don't tell him that. I have long since accepted my station as a voiceless wife - linked to a man for social capital. Nothing more. Nothing less.

The show is a perverse rendition of the story of Orpheus and Eurydice. A male dancer in nothing more than a leotard flits across the stage while Eurydice sits in silken lingerie in the lap of Hades. The swelling orchestra is sickeningly sentimental.

"C'est bien, non?" Jean-Marc asks, leaning towards me.

"I think it rather contrived, dear." I return flatly.

I am uptight this evening. The theater is hot and stuffy. But the ending to the show is not half bad. Tears nearly come to my eyes as Orpheus turns around, seeing his love for the last time before she is lost forever to the Underworld.

I know what loss is. I had a girlfriend once. A clandestine one. I wanted to travel to the ends of the earth with her. But convention wouldn't allow it. So, I bound myself to the first mediocre man I could and allowed my heart to grow cold.

In the lobby of the theatre, Jean-Marc wanders off to speak with his fellow councilmembers from the 8ième arrondisement. I lock eyes with a woman from across the lobby. She is leaning against the mahogany walls, smoke curling from a long cigarette. Her eyes are scarlet red.

For some reason I cannot explain, my feet move towards her.

"Enchantée, Madame..."

"You may call my Scarlet, ma chèrie," she replies, almost instantly. "That man you have tethered yourself to, he seems rather sickly and weak."

I try not to spit out my drink. Recovering my wits, I reply, "He is not what I wanted, but so often we cannot have what we want, isn't that right?"

Her eyes twinkle at my words. "And what is it you want, my darling?" Before I can answer, she pulls me close, her lips brushing my ear. A shiver of anticipation runs through me.

"I see how you look at him, my dear. You look at that withering man with nothing short of disdain. I know what you want." Then, she pulls my hand to her chest. I look around, panic taking hold as my cheeks flush. It seems the men are too busy with their drinks and conversation to notice us. Her skin is soft, and her breasts...

She pulls my hand into her bodice. My vagina begins to drip as my fingers caress her nipples. Coming to my senses, I pull away. "We can't," I say, scanning the theater lobby. My voice is barely a whisper. "But we can, my dear," she replies, her mouth pulling into a smile. "You crave a woman's touch. Do you think that thick-headed excuse for a man will even notice you're gone?" Her hand, hidden in a long silk glove, reaches for mine and she guides me out of the theater door.

--

"A wine cellar?" I ask, turning to her. "Yes, it is far removed from intruding eyes," Scarlet responds.

"You understand, don't you?" she says, her voice calm and compassionate.

"Yes, I do." I reach for her lips, but she presses a finger to mine then clicks her tongue. "Tsk tsk little girl. Be patient. I have something for you first."

She reaches into a black valise and picks out a harness. It is made of dark leather with a loop for the neck and breasts. I hold my breath, terrified and intrigued.

"Is that... for me?" I ask, trying to keep the excitement out of my voice.

"Yes, my darling." She tosses the harness and I scramble to catch it in my hands.

"Go on. Be a good girl. Try it on for me."

"Yes -" I begin, but she cuts me off.

"Yes, Madame Scarlet," she instructs.

"Yes, Madame Scarlet."

Jean-Marc never cares about how I look. He grunts and groans in the same monotonous tone whenever he fucks me. He is more a boar than a man. A hairy creature that consumes then discards me. But Scarlet is different. I know she is. She cares about me. She wants me to look sexy, to feel sexy.

I attach the chrome buckles around my waist, and Mme. Scarlet holds up a silver handmirror. My breasts bulge in the harness. The leather around my neck holds me like the yoke of some stock animal. I am gorgeous. I am... enticing.

"Aren't you just the most beautiful creature?" she asks in a singsong voice.

"Yes -" I say, but she again puts her finger to my lips.

"Try again."

"Yes, Madame Scarlet. I am the most beautiful creature."

"You'll need a name, dear. Do you remember yours?"

"Yes, it's -" but suddenly I cannot recall.

"Not to worry, my dear. I have a name for you. Repeat after me. Simone."

"Simone."

"From now on, you are Simone. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Madame Scarlet. Simone understands."

"That's my good girl," she says as she pulls me into an embrace. I feel something bulge from beneath her skirt. I try to remove myself from her arms, but she holds me fast. Mildly irritated, I raise my arms to push her away. Only, my arms don't move. Panic shoots through me. I try to back away, but my feet remain planted to the floor.

Suddenly, Madame Scarlet is laughing, her voice low and sinister. She rips the skirt from her waist, revealing a dark and curling cock. It is not a human thing. It moves like the head of a snake. With panic, I try to scream, but no words come forth.

Madame Scarlet clicks her tongue. "Now now, my dear. There's no need to struggle. Be a good girl and present that beautiful pussy for your owner."

Owner? What is she talking about?

Once again, Madame Scarlet shows me the mirror, and I see myself -- only I am not myself. The harness holds tight to my skin, only it is not skin. It looks similar, but there is a distinct wooden grain running along it. In a horrifying moment of lucidity, I understand. I have become a wooden marionette doll. Strings fall to the floor from my elbows, neck and knees. I am a doll, and she owns me.

"Oh, you won't open up for me?" My captor coos, "Very well." She tosses the ends of my strings over the rafters. Pulling dexterously on the ends, she suspends my body in the air like a puppet. She parts my legs and brings my thighs close to hers.

Her cock brushes over my clit, and a soundless moan of pleasure passes my painted lips. Maybe it is better this way. At least she has made me the center of attention. A beautiful ornament. A thing to be desired. Yes, it is better this way.

She slides into me, and my mind is blank. My whole body goes limp, surrendering its fight for volition. Madame Scarlet's forearms tense as she pulls the sets of strings, swinging me back and forth as my body remains suspended in air.

"Who's my pretty little doll?" she hums.

"Simone is your pretty little doll, Madame Scarlet."

After many hours, my owner relents. Perhaps she is done with me for the night. But there is still a dangerous twinkle in her eyes.

"Oh, by the way my darling Simone. Have you heard? There is another show at Le Moulin Rouge tonight. And you are to be the star!" Her tone is full of condescension.

"What do you mean? I'm not an actress. And it's already past midnight," I say, trying to dissuade her from whatever she is plotting.

She pulls me in close, then whispers, "All the better, my dear. I love a late-night performance. And you'll do so well for me. I just know it."

---

I am on the stage. The same stage where Eurydice sat on Hades' lap earlier in the evening. The seats are all empty. "Where is she?" I wonder.

I am suspended just barely above the ground. My strings float upward and disappear in the overhanging curtains. The theater is illuminated by floating red sconces along the sides of the hall. My mistress' magic, no doubt. There is not a soul in the audience. The stage lights are blinding, so I have to squint to make out my mistress walking down the center aisle towards me.

"Ladies, gentlemen and outsiders!" her voice booms, drawing closer. "Welcome to a special performance by our one and only Simone." My mistress ascends the stage, her heels clicking on the wooden steps.

"Simone is a sad specimen." She continues, addressing the empty seats. "A woman who loves other women. A poor soul caught up in an unrelenting world that denies her the very thing she covets most. True love." She grabs the ends of my strings from the side of the stage and hoists my body into a deep bow.

"That's a good girl, Simone," she says. Humiliation washes over me. But there is something else too. Anticipation. Desire. Perhaps I was always meant to be a doll. A plaything and performer to be used at the whims of others. Yes, this is what I deserve. Mme. Scarlet pulls me into a curtsy next, then straightens my body. At least I am the star of the show.

She walks over to me. "How are we to solve your problem, my dear? You love women, as do I. But this antiquated world does not permit mortal women to love one another, now does it?" She pinches my wooden cheeks, then looks into my eyes. There is wood in her as well. Her red irises are filled with the rings of an ancient tree. She truly must be a demon.

"We will simply have to condition you. I will train you, my dear Simone," my mistress coos ominously. She claps her hands, and my heart drops as a line of faceless figures enter the hall. They walk deliberately towards the stage like Mme. Scarlet's unholy vanguard.

They mount the stage and form a line behind my mistress. They are men of various ages and builds.

My owner places her lips to my ear again.

"I am going to train you to suffer the degradation of men. You will feel humiliated, you will feel nauseated - but eventually you will learn. You will learn to love being used by them."

She snaps her fingers, and the first one in line approaches. He lowers his trousers. I keep my eyes locked on Mme. Scarlet as she pulls my strings, opening my thighs. He thrusts into me as I continue to look at my owner. I tether my gaze to her, refusing to perceive the man in front of me. My eyes plead with her. "Don't make me do this - please," my eyes seem to say, but my mistress' devilish smile only widens. She pulls my strings to embrace the man. She curls my legs around his back while his cock penetrates my wooden pussy.

As he thrusts, Mme. Scarlet continues to speak melodically, "You will become a creature that craves the smell of them. You will love the scent of virility. The smell of sweat and dirt."

"But I miss your cock, mistress. Please don't make me suffer these inferior ones. I want your beautiful serpentine cock, no one else's." When did I become so desperate for penetration? And so picky?

At my plea, Mme. Scarlet motions the first man to stop. He backs away as she grabs me by the shoulders, staring at me face-to-face.

Her eyes are mesmerizing. I lose myself in the rippling pattern of tree rings. My thoughts begin to drift away.

"You are ungrateful, my dear. You have already been blessed with your mistress' cock, which is a rare honor indeed."

"Yes mistress," comes out of my mouth, though my mind follows the movement of the scarlet tree rings. "I have been blessed by your cock."

"And now you will obey."

"And now I will obey you, Madame Scarlet."

"You will take each and every one of these men's cocks inside your pussy. You will welcome them as they invade you."

My mind is numb. My voiceless lips say the only thing that my brain can remember, "Yes, Madame Scarlet."

My mistress resumes her position holding the ends of my strings as the next man approaches. He is scrawny and pale. Mme. Scarlet's voice continues to float into my ear as he thrusts into me.

"You will learn to love the smell of cum as it leaks from you."

"Yes Madame Scarlet."

The next man.

"You will embrace the joy of desecration, because it is your true purpose."

"Yes Madame Scarlet."

The cycle continues in mesmerizing bliss. My pussy begins to hum to life with each new cock. Their dicks come in all shapes and sizes. Some twist and curl, while others are straight as an arrow. Some of them push harshly against the walls of my pussy, others slither around with purpose. The folds of my vagina don't get sore as they did when I was made of flesh. I endure each of these men gracefully.

Each faceless man fucks me quickly and deliberately. Some grunt, others remain silent as they spill their seed inside me. The only voice that speaks to me is my owner's. She lifts my appendages gracefully, positioning me differently for each new cock. There is an artistry to this dance. And I am an elegant performer.

After two dozen men fill me, my mistress relents. She orders them to march out of the theater just as they came. They exit silently, diminishing into nothing. Mme. Scarlet ties the ends of my strings down. Then she comes over to me.

"You did so well, my dear Simone."

"Thank you, Mme. Scarlet. It is hard work, but I am learning."

"What are you learning, my budding flower?"

"I am learning my purpose, Mme. Scarlet."

"And what is that purpose, my dear?"

"To take cock inside of me whenever you say. I am a vessel to be used by anything and anyone, so long as it pleases my mistress."

She smiles broadly. "That's my good girl." She plants a kiss on my wooden forehead and a single leafy sprout emerges where her lips leave me. Then my mistress turns away. She walks down the steps by the stage, and my heart sinks.

"You're leaving me, mistress? Haven't I entertained you?"

She pivots on her heel for a moment, and says, "You have entertained me, yes. But I don't need you now. I may come back for you, or I may not. Besides," her eyes glow a dark red, "The thought of your husband coming to search for you excites me. What do you think he'll do if he finds you up there, suspended in the air? Wooden and voiceless?" I swallow shallowly, imagining the humiliation.

She turns and leaves the theater, extinguishing the red glow of the sconces as she departs.

My body hangs limp from my strings and my mind doesn't afford me the release of sleep. My thoughts drift to the performance before mine, when Eurydice and Orpheus danced across the stage. How Orpheus looked back at his lover, and how she disappeared, fading into the cold embrace of the underworld.

"Eurydice is lucky to remain below," I reflect bitterly, "There are even worse creatures that prowl the earth above."