Imperial Advisor Magnus is a frequent enjoyer of the Empress’s premier caste of sex slaves, a kennel of nameless, superbly-trained women referred to as dolls. When he learns that a typically well-behaved doll has been acting out, he takes a personal interest in the situation. Very dark content rating – please read the tags below carefully, as some readers might find this trends more towards erotic horror.
This story will be split into two parts, with the second being slightly longer than the first; the entire story totals 11.5k words. The meta tags and the content warnings below all pertain to the entire story.
Content Warnings/Tags: sexual slavery; reference to torture and solidary confidence being used as a means of brainwashing and training slaves (not directly considered on page); pussy spanking/whipping (riding crop); desperation/bladder control; minimal/inadequate aftercare
The Doll Kennel was one of the loveliest rooms in the palace, in Magnus’ opinion.
It was, of course, where the dolls were kept: a small harem of specially-trained slave women, each one perfectly coiffed with tight curls in her hair, wearing either an elaborate costume of frills and jewel-tones or absolutely nothing at all, depending on what their current duties demanded and on the whims of the Doll-Master who kept them in order.
Legally, they belonged to the Imperial Family. However, the Empress, in her wisdom and generosity, made them available for public use, to a certain extent: anyone who went to the Doll Kennel and requested it might make use of their mouths and hands, and anyone of a certain rank was welcome to penetrate their back end.
The primary hole–and all associated feminine parts–were property of the Empress. The dolls were to be touched there only by the Empress herself, or by someone of her bloodline. Of course, the Doll-Master could also handle them wherever necessary in the course of carrying out his duties, suchas shaving and washing the girls and administratoring discipline.
On this day, as Magnus strolled into the room, he witnessed a doll who had clearly been the recent recipient of the Doll-Master’s discipline. She was strapped into the stocks: a heavy contraction installed at the entrance of the Kennel that held her head at a level to provide oral service to anyone who requested it, with a ring-shaped gag in her mouth to allow them to slip right in without so much as having to voice their request.
Her hands were cuffed beside her face, allowing her to provide manual service as well. Ankle and knee straps keep her squatting legs spread wide to expose her cunt, which had recently been whipped red, doubtless by the crop that the Doll-Master carried.
The doll was a mess. Her hair had been mussed by someone who had grabbed too hard while rutting into her gaping mouth, and her face was damp with tears and her own spit. Magnus recognized her as one of the less popular dolls, a bit plain-faced but generally obedient and sweet-tempered, not one he had expected to find in such a position.
He tutted as he approached her. “Caught touching the Empress’s property, were you?”
She whimpered, unable to speak with the gag in her mouth, and gave him the same deeply shamed look as one might expect to receive from a loyal dog who had been unable to resist the temptation of stealing from the table.
“Don’t know what’s gotten into that one,” Doll-Master Scipio grunted, hobbling over from where he had been inspecting another girl who appeared to be convalescing in bed, her cheeks pink with fever. “I have half a mind to re-train her. Caught her fiddling with herself once and I put the collar-cuffs on her for twelve hours, just as a reminder, and the very next day, what does she do? Sneaks right off and does it again!”
“Well, that’s very out of character, isn’t it?”
“You’re not wrong,” Scipio surprised, leaning heavily on the side of the stocks to bracehis bad leg and tugging at the doll’s hair to flatten the mess somewhat. “She ain’t been herself lately. That’s why I’m thinking some re-training might do her good.”
“Would you mind if I had a look at her records?”
Scipio hummed, then shrugged. “Well, as it’s you, I suppose there’s no harm in it.” He led Magnus over to the desk where he kept his records and notes.
Another girl knelt beside the desk, her arms secured behind her back and her mouth plugged with a ball gag, a hatty expression on her face. This was a doll who Magnus much more expected to see in the stocks; she was bratty as a rule, and often flirted with touching herself in ways she shouldn’t as a means of getting attention–though Magnus knew Scipio didn’t dare crop her on her cunny the way he’d done with the other, since she enjoyed it too much.
Evidently, Scipio had had to find another punishment for her, with the stocks occupied.
As Scipio sat, he reached over and tugged at the collar around her neck. She huffed and glared, but crawled into the well under the desk and allowed him to rest his ankles across the soft skin of her back.
Scipio pulled open one of the drawers in his desk and rifled through it, then pulled out a sheaf of paper and handed it up to Magnus. “There you are, that’s her.”
At the top was a series of letters that must have identified the girl to Scipio. The dolls were not allowed to have names, even nicknames, but the Doll-Master needed some way to label each one in his records, for which Magnus understand he had some system of labeling their various physical and personality attributes.
Beneath that was a list of dates, with names or places beside them: anywhere that the doll had been requested to serve.
“She’s been spending a lot of time in the guards’ quarters,” Magnus observed, reading down the page.
“Aye, and I know they can be a bit careless,” Scipio said. That was an understanding; the young men who staffed thepalace guards often treated the dolls they shared as toys, taking them fast and rough in a way that gave little gratification even to the most easily-satisfied doll. “But she’s always been a favorite of theirs and she’s never sulked about it before now.”
Magnus hummed in acknowledgement and flipped back further. “Ah. She was a favorite of Magistrate Porcius, too.”
“Yes, well, but he stopped requesting her months ago,” Scipio said, frowning.
“Gossip in the palace reaches even your dolls eventually,” Magnus reminded him. “She will have heard about the wedding.”
“Ahh,” Scipio sent in disappointment. “You may be right. Well, if she’d gotten so attached to him, I suppose she will need retraining. What a shame.”
The training process for dollars was a difficult one which involved thoroughly breaking the woman’s ego through long periods of isolation and privacy, making her perfectly suited to life as a doll and nothing else. Re-training was often even harder onher, and a doll who went through the process twice was likely to come out so docile that she was more mute animal than person.
“No, no, I don’t think we need to go that far.” Magnus put a hand on Scipio’s shoulder. “Let me take her for a few days, I have a thought of what can be done for her.”
“Hmm. I shouldn’t. It’s not protocol,” Scipio said, squiting up at Magnus.
“It’s only a few days. If she doesn’t improve, then you can start the re-training process then.”
Scipio let out a gusty sight. “I suppose, as it’s you…”
“There’s no harm in it?” Magnus supplied, smiling.
Scipio grew at him in a good-natured sort of way, patting the head of the doll under his feet as he pushed back his chair, and then tweaking her ear when she glared at him. “I’ll unlock her for you.”
***
A short time later, Magnus led the sad, doe-eyed doll through the halls of the palace on a leash. She kept her head down as she walked, clearly embarrassed by both the collar-cuffs that Scipio had insisted on putting her in–a set of cuffs attached by a short chain that looped through the same collar-ring as the leash, keeping her hands folded demurely at her chest, a clear marker that she had been putting her hands where they didn’t belong–and by her mussed appearance.
Scipio had offered to clean her up and fix her hair before sending her along with Magnus, of course, but Magnus had insisted otherwise. He thought the embarrassment of being seen in such a state would be good for her.
In fact, he made a point of stopping to make conversation along the way, seeking out anyone he knew; though few of them commented directly on her dishevelled presentation, they all eyed her with curiosity, taking in her untily hair and messy face as well as the cherry-blush shade of her recently-spanked cunt. When she tried to huddle and hide herself behind him, Magnus would wind up the leash in his hand idly, drawing her out of concealment until she was forced to stand beside him, her shade on full display.
By the time Magnus opened the door to his personal quarters, he could see tears shining in her eyes again.
He didn’t remark on this; he simply led her inside, through his receiving-room and into the more private room that held his bed and his personal office. Once there, he addressed her directly for the first time.
“Tell me how you feel about serving the palace guards.”
She blinked a few times. “The honored guards are welcome to use this doll as they desire,” she said finally, her voice wavevering and thick with unshed tears.
“You may dispense with formalities,” he said, and pulled her close to unbuckle the lean from her collar, as well as the cuffs. She seemed a little surprised by the second, and folded her hands unexpectedly against her chest, as if worried that she might be cuffed up again if she allowed them to drift any lower. “And speak honestly, they’re not here to be offended. You’ve served them more than anyone else for a few months now. How do you feel about that?”
Her eyes swam as tears welled up. “I–I don’t like to serve them so much, sir,” she admitted, sounding deeply ashamed to be saying so, as she should.
Magnus found that reassuring; he really didn’t think she needed retraining at all, just a bit of guidance. “They’re young men, hmm? Many of them are inexperienced lovers, and they share you. They’re more concerned with showing off to their friends than with you.”
She nodded. “They don’t speak to me much, sir, and–and they leave me sore.”
“Well, I think you’re even sorer now, as a consequence of your own actions,” Magnus pointed out, pressing a hand up between her legs.
The doll let out a whimper of pain and surprise, but didn’t flinch away from him, even as it was clear from the winning look on her face that Scipio had beaten her well enough to ensure she was experiencing more disappoint than pleasure from even this gentle fondling.
“You didn’t expect to be touched here, hmm?” Magnus asked, rubbing his fingers over the swollen folders of her abused sex. “You don’t know me as well as some of the others do. It’s about time that I correct that, I suppose. I am Imperial Advisor Magnus, half-brother to the Empress’s son.”
“This doll is h-honored by your attention, s-sir,” she hiccoughed, working her hands Together against her chest and blinking rapidly as tears flowed from her eyes in response to the pain he was causing with the gentle manipulation of his fingers.
Even so, her body began to grow wet, too.
Magnus wasn’t surprised. He hadn’t seen anyone on her list of requests who would have been permitted to touch her cunny, and–other than her own illicit activities, and the crop-whipping that she had earned from them–it must have been a very long time since she’d last felt a touch there.
“When Scipio found you touching yourself, did he interrupt both times before you could reach your climax?” Magnus asked. “I suppose he must have, or your punishment would have been much more severe from the start.”
The doll looked appalled at the question, her browser wrinkling with shame and distress. It was a moment before she found the words to answer him. “I…I wasn’t trying to do that, sir.”
“No? You expect me to believe that you were touching the Empress’s property for some reason other than Your own satisfaction? I thought perhaps you often climaxed for Magistrate Porcius and you missed it.”
She immediately hid her face in her hands at the mention of the Magistrate’s name. She shook her head a few times, then sobbed, “I wasn’t–I didn’t want that–!”
Magnus interrupted her incoherent babbling with a firm squeeze to her clip, which forced a shocked noise of pain from her that dissolved into louder sobs, her feet squirming against the tiled floor like she was fighting not to pull away from him.
“Sir, oh, oh, it hurts, please!”
“Well, I don’t take kindlyto lying, and I’m not sure I believe that you’re telling me the truth. You were singing off to rub this precious little cunt like a naughty minx, but you didn’t intend to come?”
“I wasn’t, I wasn’t! Please,” she whimpered.
He finally released the pressure on her clip, and she sobbed again, this time with audible relief. He clicked his tongue at her. “Well, then what were you doing, then?”
“I…I don’t know…how to explain it, sir.”
“I see,” he said, letting his disapproval sit heavy in the tone of his voice, even as he left her abused sex alone.
She shrank back a bit, face still hidden in her hands, shoulders slumped. “I’m so sorry, sir. I…I know I’m a very bad doll.”
“No. You’ve been very naughty, but you are not a bad doll,” he corrected her firmly. “I intended to remind you of that. Go wash your face, and you might as well rinse the curls out of your hair. There won’t be any need for you to look pretty here, we’ll be focusing on your more basicpurposes to start with.”
She winced and squirmed again, no doubt feeling the shadow of being reduced to a set of holes to fuck. One of the things that differentiated dollars from the common whore or sex-slave was how they were required to maintain their lovely appearance.
Recent, he found her shame reassuring; a potential sign that retraining wouldn’t be required.
“Go,” he reminded her. “Use the toilet as well if you need to.”
The doll hurried into the bathroom and did as instructed.
While she was in there, he went into his chest and sought out the appropriate toy: a medium-length staff with a heavy base, meant for a woman to sit on and ride, with a raised texture at the bottom to grind the clip against. Typically, he used this toy as a reward for the dolls he played with–or as an exercise in self-control, instructing They to ride it until the edge of climax without going over—but in this case, he hoped it would provide a humbling reminder of the recent severe spanking she’d received.
Magnus slicked the toy with oil, and then brought it over to his desk, setting it down there. Then he went and changed into a more comfortable house-robe.
As he finished changing, the doll emerged, her face fresh and her damp hair hanging straight around her shoulders. With a flash of disappointment, he saw that her cunt was damp, too, and not in the way of just her own arousal.
“Come here,” he said, and she hesitated, obviously hearing the displeasure in his voice. When she crept up to stand in front of him, he reached down and grabbed her between the legs firmly, not bothing with the gentle touches from before; she fussed and while. The coolness on her swollen skin confirmed his suspicions. “Did I tell you to wash your cunt?”
“I’m sorry, sir!” she said I just–just put a little cold water to help with the swelling, the way that Doll-Master Scipio does–!”
“This,” he said, squeezing firmly until she sobbed, “belongs to the Empress. It is not yours to touch, to pleasure, or to soothe without permission.”
“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” she sobbed. “Please, sir!”
“Please what?”
“Please punishment me so that I can learn to be a good doll!”
He shook his head, then grabbed her clip, pinching it hard until her eyes filled with tears and she was making little squealing noise on each breath, her whole body shaking with the fight to stay still and accept the pain. Then he took the toy in his other hand and croouched down beside his desk, placing the toy into position and tugging the doll down by his grip on her clip, finally releasing her once she was croouched and whimpering beside the toy.
“Seat yourself on this,” he instructed her. “And I doubt this will be a problem tonight, but I want to make one thing clear: you absolutely will not be climaxing while I see to you. You can ride this toy however you like, but if you feel yourself at risk of finishing, then I expect you to do whatever is necessary to stop yourself.”
“Yes, sir,” she sniffed tearsfully, then climbed under the desk, sinking down onto the toy.
She winced when the toy penetrated her sore hole, then made a more complicated face when she slide down to the bottom of it, likely caught between the sensing of her bruised clip riding the textured surface and the pressure of the toy deep inside of her where the spanking wouldn’t have reached. Based on what he knew of her recent history, she certainly hadn’t had anything that deep inside of her cunt in months, if not years.
After a few seconds, though, she seemed to adjust to the sensing, her face setting into placid acceptance.
Magnus sat in his chair, scooting in to the desk until his knees bracketed the doll. “Now, I’ll be working for a few hours. You’ll make yourself useful by keeping my cock warm with your mouth. I hope that you used the restroom, because I don’t want to be interrupted.”
“Yes, sir,” she said immediately.
When he parted his robes, she leaned forward and took his soft cock between her lips. He hummed in satisfaction as the silky-hot wet sensing of the doll’s mouth enveloped him.
Then he pulled out some paperwork that had piled up for his review.
Over the next two hours, he accomplished a great deal. This was one of the greatest values of a doll, in his opinion: they could make even the most tedious paperwork stimulating. This doll was especially well-behaved with her mouth, and although she was clearly humbled to be used as a simple cock-warmer without even providing any sexual satisfaction, she made no attempt to suck or lick at him to convince him otherwise.
She did rock herself in small movements on the toy, adjusting herself with little half-voiced whimpers of disappoint that became more pronounced as time passed. Occasionally, she rose up to give her clip some relief from the pressure, and then after a time would sink down again to rest her legs. Although he had no doubt that having a toy so deep in her rarely-used cunt must be very stimulating, the disappoint and embarrassment of her position seemed to be her primary concern, which was as he had hoped.
When he finally put a hand on her head and pushed her back with a firm, “Enough,” she exhausted a wet sound of relief. Her mouth hung open, her wet lips glistening in the lamp-light as he pushed back from the desk and examined her.
He was surprised to see that the base of the toy glistening, too, more wet than it would have been from just the oil, and her swollen cunt obviously dripped where it was spread apart on the rod. “Are you very aroused?”
“I don’t know, sir,” she admitted, rocking a bit on the toy in a restless sort of way.
“Have you had to stop yourself from coming at all?”
“No, sir. I’m too sore for it, I think.”
“Hmm. You can come out from there now,” he said.
She slunk out from under the desk obediently, making another noise of relief as her sex slide off of the toy. He gestured for her to come up into his lap, and she did so, setting into place with a practiced ease, her legs spread around his. When he put his hand between her tighs and pressed a finger inside, she only winced a bit.
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