Chapter 38: Chapter 38
Tamar, Mariska, Miriam and Kirsty walked in through the doors of Victor's club. Tamar and Mariska looked round in wonder at the luxurious foyer, with it's marble floor. "What are those for?" Asked Mariska, pointing to the empty pedestals that were scattered throughout the foyer and in alcoves along the walls. "You'll see," said Miriam, with a mischievous grin.
And just like that, Laura appeared, striding towards them with a wide smile. "Welcome, welcome!" she exclaimed, her arms outstretched. "I'm so glad you're finally here. I've been dying to meet you both." Mariska and Tamar exchanged a surprised glance, caught off guard by Laura's warm greeting. "You have?" Mariska asked, her voice hesitant. "Of course!" Laura replied, linking her arms with theirs and leading them further into the club. "I've heard so much about you from Kirsty and Miriam. I feel like I already know you." Tamar blushed at the compliment, feeling a flutter of excitement in her stomach. "Thank you," she said, her voice soft. "It's nice to meet you too." Laura led them through the club, pointing out various features and explaining how things worked.
As they passed through a set of double doors, they entered a large room. "This is the main bar area," Laura explained. "And here," she said, turning to face Tamar and Mariska, "are your badges." She pulled out two lanyards from her pocket, each bearing a name tag with "NOT FOR GUEST USE" printed in bold letters. "Put these on," she instructed, handing them over. "This way, everyone will know that you're not available for...special requests." Tamar and Mariska exchanged a glance, each slipping the lanyard over their heads. "Thank you," Tamar said nervously, "and thanks for letting me and Mariska work here for the night". Laura smiled at her, giving her arm a reassuring squeeze. "No problem, hon. Kirsty said you're considering becoming a doll slave, you should get an idea of what that entails before you make up your mind. Now, let's get you two set up behind the bar," Laura said, leading them towards the expansive wooden counter that stretched across the length of the room. Kirsty was already there, polishing glasses and arranging them in neat rows. She looked up as they approached, a welcoming smile on her face. "Hey, guys! Ready to dive in?" she asked, gesturing to the array of bottles and glasses behind her. Tamar and Mariska exchanged a glance, both feeling a little overwhelmed by the sheer amount of alcohol on display. "Uh, sure," Mariska said, her voice hesitant. "What do you need us to do?" Kirsty grinned, "Don't worry, I'll guide you through it. Let's start by setting up the garnishes." As Kirsty began to explain the various stations behind the bar, the sound of heels clicking on the marble floor echoed through the room.
The double doors swung open, and in walked a group of stunning women, each more gorgeous than the last. They were dressed in an array of provocative outfits, ranging from lingerie-inspired dresses to barely-there negligees. Kirsty grinned at Tamar and Mariska, "Ladies and gentlemen, the main event has arrived. Welcome to the real stars of the show - the club's doll slaves." As the women approached the bar, Kirsty turned to Tamar and Mariska. "Ladies, meet our family. Girls, this is Tamar and Mariska, they're new here tonight." The doll slaves greeted them warmly, their eyes sparkling with curiosity. "So, what can we get you all to drink?" Kirsty asked, pulling out a notepad. The doll slaves exchanged glances, then one of them, a busty blonde with a mischievous grin, spoke up. "I'll have a Sex on the Beach, please." The others laughed, and soon they were all placing their orders. "Make that two," said another, a petite brunette with a sultry voice. "And I'll have a Screaming Orgasm," added a third, a curvaceous redhead with a wicked smile. Kirsty jotted down the orders, her pen moving swiftly across the page.
"Alright, ladies, let's get started," she said, turning to Tamar and Mariska. "Tamar, you're on Sex on the Beach duty. Mariska, you've got Screaming Orgasms. I'll handle the rest." Tamar and Mariska exchanged a glance, trying to suppress their giggles at the suggestive drink names. "Okay, Kirsty," they replied in unison, turning to their respective stations.
Tamar grabbed a shaker and began to measure out the ingredients for the Sex on the Beach cocktail - vodka, peach schnapps, orange juice, and cranberry juice. She shook it vigorously, her muscles flexing with the motion. Meanwhile, Mariska was busy mixing together vodka, Baileys Irish Cream, Kahlúa, and amaretto almond liqueur for the Screaming Orgasms.
She had just finished pouring the drinks into glasses when the sound of high heels clicking on the marble floor caught her attention. She looked up to see four stunning women strutting into the room, their heads held high and their hips swaying confidently. "Who are they?" Tamar asked, stunned by the girls beauty and their revealing burlesque outfits. Kirsty, who had been helping another doll slave, turned to greet the newcomers with a wide smile. "Girls, over here!" she called out, waving them over to the bar. The four women sauntered over, their eyes scanning the room with an air of ownership. Kirsty turned to Tamar and Mariska, her smile never wavering.
"Girls, I'd like you to meet some friends of mine. They used to be cheerleaders, and they're going to be performing here at the club tonight." The four women approached the bar, their eyes scanning the room with an air of ownership. Kirsty gestured to each of them in turn. "This is Inez, Emma, Mia, and Rachel. Ladies, these are my friends Tamar and Mariska. They're here to help out behind the bar tonight." The cheerleaders greeted Mariska and Tamar warmly, their eyes sparkling with curiosity. "So, what brings you two to this fascinating place?" Inez asked, her voice laced with innuendo. Kirsty chuckled, "Well, Tamar here is considering becoming a doll slave, and Mariska is supporting her.
They're here to get a feel for what it's like." The cheerleaders raised their eyebrows, exchanging glances. "Really?" Inez asked, her gaze lingering on Tamar. "That's...quite a decision." Tamar blushed, shifting uncomfortably under their scrutiny. "Yeah, it is," she muttered. Mariska, sensing her discomfort, jumped in. "So, tell us about your performance tonight. What can we expect?" Mia, the petite brunette, grinned. "Oh, it's going to be amazing. We have quite the routine. It's a mix of cheerleading and...other things." She winked, making the girls laugh. Kirsty, who had been mixing their drinks, slid the glasses towards them. "Here you go, ladies.
Bottoms up!" Kirsty said, sliding the drinks towards the doll slaves. They all picked up their glasses, clinking them together in a unified "cheers" before taking a sip. The room fell silent for a moment, the only sound the clinking of ice against glass. Then, Laura's voice rang out, "Ladies, please finish your drinks. The club will open in five minutes." The doll slaves downed the rest of their cocktails, setting the empty glasses back on the bar. Laura waited until the last sip had been taken before speaking. "OK, places ladies! Mariska, Tamar, you should see this." Laura led them out of the bar and into the club's lobby. As they entered, they were greeted by a sight that left them speechless. The doll slaves, including Miriam, dressed in revealing dresses and heels, were climbing onto pedestals positioned around the room. Once atop, they struck seductive poses, arching their backs, throwing their heads back, and generally displaying their bodies in a way that was both alluring and slightly objectifying. "What's going on?" Tamar whispered, her eyes wide as she took in the scene. "This is how we greet our guests," Laura explained, a hint of pride in her voice. "Each doll slave takes a pedestal, and as the guests arrive, they can admire our...wares." Mariska raised an eyebrow, "So, they're like...living mannequins?" Laura chuckled, "Sort of, watch!" She reached into her pocket and pulled out a small remote control. Tamar and Mariska looked at each other, puzzled, as Laura pointed it towards the doll slaves. With a press of a button, the doll slaves on the pedestals began to transform. Their eyes glazed over, their muscles stiffened, and their skin took on a porcelain-like sheen. Their poses became frozen, perfect statues of human desire. Tamar gasped, her hand flying to her mouth. "What just happened?" she whispered, her eyes wide with shock. Mariska, equally astonished, could only shake her head mutely. "That, my dears," Laura said, a hint of pride in her voice, "is what makes our doll slaves truly unique. They're not just beautiful, they're...programmable." Seeing Tamar and Mariska's astonishment Laura continued to explain.
"Now, you might be wondering why they're all posed like this. Well, it's because of a little tradition we have here at the club. Every night, our patrons get to choose a doll slave from the statues to be turned human again and serve them for the night. Iit adds a certain...excitement to the evening." Tamar's eyes widened, "So, you mean one of you will be...chosen? Like, for the night?" Laura nodded, a small smile playing on her lips. "Mhm. It's not so bad, really. In fact, some of us enjoy it quite a bit." Mariska raised an eyebrow, "Enjoy it? But they're statues. How can they enjoy anything?" Laura chuckled, "Oh, we're still very much aware, even when we're in statue mode.
It's quite...stimulating, actually." Tamar and Mariska exchanged a curious glance, their eyebrows raised. "Stimulating?" Mariska echoed, her voice hesitant. Laura nodded, a mischievous glint in her eye. You see, when we're like this, we can still sense everything around us. The touch of fabric on our skin, the cool air on our bodies, the hum of conversation in the room. And the way our patrons look at us, admire us...it's almost like we can feel their eyes on us, their desire." Tamar's breath hitched, her heart pounding in her chest as she imagined being in Miriam's position. She couldn't help but feel a spark of excitement at the thought of being desired like that, of being the center of attention. She looked over at Miriam, standing tall and proud on her pedestal, her porcelain skin glowing under the soft lighting.
Her eyes were fixed ahead, her expression serene, but there was something else there. A hint of a smile, frozen in place, gave her an almost mischievous air. "Doesn't she look happy?" Tamar whispered to Mariska, nudging her gently. Mariska followed her gaze, her eyes widening slightly as she took in Miriam's expression. "She does, doesn't she?" she replied, her voice equally soft. "I mean, isn't it weird? She's a statue, but she looks...content." Tamar nodded, her brow furrowed thoughtfully. "It's like she doesn't mind being like this at all. In fact, she looks like she's enjoying it." They both fell silent for a moment, their eyes lingering on Miriam's frozen form. "Do you think it's true, what Laura said?" Mariska asked eventually, her voice barely above a whisper.
"I don't know," Tamar replied, her eyes still fixed on Miriam. "But I kind of want to find out." Just then, the sound of the club's front door opening echoed through the lobby, causing all three of them to turn their heads. In walked a man, middle-aged, impeccably dressed, with a confident air about him. He was the first guest of the night, and he was surveying the room with a critical eye. "Ladies," Laura said, her voice low, "our first patron has arrived. Watch carefully." The man walked around the lobby, his eyes scanning the doll slaves on their pedestals. He paused in front of one, his gaze lingering on her curves, before moving on to the next. Tamar and Mariska watched, fascinated, as he made his way around the room. Finally, he stopped in front of a statue of a woman with long, dark hair and a lithe body.
He circled her, his eyes scrutinizing every inch of her porcelain skin. "This one," he said, his voice decisive. Laura stepped forward, a small smile playing on her lips. "Very good choice, sir," she said, pressing the button on her remote control. The statue's eyes flickered to life, her muscles relaxing, and her skin regaining its natural warmth and suppleness. It was Miriam, the doll slave Tamar and Mariska had befriended earlier. She stepped down from her pedestal, her head held high, and knelt with her knees spread in front of the man. "I'm ready to serve you, Master" she said, her voice sultry. The man's eyes gleamed with satisfaction as he took in Miriam's curves, now freed from the statue's pose. Laura, who had been watching the scene unfold, turned to Tamar and Mariska. "That's enough gawking, ladies. The club's about to fill up, and we need to be ready. Come on, back behind the bar with you." She ushered them away from the lobby and back into the main bar area, where Kirsty was already busy setting up glasses and preparing garnishes. Mariska asked, hurrying to catch up with Laura. "For now, just help Kirsty get everything ready," Laura replied, handing them each an apron. "We want to be prepared when the guests start arriving."
Lisa and Petra arrived at The Doll House in Lisa's SUV, finding a space in the underground parking garage.
They stepped out of the car, their heels clicking on the concrete as they made their way towards the elevator. Lisa pressed the button, the doors sliding open with a soft ping. They stepped inside, and Lisa pressed the button for the sub-basement. As the elevator descended, Lisa turned to Petra, her eyes serious. "Remember, we're here to observe. We don't want to interfere with whatever Isabella has planned." Petra nodded, her eyes wide with anticipation. "I understand. I just want to see how this transformation process works." The elevator doors opened, revealing a plush hallway adorned with expensive art and luxurious furnishings. Lisa and Petra stepped out, following the signs that led them to the room where the hotel's transformation chamber was located. As they approached, they could hear muffled voices coming from inside. Lisa knocked firmly on the door, and it swung open to reveal Isabella, dressed in a sleek, form-fitting dress that accentuated her curves.
Behind her, Lisa and Petra could see the glass transformation chamber, its cylindrical shape filling the room with an eerie glow. But what caught their attention was the sight of Natasha and the other two madams from the Russian brothel, kneeling naked, bound and gagged, next to the chamber. Their eyes wide with fear, they struggled against their restraints, their bodies glistening with sweat. Isabella turned to face them, a cold smile on her lips. "Ah, Lisa, Petra, I'm glad you could make it. We were just about to begin."
Isabella turned her attention to the bound women, her eyes gleaming with sadistic pleasure. "Now, my dears," she began, her voice dripping with mock concern, "I'm sure you're wondering what's about to happen to you. Well, let me enlighten you." She paused, relishing the moment as the three women looked up at her, their eyes filled with terror. "You are about to become dolls." Natasha let out a muffled scream, her body thrashing against her restraints. The other two women began to whimper, their eyes wide with disbelief. Isabella laughed, a cold, hollow sound that echoed through the room. "Oh, don't worry, my dears. It's not as bad as it sounds. In fact, I think you'll find that being a doll has its...benefits." She walked over to the transformation chamber, running her fingers along its smooth surface.
"Now, let's get you ready," she said, turning to the doll slave security guard standing by the door. "Load her in." The guard, a muscular woman with short, dark hair and piercing blue eyes, stepped forward. She grabbed Natasha roughly by the arms, ignoring her futile struggles, and dragged her towards the chamber. Natasha screamed and kicked, her bare feet scraping against the cold marble floor, but the guard was unmoved. She opened the chamber's door, revealing the hospital bed inside, and threw Natasha onto it with practiced ease. Natasha landed with a thud, her body bouncing slightly on the mattress. The guard secured her restraints to the bed, making sure she was firmly in place.
The guard secured her restraints to the bed, making sure she was firmly in place. Isabella approached the chamber, her heels clicking on the floor, and pressed a button on a nearby console. "Ladies," she said, turning to Lisa and Petra, "prepare to witness the miraculous transformation process that will turn this wretched human into a flawless, obedient doll." The chamber began to fill with a thick, white fog, swirling around Natasha's struggling form.
Isabella, Lisa, and Petra watched intently as the transformation began. Suddenly, Natasha's body convulsed, her eyes widening in shock and disbelief. They could see her skin beginning to smooth, the fine lines around her eyes and mouth disappearing as if erased by an invisible hand. Her once-dull hair gained a lustrous sheen, growing longer and thicker before their eyes. Her figure, once softened by age and gravity, tightened and toned, her curves becoming more pronounced.
In mere moments, Natasha had been reversed to a girl in her mid-twenties, her youthful beauty stark and jarring compared to her previous appearance. But the transformation didn't stop there. Natasha's eyes glazed over, her muscles stiffening as her skin took on a porcelain-like sheen. But the change didn't stop at her appearance. She began to shrink, her body compressing in on itself until she was no taller than a small child. When the fog finally dissipated, all that remained was an 8-inch-high doll, perfectly proportioned and eerily lifelike, but utterly immobile. Natasha's eyes, now a brilliant, unblinking blue, stared straight ahead, her expression frozen in terror. Isabella stepped closer, her heels clicking on the floor, and picked up the tiny doll. She inspected it closely, turning it this way and that, her eyes gleaming with satisfaction. "Perfect," she murmured, holding the doll out for Lisa and Petra to see. "Isn't she just perfect?" Isabella cooed, admiring the tiny doll that was once Natasha. "Now, who's next?" she asked, turning to the remaining two madams, their eyes wide with fear. "You," she said, pointing to the oldest one, a woman with graying hair and deep wrinkles. The guards moved swiftly, grabbing the woman and dragging her towards the chamber. She screamed and fought, but it was no use. They loaded her onto the bed, securing her restraints tightly. Isabella pressed the button, and the chamber began to fill with fog once more. The woman's screams echoed through the room, growing fainter as the transformation took hold, returning her youth but leaving her as a doll.
Isabella, Lisa, and Petra watched as the final madam was secured onto the bed, her struggles becoming weaker as the realization of her fate sank in. The room fell silent, the only sound the distant hum of the machinery powering the transformation. The last madam, her eyes wide with terror, stared up at the swirling fog that engulfed her. Suddenly, her body convulsed, her back arching off the bed as a scream tore from her throat. Then, as suddenly as it had begun, it ended. She collapsed back onto the bed, her body now still, her eyes unblinking. The fog dissipated, revealing a small, porcelain doll where the woman had once been. Its eyes stared blankly ahead, its tiny hands clenched into fists at its sides. Isabella let out a satisfied sigh, stepping forward to examine her latest creation. "Perfect," she murmured, picking up the doll and turning it over in her hands. "Simply perfect." She looked up at Lisa and Petra, a cold smile on her lips.
"Well, now that they're dolls, I have some... plans for them." She walked over to a small table in the corner of the room, where a wooden box sat. It was intricately carved, with a small brass lock on the front. "For starters," she said, picking up the box and turning to face the two women, "they're going to experience a few days of sensory deprivation." She opened the lid of the box, revealing a soft, velvet interior. She picked up the tiny dolls, one by one, and placed them carefully inside, their porcelain bodies barely making a sound as they settled onto the velvet. "Isabella, what are you going to do with them after that?" Petra asked. "Oh I'm still thinking about that," replied Isabella, "but rest assured that it won't be pleasant. I was thinking of assigning them to the webcam girl mill. We dolls don't need sleep, so I thought they could serve there 24/7, trapped in a box having to do whatever the clients ask them to do, without any breaks. I'll make sure they assigned the most perverted clients, of course."
Isabella said, a cruel smile playing on her lips. Petra, who had been watching the entire scene with a mixture of horror and fascination, couldn't help but let out a satisfied sigh. "Good," she said firmly. "I'm glad they'll be serving such a degrading role in Victor's organization. After all they've done, it's only fitting." Lisa turned to her, an eyebrow raised. "Petra, you surprise me. I didn't think you had it in you to be so...vengeful." Petra shrugged, her eyes never leaving the tiny dolls in the box. "I'm not usually, but Natasha and her crew...they deserve it. They were cruel, heartless. They treated us like we were nothing, like we were just objects to be used and discarded.
I want them to know what it feels like to be truly powerless," Petra said, her voice barely above a whisper. Isabella, who had been watching their exchange with interest, stepped forward. "Well, I can certainly help with that," she said, a cold smile spreading across her face. "Come with me, and I'll show you something that might just...appeal to your sense of justice." She led them out of the room, down a long, dimly lit hallway, and into an elevator. They descended several floors, the elevator doors finally opening to reveal a large, brightly lit room filled with rows upon rows of plastic boxes. Inside each box was a girl, naked or dressed in revealing lingerie, performing sex acts. "Welcome to the webcam girl mill," Isabella said, her voice echoing through the room.
"This is where our newly transformed dolls spend their first few weeks before they're moved into more...pleasurable roles." She led Lisa and Petra down one of the aisles, pointing to the boxes as they passed. "You see, after their initial transformation, they're not quite ready for the main stage. They need some time to...adjust to their new bodies, to learn how to please their masters. And this is the perfect place for that." She stopped in front of a box, her eyes gleaming with pride. "Take a look." Inside, a young woman with long, dark hair and big eyes was eagerly penetrating herself with a dildo, facing a webcam. In front of her was a tablet computer with an open chat app, displaying the client's instructions. "Anoushka here is one of our best," explained Isabella, "she could have moved on from here months ago, but she loves it here and requested to stay. While she's not in a box she helps me run this place."A sudden cry of pleasure echoed through the room. They turned to see Anoushka, her body convulsing as she came violently, her eyes rolling back in her head. The chat app on her tablet went dark, signaling the end of her session. A moment later, she opened the unlocked door of her box and called out, "Hello! That was amazing!" Anoushka said with a smile on her face. "And who might these lovely ladies be?" "Ah, Isabella, I'd like you to meet Lisa and Petra," Isabella replied, turning to the two women. "They work for PPS." Anoushka's eyes sparked with interest as she got out of the box, totally comfortable with talking to Lisa and Petra while still naked and covered in sweat and ejaculate. "Welcome, welcome," she purred, her voice like velvet.
"I must say, it's not often we get visitors from PPS down here. What brings you to our little corner of the world?" Petra, unable to contain her curiosity any longer, blurted out, "Why do you stay here, Anoushka? You could be doing something else, something more...fulfilling. Why choose to work in the mill?" Anoushka's smile faltered for a moment, her eyes flicking towards Isabella, who stood watching them with a neutral expression. "Well men have always made me a bit nervous," Anoushka replied, "I much prefer them on the other side of a webcam than in person. This way I get to enjoy myself without having to talk to them. I love it, to be honest. Are you two interested in giving it a go?"
"Actually that sounds like it might be interesting," said Lisa, "Why not? What about you Petra, fancy a go? We can always stop if we don't like it." Petra hesitated for a moment, then nodded. "Alright, let's do it." Isabella clapped her hands together, a wicked grin spreading across her face. "Wonderful! Anoushka, could you help them get set up?" Anoushka nodded, her eyes gleaming with excitement. "Of course! Follow me, ladies." She led them down another aisle, stopping in front of two empty boxes. "These should do nicely," she said, opening the doors to reveal the plush interiors. "Now, let's get you some appropriate attire." She snapped her fingers, and a doll slave appeared, carrying a tray laden with lingerie. "Pick something you like," Anoushka said, gesturing to the array of lacy bras, thongs, and stockings. Lisa and Petra browsed through the selection, eventually settling on matching black lace sets. Anoushka nodded approvingly. "Excellent choices.
Now, let's get you into your boxes." Anoushka helped them into their lingerie, her hands deft and efficient. Lisa and Petra, now clad in black lace, climbed into their respective boxes, the soft velvet cushioning their bodies. They settled themselves, their hearts pounding in their chests as they waited nervously for a client to log on to the chat app.
Isabella, who had been watching them with amused interest, turned to Anoushka. "Well, Anoushka, you have a new task. Make sure these two have a pleasant experience, and teach them the ropes. I expect you to stick around in case they need any advice." Anoushka, who had been sitting on a desk nearby, stood up and gave Isabella a small bow. "Of course, Isabella. I'll make sure they're well taken care of." She turned to Lisa and Petra, her eyes softening. "Don't worry, ladies. I'll be here for you every step of the way. If you have any questions, or if something feels wrong, just let me know. I'm here to help." Lisa and Petra exchanged a nervous glance across the aisle between their boxes, then nodded. "Thank you, Anoushka," said Lisa, suddenly a bit nervous. "We appreciate it."
Back at the club Kirsty, Tamar and Mariska had been rushed off their feet serving drinks as the club had become busy, serving guests who came to the bar and handing drinks to doll slaves to take to their clients in the bar and restaurant. Tamar and Mariska had turned down several propositions from guests, despite their badges proclaiming they were not available for guest use, feeling complimented by guests wanting them over the stunning doll slaves that served in the club.
But one persistent guest refused to take no for an answer. He was a tall, imposing man with a southern accent who had been eyeing Mariska all night. As Kirsty handed him his drink, he leaned in close to Mariska, his breath hot on her ear. "You're a pretty one," he growled, "I'd like to have you for the night." Mariska tensed, her instincts screaming at her to pull away, but she forced herself to remain still. Kirsty, noticing the interaction, stepped in smoothly. "I'm sorry, sir," she said, her voice polite but firm, "Mariska is not available for guest use. She's just here to observe." The man's eyes flicked to Mariska's badge, then back to her face, disappointed. "What about you?" He asked Kirsty, "you're a curvy vision." "Sir, I am assigned to the bar tonight," Kirsty replied, her voice steady despite the butterflies in her stomach. "But if you come back tomorrow, you'll find me serving in a different capacity." She leaned in, lowering her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "I'll be one of the doll slaves." The man's eyes widened, his gaze traveling over Kirsty's body with renewed interest. "Well, isn't that a tempting offer," he drawled, a slow smile spreading across his face. "I'll definitely be back tomorrow, darlin'. Can't wait to see you...serving." She leaned in closer, her voice dropping to a sultry whisper, "But since you're so insistent, and I see you're quite...aroused, how about I take a quick break and give you a little 'sample' of what's to come tomorrow?" Kirsty glanced at Mariska and Tamar, who were busy serving other guests, then back to the man, a mischievous glint in her eye. "I have help tonight, so I can sneak away for a moment. Fancy a quick tit wank in the back room?" The man's eyes widened in surprise, then a slow, hungry smirk spread across his face. "Well, now, that's an offer I can't refuse," he drawled, his eyes locked onto Kirsty's ample cleavage. Kirsty grabbed his hand, leading him towards the storeroom behind the bar, throwing a quick wink at Mariska and Tamar as they passed.
Mariska and Tamar exchanged a puzzled glance, then as there wern't any drink orders at the moment, turned to watch Kirsty. Through the doorway, Mariska and Tamar could see Kirsty, her back pressed against a beer barrel, a sultry smile on her face. The man stood before her, his eyes gleaming with lust as he took in her curvy figure. Kirsty reached up, unbuttoning her blouse slowly, revealing the lacy cups of her bra, which she pulled down around her waist. The man's breath hitched, his tongue darting out to wet his lips. Kirsty smirked, pushing her breasts together, creating a generous cleavage. "Like what you see?" she purred, her voice low and husky. The man nodded, his gaze locked onto her chest. Kirsty reached out, and pulled down the mans pants and briefs, revealing his erection.
She stepped closer, pressing her tits against his cock, and began to move her body up and down, sandwiching his dick between her cleavage. The man let out a grunt of pleasure, his hands grasping her shoulders to steady himself. Kirsty looked up at him, her eyes locking with his, as she continued to fuck him with her tits. "You like that, don't you?" she panted, her own body growing warm with arousal. The man could only nod, his breath coming in short gasps as Kirsty's tits slid up and down his shaft. Kirsty felt his cock throb against her, and she knew he was close. She increased the pace, her tits slapping against his stomach as she fucked him harder and faster. The man let out a low groan, his body tensing as he came, his hot cum shooting onto Kirsty's chest and neck.
Kirsty smiled, pulling back to watch as he finished, his body shuddering with the force of his orgasm. When he was finally spent, Kirsty stepped back, wiping the cum off her chest with the wet wipes she kept behind the bar. "Well, that was fun," she said, her voice casual as she cleaned herself up. "But I'm afraid that's all you're getting from me tonight. I have to get back to work." The man, still panting, nodded, pulling up his pants and tucking in his shirt. "Tomorrow, then," he said, his voice hoarse. Kirsty smirked, tossing the used wipes into the trash. "Tomorrow," she agreed, turning to leave the storeroom. As she stepped back behind the bar, Mariska and Tamar looked at her, their eyes wide with surprise.
"You didn't have to do that for me," Mariska said to Kirsty, "he was quite polite really. I'm sure he would have settled for seeing you tomorrow." Kirsty shrugged, a playful smile on her lips. "Oh, I know," she said, "but I didn't do it for him. I did it for me." Mariska raised an eyebrow, surprised. "For you?" she asked. Kirsty nodded, her eyes gleaming with a mischievous light. "I enjoy serving men, Mariska," she admitted proudly. "There's something about making them feel good, about giving them pleasure, that just...turns me on." She grinned, a wicked little smile that made Mariska's heart skip a beat. "And besides," Kirsty continued, "I wanted to give him a little taste of what he could expect from me tomorrow night." She leaned in closer, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "He'll be thinking about what he wants to do with me all day, I'm interested to see what he comes up with." Kirsty was saying, a smirk playing on her lips, when suddenly, the conversation was interrupted by a loud cheer from the bar. The girls turned to see the cheerleaders, Inez, Emma, Mia, and Rachel, strutting onto the stage in their burlesque outfits. They wore feather boas, fishnet stockings, and sequined pasties that left little to the imagination. The clients and doll slaves in the bar cheered and whistled as the girls took their places on the stage, ready for their performance. Tamar and Mariska, having finished serving drinks, took a moment to watch from behind the bar, their eyes wide with amazement. It was a sight they had never seen before, and it was unlike anything they had ever imagined. The cheerleaders moved with a grace and confidence that was almost hypnotic, their bodies undulating and twisting in ways that seemed impossible. They were dressed in skimpy outfits that left little to the imagination, their bodies glistening with sweat and oil as they danced. The air was thick with the scent of their perfume and the musk of their arousal, and the sound of their moans and cries filled the room. Tamar and Mariska watched in awe as the cheerleaders performed their erotic routine, their bodies moving in perfect synchronization, their hands caressing and teasing each other, their tongues exploring every inch of each other's bodies.
The crowd went wild, their cheers and applause drowning out the music. But as the performance reached its climax, the cheerleaders' movements became slower, more deliberate. They began to unbutton and unzip each other's costumes, their hands roaming over smooth skin, their eyes locked onto each other's. The crowd held their breath, anticipation building as the cheerleaders gradually stripped each other until they were completely naked, their bodies glistening under the stage lights.
Inez, the Latina with fiery hair, was the first to make a move. She sank to her knees in front of Emma, the tall blonde, and buried her face between her thighs. Emma let out a loud moan, her head falling back as Inez's tongue found her clit and began to lick and suck. The crowd erupted in cheers, their eyes glued to the stage as the other two cheerleaders, Mia and Rachel, followed suit, each finding a partner and settling between their legs. Tamar and Mariska watched from behind the bar, their eyes wide with astonishment as the cheerleaders used their tongues to bring each other to climax. They had never seen anything like it, and the raw, uninhibited passion on display was both shocking and thrilling.
As the last notes of the music faded away, the cheerleaders, now completely naked and flushed with exertion, stood victorious. The crowd erupted in applause, many of the men whistling and catcalling. Amidst the chaos, Laura, dressed in a figure hugging red dress, climbed onto the stage. She held a microphone, her eyes scanning the crowd with a predatory gleam. "Ladies and gentlemen," she purred, her voice cutting through the noise, "what you've just witnessed is a mere taste of what our girls can do. And now, for a limited time only, you have the chance to experience it firsthand." She paused, letting the anticipation build. "That's right, we're auctioning off our lovely cheerleaders for a night of private service. Who's ready to place their bids?" Tamar and Mariska, having watched the entire performance with wide-eyed wonder, as Laura auctioned off of Emma, Mia, Inez and Rachel, the winning bidders leading them off to private rooms for a night of pleasure.
Suddenly, the girls heard a familiar voice behind them. "Can I get a refill for my guest, please?" Turning around, they saw Miriam, one of the doll slaves, standing at the bar with a smile. "Of course, Miriam," Mariska replied, grabbing a glass and filling it with the guest's preferred drink. "How was your night so far?" Tamar asked, handing Miriam the drink. Miriam's smile widened. "It's been quite eventful," she said, taking the glass. "I've had a fascinating conversation with a new client. He's very interested in the idea of convincing his wife to become a doll. I've been trying to explain the process to him." Mariska raised an eyebrow. "That sounds...complicated," she said. Miriam laughed. "It is, but I enjoy the challenge. Thanks for the drink, ladies." She turned to leave.
Tamar paused, her eyes drawn to Miriam as she made her way back to her guest. The room was filled with the hum of conversation and the clink of glasses, but all Tamar could focus on was Miriam's fluid, graceful movements. She watched as Miriam approached the man, her hips swaying slightly, a small smile playing on her lips. The man, dressed in an expensive suit, leaned back in his chair, his eyes following Miriam's every move. Miriam knelt down in front of him, her long, dark hair cascading over her shoulders, and offered him his drink. As she leaned forward, her low-cut dress gaped open, revealing a tantalizing glimpse of her ample cleavage. The man's eyes flicked down, lingering on her breasts before she stood up smoothly, a playful smile on her lips. Tamar, watching from behind the bar, couldn't help but feel a pang of jealousy. She longed to feel so confident, so in control of her own body and desires. Miriam seemed to embody everything Tamar wanted to be. She turned to Mariska, who was wiping down the counter, and asked, "Do you think I could ever be like that?" Mariska looked up, following Tamar's gaze to Miriam. "Like what?" "Confident, sexy, desirable," Tamar said, her voice barely above a whisper. "Yes, I think you could be," Mariska replied, her tone encouraging. "You've seen it for yourself tonight, haven't you? The way the doll slaves carry themselves, the way they interact with the guests? It's not something they have to learn or force. It comes naturally to them." Tamar nodded, her eyes still fixed on Miriam. "But how? How do they do it?" Mariska leaned in closer, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "It's the transformation, Tamar. The process changes them, not just physically, but mentally. It's like...a switch is flipped. They become more in tune with their bodies, their desires. They're no longer held back by inhibitions or fears. They're free to be who they truly are." Tamar tore her gaze away from Miriam, turning to look at Mariska.
"I'm more certain now, Mariska," she said, her voice filled with determination. "I want to become a doll." "Are you sure, Tamar?" Mariska asked, her voice filled with concern. "You know what that means, don't you? You'll be giving up your freedom, your humanity. You'll belong to Victor, to do with as he pleases." Tamar nodded, her expression resolute. "I know," she said, "but I've seen the way the dolls live, the way they serve. It's not a life of slavery, not really. It's a life of pleasure, of freedom from inhibitions and fears. I want that, Geo. I want to be free."
Mariska sighed, running a hand through her hair. "I understand, Tamar," she said, "but I can't help but worry.