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The Love Dolls Chapter 5
She awoke with a start. Max was leaning over her, a concerned look on his face.
“Miss McVey, are you all right?” He had loosed her trenchcoat and was in the process of helping her sit up. Darcie tried to struggle to her feet. Max’s hand, surprisingly strong, pulled her to standing. She smiled at him gratefully, then as her head cleared, she wiped the smile from her face and looked around, blinking. She said, “I guess I just. . . blacked out for a minute there.”
“I can get a physician for you,” offered Max.
“One of your merry medical staff? No thanks—I’m happy with my body the way it is, thank you. I don’t want to find myself walking out of here with watermelon-size buttocks, or something exotic like that. Nice try, though.”
Max laughed, genuinely amused. “The idea never crossed my mind, I assure you, Miss McVey. Perhaps we could return to the club and you rest a bit, and I can try to persuade you not to reveal our little operation here.”
“Fat chance of that, Max. But I wouldn’t mind sitting down. Did I hit my head on something? I got one helluva headache.”
They made their way back to the club. The place rocked and pulsed with even more crackling energy than before. The hard-beat music throbbed with a hard hypnotic beat; the dancers on stage gyrated their sinuous bodies as if enslaved to the rhythm, the laughter and talk was louder, the colored stage lights flashed and dazzled—and almost every couch and chair was the scene of unabashed sex. Once again, Darcie was struck by the beauty of the women: not just pretty, but fashion-model gorgeous, but more curvaceous and full-bodied than any model. As she and Max were seated by the hostess at the foot of the dance stage, Darcie could not help but cast a sidelong glance at the couch next to them. There a striking brunette lay sideways, her head leaning on the armrest with a dreamy expression on her face, letting the club patron fuck her with steady thrusts of his cock deep between her thighs. Darcie quickly looked away, and her eyes lit on another table, where a guest admired the undulating dancer on the stage. His pleasure at the sight was obviously amplified by the redheaded vixen sitting next to him who expertly stroked his exposed cock with her tapering fingers in time to the music. From time to time she would lean forward and kiss the head of his cock lightly, then return to her massaging his lust-filled shaft. The girl glanced up, and Darcie happened to look straight into her eyes, the same opaque doll-eyes that she had seen in the LoveDolls in the clinic.
Suddenly it all became clear. No wonder all these girls in the club were so shamelessly subjugating themselves to the patrons’ pleasure! They were all LoveDolls! Then another realization struck her.
“Max,” she said suddenly, “This club—it’s a showcase for your damn LoveDolls, isn’t it? And the guests here—they’re not just partying, having fun. They’re. . . buyers.”
Max bestowed a nod in her direction. “Very good, Ms. McVey. Yes, you are almost right.
Potential buyers, let us say. Some are just browsing. This lets them inspect the LoveDolls who have completed their basic conditioning. If they like what they see—and many of them do—then we can make the arrangements on the spot to fine-tune their acquisition to their tastes.”
Darcie shook her head with a sort of disgusted wonder. The effort made her head ache even more. “You know, it’s going to be a real service to my gender to shut this place down. You’re just lucky I’m going to give you a head start before I air the show.”
Max leaned forward and spoke deliberately to be heard over the beat of the music. “I thought we might have a chat about that, Ms. McVey.”
“Yes. I have a proposition for you. The fact is, we’ve had our eye on you a long time, Ms. McVey. You have a great audience. People—especially young women—hang on your every word. Fashion, books, what’s in, what’s out—your opinion counts for a lot.”
Darcie tilted her head sideways to look at Max. “Yeah, but what is all this leading up to?”
“Just this: We would like to offer you a job, Ms. McVey.” She looked at him incredulously. “Now, just hear me out. We have great plans for our operation. Our biggest challenge has always been finding suitable recruits to reconfigure into LoveDolls. We always have far more orders to fill than LoveDolls to fill them with. So we have built a spa on a Caribbean island, totally owned by an offshore corporation.” Max’s eyes glowed with excitement. “We plan to make this spa a Mecca for young women only—at discount prices, and with a cruise to the island thrown in. Once we have the girls there, we can pick and choose which ones—the most beautiful, the cream of the crop, and the ones with the fewest bonds back home—to keep and reconfigure into LoveDolls. The rest will go home with glowing reports on what a lovely time they had on the beach and in the spa.”
Darcie stared at the man. A k**napping ring on a grand scale—with an endless source of young women to transform into sex slaves for sale to the highest bidder. What a scheme! It was monstrous—it was brilliant—
“That’s where you come in, Ms. McVey,” Max was saying in his terrifyingly reasonable manner. “We need a spokesperson to persuade these women to try out the spa. Somebody who has star quality, who they trust and want to emulate. Somebody like you, Ms. McVey.”
Darcie could not believe what she was hearing. “Wait, let me get this straight,” she spluttered. “I’m getting ready to expose you and your friends on national television. And you want me to—do commercials for you? Are you crazy? Is this some kind of a joke?”
“No joke, Ms. McVey. We think your talents would make all the difference.”
“Well, I got news for you, Max. The only difference I intend to make is to shut down this whole weird operation!” And with that, she flung her arm out in a dramatic gesture to encompass the whole room of dancing, posturing and cavorting LoveDolls. But while making the gesture, her eye caught something and she did a double take.
A woman was being escorted between the tables by a trainer. The woman was a LoveDoll, no question of that, with her pouty lips and soul-empty look and shiny silver skintight bodysuit. But her breasts exceeded the bustlines of any of the other LoveDolls in the room. They ballooned our from her chest like twin basketballs, perfectly formed, jiggling like firm jello. She walked sensually with her back arched and her shoulders thrown back, as if proud to display those magnificent orbs.
Daphne’s eyes narrowed in disbelieving recognition. That was the girl who was strapped into the breast-augmentation chair not fifteen minutes ago, before Darcie lost consciousness, she was sure of it. Yet, from across the room, while naked women sauntered past her line of sight and cigarette smoke curled upward to the stage lights, it was hard to say. . . As she watched, the LoveDoll was brought before a patron sprawling in a wingbacked chair. He obviously expected her, from the few brief words with the trainer. The huge-breasted leaned forward and let him fondle and stroke her smooth breasts. Even from that distance, Darcie could see the LoveDoll’s eyes flutter in pleasure as his fingers kneaded the soft, yielding globes. Then the doll knelt gracefully between the man’s legs, unzipped his suit trousers as if that was the most natural thing in the world, and expertly massaged his cock to a hard, throbbing erection. Then she cupped her breasts in her hands and pressed them against the patron’s manhood. She played with her nipples while stroking his cock up and down between the warm soft pillows of those ripe, bouncing melons. Every now and then as his cock penetrated up through the enfolding channel of her breast-flesh, she would bend over and let her tongue swirl over the head of his cock, adding that moisture to the lubrication of her breasts. The kneeling LoveDoll threw her head back in abandon and Darcie caught a good look at her face. There was no question any more. Something was wrong here.
“Max,” she said, her voice shaking, “that girl over that, with those incredible breasts—that’s the same one we saw getting that boob job, isn’t it?”
Max glanced over to where Darcie was looking. “Yes, I believe it is,” he said calmly. He took off his rimless glasses and polished them thoughtfully with a handkerchief plucked from his top coat pocket.
Darcie continued, “But look at her breasts. They were ridiculously big to begin with. Now they’re twice that size. You said she wouldn’t be ready for a week.”
Max put his glasses back on, and Darcie noticed how his eyes glinted with a kind of amused superiority. A tremor of uneasiness passed through her. “Yes, that’s correct, Ms. McVey.”
Darcie spoke very slowly. “Then what is she doing here now?”
Max said, “You said it yourself. It took a week.”
“But. . .but a week hasn’t gone by. That was just a few minutes ago.”
“Actually, it has. A week and two days, to be precise. We needed that time for your own conditioning.”
“Yes. Do you remember when you felt faint, at the last stage of our tour? And that drink you had earlier here, in the club? We included a powerful sedative in your drink.”
“But I switched drinks with you!” Darcie protested, her voice sounding shrill and far away.
“So you did. But you see, my dear, both drinks had the sedative, and only one of us took the antidote beforehand.” Again, that small, confident smile. Darcie wanted to smash his face in. Could it possibly be true? Unbidden, she raised her hand to the back of her head, underneath her hair, and touched lightly with her fingertips. Her heart seemed to stop—yes, there it was. A small metallic insert, exactly like the those implanted in the other LoveDolls, for “jacking in” the virtual-reality programs of the conditioning process. My God, she thought. I’ve been programmed.
“Why, Max? Why the charade? If you wanted to k**nap me, you could just do it? Why string me along like this?”
Max steepled his fingers. “Ah, now we have come to the heart of it. We needed to find out something, Ms. McVey. You see how we can condition the LoveDolls to be anything an owner might want, any fantasy at all. In your case, we had to know if you could be conditioned to be. . . yourself.”
“Myself? What do you mean?”
“Before we used your talents to promote the spa, we had to make sure you could perform just like you did before. If you became a mannequin, like the rest of our LoveDolls, then the whole plan would have to dropped.” Max leaned back in his chair. “But I am glad to say, Ms. McVey, they you have laid our fears to rest. It looks that star quality came through your programming unblemished.
Darcie stared at him, her mind churning. She had one hope left. . .
“You forgot one thing, Mister,” she spat out with all the venom she could muster. “If I’ve been gone for a week, you can bet your scheming ass that the police are out hunting for me right now. You seem to forget I told someone who I was meeting.” And Darcie fervently prayed that little airhead Louise had done exactly what she was told.
Max furrowed his brow for a minute and then looked up, his face brightening. “Oh, yes… your insurance’, as you called it. A confidant. Someone you could trust. Someone, for instance, like your assistant back at the studio.”
Darcie felt as if an ice shaft had thrust into her heart. “Did you do anything to her?” she asked hoarsely.
Max shrugged and said, “Let’s ask her ourselves, shall we? Louise, did we do anything to you?”
Darcie whirled in her chair. Standing behind her was Louise. But not the old, frumpy Louise with her too-big glasses and her god-awful hair. This Louise carried herself with assurance, her make-up was perfect, her hair swept back to look both athletic and alluring. Her figure was flawless—so that what was under those baggy sweatshirts all these months!
And she was dressed in the leather outfit of a trainer.
“No, sir,” Louise answered. “I’m feeling quite fine. Her eyes slid over to Darcie. “Good evening, Ms. McVey. Nice to see you among us.” And Darcie noticed with a chill that Louise’s eyes had the same emotionless serenity as the LoveDolls.
“Louise!” cried Darcie. “They got you too!”
Louise said, “They got me a long time ago, Ms. McVey.”
Max broke in. “Louise is too modest. She is actually a special case. Right from the start we knew she would make an excellent trainer. And she made an even better infiltrator into your television network. It was not hard to slip her into the role of your assistant; the turnover in that position was notorious and common knowledge. I’m afraid, Ms. McVey, that you have something of a reputation of being a bitch to work for. So nobody else wanted the job. Except our Louise.”
Darcie stared at Max in sudden comprehension. “You mean…Louise was planted as my assistant? What for? What’s going on?” She fought to keep panic out of her voice.
“Why, to lure you here, of course. We knew you were upset at being merely an ornament’, as you put it, at the network—another pretty face for another silly talk show. It didn’t take too much imagination to guess that if the chance for a serious journalist scoop came your way, you would jump at it. Our estimate was, you would climb over anybody in your way to get that story.”
“Even the dowdy little assistant who brought it to you,” added Louise, with a cruel, mocking smile at Darcie.
Darcie fought down an urge to make a dash for the door. “You mean, I was. . . set up?”
“Nicely put in your American slang, Ms. McVey,” said Max. “But don’t let that trouble you. Once your conditioning takes hold, you won’t feel the need to keep a thought in your head. Just those thoughts that we put there.”
Darcie stared wildly around. Her eyes darted down at the table, and lit upon the wine list placed there by the waitress. Only now. . .the letters made no sense—just meaningless squiggles on the page. I can’t read anymore! she thought hysterically. I’m becoming a brainless bimbo!
Max leaned back in his chair. “Now,” he said, “I believe we were discussing you becoming a spokesperson for our new spa.”
Darcie leaped to her feet. “If you think I’m actually going to help you with this sick and twisted enterprise, you’re crazy! I won’t. I can’t!” She looked wildly for an exit.
Max said, “I think you would be surprised at what you can do.” Then, before she could make a dash for the door, Max’s voice rapped out, “Stand still!”
Max continued with the same rough-edged commanding tone. “Take off your clothes. All of them. Now.”
As if in a dream, Darcie felt her will dissolving into non-thinking obedience. She watched herself strip, the trenchcoat first, then the rest, garment by garment, until she stood unabashedly naked before him and the leering Louise.
“Turn around!” Max said. Darcie tried to fight back, gritting her teeth, but she felt her body pirouette of its own accord. She blushed in humiliation, knowing she was being made to show off her body for his pleasure. Why am I doing this? she asked herself desperately. How could I be conditioned and not even know it?
“Position Four.” Darcie sank gracefully to her knees in front of him. How did he make me do that? He mind screamed silently. I didn’t even know what “position four” is. Unless. . . unless it’s been drilled into my brain by the mind-control conditioning. . .She watched in frozen helplessness as he withdrew a remote control device from his pocket. She thought, surely he’s not going to make me—
Max deftly pressed one of the controls. Darcie found herself leaning forward, her fingers already undoing Max’s trousers, her hand reaching inside to caress and stroke his cock. Her hand glided up and down his manhood, lovingly coaxing it to its maximum and impressive erection. It was as if her body belonged to somebody else, she thought in a panic. Then she realized—it did. To Max. She was now his property. His toy. His. . . LoveDoll. But without thinking about it, already her lips had parted, her tongue flicked out. Her brain was hardwired for passion, her eyes transfixed on his cock. Even though she did not consciously know what to do, her subconscious knew what she wanted. . .needed. . . craved.
Darcie was no prude, but nothing in her experience had taught her how to suck cock with the sensuous technique she now displayed. The tip of her tongue played with the head of his cock, then slid down to lap gently at the underside of his gland. From time to time her pursed lips would kiss along the shaft, then trail up to take the head of his cock fully in her mouth. Her tongue and lips coaxed his cock to the its absolute hardest, then she began going down on him in earnest. Lower and lower her encapsulating lips plunged over his cock, while her tongue and cheeks compressed against his shaft as if to squeeze every ounce of pleasure from it. Darcie was beyond notice when his hands gripped her head and he proceed to ram his cock in and out of her slavering mouth with well-practiced vigor. Her mouth began salivating at the prospect of swallowing his cum…
But Max’s finger pressed another button on the remote, and Darcie found herself drawing her mouth off his glistening cock. She rose like an automaton in obedience to this new command and leaned backward against the table, then further back, until she was actually lying on her back over the linen-covered table top, legs drawn up wantonly, head thrown back, her hair fanning out over the edge.
Max rose to his feet as well. He positioned himself against her, his hard, lubricated cock pressing between her love lips. Then he thrust forward. Darcie gasped in delight. Max’s cock sank deep inside her pussy, then he pulled back out, then he thrust even deeper inside. He leaned ever further over her, arms on either side of her torso for balance, and proceeded to fuck her right there on the table.
A warmth spread from deep in Darcie’s pussy to radiate throughout her whole body. Never had she been this aroused! Her full breasts jiggled with every pounding thrust, the nipples as hard and erect as she had ever experienced. She seemed to be writhing in rhythm to some subliminal beat to the dance music. And to that small corner of Darcie’s mind that still observed what was going on in stunned detachment, she realized she was no different from any of the other LoveDolls in the club being played with by their owners. Occasionally one of the other patrons would look up from his own pleasure to give their table a lascivious glance, but it was more like “comparison shopping” than any particular interest in Darcie’s plight—being ravished right out in the open, with her shamelessly moaning with pleasure. Waitresses walked by without even noticing as Darcie’s pelvis began bucking slavishly to meet each of Max’s thrusts.
Then Max began to build toward a climax. Faster and faster his cock rammed in and out of her soaking pussy. Darcie felt her own pussy beginning to contract and spasm as it coaxed the fullest possible friction out of Max’s manhood. Her hands gripped the linen tablecloth, the thick folds clutched between her grasping fingers. As Max exploded inside her, Darcie felt her back arch and her mind go numb as the mind-conditioning treatment amplified her own orgasm. Her pleasure-wracked body, glistening in sweat, slumped back on the table, tremors still coursing through her soaking vagina.
Soon her mind cleared and she slid off the table. Max was already sitting back in his chair, looking quite satisfied. Louise looked at her with the hint of a smile on her cruel, beautiful face.
Max took a sip of his drink. He said, “I trust you see what I mean, when I say that you’d be surprised at what you can do.”
Darcie tried to reply, come back with some threat or insult or anything at all. But all she could do was stand there, like a mannequin on display, waiting passively for her next instruction.
Max said, “I think it’s your turn on stage.” And he nodded to the stairs leading up to the elevated stage floor. “Oh, and you’ll need this collar.” He gave it to Louise, who deftly snapped it around her bare neck. If Darcie had not lost her ability to read, she would have seen her name etched in front. As it was, she understood she just needed the collar—felt naked without it. Darcie turned like mind-controlled slut she had become, and mounted the stairs, her hips swaying seductively. When the music began its hypnotic beat, and the colored lights began flashing in syncopation to the dazzling flashes in her brain, Darcie began dancing. Her hands slid over her body, squeezed her own breasts. She undulated and pranced and postured, using dance moves that had been drilled into her brain by a 100,000 virtual-reality repetitions in the mind-control chair, her body getting hotter by the second, her thoughts now channeled into the one hope that she might excite a club patron enough—it didn’t matter which one—so that he might want to fuck her. Not seduce her, not make love to her—but fuck her hard like slut she had become. So Darcie danced with erotic abandon, surrendering to the music. Her career, her freedom, her hatred of Max—all these seem to evaporate under those flashing stage lights. The important thing was to be the perfect sex toy for whoever was selected for her. . .
But Max had other plans for her.
Two months later, Darcie’s smiling face could be seen in a head-and-shoulders shot on the video monitor. It was a setting in which she would have felt quite at home, in her earlier life: a television studio.
Darcie looked directly into the camera, her face perfectly made up and her eyes sparkling.. “Hi there, girls!” she said. “I know a lot of you have wondered why I decided to leave my talk show. Well, I must confess—I’ve been indulging myself these past few weeks at a new health spa. The name is “For Girls Only”, and they took such great care of me, I knew I had to get involved. So I’ve said ta-ta to my talk show, and agreed to become the chief spokeswoman for this marvelous resort.” The view cut to a interior pool, with massage tables, fountains, and beauty-chairs. Women lounged about, some being massaged, others getting pedicures and facials, and other simply relaxing and talking at the pool. All the women looked attractive and very happy. (The camera was too far back for a viewer to see their opaque doll eyes, and wrapped towels and free-flowing hair styles hid any trace of the metal jacks at the back of their heads).
Darcie’s silky voice continued the voice-over. “At the For Girls Only Spa, each client is treated like a princess. At this exclusive island resort, the staff is dedicated to providing everything you need to make you a new person. The latest workouts, steam baths, beauty-aids and body works are all yours, in a surprisingly low cost package.” The camera returned to the close up of Darcie. “So apply now, because reservations are limited, by calling the toll-free number at the bottom of the screen. Let me make this personal invitation enjoy to this marvelous new world of pampering. At this spa, it truly is a girl’s world’, as I used to say on my show before joined these wonderful people” she concluded perkily. “So see you there!”
Max leaned over and snapped off the large screen television with a flourish. director of Marketing and Louise, both sitting across from him. “That ad ran last week in six select metropolitan markets in North America. The response has exceeded our expectations. We now have on file over eight hundred applications. The staff has made an initial culling, and it looks like out of that total we have at least two hundred good candidates for conversion into LoveDolls. Natural beauty, limited family and boyfriend connections, psychological aptitude for servitude—the questionnaires and photos give us excellent background. I trust that solves our supply problem.”
The Director of Marketing beamed. “Max, you are to be congratulated. You hit the mother load—an unlimited source of potential LoveDolls. And the idea of basing all this on an island resort, far from surveillance or government interference—well, that was just brilliant.”
Max nodded. “It really is a world-class spa, you know,” he said. Most of the women will go back home, looking tanned and fit and bubbling with good thing say about the service they received. And why not? The cost is being subsidized by the sale of those that remain with us, to be converted into marketable LoveDolls. But you know, we should also give credit where credit is due. Our little celebrity really showed off her star quality.” And he turned slightly in his chair to smile at Darcie. “Well done on that presentation, Ms. McVey.”
But Darcie did not respond. She didn’t speak, except when they trotted her out for more commercials at the spa’s private television studio. She knelt on hands and knees, head upraised, back arched, breasts jutting coquettishly for easy handling, quite naked except for her high-heeled strap-pumps, upon the upraised pedestal at the far side of Max’s office, her exquisitely maintained body on display. The platform slowly revolved, one turn every five minutes, so that anybody who watched could see every curve and contour of her body as she maintained this lascivious posture. Her augmented breasts swayed slightly with the motion, and her hips undulated in a manner designed to stimulate the male libido. As the platform completed the revolution while Max was talking, Darcie gracefully moved into another position, by slowly lowering herself submissively to her elbows, her nipples of her full, swaying breasts barely brushing the surface of the platform. Her tongue flicked out to keep her lips moist and inviting, making her look even more infinitely desirable. This how she spent much of her day, as living sculpture in Max’s office.
“You know,” said Max, “I don’t know why Ms. McVey objected so much to being—how did she put it?—ornamental. She does it so well.” He studied the upraised ass of the girl as it slowly turned to face him, the thighs nicely toned and spread invitingly wide. “Oh, I rather fancy that,” he murmured. He kept her remote control on a tasteful mount on his desk. Throughout the day, he would use her as the mood took him, beckoning her over for a head job as he talked to agents in the far-flung network of their LoveDoll ring. Or, if he was entertaining a prospective client, he might casually toss them Darcie’s remote and bid them to indulge themselves. And who wouldn’t want that, to ravish the sexually-charged LoveDoll who had once been such a television celebrity?.
“Louise,” said Max, “while we are passing around compliments, I must say you have done a marvelous job with her. It takes only a few sessions of mind-conditioning to imprint these speeches in her brain and she never drops a line in the taping of these commercials. Judging from the response to the spa ads, there’s quite a population of young women who still hang on her every word. We’ll be doing another commercial tomorrow.”
“Thank you, sir,” said the trainer modestly. She looked at Darcie with a mocking, hard-edged smile. “Although I’m not sure she’s giving us a full hundred percent, yet.” Louise withdrew the flogger attached to her leather corset and slid its deceptively supple strands along Darcie’s trembling skin. “But we’re getting there, aren’t we, dear? I’ll give her another motivation session before the next showtime.”
Darcie blinked. The Director of Marketing and Louise left the room.
Max’s intercom buzzed. “The first boatload of girls are disembarking, sir. You said you wanted to be notified.”
“Thank you,” said Max. “Please patch in the dock-cam.” He switched on the television screen again. A cruise ship could be seen moored in the distance of the aqua-marine bay, and the landing boat was just tying up at the dock. A group of nubile young women, laughing and talking excitedly among themselves in the bright sun, were being escorted to the spa. Max knew before the week was out, the best and most beautiful of them would be transformed into docile sex slaves, conditioned to serve their new masters. Those fresh-faced expressions and innocent smiles would soon be smoldering with programmed lust. The thought made his manhood stir. He glanced at his watch—he had just enough time before the next meeting. Max studied the lovely form of Darcie on the pedestal. She was gracefully shifting into another position, choreographed long ago as part of her conditioning, as she leaned back and supported herself with one elbow, while her hand sensuously massaged her sex between the wide-spread thighs. Max gazed at his LoveDoll, letting his mind romp with the possibilities of how to use her this time. Then he reached for the remote control. . .
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