Dolores Dolly

by Qu

Chapter 1

"You're a dolly?" The small, blonde girl in front of me had her eyes open wide. Her feet were planted wide and she had her hands on her hips in typical domme style. "A dolly?" The girl repeated, the note of incredulity in her voice.

I tried to get past the girl, but she wasn't going to move. Being nearly Christmas the mall was full and both me and the child (who I now now to be Mistress Tabitha) formed a small island and people were sweeping past us, no doubt wishing we weren't just stood there.

"I always wanted a dolly," grinned the girl, her blue eyes sparkling. She looked me up and down and decided a 25 year old woman with frizzy black hair and a warm brown skin made for a rather large doll. The mixed race in me had come out pretty obviously. "A nigger dolly," laughed the girl.

"I'm not a nigger," I said, my cheeks hotting up. "You shouldn't call people that. It isn't nice." I hopped from one foot to the other. "Mixed race," I pointed out, in case it wasn't obvious.

The girl's blue eyes didn't blink. "Oh, I think you are what I said. So, why are you a dolly?"

I shot a glance at Colleen who was standing a little way off, a small smirk on her face. She could probably hear what was being said and was amused that calling me Dolly instead of Dolores always raised a few eyebrows. This little girl had heard. It had not only had stopped Mistress Tabitha in her tracks but she had stopped me. "It's my name. People call me that." I gave the briefest glare over the child's head at Colleen, who was definitely grinning now. She always enjoyed my embarrassment at moments like this.

For a loving mother-in-law, Colleen can be a very cruel person.

"I like it," said Mistress Tabitha. Of course, I didn't know her name then and nor did I know she was going to be my mistress, but perhaps there were signs in how she looked at me and how she spoke. There certainly wasn't any doubting her pose, the way she stood like a small rock in the tide of shoppers. "You can be my dolly," she said, and grinned.

My face burned red even more. Mixed race people like me do blush — you would be surprised how often white people ask me that — but I try not to in public.

"I can't be a doll," I tried to explain, wondering why Colleen was laughing where she stood to one side. "I'm… I'm married." It was feeble excuse but the best I could come up with.

"Oh, don't worry. Simon will understand," said my mother-in-law as she detached herself from the side of the aisle where she was standing and joined me and Mistress Tabitha to make a larger island.

Mistress Tabitha raised an eyebrow at Colleen. My mother-in-law is a good looking woman, some twenty years older than me. She had her son Simon when she was seventeen and had worked hard to keep her good looks and figure. The girl must have recognised a kindred spirit in Colleen because she looked at my mother-in-law and said: "Can I keep her for Christmas?"

"Of course," smiled Colleen at the girl. "Every little girl wants a dolly for Christmas. Her husband will be happy to see the back of her for a while."

I might as well not have been there. I cleared my throat and opened my mouth to object to this decision making on my behalf but both Colleen and Mistress Tabitha took the opportunity to frown at me. I closed my mouth and blushed a little more. I really wished at that moment my mother-in-law had been talking about Christmas shopping than using my ‘Dolly' name with a dominant child in hearing range. Actually, I hate being called Dolly, but then I hate Dolores even more and I cannot begin to tell you how much I detest the names Dot and Dotty. So when people call me Dolly I grind my teeth a little less. It saves having an aching jaw. But Colleen had used it as Mistress Tabitha was passing and here we were.

"I'll just check with my mum that we have room to keep Dolly over Christmas," said the girl and asked Colleen to wait there. She would be back in a moment, she said. Mistress Tabitha hurried off. Colleen meanwhile took my arm and steered me to one side to wait for the girl's return.

"What are you doing?" I hissed, yanking my arm free of her grip.

"Making a little girl's Christmas even happier," said my mother-in-law casually. "And Simon's too. He can go out drinking and fucking now," she added.

"What about me?" I asked, not wanting a confrontation over her son's habit of going off to fuck other women.

Colleen raised an eyebrow at me. "Oh for fuck's sake," she sighed. "It's always about you, isn't it?"

I felt terrible. My head was spinning at the speed of all this. A dominant girl overhearing a snatch of Colleen's conversation with me and suddenly, I was spoken for. I had hoped for a normal Christmas but that prospect was fast disappearing. Maybe, I reflected, a normal Christmas was never going to happen. Perhaps though the girl would come back and say her mother said no and then I could go and get on with my present-buying. But the child didn't seem the sort of person who would ever listen to a ‘no.'

"I don't think Simon should go out whoring," I protested, finally bringing up the thing that was an unwelcome feature of my married life.

Colleen shrugged. "Okay, so you don't. But as he will do what he wants just as he always has, what does your opinion matter? He certainly won't be staying in even if you weren't owned by a girl." I had been married to Simon for two years and I knew it was true. I knew all too well what he was like. No, there was no reason why he should stay in; not when there were younger women out there who lusted after him. "I would think you'd be a lot happier with that girl. She seems sweet and frankly she will probably take a lot more care of you over the holiday season than my son would," Colleen continued.

I had to agree that was probably true. My shoulders slumped and I felt tears form in my eyes.

"Listen, Dolores –– Dolly –– you know what Simon is like. You really want to spend all of Christmas wondering who he is fucking? How drunk he is?" My mother-in-law grimaced as she went on. "I know what my son's like, and so do you now. You might have been all doe-eyed over love once but I know you have found out the reality of being married to him. Trust me, anything is better than what he brings."

I gulped, still feeling sorry for myself. The crowds were pushing past us, all intent on shopping for presents that would make someone happy. Hopefully make them feel appreciated. What would Simon get me? Nothing, because he was selfish. Buying presents was not his idea of Christmas. I knew it and so did his mother. I managed a glum nod of understanding.

"I don't know what this girl wants with you, but anything is better than being with Simon. Think about it, Dolly; the bastard won't even miss you." My mother-in-law continued her speech. "This girl will, if her mother agrees, want you around in some way. That has to be better, right?"

Colleen was, as usual, right. She had warned me not to marry her son and I took it as some sort of mother jealousy complex. In fact she was trying to warn me that no matter how good looking I was, how willing in bed (and Simon had some kinky ideas) he would tire of me and revert to his normal behaviour. "What am I going to do?" I managed to say without crying, which took some effort.

"You are going to stop feeling sorry for yourself," said Colleen sharply. "This girl may be the godsend you need. Try to look at this positively."

"But girls like her are…" I trailed off. I was going to say they made women's lives a misery but that wasn't entirely true. I knew women who were happy to be owned by little girls, doing what they were told, making every effort to make them happy. I'd tried to make Simon happy and he had pushed me aside more often than not. Yes, maybe this girl was a godsend even if I couldn't see it immediately.

"It's fine. My mum says I can have her," said Mistress Tabitha as she arrived back with us, panting at our side. "Only she's got to pay for her own outfit."

"Uh… Outfit?" I blinked at the little blonde girl.

"Dolls need clothes," said the girl wearily as if I was an idiot.

"Quite right," said Colleen. She pushed me towards the girl.

"There's a sub shop downstairs," said the child, waving her hand airily. I knew the one she meant: the place was called Sub just to get the point across. If you went past you saw women and the girls who owned them in the store shopping. The woman always paid, of course, and now I would have to pay for something for me. Something outrageous, probably. I gave Colleen an alarmed look, who merely smirked.

"Go on, go with––" Colleen indicated the child vaguely.

"Tabitha," responded the girl. Then she looked up at me and said, firmly: "You will call me Mistress Tabitha."

"Go with Mistress Tabitha," insisted my mother-in-law. "I'll tell Simon you have made other arrangements for Christmas. He won't mind."

"But," I protested. "Christmas is, um, three days away." No one took any notice and Mistress Tabitha had grabbed my hand and was leading me — pulling me — towards the escalators. I was being guided towards this store for submissives and I couldn't resist. I meekly followed Mistress Tabitha and I felt several women stare at me as if they knew what was happening. Was it that obvious that I was just a willing female?

Sub lived up to its name. Here was a store packed with clothes and devices that a submissive would wear or endure, and the shop was crowded. I saw one woman trying on a red female Santa costume with two girls critically examining the all too-short white fur edged skirt that showed her stocking tops (black stockings that made her look like a cheap whore), and nearby a woman was checking how she looked in a tight-fitting fairy costume that left precious little to the imagination. The girl who clearly owned the would-be fairy was slapping the woman — her mother I heard from what the child said — on the rump to test whether the flimsy net skirt interfered with her daughter's ability to slap the woman's rear. Other women were wearing blouses and skirts that were too revealing or too tight, several older females allowing small girls to cuff their hands cuffed behind them to check how the blouse strained and revealed their boobs. In the far corner a mature woman was bending over with skirt up while a seven year old girl was trying out a variety of paddles on the offered panty-covered rear. 

They were sheer panties too and I could see both the crack of her rear and the twin globes slowly reddening under the repeated assault. I could also hear her gasps and moans, because she was being turned on by being spanked in public.

The door to the store's changing rooms was open (though I realised that the room didn't have a door at all) and a naked woman with a large red ball gag was putting a pair of bright purple tassels on her nipples, watched intently by a small girl and a shop assistant who was holding a tray with several more tassels in different colours. Outside the changing room a girl was telling her mother to stand straight while a sales girl placed a noose round the woman's neck. There were several nooses dangling alongside the mother and behind her was a sign that said "Shopper's waiting area. Leave your sub here!" Further along the line of nooses another woman was already there and she looked exhausted. I noticed she was standing in high heels and no doubt he feet were aching terribly. Fortunately someone had taped her mouth up so she couldn't object to being left waiting for her owner to come back. I gulped at the idea that this was where mothers and women could be ‘stored' while their daughters or owners went off to do something else at the mall. I could see the mother being noosed had her hands tied behind her. She looked resigned but offered no resistance as the sales girl tightened the noose so it pressed tight on the side of her neck. The girl with her was unbuttoning the woman's blouse to let her breasts come free and on show, which must have added to the woman's embarrassment.

That was all I had chance to see as I was led to another side of the store and Mistress Tabitha told me to stand and wait. To my astonishment I did as I was told, aware that a number of the little girls there were regarding me critically. I put my hands behind my back as I wasn't sure what else to do with them. I closed my eyes in the stupid belief that if I couldn't see anyone they couldn't see me. Surely, I thought, this was the lowest anyone could sink. But then I remembered how badly my husband had treated me on our honeymoon so perhaps this wasn't the worst thing ever. Perhaps, I thought, Colleen had been right: this was a way out of the prospect of another nightmare Christmas with Simon.

Mistress Tabitha was talking to a store assistant and pointing at me, and the young girl who served in the store was nodding. She disappeared into the back and came out with a bundle of white latex. "Your new outfit," said Mistress Tabitha to me and I stared in horror at what was held up before me. I tried to say, "please no, you can't" but a frown from Mistress Tabitha silenced me. Then I was told to undress then and there and hesitatingly (and glad there were some clothes racks between me and the passing public outside the store to hide me) I got down to my bra and panties when I was told to stop.

I was blushing furiously but I had no choice but to stand there, almost naked, and let myself be measured up for the latex costume I would be paying for.

——--

You may think that I was stupid to allow all this but I don't think I was. In a way I had never been happier than being with Mistress Tabitha. Oh, it was weird, being dressed as I was and lying on her bed. But then as Mistress Tabitha told me that was what dolls did all day; lying and waiting for the little girl who owned them to come back.

I lay on the bed in Mistress Tabitha's bedroom, staring up at the ceiling. I was dressed in a skin-tight white latex suit that zipped up with small padlocks to secure me into it, fixing me from neck to ankles. At my hands were mittens, equally locked on, and the same for the thin latex shoes on my feet. I couldn't move because the latex was so tight on me (my bust was squashed flat to my chest as if I was a little girl myself) and it was impossible for me to bend my legs and arms. Fortunately, tubes into my lower carried away the waste to bottles under my bed. But to make sure I didn't get up and try to move, my owner had threaded thin rubber straps through loops on the outside of my suit that pinned me at neck, chest and arms, waist and legs both above and below the knees to the bed.

My head was covered by a white hood and over my face was a rigid plastic mask. A face, on which Mistress Tabitha spent an hour carefully painting an expression. Of course, I couldn't see it myself and she didn't bring a mirror over to me but she looked happy at what she had given me. A smile, I hope, along with rosy cheeks. My hair, where it came through the top of the hood, was styled into ringlets that I presume hung down by my shoulders when I stood though again I couldn't see them. As I was gagged under my mask (though a feeder tube could be inserted through a small hole in the mask lips and through my gag to feed me) I couldn't ask.

"You're a real doll now," said Mistress Tabitha when she had finished with me. She looked pleased. "You will lie here in my bedroom and be the perfect doll. Apart from Christmas Day of course. I will take you downstairs and put you under the Christmas tree and you can watch me opening my presents. I know you can't say anything but dolly's can't talk, can they?" I wanted to shake my head but Mistress Tabitha just smiled at me as I blinked through the small eyeholes in the mask. "I think you look lovely, Dolly, and hope you will have a very happy Christmas as my very special doll." She grinned even more. "I have bought you some lovely new dresses to wear. All ruffled skirts and pink lace. But I mustn't spoil the surprise! I just know I'm going to love dressing you in different things and showing you off to my friends. And I'm even going to have a party and you can stand there in one of your lovely dresses and though you'll be on a chair with a rope round your neck I know you won't fall. My friends will love looking at you and I will be so proud of you."

The girl left me for a while and I just stared up at the ceiling, wondering how I would cope being so helpless. Then Mistress Tabitha came back to me, carefully unfastened my mask, took out my ball gag and kissed me deeply. Kissed me like she cared about me. My heart leapt with joy as she did, and even though she soon replaced my gag and put my mask back on, I was the happiest Dolly there had ever been.

The happiest Christmas Dolly ever.

The End