My Life As Doll Furniture Novels & Stories

I was getting dangerously close, eyes rolling back, moaning his name like a prayer. “Daddy… please… I’m gonna cum—” The floorboard outside my door creaked. My eyes flew open in terror. I froze mid-thrust, the thick vibrating dildo buried deep inside me, still buzzing loudly. Heavy footsteps stopped right outside my door. “Mona?” His deep, authoritative voice rumbled through the wood, sending another gush of slick around the toy. “I heard noises. You alright in there?” I clamped my mouth shut, but my pussy kept clenching rhythmically around the thick dildo, right on the edge of exploding.

Bonnie must fit in perfectly here. Hanson's Furniture dealt with high-end merchandise, kitchen tables were dinette sets, and couches were luxurious sectionals. One piece of this furniture was worth more than Aimee's monthly mortgage payment. She assumed the stuff was built to last, and in today's cheap assembly line products, that was a good thing, but the cost would keep most people from being able to afford it. Aimee just needed her furniture to last a few years, not for generations.

Celea put the key in and opened what seem to be a hidden door " It's been quite a while since I last came here hasn't it?" asked Celea herself with a little smile on her face. In the room there were paintings of all the people she had lost throughout her life, there was also a little desk and a comfortable chair One of the room's walls was dedicated to her troublemakers only there were pictures of them growing up, old clothes when they were only babies, toys that they used to play with and drawings they used to make for her when they were kids, flowers they gave her that were still as fresh as the day she received them thanks to her powers keeping them alive

She was thankful that the trousers had a string. Combing her hair, she put them in a bun. When she made her way to the door, she smiled to find it unlocked. Her heart flipped with joy. So he listened. As Amara exited the room, the familiarity of his mansion embraced her like an old friend. The grandeur that surrounded her was evidence of the wealth and taste that characterized the man who kidnapped her. Taking her sweet time, Amara wandered through the familiar spaces, tracing her fingers over the polished surfaces of mahogany furniture and admiring the art that adorned the walls. She couldn't help but marvel at the seamless blend of classic and modern elements that defined the style.

The dollhouse is small enough to carry and large—enough to sit on a table and become a world. Mia stands with both hands pressed flat against her sternum as if holding herself in. The dollhouse is painted soft white with lavender trim. The roof is shingled in what might be real cedar, each piece cut small and laid in overlapping rows, and a tiny copper weathervane at the peak has a crown instead of a rooster. There are four rooms visible from the open side—a throne room with a floor made from thin slices of shell, a bedroom with a canopy bed that has actual fabric on it, fabric so small it might have been cut from a scarf. There is a kitchen with a bucket the size of a thumbnail. There is a

“She got me this big book on origami so I don’t have to keep renewing the one from the library. And a baseball bat—can you believe it! So cool. Oh, and clothes.” “You needed those clothes,” Emily said, measured, defensive. Mama Metcalf had also picked up on Lucette’s dismissive tone in regards to her essentials, but only smiled. She’d been the same when she was young, rifling through presents as the snow fell outside, shaking boxes for the gold whilst leaving the soft packages until last. Lucette unwrapped the gift, and her eyes widened. “Oh, thank you, Mama Metcalf!” She held a large dollhouse with peekaboo doors and multiple rooms, a curving flight of stairs, tiny furnishings. There was ev

Not wanting to commit to a certain color, the room had been done in an antique white. The finest of furniture had been ordered as well as two rocking chairs, a plush velvet overstuffed chair and a massive turn of the century French armoire. There were dozens of stuffed animals, a bassinet, and a swing. Three car seats had been purchased and installed in each of Elliot’s cars. “What do you think we need to do?” he asked cautiously. Mandy knew that she was being unreasonable, but she couldn’t help it. Her hormones seemed to be reigning supreme, and she was merely an innocent bystander to it all.

Physically or emotionally. “Your trust means everything.” As they entered the room, she saw that he’d moved the coffee table over slightly. Sitting on top were a laptop and cup of coffee. Then just behind the coffee table, he’d set a fluffy rug down on the floor in front of the sectional. Sitting on the fluffy rug were some coloring books and pens. Along with a pile of blocks and a set of wooden dolls that had outfits that you could change out. “Ooh, Daddy! I love those dollies!”

He studied the receipt for a long moment before holding it out to me. ​My hands shook violently as I took the receipt from him. ​My eyes scanned the printed ink. Listed right there were the items I had bought for Julia—a set of scented candles and decorative holders—along with the surprise I had picked out for Cole: a set of lace lingerie, a sweet candy novelty c#ck ring, and the bottle of red polish for myself. ​And right at the bottom, printed clearly in plain English alongside the price and total, was a single line item: 1x Baby Doll.

Barbie dolls, rag dolls, and Lolita dolls dressed in cute European fashion. Kumara took three large rag dolls, two boys and one girl. She took the dolls downstairs and dragged them down the stairs. When she arrived at the dining room, she put the three dolls in their respective chairs. Kumara placed a plate and spoon in front of each doll. Then he started slicing meat and drinking from a glass of red syrup. "Aa Doni, Mama, Papa, let's eat," said Kumara to the dolls. The beautiful woman eats enjoying her cooking. Drops of tears escaped down her cheeks. A dog was howling outside. *** Continued