The Dollhouse Society: Isabelle (New Adult BDSM Erotica) by Eden Myles Page B

“falsies” under it. “My surgery is planned for next week, so I’m very excited about that.” Her eyes crinkled in a smile. “And very grateful to you for being my ‘model’.”
    I blushed at that.
    She flicked a long, russet lock of hair off my forehead. “You’re so pretty. Have you ever considered being a model?”
    I laughed at that. “At my weight? No.”
    “Plus-sized models are all the rage, my dear.” She winked. “If you ever change your mind, you know who to come to.” She gave me her card and turned her svelte self toward the door.
    I was feeling very beautiful after talking to Ms. Veronica.
    I finished running Dorian’s clothes up, then came back down, frowning at the hallway runner, which always got the most traffic. I got out my trusty Dyson from the hall closet and went over it carefully, then decided to give the living room a sweep.
    With the vacuum running, I didn’t hear Dorian come in or take his place in one of the wing chairs by the hearth. As I was shutting off the Dyson and coiling the cord up, I noticed him out of the corner of my eye. He was sitting in the chair, his chin cradled on his fist, and enjoying the sight of my legs and bare ass cheeks that always wound up on display whenever I bent over in the tiny dress.
    “Sorry, sir, I didn’t see you there,” I said.
    “That’s because you work too hard.” He smirked to show he was teasing me.
    I smiled back. “I like the work.”
    “You do, don’t you, my dear? Don’t find it beneath you?”
    “I don’t believe any kind of honest work is beneath someone.”
    “True,” he agreed. “But I do hope you’ve set your sights on something bigger in the future. What’s your major, if I might ask?”
    “Business administration,” I told him.
    “And you’re graduating next year?”
    “Yes, sir.”
    “What are your plans?”
    I shrugged. “I haven’t decided.” The truth was, I was having difficulty thinking that far ahead. Ever since Clark, I had taken the philosophy of living one day at a time.
    He continued to look me over. Then he snapped his fingers and pointed at the floor.
    I knew what he wanted. Had another man made such a gesture, I would have told him to fuck off, but Dorian was my gentleman. I wa nted to please him.
    I went to him and knelt down. I undid his trousers. His cock was huge and hard, and his balls swollen and tight against his groin. I bent my head and licked at the rigid, veiny underside of that beautiful cock, little licks that I graduated upward until I reached his crown. I squeezed and kneaded his balls in my hand. By then he was moaning and tangling his hands in my hair, and his cock was pulsing out a steady stream of precum. The sight of it made the wetness between my legs grow. I couldn’t believe that I had such control over this man, that I could wring such a reaction from him. It was very empowering. I licked up every drop before taking his huge, bulbous head in my mouth.
    “God, you’re fucking sexy, Belle,” he said. “And you always know exactly what I need.”
    I smiled around the thick, meaty organ in my mouth, happy to draw such an admission from such a normally stoic man.
    He nested his hands in my hair and pulled, guiding my head up and down over his cock until I felt the now-familiar contraction of his belly muscles that signaled that he was close to coming.
    “I want to see my come all over you,” he said, and pulled my hair, pulled me off his cock, and dragged me upward until I was straddling his lap and pressed against the hard muscle of his chest under his suit, his stiff cock sandwiched between us. He easily ripped the buttons open on the little maid’s dress and my breasts bounced out, the peaks stiff and strawberry red and as ready to serve him as the rest of me was. He cradled my breasts in his big hands, working the nipples harder still, worshipping them in a way that made me feel both proud and beautiful. His. I gasped and writhed at all the attention he was