In the gentle twilight between sexual fantasy and reality.....Herman's creations released strange lusts.....******Herman dragged himself to the window and stared into the street."We're just making a product. It's like a - a commodity that's - that's needed.... And it is needed!" He turned, looked at Bert, then pointed to the street. "How many girls do you think will get raped tonight? How many, eh?"Bert shrugged. "How the hell would I know!""But if those guys - those rapists - had a doll-" Herman's face gleamed with sincerity, "maybe they wouldn't want to rape someone... maybe they wouldn't need to rape someone...." He stared into Bert's face, then finished, "You never thought of it that way, did you?"
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The Doll Maker
Copyright © 2016 London Magic
Darque Taboo Press
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All Rights Reserved: No part of this publication may be reproduced or retransmitted, electronic or mechanical, without the written permission of the publisher; with the exception of brief quotes used in connection with reviews written for inclusion in a magazine or newspaper.
Disclaimer: This book contains explicit sexual content, graphic, adult language, and situations that some readers may find objectionable which might include: multiple sexual practices, heavy and strong BDSM themes and elements, erotic elements and fetish play. This e-book is for sale to adults ONLY, as defined by the laws of the country in which you made your purchase. Please do not try any new sexual practice, especially those that might be found in our BDSM/Fetish titles without the guidance of an experienced practitioner. Neither the publisher nor its authors will be responsible for any loss, harm, injury, or death resulting from use of the information contained in any of its titles. All characters depicted at least eighteen years of age or older.
Publisher’s Note: This is a work of fiction. All characters, places, businesses, and incidents are from the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual places, people, or events is purely coincidental. Any trademarks mentioned herein are not authorized by the trademark owners and do not in any way mean the work is sponsored or associated with the trademark owners. Any trademarks used are specifically in a descriptive capacity.
Almost furtively, he glanced up and down the street before he closed, then locked, the door of his shop. This was the old part of San Francisco, the unchanging section where antique shops, pawnbrokers, bookbinders and cabinetmakers remained from year to year, as though they existed in a zone of timelessness. Yet even in this environment, Herman's shop seemed out-of-date. "Antiques and General Repairs" announced the faded sign above the shop window. Herman snapped down a switch and the dim bulb, which had illuminated the sign, went out.
Herman was less than forty years old, yet, as he shuffled to the back of his shop, he gave the appearance of age. Perhaps it was because he dragged his leg, the crippled leg, or maybe it was the sag of his shoulders as he moved. He opened the small but heavy door at the back of his dusty store and stepped into another world. His own private world.... The quilted door closed behind him and the gentle lights came on, bathing the pink walls, and the deeply piled rug, and the wide, luxurious bed... and.... Herman moved to the side of the bed, his feet sinking into the soft floor-covering, and stared at her.
The blonde head rested on the virginally white pillow, but the eyes were open! The hidden lights made a blue haze which radiated from the irises.... Herman leaned forward and gently squeezed a soft arm. He gave a small sigh and sat down on the edge of the bed. Carefully, he unfastened the silk blouse, feasted his eyes on the round softness of perfectly formed breasts. He took a pink nipple between his fingers and squeezed it absently. Perfect! - He let out his breath with a sigh of satisfaction. He stroked a smooth cheek, admired the slightly parted, red, wet lips. He squeezed both cheeks with his fingers, pressed his mouth down onto the opening lips and thrust his tongue into the warm, slick and strangely satisfying aperture. A gentle pulsating commenced within his groin. Nervously, urgently, he reached down to the hem of her skirt, raised it to the hips. The silk-encased legs reflected the gentle light. He dropped his hand between them; let his fingers move up to the top of the stockings; paused while he fondled the soft, smooth thighs. He moved on to the tight silk briefs which snuggled round the moulded hips. He drew the panties down carefully, raising each delicate leg in turn as he slipped off the thin silk. The triangle of hairs were soft, blonde and luxuriant. Herman stroked them as he would a cat's. His hand slid down to the apex. Gently he parted the stark, white thighs... the delicate lips opened under his fingertips. He placed his hand over the wet, dark cavern and a finger probed into the moist-ness. He felt the pulsating in his groin increase in intensity. He dragged his hand away, tore off his clothes with frantic haste and climbed onto the bed. The silken-covered legs were still open, the thighs wide apart. Herman again guided his hand to the beckoning opening, sliding his fingers into the wetness and feeling his penis harden, pulse and vibrate. He took the shaft between the fingers of his other hand, slipped them down until they closed over the bulbous head. He gripped tightly, reveling in the size, the strength, and the tenseness of his organ. Abruptly, spasmodically almost, he rolled himself over, thrusting his torso between the outflung legs. Then he forced the glazed end of his penis between the red, vaginal lips. As small animal sounds came from his lips, Herman copulated with his own sleek, smooth, life-like doll!
"Good morning, Herman," said the pert, eighteen-year-old girl when she walked into the antique shop. "Hello, Sandra-"
Herman looked at the curvy brunette with admiration.
"Is it ready?" she asked.
She meant the iron that she had brought in for him to repair.
Herman was about to say yes, when something made him change his mind. "Not quite, Sandra," he went on, "could you call in this afternoon, when you're through at the office?"
She smiled. "Sure, Herman - I'll do that."
He watched her mince to the door and out. He stared down at his hands on the counter. What had made him tell her to come back? he asked himself.
Herman was still lost in thought when the young man entered the shop, shambled up to the counter, and lounged there with his head on his hands.
Herman glanced at him without much enthusiasm. Bert was about six-foot-three, shabbily dressed and twenty years old. The body of a man - but the mind of a baby, thought Herman. Bert was just a bum!
"Lend me a couple of dollars until tonight, Herman - will ya?" asked Bert, hopefully but without much confidence.
"No." Herman was brief and to the point.
A scowl came over Bert's unintelligent face; then he tried to look more alert as he asked, "How about going over to Mamie's tonight?"
Mamie's was one of the few old-fashioned brothels left in the city. Bert had taken Herman there a couple of times.... It was loud, dirty and cheap - and Bert liked it!
"No thanks, Bert-" said Herman politely, "I guess I won't have to go to Mamie's any more." He smiled secretively.
Bert stared at him. What the hell?
"You holdin' somethin' out on me, Herman?" he asked, suspiciously.
"Why, Bert - I don't know what you mean." Herman sounded very innocent.
"You found some dame on the side?"
Bert stared at him.
Herman didn't answer, just smiled back at Bert.
"Or - a guy! You've found a guy who's doing for you-"
"No-" the smile was gone from Herman's face.
"Herman-" Bert forced a smile onto his unhealthy-looking face, leaned across the counter and mouthed, "You want-me to come to the back of the shop and squeeze it for you, Herman?"
Herman's face turned a dusky red. "No-" he bit off the word.
"For ten bucks - I'll suck you off, Herman buddy-" Bert leered. You don't get nothin for nothin' - the young tramp was thinking. Someone's always gotta pay!
"Get the hell outa here!" Herman shoved viciously at the young punk's elbow. It slipped off the counter and Bert almost fell to the floor.
"Okay, Herman-" Bert's voice was quiet, sullen and dangerous, "just don't push me around." He eyed the older man reflectively, "We're buddies, aren't we?"
Herman hesitated, then: "Sure, Bert, sure," he spoke slowly. This lame-brained bum was strong enough to tear him apart, Herman was thinking.
"Okay, just as long as we're buddy-buddy-" there was a trace of menace in the slow, childish voice.
Herman watched him walking to the door.
"I'll see you, Herman-" said Bert before he exited and Herman told himself it was only his imagination that made him hear more in the words than Bert intended.
The color had ebbed from Herman's face. Now a little of it returned - and with it anger. Just because he was a cripple, any young punk thought he could be pushed around. Want me to suck you for a sawbuck? He seemed to hear the hated words. Squeeze your cock, Herman? I know you can't get no girls! What girl'd want a broken-down cripple like you? Come on, Herman. Coupla-bucks an I'll rub you off.... Herman clenched his fists until the knuckles turned white. Damn them! Screw them all - the filthy bastards! He felt his heart beating too hard, and tried to relax. Don't let yourself get excited, the doc had told him, don't over extend your heart! He sank down onto the wooden chair that he kept beside the counter for moments like these.... Why did he have to have such a weak, rotten body? Gradually the quick, uneven breathing slowed. He let his arms drop down beside the chair.... That felt better! After a minute, he took out a pack of cigarettes, lit one, smoked it slowly, then glanced over his shoulder at the small, inconspicuous door. His doorway to ecstasy, he thought dreamily, his pathway to delight! He smiled to himself, a satisfied, secret smile. No one could take that away from him... his doll! His Lena! He repeated the name to himself, he liked it. He'd called his doll Lena because... once he had known a little girl called Lena.... A little girl with a face like his doll! In fact, he'd made the doll's face just like Lena's... such a cute baby-face.... My own little baby-doll! he thought, tenderly.
Herman felt much better now. He got to his feet and put the chair against the wall. He didn't need that anymore. He opened the small drawer under his counter, took a capsule from the vial, swallowed it with a swig from a bottle of water, then began his daily chores. He'd be glad when it was time to close shop... time to go to his private boudoir... time to make love to Lena! He glanced at his watch - quite a few hours before then - but he had to stay open. He needed some business... he had to make enough money to live... and this afternoon she was coming back, Sandra! The cute little brunette whom he'd asked to return. Now why had he done that? Herman wrinkled his brow. There must have been a reason! There was always a reason for him doing things... even though he might not be aware, at the time, just what the reason was.... Just why had he asked Sandra to come back?
Sandra half-trotted down the street. She would call in at Herman's, collect her iron, then fix up her newest dress, her yellow dress, the one that Bruce said he liked so much, then she'd be ready for her date with him tonight. Just the thought of her date made her feel happy and excited. Bruce seemed such a clean, straightforward young guy... so different from Rudi! The smile which crinkled her smooth, young face vanished at the thought. Rudi! How could she know he was married, she asked herself bitterly. He was too smooth, too polished, just too damned sexy! And, it had to be her that he chose. Out of all the girls in the office, he'd picked her... and she'd been so flattered! She twisted her lips in a parody of a cynical smile.... It didn't suit her young face. It'd been a ball! He'd flattered her all right; taken her out to the most expensive places - then smoothly, delightfully, sex-satisfyingly... seduced her! It'd been just too, too easy! And she'd loved every minute of it... until she'd found out he was married. So what? She tried to make herself feel wise, sophisticated about it. So she'd lost her virginity! What was so precious about that? Some girls lost it when they were much younger than she.... And they didn't even get the VIP treatment that Rudi had given her! He'd known his stuff all right, all right! He was wasting his time as a computer salesman, she thought whimsically, he ought to be a professional - what was the word - seducer? Rapist? No - he hadn't raped her, or if he had, she'd been the most willing victim on the West Coast! She felt her cheeks flushing as she remembered. It hadn't been too hard to deflower this virgin. Just the memory made a small pulse begin to tick in her belly. She tried to walk more quickly. The little pulse within her beat more strongly, moved down to her abdomen, sent out little waves to other exciting parts of her body.... She felt a small trickle of moisture slide down the bare thighs inside her woolen skirt. Damn Rudi! Just the thought of him made her begin to come... to.... She glanced down guiltily, terrified that a betraying spot of dampness would proclaim her condition to the world.... But her skirt was woven of dark wool; she didn't have to worry - there was no outside sign of her inner thoughts. "Taxi!"
She jumped to the edge of the sidewalk, hailed a cab. She didn't want to walk anymore in this heat. She could feel the wetness between her legs each time she took a step... and the little pulse was getting bigger, increasing its area of influence, until the walls of her vagina began to contract....
Sandra snapped her instructions to the driver, leaned back in the seat, closed her eyes, and pressed her thighs together, hard! Oh my God, she murmured to herself.... How could she wait to get home?
The taxi wended its way to the old part of the city, while the driver stole surreptitious glances at the juicy young morsel of flesh on his back seat. She was lying back, and the short-short skirt had worked up until he could see the whiteness of her thighs.... She kept pushing them together then relaxing them. Her eyes were closed and small beads of perspiration had formed upon her forehead. The in-sides of her thighs gleamed, glistened as though they had been creamed, or greased... they looked slick, ready and waiting.... He dragged his eyes away with an effort. Damn her! How the hell could he concentrate on driving when she was lying back there like that? He could feel his penis swelling each time he moved his foot.... Why did women have to be such a bloody bunch of cock teasers?
Herman counted the money. He had made ninety-three dollars. Just one sale all day! What a business. Lucky he'd sold that vase to the middle-aged lady. He smiled at the memory.
"Oh, yes, it's genuine all right-" he had told her. It was a real oriental antique! Well, it was oriental.... It'd been made in Hong Kong just a few months ago. But Herman had erased the telltale "Made in Hong Kong" mark and replaced it with his own, homemade stamp.... It was now a genuine antique. Herman was a pretty creative guy.... He could make other things, besides just... dolls!
A taxi was stopping outside his shop. He stared at it, not many of his customers came by cab. It was Sandra, he saw with pleasure. Dear little Sandra coming to his shop to collect her electric iron. He rubbed his hands together in anticipation. She was such a cute, curvy and sweet little brunette! He wouldn't be surprised if she was still a virgin.... In a way, he hoped she wasn't!
"Come in, Sandra-" he called warmly, when she opened the door, "your iron's all ready."
"Thank you, Herman-" she said a little breathlessly, as she minced up to his counter. She felt hot and uncomfortable, but the shop was cool and strangely relaxing after the hustle and bustle of the city.
"Where's the iron?"
"I'll get it for you," he said, not moving and eyeing the girl, "you look warm."
"I am warm," she gave a small pant, "it's stifling in the city."
"Would you like a cold drink?" he asked.
"Well-" she hesitated, "I don't really drink-"
"I mean a Coke-" he said quickly, "an ice-cold Coke-" She sighed.
"Yes, I guess I would... thanks, Herman."
"Sit down-" he pointed to the solitary chair, "I'll get one for you."
He moved to the minifridge in a corner of the store. She saw him open a Coke, pour it into a glass - but she didn't see the small tablet which he dropped into her drink - the one which dissolved, effervesced, then disappeared!
She sipped at her drink - then drained the glass. "That was good, Herman - now my iron." She got to her feet.
"Right away-" Herman began to move away from his counter, then paused, "Oh, Sandra - there's something I'd like to show you... something I've made for a customer - will you tell me what you think of it?" He moved to the door at the back of his store. "It's in here-" he said, softly.
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