The Witch's Dollhouse Pt. 04

Author's Note: Now that my university obligations are done for the year I should spare more free time for this...'Should' is the key word, I promise nothing.

You need to get out of here! Run! You can't stay here!

Phil's soul seemingly screamed at him. The moment he locked eyes with the petite figure, a part of him somewhere deep down inside of him wanted nothing more than to throw off whatever bonds held him in place and flee, even if it meant out of a window of the top floor.

Unfortunately whatever tied him to the bed kept him from moving anything but his torso and head, forcing him to shuffle uncomfortably under the soft yet heavy duvet.

The young lady smiled and performed an elegant curtsy. "A pleasure to meet you at last my beloved, I am Cecilia Belbrook." She stated calmly. Once her curtsy was finished, she flashed him a wide smile, somehow conveying both innocent glee and predatory lust at once.

Phil felt himself instinctively shuffle back under her gaze. "We...we've never met before" He muttered numbly. She giggled in reply, a dainty titter like birdsong.

"Perhaps not" she said "but I've been waiting oh so long for you my dear"

"Well either way, you're the reason I'm trapped in here right? Let me go already!"

She watched him struggle futilely with a wide grin, like a child observing the fruitless struggles of an insect in a jar.

"Adorable though your struggles may be, they are pointless. You cannot escape me as you are now. Besides, you lost the game did you not? You were ensnared three times and now all avenues of escape are locked to you."

Phil frowned. "But I DID escape. Towards the end, I got out!"

"You simply opened the doors silly, not only did you fail to step beyond them, but you didn't escape the whole estate proper."

"You cheated dammit!"

The young girl ignored him, pressing a finger to her lips as if in thought.

"Still, it was risky to let the spares taste you like that. All other mean have been drained dry at their hands." She beamed down at him, her fingers fiddling with her straps and laces. "I suppose the fact that you're the only one to survive is cause for celebration!".

"You can celebrate by letting me go home!"

His insistence falling on deaf ears, Phil could only lie there and watch his captor undress in front of him.

Loosening knots and removing straps she let her gothic gown fall from her figure, an elegant shape that curved and twisted into a supple body that betrayed the true age of the monster standing before him.

Fine silk and lingerie, frilled at the trim like her dress, hugged her shapely form like a second skin. Black like the rest of her palette, it stood out in contrast to her pale skin.

She turned around in mock embarrassment, hiding her body behind the abnormally long curtain of hair and turning her head to look back at him with a sultry smile.

Not breaking eye contact, she bent her body forward as if to remove the clothing beneath her feet, all the while keeping her ass up in the open as if to display it to her unwilling audience.

The curtain of hair parted like the opening act to an erotic show, providing him a glimpse at her shapely buttocks, still obscured by her tight panties but that only served to accentuate the shape.

Despite rationality arguing to not give in to her game, to resist her and try to escape, Phil found he couldn't look away.

Slowly, in no clear rush whatsoever, she removed the clothes at her feet and the heeled shoes she wore, keep her arse steady and visible aside from the occasional cheeky wriggle.

Leaving her thigh high socks on, she stood back up and turned to face Phil, beaming at his flushed face and drooling mouth.

"Oh my, is the sight of my beauty so grand that it has you enraptured so soon?"

Phil heard her taunt and his body flushed vermilion in shame, but his mind was still hazy and it was difficult to find the words to respond to her.

All he could manage to do instead was glare at her, though to anyone else it would have looked like his facial features had contorted into a puzzled frown, like a man fighting to express two separate emotions at once and couldn't pick between the two.

The young witch watched his clumsy scowl with a smile, absent of malice and devilish glee but filled with patient and warm love.

"If you show me such a cute expression, I am afraid I will be unable to control myself too" she warned, licking her lips.

Her eyes found his glare and challenged it, the haze that swamped Phil's already addled mind had grown thicker the longer he stared back at her, but he just couldn't muster the sense to look away either.

With a giggle, Cecilia lifted up the covers from the bottom of the bed and dived in, a lump on the duvet being all that signified the approaching woman as she burrowed towards her prey's defenceless form.

Phil felt her warm touch caress his inner thighs first, slender fingers massaged his muscles and slid across sweat-slick skin before cupping his balls.

"It certainly is a fine specimen" came her bewitching voice, drifting out from under the covers. "The mere sight of it, it's smell, it's taste --" punctuated by her tongue running along the length of the flesh "-- everything about it simply sets my heart ablaze. Ohhh how outstanding!"

Her flushed and heavy panting swamped his penis as her curious hands groped his shaft vehemently. What started as a gentle touch quickly ignited into a passionate motion of lust, the young witch's hands pumped the cock they held and gained speed faster than her body flush into heat.

The movement lifted the duvet slightly and offered Phil, amidst his wincing, a glimpse of his assailant.

She stared back with upturned eyes, her face as close to his dick as she could manage, resting on his skin as if glued to it. Her idle tongue snaked out from her glistening mouth and crawled along the area around the base of the rod. Her other hand had reach out across his torso, leisurely caressing Phil's chest with no real goal or aim aside from feeling up as much of her "'lover' as physically possible.

Phil was forced to do nothing but watch, flinching whenever her tongue flickered at his frenulum or gasping in morbid delight whenever she took the entire length into her small mouth, her delicate, dainty lips now clamping down sluttily on the meaty pillar, bubbly saliva spilled erotically from the corners of her mouth and flew away in time with her rough head bobbing.

The same tongue that spoke beautiful birdsong was now letting out guttural and lascivious slurping moans that dominated the otherwise silent room.

Phil would often glance up amid his spasms and see the dolls surrounding the bed just watching them.

No, not them, him.

They trained their focus on him alone, the same vacant and empty expression present on all their faces but there was something else there. A slight twitch of the muscles, shifting feet, quiet but ragged breaths, hands creeping to neglected nethers, their movements were subtle enough to be barely noticeable and yet they stood out more because of the unnatural stillness of the dolls beforehand.

They were growing impatient, watching their master going to town on the man that up to now, they had dominion over, must have been torturing their horny souls.

Though relieved they weren't pouncing on him immediately, he couldn't help but fear a twinge of fear that they might submit to their temptations and attack without warning.

"Do my delightful children frighten you dear?"

Phil turned back to his captor who had now defused her mouth from his cock, remnants of spit still coating the shaft as her hand heedlessly pumped it rhythmically and strands bridged the gap between the dick and her lips.

The slutty girl slid her body upwards, carefully making sure their bodies remained glue together the whole time. He felt the petite bumps of her breasts as they squished against him, her humid breath on his skin and the unmistakable wetness of her slit sliding up his side.

With her hand still tending to his erect member, she peeked her head out of the blankets, draping her body on top of him as she looked up at him affectionately, almost as if she wanted to let him know how much she owned him in that moment.

"Fuck...you...!" He muttered between breaths.

To her credit, the witch didn't so much as flinch at his words.

"If you're going to be distracted while your betrothed services you lovingly then maybe I can put my toys to better use..."

Without shifting her gaze, she brought a slender hand out from the covers and snapped her fingers.

The dolls blinked once and, as if receiving an unheard command, marched out of the room in an orderly manner, except for the three dolls Phil had yet to recognize.

Before he could ask her what she was planning, Cecilia plugged his mouth shut with her own, her greedy tongue slapped at the insides of his mouth, tasting his gums and dominating his own tongue, which felt clumsy and weak in comparison.

Whenever he tried to turn his head away, she reached out with her hand, gripping his face tightly as she held him in place while her thighs pinned down his penis, trapping it between her soft legs and his stomach.

She eventually cut off the kiss with a loud, wistful sigh, as if she wanted the kiss to continue for longer. But if she was upset, the mere sight of her captive brightened her mood again.

"No doubt you're wondering why you are here to begin with" It wasn't a question, she knew it was what he wanted to know.

Phil wanted to reply with as much dry humour and venom he could mix together, but the kiss had left his tongue numb somehow, drunk on her taste and too dizzy to continue it's function.

Though perhaps, whatever she did to him, was to allow her to speak without interruption.

"You may not know anything about your heritage, but your ancestors, The Carlyles, where once noble Barons that ruled these fields some 300 years ago. They weren't particularly noteworthy, neither abundantly kind nor distinctly unfair to their subjects, but the kind of anonymity that can bring is not necessarily a bad thing.

It was, however, in 1822 when their lifestyle would decay, thanks to the young heir, Philip Carlyle."

Phil's eyes widened at the mention of a namesake, he didn't think he was named after any ancestor, in fact he remembered asking his parents about it once.

His grandmother had brought up the fact that his mother was named after her grandmother before her and that his father's middle name was also shared with one of his ancestors or something along those lines.

Curious, Phil had wondered if he was named after anyone and his parents told him proudly that he was the first Philip Carlyle of the family.

"Did that grasp your attention my dear?" She had asked, interrupting her story. As she spoke, her legs began to fidget under the sheets, crushing Phil's member against his body as she watched with poorly veiled delight as he squirmed sheepishly under her touch.

"The young man was like you in ways that would make you uncomfortable, not just in character but in appearance too." She indicated behind her with a tilt of her head "perhaps you won't be able to see it perfectly but that painting there is the young man himself."

Phil strained to glimpse at the painting, but it was hard to get a good look at the muse of the painting with both the canopy obstructing his view and Cecilia's incessant teasing distracting him.

He glimpsed at the mirror and managed to get a somewhat better look.

"Can you see it? That sloppy portrait barely captures his elegance in it's entirety but it should be sufficient to notice a likeness between you two yes?"

"I..."

He could certainly see that they shared the same short brown hair, the same pale green eyes and a similar, slender build but he couldn't really say anything about the image was a perfect duplication of his own image.

Though he felt an unexplained twinge in his heart whenever he looked at it, a painful ache that felt...mournful perhaps?

"He was a magnificent man!" The young witch continued. "So kind and sincere, handsome and humble, the perfect man in every way."

As she spoke, Cecilia slipped into a daydream-like state, her movements slowed in distraction and her eyes unfocused and seemed to look past Phil, a dreamer's grin on her face.

He didn't dare move, letting her stay in her trance and hoping she wouldn't rouse herself from the fantasy she was crafting for herself.

"We were in love! We didn't need words of confirmation, ours was a love that words and expressions could not come close to describe. That coy young man, so much alike a prince, always too shy to let his true feelings be known, but I could tell how much he loved me in turn."

Phil felt a twang of pity for his ancestor, it must have been exhausting to deal with someone like her on a regular basis.

But now it was his problem to suffer and thinking that, the pity turned to anger.

Just then her constant humping ceased.

Phil watched as the witch's face, once euphorically living in a pleasant memory, now clouded by a more darker expression.

"But then that...that...whore! That she-devil! She took my beloved away from me, stole his heart and warped his mind with twisted whispers!"

Her voice, once reminiscent of jubilus birdsong now dripping with a toxic tone of a broken heart, her polite demeanour now replaced with a vulgar tongue.

"A noblewoman of a neighbouring estate they called her, but a harpy to her core was what I saw! I could see past the pleasant facade she had cast, I could see my beloved suffering where others saw the two in bliss together, I could hear his anguish while others spoke of laughter and love."

Tears began to flow in her eyes as she looked up at Phil. She was trembling as she lay on top of him, it was a genuine performance of sorrow. But it was misguided.

Phil couldn't explain, but part of him knew that what she spoke of was only true to her, that her 'beloved' did not reciprocate her devotion.

He kept listening though and didn't interrupt, partly out of fear and partly out of curiosity.

"I tried to save him" she sobbed quietly "I tried...so hard to save him from that woman. But it was too late. He rejected me with lies and venom, rejected my salvation and I knew that he was too far gone. Her siren's temptations poisoned him to the depths of his very being and I could never get him back!"

Her fingers curled into Phil's flesh, digging in and causing furrows and scratches in her grief.

Phil flinched in pain but she did not draw blood, strangely enough.

"The next day, the two had vanished. They left everything behind to run away together. It was her. She stole him away from his life and luxuries just so that I couldn't intervene in her schemes."

She continued to relive this nightmare she had built for herself and Phil lay there, an impossible woman, two centuries or so old laying on top of him surrounded by living dolls in a cursed mansion.

As he watched the witch weep into his chest, he found he couldn't muster up any sadness on her behalf. Something deep inside him refused to pity this...thing on top of him, so the next words he uttered were not of comfort but of denial.

"Not...me"

Cecilia looked up from her tears, startled as if she had forgotten Phil was there to begin with.

"That's...not...me..." He croaked, his tongue still felt heavy but there was more feeling in it now than before.

Cecilia continued to watch him as tears fell from her eyes and tickled his skin.

"Huh? What are you talking about?" she asked innocently, the sweet tone cutting through her sadness "Of course you are silly, after all I made sure of it."

Phil frowned at her words and the witch brought herself closer to his face, not bothering to wipe her tears away, just letting them dry out.

"My love...have you ever heard of reincarnation?"

With that she continued moving again, her crotch now straddling the tip of his penis, massaging his sensitive head with her silk panties mercilessly while she watched his expression closely. She smiled again.

"The belief that when humans pass on, their souls are reborn into another earthly vessel, whether as another human or a different species altogether.

"I suppose I could not say if such a process occurs naturally on it's own, but I can say there are ways to...manipulate such a thing by force."

Her movements grew fiercer, Phil could feel the pressure of an orgasm approaching him but he fought against it as best as he could.

He refused to submit again, especially directly to his enemy.

Completely ignorant to his desperate struggles, Cecilia continued with her lecture.

"When my beloved said those awful things to me...it hurt. And yet I could not bare to abandon him either even though I knew he was lost forever. But there was another way.

"I cursed him! Not his body or his mind, but his very soul. One day his soul would return as one of his descendants. It would have abandoned the memories of his prior self, the shackles that vixen had ensnared him in, leaving only the wonderful, kind-hearted young man I fell in love with."

Phil paled at her words but in contrast, gazing upon the face of her reincarnated beloved, Cecilia flushed a deeper crimson.

"I've waited so long to see you again." She whispered lovingly. "Watching your family from a distance, waiting until you returned to me before bringing you here. I love you my sweet prince"

"I'm not- Mmmph!"

Phil's protest was cut off by the witch's kiss, this one more forceful than the one before it.

Her saliva seemed to melt his tongue like chocolate, whenever the drool touched a taste bud his brain erupted into paralysing euphoria. His breath escaped him but hers rushed in to fill him up, carrying her hot, bitter taste with it choking him with her essence.

Her ass had started bouncing up and down, rising high up before slamming down with incredible force, directly on top of his dick head.

His cries muffled by her mouth and his movements restrained by her body pinning him down with deceptive strength, there was little he could do but accept her affections.

With his mind growing more sluggish every passing moment they remained locked together, Phil's focus and awareness of the world around him began to splutter into darkness, leaving only the rising sensations in his dick.

Cecilia's teasing ass was keeping the tortured member on the brink of climax, leaving it throbbing and twitching for release. But no matter how close he came, peace hovered just out of reach and the edging of his rod continued unabated.

He wasn't sure how long they stayed that way but eventually the embrace was ceased and Cecilia freed her captive's lips from her soul-snatching smooch.

Phil lay there with heavy breath, staring up at the canopy as it faded back into focus.

As his eyes adjusted he surveyed the room, trying to focus on every aspect of it to get his sense back under control, glancing at the dolls, the mirror, the desk, the door and landing on an unfamiliar grey lump that was definitely not there before.

As his eyes adjusted and the blur passed, he realized he was looking at one of the statues in the room next to the attic.

It was a woman frozen in a state that could only be described as if she were resisting something, her thighs were kept close together but her feet remained a large space apart, her arms were folded upwards but hovered close to her ample chest, as if in an unconscious effort to protect herself yet unable to fully use her arms.

Her face however, seemed all but resistant.

Her open mouth revealed an outstretched tongue, reaching for a kiss and begging for stimulus. Her eyes looked pained but expressed no hint of resistance, with anticipation juxtaposed with fear and hesitation.