To Fix a Broken Doll Pt. 01

Literotic asexstories – To Fix a Broken Doll Pt. 01 by dothemath,dothemath
Imperial Advisor Magnus is a frequent enjoyer of the Empress’s premier caste of sex slaves, a kennel of nameless, superbly-trained women referred to as dolls. When he learns that a typically well-behaved doll has been acting out, he takes a personal interest in the situation. Very dark content rating – please read the tags below carefully, as some readers might find this trends more towards erotic horror.

This story will be split into two parts, with the second being slightly longer than the first; the entire story totals 11.5k words. The meta tags and the content warnings below all pertain to the entire story.

Content Warnings/Tags: sexual slavery; reference to torture and solitary confinement being used as a means of brainwashing and training slaves (not directly depicted on page); pussy spanking/whipping (riding crop); desperation/bladder control; minimal/inadequate aftercare

The Doll Kennel was one of the loveliest rooms in the palace, in Magnus’ opinion.

It was, of course, where the dolls were kept: a small harem of specially-trained slave women, each one perfectly coiffed with tight curls in her hair, wearing either an elaborate costume of frills and jewel-tones or absolutely nothing at all, depending on what their current duties demanded and on the whims of the Doll-Master who kept them in order.

Legally, they belonged to the Imperial Family. However, the Empress, in her wisdom and generosity, made them available for public use, to a certain extent: anyone who went to the Doll Kennel and requested it might make use of their mouths and hands, and anyone of a certain rank was welcome to penetrate their back end.

The primary hole–and all associated feminine parts–were property of the Empress. The dolls were to be touched there only by the Empress herself, or by someone of her bloodline. Of course, the Doll-Master could also handle them wherever necessary in the course of carrying out his duties, such as shaving and washing the girls and administering discipline.

On this day, as Magnus strolled into the room, he witnessed a doll who had clearly been the recent recipient of the Doll-Master’s discipline. She was strapped into the stocks: a heavy contraption installed at the entrance of the Kennel that held her head at a level to provide oral service to anyone who requested it, with a ring-shaped gag in her mouth to allow them to slip right in without so much as having to voice their request.

Her hands were cuffed beside her face, allowing her to provide manual service as well. Ankle and knee straps kept her squatting legs spread wide to expose her cunt, which had recently been whipped red, doubtless by the crop that the Doll-Master carried.

The doll was a mess. Her hair had been mussed by someone who had grabbed too hard while rutting into her gaping mouth, and her face was damp with tears and her own spit. Magnus recognized her as one of the less popular dolls, a bit plain-faced but generally obedient and sweet-tempered, not one he had expected to find in such a position.

He tutted as he approached her. “Caught touching the Empress’s property, were you?”

She whimpered, unable to speak with the gag in her mouth, and gave him the same deeply shamed look as one might expect to receive from a loyal dog who had been unable to resist the temptation of stealing from the table.

“Don’t know what’s gotten into that one,” Doll-Master Scipio grunted, hobbling over from where he had been inspecting another girl who appeared to be convalescing in bed, her cheeks pink with fever. “I have half a mind to re-train her. Caught her fiddling with herself once and I put the collar-cuffs on her for twelve hours, just as a reminder, and the very next day, what does she do? Sneaks right off and does it again!”

“Well, that’s very out of character, isn’t it?”

“You’re not wrong,” Scipio sighed, leaning heavily on the side of the stocks to brace his bad leg and tugging at the doll’s hair to flatten the mess somewhat. “She ain’t been herself lately. That’s why I’m thinking some re-training might do her good.”

“Would you mind if I had a look at her records?”

Scipio hummed, then shrugged. “Well, as it’s you, I suppose there’s no harm in it.” He led Magnus over to the desk where he kept his records and notes.

Another girl knelt beside the desk, her arms secured behind her back and her mouth plugged with a ball gag, a haughty expression on her face. This was a doll who Magnus much more expected to see in the stocks; she was bratty as a rule, and often flirted with touching herself in ways she shouldn’t as a means of getting attention–though Magnus knew Scipio didn’t dare crop her on her cunny the way he’d done with the other, since she enjoyed it too much.

Evidently, Scipio had had to find another punishment for her, with the stocks occupied.

As Scipio sat, he reached over and tugged at the collar around her neck. She huffed and glared, but crawled into the well under the desk and allowed him to rest his ankles across the soft skin of her back.

Scipio pulled open one of the drawers in his desk and rifled through it, then pulled out a sheaf of paper and handed it up to Magnus. “There you are, that’s her.”

At the top was a series of letters that must have identified the girl to Scipio. The dolls were not permitted to have names, even nicknames, but the Doll-Master needed some way to label each one in his records, for which Magnus understood he had some system of labeling their various physical and personality attributes.

Beneath that was a list of dates, with names or places beside them: anywhere that the doll had been requested to serve.

“She’s been spending a lot of time in the guards’ quarters,” Magnus observed, reading down the page.

“Aye, and I know they can be a bit careless,” Scipio said. That was an understatement; the young men who staffed the palace guards often treated the dolls they shared as toys, taking them fast and rough in a way that gave little gratification even to the most easily-satisfied doll. “But she’s always been a favorite of theirs and she’s never sulked about it before now.”

Magnus hummed in acknowledgement and flipped back further. “Ah. She was a favorite of Magistrate Porcius, too.”

“Yes, well, but he stopped requesting her months ago,” Scipio said, frowning.

“Gossip in the palace reaches even your dolls eventually,” Magnus reminded him. “She will have heard about the wedding.”

“Ahh,” Scipio sighed in disappointment. “You may be right. Well, if she’d gotten so attached to him, I suppose she will need retraining. What a shame.”

The training process for dolls was a difficult one which involved thoroughly breaking the woman’s ego through long periods of isolation and privation, making her perfectly suited to life as a doll and nothing else. Re-training was often even harder on her, and a doll who went through the process twice was likely to come out so docile that she was more mute animal than person.

“No, no, I don’t think we need to go that far.” Magnus put a hand on Scipio’s shoulder. “Let me take her for a few days, I have a thought of what can be done for her.”

“Hmm. I shouldn’t. It’s not protocol,” Scipio said, squinting up at Magnus.

“It’s only a few days. If she doesn’t improve, then you can start the re-training process then.”

Scipio let out a gusty sigh. “I suppose, as it’s you…”

“There’s no harm in it?” Magnus supplied, smiling.

Scipio growled at him in a good-natured sort of way, patting the head of the doll under his feet as he pushed back his chair, and then tweaking her ear when she glared at him. “I’ll unlock her for you.”

***

A short time later, Magnus led the sad, doe-eyed doll through the halls of the palace on a leash. She kept her head down as she walked, clearly embarrassed by both the collar-cuffs that Scipio had insisted on putting her in–a set of cuffs attached by a short chain that looped through the same collar-ring as the leash, keeping her hands folded demurely at her chest, a clear marker that she had been putting her hands where they didn’t belong–and by her mussed appearance.

Scipio had offered to clean her up and fix her hair before sending her along with Magnus, of course, but Magnus had insisted otherwise. He thought the embarrassment of being seen in such a state would be good for her.

In fact, he made a point of stopping to make conversation along the way, seeking out anyone he knew; though few of them commented directly on her dishevelled presentation, they all eyed her with curiosity, taking in her untidy hair and messy face as well as the cherry-blush shade of her recently-spanked cunt. When she tried to huddle and hide herself behind him, Magnus would wind up the leash in his hand idly, drawing her out of concealment until she was forced to stand beside him, her shame on full display.

By the time Magnus opened the door to his personal quarters, he could see tears shining in her eyes again.

He didn’t remark on this; he simply led her inside, through his receiving-room and into the more private room that held his bed and his personal office. Once there, he addressed her directly for the first time.

“Tell me how you feel about serving the palace guards.”

She blinked a few times. “The honored guards are welcome to use this doll as they desire,” she said finally, her voice wavering and thick with unshed tears.

“You may dispense with formalities,” he said, and pulled her close to unbuckle the leash from her collar, as well as the cuffs. She seemed a little surprised by the second, and folded her hands uncertainly against her chest, as if worried that she might be cuffed up again if she allowed them to drift any lower. “And speak honestly, they’re not here to be offended. You’ve served them more than anyone else for a few months now. How do you feel about that?”

Her eyes swam as tears welled up. “I–I don’t like to serve them so much, sir,” she admitted, sounding deeply ashamed to be saying so, as she should.

Magnus found that reassuring; he really didn’t think she needed retraining at all, just a bit of guidance. “They’re young men, hmm? Many of them are inexperienced lovers, and they share you. They’re more concerned with showing off to their friends than with you.”

She nodded. “They don’t speak to me much, sir, and–and they leave me sore.”

“Well, I think you’re even sorer now, as a consequence of your own actions,” Magnus pointed out, pressing a hand up between her legs.

The doll let out a whimper of pain and surprise, but didn’t flinch away from him, even as it was clear from the wincing look on her face that Scipio had beaten her well enough to ensure she was experiencing more discomfort than pleasure from even this gentle fondling.

“You didn’t expect to be touched here, hmm?” Magnus asked, rubbing his fingers over the swollen folds of her abused sex. “You don’t know me as well as some of the others do. It’s about time that I correct that, I suppose. I am Imperial Advisor Magnus, half-brother to the Empress’s son.”

“This doll is h-honored by your attention, s-sir,” she hiccoughed, working her hands together against her chest and blinking rapidly as tears flowed from her eyes in response to the pain he was causing with the gentle manipulation of his fingers.

Even so, her body began to grow wet, too.

Magnus wasn’t surprised. He hadn’t seen anyone on her list of requests who would have been permitted to touch her cunny, and–other than her own illicit activities, and the crop-whipping that she had earned from them–it must have been a very long time since she’d last felt a touch there.

“When Scipio found you touching yourself, did he interrupt both times before you could reach your climax?” Magnus asked. “I suppose he must have, or your punishment would have been much more severe from the start.”

The doll looked appalled at the question, her brow wrinkling with shame and distress. It was a moment before she found the words to answer him. “I…I wasn’t trying to do that, sir.”

“No? You expect me to believe that you were touching the Empress’s property for some reason other than your own satisfaction? I thought perhaps you often climaxed for Magistrate Porcius and you missed it.”

She immediately hid her face in her hands at the mention of the Magistrate’s name. She shook her head a few times, then sobbed, “I wasn’t–I didn’t want that–!”

Magnus interrupted her incoherent babbling with a firm squeeze to her clit, which forced a shocked noise of pain from her that dissolved into louder sobs, her feet squirming against the tiled floor like she was fighting not to pull away from him.

“Sir, oh, oh, it hurts, please!”

“Well, I don’t take kindly to lying, and I’m not sure I believe that you’re telling me the truth. You were sneaking off to rub this precious little cunt like a naughty minx, but you didn’t intend to come?”

“I wasn’t, I wasn’t! Please,” she whimpered.

He finally released the pressure on her clit, and she sobbed again, this time with audible relief. He clucked his tongue at her. “Well, then what were you doing, then?”

“I…I don’t know…how to explain it, sir.”

“I see,” he said, letting his disapproval sit heavy in the tone of his voice, even as he left her abused sex alone.

She shrank back a bit, face still hidden in her hands, shoulders slumped. “I’m so sorry, sir. I…I know I’m a very bad doll.”

“No. You’ve been very naughty, but you are not a bad doll,” he corrected her firmly. “I intend to remind you of that. Go wash your face, and you might as well rinse the curls out of your hair. There won’t be any need for you to look pretty here, we’ll be focusing on your more basic purposes to start with.”

She winced and squirmed again, no doubt feeling the shame of being reduced to a set of holes to fuck. One of the things that differentiated dolls from the common whore or sex-slave was how they were required to maintain their lovely appearance.

Again, he found her shame reassuring; a potential sign that retraining wouldn’t be required.

“Go,” he reminded her. “Use the toilet as well if you need to.”

The doll hurried into the bathroom and did as instructed.

While she was in there, he went into his chest and sought out the appropriate toy: a medium-length staff with a heavy base, meant for a woman to sit on and ride, with a raised texture at the bottom to grind the clit against. Typically, he used this toy as a reward for the dolls he played with–or as an exercise in self-control, instructing them to ride it until the edge of climax without going over–but in this case, he hoped it would provide a humbling reminder of the recent severe spanking she’d received.

Magnus slicked the toy with oil, and then brought it over to his desk, setting it down there. Then he went and changed into a more comfortable house-robe.

As he finished changing, the doll emerged, her face fresh and her damp hair hanging straight around her shoulders. With a flash of disappointment, he saw that her cunt was damp, too, and not in the way of just her own arousal.

“Come here,” he said, and she hesitated, obviously hearing the displeasure in his voice. When she crept up to stand in front of him, he reached down and grabbed her between the legs firmly, not bothering with the gentle touches from before; she fussed and whined. The coolness on her swollen skin confirmed his suspicions. “Did I tell you to wash your cunt?”

“I’m sorry, sir!” she said immediately, and then whined as he pinched one of her abused labia between his fingers. “I just–just put a little cold water to help with the swelling, the way that Doll-Master Scipio does–!”

“This,” he said, squeezing firmly until she sobbed, “belongs to the Empress. It is not yours to touch, to pleasure, or to soothe without permission.”

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” she sobbed. “Please, sir!”

“Please what?”

“Please punish me so that I can learn to be a good doll!”

He shook his head, then grabbed her clit, pinching it hard until her eyes filled with tears and she was making little squealing noise on each breath, her whole body shaking with the fight to stay still and accept the pain. Then he took the toy in his other hand and crouched down beside his desk, placing the toy into position and tugging the doll down by his grip on her clit, finally releasing her once she was crouched and whimpering beside the toy.

“Seat yourself on this,” he instructed her. “And I doubt this will be a problem tonight, but I want to make one thing clear: you absolutely will not be climaxing while I see to you. You can ride this toy however you like, but if you feel yourself at risk of finishing, then I expect you to do whatever is necessary to stop yourself.”

“Yes, sir,” she sniffed tearfully, then climbed under the desk, sinking down onto the toy.

She winced when the toy penetrated her sore hole, then made a more complicated face when she slid down to the bottom of it, likely caught between the sensation of her bruised clit riding the textured surface and the pressure of the toy deep inside of her where the spanking wouldn’t have reached. Based on what he knew of her recent history, she certainly hadn’t had anything that deep inside of her cunt in months, if not years.

After a few seconds, though, she seemed to adjust to the sensation, her face settling into placid acceptance.

Magnus sat in his chair, scooting in to the desk until his knees bracketed the doll. “Now, I’ll be working for a few hours. You’ll make yourself useful by keeping my cock warm with your mouth. I hope that you used the restroom, because I don’t want to be interrupted.”

“Yes, sir,” she said immediately.

When he parted his robes, she leaned forward and took his soft cock between her lips. He hummed in satisfaction as the silky-hot wet sensation of the doll’s mouth enveloped him.

Then he pulled out some paperwork that had piled up for his review.

Over the next two hours, he accomplished a great deal. This was one of the greatest values of a doll, in his opinion: they could make even the most tedious paperwork stimulating. This doll was especially well-behaved with her mouth, and although she was clearly humbled to be used as a simple cock-warmer without even providing any sexual satisfaction, she made no attempt to suck or lick at him to convince him otherwise.

She did rock herself in small movements on the toy, adjusting herself with little half-voiced whimpers of discomfort that became more pronounced as time passed. Occasionally, she rose up to give her clit some relief from the pressure, and then after a time would sink down again to rest her legs. Although he had no doubt that having a toy so deep in her rarely-used cunt must be very stimulating, the discomfort and embarrassment of her position seemed to be her primary concern, which was as he had hoped.

When he finally put a hand on her head and pushed her back with a firm, “Enough,” she exhaled a wet sound of relief. Her mouth hung open, her wet lips glistening in the lamp-light as he pushed back from the desk and examined her.

He was surprised to see that the base of the toy glistening, too, more wet than it would have been from just the oil, and her swollen cunt visibly dripped where it was spread apart on the rod. “Are you very aroused?”

“I don’t know, sir,” she admitted, rocking a bit on the toy in a restless sort of way.

“Have you had to stop yourself from coming at all?”

“No, sir. I’m too sore for it, I think.”

“Hmm. You can come out from there now,” he said.

She slunk out from under the desk obediently, making another noise of relief as her sex slid off of the toy. He gestured for her to come up into his lap, and she did so, settling into place with a practiced ease, her legs spread around his. When he put his hand between her thighs and pressed a finger inside, she only winced a bit.

“How long since you’ve last had anything in this little pocket? Before today, I mean. And not counting your own fingers.”

She flushed at the reminder of her misbehavior. “Three years ago, sir. The Empress requested me at one of her dinners.”

“Ahh.” He remembered the occasion: the Empress sometimes specifically requested a doll whose cunt saw little use, and would have her kneel in the center of the table, as both decoration and entertainment, with her cunt stuffed with a toy not unlike the one that Magnus had just had the girl ride. They acted as a living centerpiece, entertaining and impressing the guests by demonstrating their training and self-control, as they refused to ride the toy to orgasm despite their visible desperation. “I remember you being very well-behaved at that dinner. The Empress rewarded your performance personally, isn’t that right?”

“Yes,” the doll gasped, and then winced as her cunt flexed and dripped around his fingers, the sore muscles nonetheless responding to the memory–a good one for any doll, Magnus would think; she had sat in the Empress’s lap and been fingered for half an hour, slowly and gently, until her panting and whining finally erupted into squeals of ecstasy.

He recalled her being very lovely in climax, trembling and red-faced, her mouth gaping open as if in shock, her sweet voice breaking over and over again in waves on the hard shoreline of her release.

Magnus slipped his fingers out of her and dropped his hand to his own cock, which was already hardening, both from his own recollection of observing the event and from the sensation of the doll squirming on top of his thighs.

“I’m going to fuck you now,” he informed her.

“Thank you for honoring this doll with your attention, sir,” she said immediately, spreading her thighs wider.

He patted her on the hip. “Not quite like this. Up and over the desk, on your stomach.”

He guided her with his hands, turning her around so that she was braced on the desk and kneeling on the chair. The angle tilted her hips, displaying the swollen red slit of her cunt to him, the glisten of her helpless pleasure in spite of the soreness.

“There. Now, you recall what I said before?” he asked firmly. “Are you going to climax?”

“No, sir. You said I’m not to finish at all while I’m with you.”

“That’s right.” He fed his cock into her slowly, feeling the heat and plumpness of her abused flesh at first before prodding deeper into her. “And why do you think that is? Why am I not going to allow you to climax, little doll?”

“B-because I’m a bad doll,” she whispered, shamed.

Magnus tutted and patted her firmly on the hip, not quite a spank. “No. You’re a very good doll, you’ve just done some naughty things. The reason I’m not allowing you to climax is to remind you of your role. What are you?”

“I’m a, a doll, sir.” Her voice wavered a bit as his cock slowly worked deeper into her.

“That’s right. You’re a doll, you’re not a citizen. Not a person at all, really.” He rubbed her hip reassuringly. “Physical pleasure is the right of real people. You may experience pleasure at times, and you may even experience climax–either to amuse the person playing with you, or just as a consequence of being used–but you don’t have a right to either one, do you?”

“No, sir,” she moaned.

“Are you feeling pleasure right now?”

“I don’t know, sir,” she whined, squirming. “It hurts, but–but–oh…”

He hummed and drew out, then pushed deeper still, settling into a rocking motion such that he took more of her with each movement.

She fussed and whimpered at first, then quickly went back to moaning as the head of his cock rubbed deep inside of her, stimulating those delicate places where Doll-Master Scipio’s crop hadn’t reached. Once Magnus was fully rooted in her, he remained as he was for a moment, feeling the throb of arousal in his cock and the answering twitch of her muscles.

Then he pulled out almost entirely and slammed in, taking her hard.

She squealed like a skewered pig, then let out a sob of pain as his cock dragged at the swollen skin at her entrance. When he did it again, and again, her sobs became louder and less controlled, her breathing coming faster and her fingers grasping at the desk. “Sir–!” she finally uttered, breathless.

“Take it,” he instructed her, fucking her hard and fast. “Is it very painful? Do you dislike it?”

“No-o-o,” she admitted, the word drawing out into a helpless whine. Then she sucked in a hard breath when he slammed in again, grinding his cock deep inside her, setting her cunt quivering and clenching fitfully around him.

“That’s it,” he praised. “You’re very lovely and tight like this.” He ground into her again, and she gulped as her body spasmed, wetness dripping down around his cock. “Don’t come.”

“I won’t, sir, I won’t,” she promised tearfully. But on the next stroke in, her back arched deeply, her body automatically trying to present itself for more like an animal in heat, and the sound she made was more pleasure than pain. “Mmn–”

Magnus leaned forward, bracing himself over her to pick up the pace.

Frankly, he expected that there was a good chance that she would fail; it would be difficult for any doll to resist the pleasure of having her cunt used after so many months untouched, and even with the pain she was suffering from her whipping, it was clear that each thrust was delivering more and more pleasure to the writhing girl.

But he had underestimated her. He took her without mercy, pounding her tight cunt in hard strokes that made her spasm and leak around him–but, true to her word, she didn’t come. She writhed and clenched and moaned, her hips occasionally working in little unconscious lurches, but she never finished.

When Magnus reached the peak of his own climax, hammering into her in short, erratic thrusts and then spilling deep inside her cunt, the tone of her cries changed to something frantic and almost manic, her whole body tightening and twisting under him, like she was fighting hard not to follow him over the edge.

He drew out of her, and the doll let out a long sobbing noise, her hole clenching and seeping a milky mix of her fluids and his spend.

Magnus hummed and watched the mess drip down onto her thigh, catching his breath.

“Good enough,” he said finally. “I’m going to bed now.”

It took the doll a few attempts to climb off of him and get her feet to the floor. “Wh-where would you like me to sleep, sir?”

“With me,” he decided after a moment of thought. “I might want to use you again during the night. No, I didn’t say to clean yourself up,” he added sharply when she turned towards the washroom.

“I apologize, sir,” she said, flushing and dipping her head into a bow. “M-may this doll use the toilet before bed?”

“Hm.” He considered it. “You went two hours ago, didn’t you? Do you really need to use it again already?”

“No, sir,” she admitted, ducking her head lower. “I just–I thought, if we’re going to bed–”

“That you would be more comfortable going to sleep with an empty bladder?” he asked, raising an eyebrow. “Is comfort something you feel entitled to, little doll?”

“No! No, sir,” she gasped, and then she dropped down to her knees and pressed her forehead to the floor, demonstrating her horror and her shame. “I retract my request, sir, I–this doll apologizes–!”

“Enough,” he said, satisfied by the evidence of her tears that she understood her mistake. “I was saving my questions for tomorrow, but I suppose this one may be relevant now. Did Magistrate Porcius allow you to use his facilities at your own leisure, when he kept you in his rooms? He allowed you to bathe at your will, use his toilet when you pleased?”

“…Yes, sir,” she admitted quietly, still speaking to the floor.

“Mm. He spoiled you,” Magnus sighed. “When you have the privilege of serving in my private rooms, you will bathe and use the toilet only when I tell you to do so. You will not request either one, but you will inform me if you are at risk of creating a mess.”

“Thank you for explaining, sir.” She did sound appropriately grateful. “And thank you for granting this doll the privilege of serving you privately. This doll apologizes for–for needing such frequent correction.”

“Well, I did expect you to be a project,” Magnus replied easily. “Given that Scipio thought you might need re-training, and he does know his job. But I think you might be correctable yet. Wait for me in bed.”

He went into the washroom himself, using the toilet and wiping himself clean of the remnants of his use of the doll.

When he emerged, the doll was in bed as instructed, kneeling at the foot of it. He patted her a single time on the head as he passed by to put out the lamp; then, once he had slid under the covers, he gave her one more instruction. “Under the covers with me, to warm the bed.”

She joined him, slipping between the sheets and then–at his directive tug–pressing her soft body close to his, her face settling into his shoulder.

She relaxed readily into the contact, displaying no distress or lingering frustration, in spite of the fact that he could still feel the heat and wetness of her sore, denied cunny where she pressed against his thigh, the tackiness between her legs where the seed he had deposited in her had dripped out and dried. Her pleasure at being permitted to share his bed seemed to overrule the discomfort she must be feeling.

Satisfied and optimistic, Magnus fell asleep.