Daddy's Dollhouse Ch. 01

## Grief and Loss

There are ages in a woman's life that define a sort of magical transformation from one stage of life to the next. At twelve or thirteen she starts her journey into womanhood with the coming of her first blood, by the age of sixteen she leaves her childhood behind but she is still not yet in her prime. At eighteen she is an adult, ready to set out into the world and begin her own life, now she feels fully ready to explore her world. By her twentieth year she is a woman in her full bloom, freed from her teen-age years yet still unburdened by age. At thirty she has stepped from the wide eyed naive youth into the first confident steps of the maturity and wisdom she has become, though she is still unfettered by the weight that such knowledge and experience will inevitably bring. When her fortieth birthday nears, she is no longer the youthful girl nor the naive woman she once had been, yet now she can walk confidently knowing her prime is only defined by her and her state of mind, not her age. She has learned how to seek her appetites without shame or inhibition.

There is another magical age though, this one a darker one for a woman. It is filled with less strength and fulfillment, and fueled in self doubt. The pains of teenage insecurity couple with the despair that comes with jaded cynical wisdom. At thirty-six a woman looks back and sees the woman she once had been at eighteen and longs for what she feels is her lost youth. She looks forward, seeing only decline in herself. She feels her life is half over, The baby fat of childhood has been stripped away. Her body's once tight firmness, now subject to time and gravity's cruelty. She had once been subjected to the wanton gazes of men's leering lust, now she is seemingly invisible to them. This is a time when women find themselves trapped, this is an age of despair and longing for lost youth and love.

This is the age that Olivia Maria Martinez-MacAlister finds herself at now. She ponders if her life and youth has been spent in the dedication to her daughters, and her God. She is filled with longing, loss, and hopelessness. Now as she looks at her daughters and she wants better for them than what she sees her life has become. Eighteen was such a magical age to be and they were young and pure. The two girls were all she had had in her life for so long.

Olivia felt that she had once been a radiant beauty, her hair had shown with the gleam of burnt honey, her eyes had sparkled the color of warm chocolate, her lips had been full and her breasts had been large but perky. She'd been slim yet had the curves that grabbed the attention of every man around. She had caught even men her grandfather's age eyeing her with lustful gazes. Something that had both excited and embarrassed her as a young woman.

Now she saw that same radiance in her daughters, they glowed with youthful beauty just as she once had. Men gazed on them with longing that she fiercely sought to protect them from. Olivia felt that she was little more than an old maid now and her daughters were every man's lewd and sinful desire. She could barely draw the attention of even the saddest or most depraved hobo, or so she felt.

In truth, time had done very little to lessen Olivia's natural radiant beauty. Her hair was still the brown of burnt honey, holding no stray strands of white or gray in her glowing mane. Her eyes, though they twinkled less brightly because of a life that had lost so much, were still a warm chocolate color and so deep that to stare into them could prove the means for a man to completely lose his own heart in their depths. Her lips were as full as they had ever been, a cupid's bow of browned pink that naturally glistened in a way that made a man desire and long to fill them with his lust or to know the taste of her mouth.

Her body too had lost very little of the firm and supple softness that more youthful women possess. Though her breasts had lost some small amount of their former perkiness, they were still firm and heavily soft with no sag. They were perfectly shaped with dark round areola centered with large continuously semi hard nipples.

She was in such good shape physically that a woman in her 20's would covet Olivia's ability to age so superbly.

Olivia kept her body hairless, and her velvety pussy was puffy with dark labial lips that beckoned to be touched, tasted, and to be spread to grip a thick cock tightly. She was the embodiment of some divine archetype of feminine sexuality and beauty, a classic goddess of pagan fertility made flesh.

Olivia saw none of this, in her mind she had passed her prime. Old. Out of date. She was an old widow and no one would ever desire her again.

Olivia sat in her thoughts, musing about her lost youth, the grief support group swirled around her almost unnoticed. Here someone stood sharing the same stories of some sappy thing or other. She felt bad about her dismissiveness of others' pain, but as a bald fat man cried about how he had found his late wife's perfume in a box. He blubbered as he explained how he felt so lost when he smelt her again. She couldn't help scowling, knowing he had been cheating on his wife for years before her illness. Even on her deathbed, he had continued to cheat, railing his sister-in-law, while his wife had been at death's door. Next an elderly woman sobbed about her late husband's snoring and how now she couldn't sleep without it, and Olivia thought about all the times that she had heard the old woman curse and threaten to leave him before a heart-attack had claimed his life. No one here was what they tried to seem like, she supposed they all came here, for the same reason, it was just something to be done.

Sister Margaret Kathrine would thank each of the pathetic liars in turn after they had shared their "grief", praising them for their strength in their pain. Olivia listened as the Sister would lead them in prayer, and Olivia wondered why she bothered attending these meetings anymore.

It had been sixteen years for her now. At that time she had barely been twenty when she had lost the man that she loved to cancer. In all honesty, when she thought about it, she had barely even known him.

Their romance had been a whirlwind. The connection they had shared had been instant, potent, and so intense that Olivia had been unable to keep her vow to live chastely before marriage. She had been nineteen when she'd met the strong and handsome twenty-five year old man. His first kiss as they had danced together had made her body burn uncontrollably. That night she had followed him to the restroom in the bar. She had been so hot for him that she couldn't contain her lust and she swallowed his cock and let him fill her throat with his cum before she had even known his name.

At that evening's end she had gone home with him and the night had held no sleep for either of them. She had given him her virginity and her entirety. She had felt completely lost to him, and her shame for failing to live the life she believed her God demanded was lost in her desire to live the remainder of her life with him.

The next morning, barely able to stand let alone walk, she met his sister, Margaret. "Auntie Maggie" had stopped by to drop off his very young daughter. His sister had been nearly Olivia's age, she was very kind and surprisingly supportive of her brother's indiscretion, in spite of the fact that she was obviously an aspirant sister in her earlier steps to becoming a nun. She had taken Olivia into her arms and accepted her instantly. Olivia's family and personal support group had been established before she realized what was happening.

She had thought of Margaret as her own sister very quickly, and she had adopted the young child Gabriella in her heart long before she had married the child's father and adopted her legally. Time seemed to blur in the way it does with new love, and what seemed only like a few days or weeks had the two planning a life together and Olivia went from a one night stand to engaged and married with a young daughter so quickly that her head swam when she thought about it all.

Olivia became a mother to a one-year-old child before she knew what being a mother meant, she was a wife and a lover to a man she only knew superficially, and she was a sister to a woman that now stood in a habit leading the grief support group in the basement of the church named St. Agnes of Holy Sorrows.

Olivia saw Maggie wink at her where she sat, and wondered if her Sister-sister knew what she had been thinking about. She sat musing about where her life had gone and why all she could remember of the man that she was here grieving, the man that had brought them together as family and friends, was the taste of his sperm in her mouth and the thickness of his cock thrusting deep between her legs.

About half way through the meeting that evening, as she mused about the man she had lost and the lust for him that she felt consumed by, Olivia noticed the new man enter the small room. He had dark eyes, salt and pepper hair that was still thick and full, and a short beard. He slipped into the back of the room, his tall well muscled frame spoke of a quiet strength that she didn't often see in the people who found their ways to the group. He took a seat at the back. He sat in what she thought was an awkward silence as people shared and Maggie led prayers. Before the meeting ended he stood and slipped out as silently as he had come in. Olivia caught herself wondering about why he had been there, and if it meant he was single.

Sister Maggie seemed to have noticed him as well. After that meeting, as Olivia and she had talked while cleaning up stale doughnuts and cold coffee, Maggie brought up the handsome stranger. Olivia blushed at his mention and made Maggie smile slyly at her before growing a bit more serious. "It isn't wrong to move on and find happiness," she told Olivia. Olivia started to say something but Maggie cut her off. "You don't have to live like a nun, you know? I took the vows, you didn't. You are a beautiful amazing woman and I love you like a sister. But damnit girl, you have got to let yourself experience the joys of life again." Maggie looked at Olivia, staring straight into her deep brown sad eyes, "it's been years Liv. And you know that Tommy probably has one or two side sluts in hell that he's been seeing since he died, so why aren't you letting yourself live too?"

Olivia smiled weakly. The truth was she had always blamed herself for breaking her own personal vows to God when she was young. She had promised God that she would wait until marriage, and she had broken that promise so easily. She had been so weak when she had believed she could be strong. She was a fallen woman, she had given into her carnal desires when that temptation had come her way. God had given her someone to love, but then He had taken it from her for her weakness in that moment. If she had been a bit stronger and waited, he would still be here with her. This was her penance.

God had then made her a mother without letting her know the joys of having the child grow within her womb. She loved Gabby with all her heart. The little girl had been a blessing to her when she had lost so much. Gabby was her child in every way but one. And Olivia could never forget that her wonderful amazing child was someone else's blood and bone not hers.

Olivia's second daughter, Alison, hadn't joined the small family of women until much later, but she too had come both as a trial and a blessing. Alison and Gabriella, twin sisters by chance and mirror opposites in almost every way. The two girls had been sisters from their first meeting in primary school, and the bond between them was as strong as any held by blood. When Alice had needed a new home, she hadn't even needed to ask, Olivia had known in her heart far longer than she had realized that Alice too was her daughter, as much as Gabby and Alice had known that they were sisters. Olivia loved both girls as if she had been their natural mother. She felt a fierce jealousy to protect them from the pains of life and love, and she feared losing them more than anything else in her life.

But neither girl would ever be hers. God had robbed her of that small but important bit of connection, and Olivia always feared that Gabby and Alice would leave her and never look back because they could never truly be Olivia's. This Olivia felt was her punishment.

Olivia couldn't express any of this to Maggie of course. So Olivia only shrugged, "no one wants some old widow. You know that... Besides, the girls need a stable home. Someplace where their mother has a different man in her bed every night is not a way to raise children."

Maggie laughed in a conspiratorial whisper, "I'm the nun here, not you. You go get laid! I mean get a really good hard fuck. Let some stranger rail you so deep you spit his cum out afterward, and I don't mean after swallowing his cock, I mean let his balls slap your pussy and make sure he's so deep in your ass you can taste it when he cums in it. And you need to give me all the hedonistic details. My pussy has been itching for more than just the Songs of Solomon for a long time now, you have to do it for me. After you get your cunt filled, we'll split a bottle of sacramental wine and you can tell me all about it."

Maggie closed her eyes and rocked back and forth suggestively rubbing her breast and groin over her habit, making Olivia giggle at the odd visual of the nun's lewdness. "Please Liv, if not for your starving pussy, do it for mine. Be a good big sister! I've been hoping to live vicariously through you for SO long now," Maggie begged Olivia in a mocking little girl's voice. "When I took my vows, I thought you'd be better at giving me something to get off with. Honestly Liv, I feel like I've had more action in my life than you, and I haven't been able to swallow a stranger's cock in longer than I can remember now."

Olivia and Maggie laughed and chatted the rest of the evening. Maggie told Olivia about some of her high school antics, like the time she was sucking off a rival schools quarterback while two line-backers had been pumping her pussy and ass. Olivia was never sure how much she could believe of those stories, though she also knew enough to know Maggie hadn't been a saint before they had met, so they were just as likely to be true.