Dolly Pt. 05

Dolly sat in the lobby of the office. The chair was leather but seemed to be designed to be as uncomfortable as possible. She wore a black suit. It looked nice enough on a first impression. It had a skirt that covered her knees and a small jacket. She had on a borrowed white blouse. She couldn't remember dressing anything like this since high school graduation. She felt as if she were choking. She was sweating out of nervousness and out of heat. The room was hot. She thought it odd an office lobby would be this hot. She took off her coat and set it beside the black bag and folder she had brought along for the interview.

"Molly? Molly Green?" asked the woman behind the receptionist desk. She was a tall and beautiful woman. She was probably forty from her demeanor and elegance but was prettier than that. Her skin was flawless. Had she smiled she would have been gorgeous but she didn't. She scowled as she called Dolly's real name. It took Dolly a moment to recognize it and then responded. She waved her hand and moved to the desk. She couldn't speak. She wanted to speak, why wouldn't words come out? She was pointed to a door. In contract to the white and grey office with tall windows and beautiful paintings the door was tall and steel and appeared to lock with a long sliding bolt. With some difficulty she pulled it open. She was scared. Why would she go through a door that looked like this, why would they have a door like this. She entered a hallway and walked down it. It was narrow and the heels she had borrowed made a loud clopping sound as she stepped across a stone floor.

There were doors as she walked along the hall. Every few feet there would be two more doors. They were steel, just as the entrance door and had been. Each locked with a similar large bolt. These doors were locked though. The bolts were slid closed. She didn't try to open them; she was headed to door nine. She didn't know why she was headed to nine. Perhaps the woman in front had told her to go to nine. It was even hotter now. She paused for a moment at doors five and six. It was too hot to go forward and the blouse too restrictive. She set her bag and folder on the floor and unbuttoned her blouse. She thought it was odd an office would be this hot. She shouldn't be undoing her blouse for an interview and yet she was. She had to. She laid it beside her bag on top of the folder. She was concerned it would get dirty on the gray stone floor. She could breathe again and took a long deep swallow of hot stale air. It didn't seem to help. She moved forward.

She passed more doors. She passed more doors than she should have. Probably another eight or ten doors went by as she walked, clopping like a horse down the narrow hall. The walls were parallel, it couldn't be narrower than it was but it felt narrower. She was nearly at the end of the Hall. There were two men standing at the end of the hall. An old man and a young man stood talking. She thought they seemed to be unaware of her. She was thankful they hadn't noticed her. She wore nothing but a bra. It would be awkward. The bra was pink. It was a bright pink lace bra. She didn't have one like it but she liked it. She would want to get one like it if she could. It seemed expensive. When she reached the men she would ask where door nine was.

Nine. It was a large number nine painted on the wall beside the door. The number was illuminated by a bare light bulb that stuck straight out from the stone wall. She knew it was number nine because it was the only door that had been open. Inside was darkness. She thought to turn back but the room was cooler than the hall or even the lobby had been and it beckoned her. She entered, her heart racing, her brow covered in perspiration. Her feet hurt. Inside the dark room she felt a bed, or a sofa, perhaps it was just a table but it felt soft. She sat on the edge and removed her shoes. She felt her stockings should go as well, it seemed wrong to wear stockings without shoes. She stood to roll them down her ass then sat back down to roll them off her round legs. She laid back on the bed to rest. It was cool and the mattress, she knew now it was a mattress, was soothing. She let the cool air blow over her body. She thought about removing her skirt. It wasn't professional. She should not remove her skirt for an interview. She had lost her shirt though. Her shirt was out in the hall and the hall scared her. Besides the door was closed.

She didn't remember closing the door.

Tired, needing sleep, feeling the cool air on her shoulders she stood again to remove her skirt. It was difficult to pull over her broad hips, even with the zipper down, but she got it off. She thought to lay it flat so that it wouldn't wrinkle but she was so tired. She laid back into the bed. Short nervous breaths turned to long slow ones. She yawned and although she wished she had moved further up into the bed rather than let her legs dangle over the edge of the bed she dozed off.

The room was no longer dark and she no longer felt exhaustion. She didn't know how long she had slept but she felt better. Most of her felt better. Her arms seemed to ache and her wrists burned, it was a dull burn, as if she was scratched. She tried to look, she made the effort that should have moved her arm from extended over her head to in front of her face but it didn't budge. In fact, the more she tugged at it, the sharper the burning in her wrist. She sat looking at the dim bare bulb that glowed a dull yellow above the bed. Her other arm didn't move either. When she struggled to pull it free again she felt the bite of what felt an impossibly heavy weight on her wrist. She stopped struggling and tried to assess where she was. She was still at her interview. She heard the interviewer speaking from the darkness. He was hidden at an angle outside of her view, the bindings holding her wrists assuring she could not see him.

"Why is she called Dolly." The faceless voice asked. It was an older voice. It was the voice of the old man she thought, from the hallway.

"Why not, it's fun." She thought though again, no words came out.

"Perhaps she is a stripper, or a whore." A younger voice responded. "They use stage names."

"According to her resume she is a slut. She is well experienced. But she isn't a whore. " The old man clarified.

"Ah, she fucks for free then."

"Yes, apparently so."

"Fuck you." She thought. Another response lost to her lack of voice.

"She's fat. Who would pay for that."

"I think some people like them fat."

A tear formed in her eye.

"Great tits though." The old man observed.

Unable to wipe it away, the tear rolled down her cheek and she felt it waiting on her earlobe a moment before dripping away to be swallowed by the mattress. She screamed, another sound lost on the men.

"Spectacular tits." She heard the younger man say before she felt the hand on her. "Squeeze one. We should hire her just to squeeze these tits." The embrace was soft at first and she welcomed it. Then the other man grasped her other breast and the two together gripped her breasts tightly.

"Ow." She said at first but the prodding and squeezing continued "Fuck OW!" she yelled. No sound came and the men continued. They pinched at her nipples hard. They tugged at them. They knew just how she liked it. The pain was terrible and she cried out silently.

"I think she likes it." The young man observed.

She could see only the dim yellow bulb and had no way to know the spidery old fingers were so near her. They tugged at her panties, pulling then hard, she felt the pinch of the waitband around her waist. It too would have hurt if she weren't still being lifted off the mattress by her nippels. When it finally tore free she felt herself exposed and then felt the fingers inside of her. "She is enjoying it!" the old man exclaimed. Her cunt is wet as a fucking Canadian beaver!" His fingers delved deeper into her, she was indeed wet and the pain, intense ad unwelcome, from her nippes was in fact the pain she had asked for from men and boys for years. His fingers thrust deep in her and finally, as her orgasm forced her to expel a moan did she hear her own voice.

"Fuck, what a nasty little slut." The old man said.

"How can we not hire her." You young man responded. "I say she receives a hearty recommendation from my department."

"We already have a fatty on the fourth floor. You can have her."

"We'd be happy to invite you for a second interview. Do you have some time today, we can see if She has time to do it today?"

"NO!" she mouthed, again, silent.

"Excellent, excellent." The men mouthed in time.

"I think she will fit in quite nicely." The younger man said, his voice fading as he spoke.

"Ah, but how well will you fit in, my friend."

"Haha, so true. Perhaps a final interview..." the men's voices had nearly faded away entirely when she heard the steel door close.

Dolly cried silently, she wanted her mom, she wanted her bed, she wanted Danny. He was old and cranky and drank too much and yet she wanted him. he would get her loose. He would hold her. He would make her feel better. Her Spirits were lifting with thoughts of him when she heard the door open again. She listened intently; sure she could not move or see.

"Dolly, how are you today, love. God you are beautiful lying there." It wasn't just Dan's voice, they were his words too. She cried. She shouldn't love him. She was being played. "Dolly, I'd like you meet Wife. She had a few questions. I'm sure you will do fine. I'll be right here. I love you." He mocked her. She sobbed, her breath coming in gasps. Salty tears flowed down her cheek. She just wanted to go home.

"Well hello there, you fat little conniving bitch." The woman's voice was shrill and harsh. It cut her like a knife causing her bones to ache as if she were stranded outside on a frigid morning. "As I understand it, you fuck like a little trooper." She woman was beside her. Unlike the men, she could see her. She was tall and thin with hair the red color of a fire engine. Her skin was gray and lifeless as the stone walls. Here eyes were black as death and as she laid her had on Dolly's belly it was cold.

"My Daniel says your pussy is sweet as apple pie." She felt the cold finger enter her. It probed her, moving in circles inside of her. She knew.

How did they all know. Her thumb stroked her clit and as she cried she felt the warmth in her belly and in her spine. She watched the woman pull her fingers out of Dolly's pussy and slowly lick them, one after another.

"Daniel, she is delicious!" the shrill voice reported. "And you said she squeaks?"

"Oh yes!" her lover answered as the woman again penetrated her. "If you do it right, she squeaks like a dog toy.

"Oh, I must hear this!" the woman chided. "Will you come for me, you fat little pile of shit?" The woman's fingers moved deftly inside of her. "Come loud for me?" Dolly felt the soft caresses inside of her and she relaxed. As the woman's fingers warmed her from inside, her thumb pressed down on her little hood and she felt her clit massaged from inside. Again, now that she moaned, she could hear her voice.

"Fuck, Dan. Her fat little cunt can take my whole hand. She felt herself stretched but she took it. "How can you even tell you are inside of her?"

She felt the fingers upon her, within her. If only she would...

"I have to taste it!" the shrill voice called out and she watched the woman's head disappear and then felt her mouth. Her tongue felt dry and coarse, the leathery tongue of a horse. She didn't want to but she loved it, raising her hips as far as the restraints would allow. With each stroke she felt her diaphragm spasm, it always had, and she heard the squeaks she had always made. She was so close.

"Fuck my wet hole!" she called out to the shrew and with the words she came, a bold earth shaking orgasm that sucked her of breath and thought, clearing her mind and leaving her wasted.

"She is a fucking freaky little slut. No wonder you love her, Ass!" The shrew said to her Ex-husband.

"I didn't say I loved her. Dan answered. He had come out of the shadows. His hands were on her now too, the two of them touching and prodding and poking. "What I said was that I love to Fuck Her Ass..." he clarified. As if to make his point she felt the finger shoved up her asshole. It hurt but she was well beyond crying now. She watched him. the man she was in love with lean over to kiss his wife. They kept kissing as they repeatedly fucked her holes. She fought it but couldn't stop it and she came repeatedly. She was well beyond exhausted when they finally stopped. They stopped only to push her over on the mattress to fuck beside her. The shrill beast brayied like a horse as they did. She moved to the edge of the bed as they fucked, only then realizing she was free.

"Can I leave?" she asked them. She was started to hear her voice.

"Of course. You didn't have to stay." Dan told her. "You wanted this. I never made you do any of it."

Awkwardly she stood and walked to the door. Pulling at the nob she realized it was no heavy steel door at all. She stepped out into the small hallway of Dan's apartment. She found him in the kitchen with a cup of coffee and pan of eggs frying in bacon grease.

"Hey you, I wasn't going to come get you for another hour."

"I have to go." She told him. Her voice was hoarse.

"Are you okay? Did you have bad dreams? I think you were crying. I tried to wake you but you weren't having any of it."

"I'm fine." She croaked. I have to go though."

"Coffee?"

"I guess. She padded back down the hall to the bedroom. She wasn't even naked. She didn't recall getting dressed but she was in fact wearing shorts and a tank top. She could have used a bra but she didn't care. She took her purse and a pair of sandals. She knew her car was downstairs. She knew now it was Monday. She had an interview.

Dan met her at the door. She looked up at him confusing him with the look on her face. "Your wife... Is she... Is she a red-head?"

"Um, no. " he kissed her on the head just as he liked to do. "Blonde. Why?" he kissed her on the lips and she struggled to kiss him back.

"No reason." She responded dryly. "I'll call you."

As she stepped out to the landing he called out to her again. "Dolly, you okay?"

She didn't answer but continued her zombie walk to the car.

"Good luck at your interview. Let me know how it goes." She looked back at him. He too was dressed for work.

She started her car and drove home.