Scoundrels & Scotch (Top Shelf Book 3)

by Alta Hensley

  “I don’t know why they don’t realize that we would stay still much easier and longer without something shoved up our assholes,” Janie said with a pout. “And to expect us to stay in position while he spanks us with that damn paddle is just barbaric.”

  I found Janie’s honesty refreshing, if not terrifying too. If she felt this way, then certainly I would too. I couldn’t imagine having a butt plug put in me and then expected to wear it for long periods of time. “Do we have to wear a plug every day?” I asked.

  “No,” Amber said. “There isn’t a strong routine here. We just do as we’re told. Some days there is training. Some days there are just long hours of grueling dancing and rehearsal. Sometimes there are days where we get to just read and relax—though those are rare. Occasionally we are rewarded for a good show or if they feel we have worked really hard in preparing. When that happens, we can leave The Dollhouse and go shopping or to the movies. Maybe see friends and family if you still have any who care about you after the long time you’ll spend away from them all.”

  Janie crossed her arms against her chest, continuing her pout. “I want a reward.” She adjusted her body again by shifting her feet, grimacing as she did so. “This plug is too big. I hate it,” she whined. “I seriously doubt anyone else is wearing one this big. Allen can be a fucking sadist sometimes.”

  As if Allen’s ears were burning, he called out another doll’s name, and then another. Each lady of The Dollhouse rose with poise, rigid posture, refinement, and fingers pressed tightly together as if they were made of plastic, and made her way to the podium. I sat anxiously waiting for my name to be called. When it finally was, my heart stopped.

  I took slow steps toward Allen Blake, each one being used to build my courage. Fear mixed with curiosity almost numbed my senses. I lifted the smooth material of my dress, and at the same time, bent at my hips to touch my toes as I had watched all the dolls before me do. I then reached behind me, and lowered my bloomers to my upper thighs. Feeling the cool air against my upturned bottom sent shivers across my skin.

  “Spread your legs.” The command wasn’t harsh, just simply stated.

  I did as ordered.

  “Since you’re new, we’ll start with a small one.” Allen reached around with the plug in his hand so I could see what it looked like. It was metal, and a small purple stone sat at the base. I found it odd that something so beautiful would be planted in my backside and I’d be expected to wear it for an unknown amount of time. This was not sexual play. There wasn’t anything sexual about it. It was simply a step in preparing to become a doll.

  I could hear Allen put on a pair of latex gloves. Mere seconds later, a moist finger inserted its way past my tight opening. No warning was given, just a finger smearing lubrication all around. Before I could come to terms with the finger in my hole, it was followed by the tip of the metal plug.

  “Relax,” was all I heard as the plug pushed past my rosebud.

  A gasp, a clench of my fists, were the only things I could focus on. A biting pain, mixed with erotic fascination had my pussy beckoning for more. It hurt at first. Hurt more than I had expected, but with every breath I took, the pain turned to a heated pulse in my core. The throbbing teased my need for more. The sting strummed at my lust.

  What the fuck was wrong with me?

  Why was I enjoying it? Hating it… but enjoying it so much more.

  With a slight pat on my bottom, Allen broke the sexual spell. “You’re finished. Go ahead and join the other dolls. I’m not going to work on your pose yet. Not until I figure out how to work you into the exhibit.”

  I stood up and lowered my dress, and pulled up my bloomers to cover my invaded bottom. With every step toward Amber and Janie, I could feel the weight of the plug rooted in my ass. My sexual desire growing with every move I made, I wondered if the women could read my ravenous thoughts.

  They hated the plug they said. I did not. I liked it. A lot. Maybe too much.

  When I sat down next to Amber, I understood why it took Janie a few moments to get comfortable when she had approached us. There really was no way to forget that something was planted inside of you. Applying pressure to the base of the plug only made the intrusion more obvious. I actually considered standing, but didn’t want to single myself out as different, or have the other dolls snicker at me for having the virgin ass.

  “Wait until you get to the size they put in me,” Janie whispered. “You’ll be wishing for that small beginner one again.”

  Training had begun. I was now officially a Drayton Doll.

  9

  Victor

  I didn’t like leaving The Dollhouse when I was in the middle of rehearsals for a show, and since we were now training for two shows, I really didn’t have the luxury to leave. But I had made a commitment to Spiked Roses the minute I’d decided to become a managing member and owner of the club. Since I would be leaving the country for Milan in the next two days, I needed to make sure that I attended the managing members’ meeting and see if the men needed anything from me before I left.

  I knew they had several Tastings scheduled that I, unfortunately, would not be able to attend, and hopefully they wouldn’t be counting on having any of my dolls attend them as they had just recently done. I had actually enjoyed sharing my dolls with the club, which I hadn’t realized I would. I had always been a loner growing up with very few friends. Being a military brat and forced to pick up and leave so often during my childhood, friendships weren’t something I experienced often. Spiked Roses and the men who sat around the table had been my first taste of it, and I actually liked having them in my life. They weren’t exactly the type of friends one would normally choose. They were ruthless assholes if you really had to put a label on them. Killers, thieves, powerful pricks, and men who really didn’t fit within my artistic circle. But I trusted them. I counted on them. I could relate with every single one of them.

  “Let’s get this meeting started,” Matthew Price began. “Kenneth is still on vacation with Anita, so while those fuckers get suntanned on the coast of Spain or somewhere similar in Europe, we’ll just pick up the slack.” He smiled and looked around the table. “Who wants to start?”

  “I’ll start,” I said. “I’m leaving for Milan in two days to set up my next exhibit. I should be back in a couple of days after the showing, and, of course, you can always reach me if needed.”

  “How is Ivy Adams doing? Is she going to work out for you?” Matthew asked.

  I shrugged. “Too soon to tell, but I think so. I can tell she really wants the job. She’s rough around the edges, but I think with a little fine tuning, we can smooth her out.”

  “Which reminds me,” Matthew said. “Since we fired Ivy, we are in need of hiring a new waitress. I started going through the applications earlier today. One stood out to me because the candidate says she is related to you, Alec.”

  Alec Sheldon looked up from his glass of whiskey surprised. “Related? What are you talking about? Who?”

  Matthew looked down at his pile of papers and sifted through them until he pulled out an application. “Her name is Makayla Knox. She wrote down that Alec Sheldon is her uncle.” He looked up at Alec who seemed stunned by the news. “Is she lying?”

  Alec shook his head slowly, his mouth open, and his eyes narrowed. “No, she’s not lying. Not exactly.”

  “How the hell are you old enough to be an uncle to a grown woman?” Harley asked.

  “I’m not her uncle. Well, not really.” Alec shook his head, and took a sip of his whiskey. “Long story.” He nodded toward Matthew. “Go ahead and hire her if she’s qualified. It’s been years since I’ve seen her, but I’ll vouch for her. Her father and I used to be business partners and best friends. Last time I saw her, she was just a little girl.”

  Matthew nodded. “All right. I’ll go ahead and bring her in.”

  “I have something to bring up,” Harley Crow said, which was odd. The man wasn’t one for speaking up in a meeting often. H
e mostly listened and sat quietly. “It actually involves you, Victor.”

  “Me?” I asked, surprised how anything involving Harley—the assassin and true bad boy of the group—had anything to do with me.

  Harley nodded. “I’m hearing some talk that concerns me in my circle of acquaintances. It could be nothing, but Drayton’s Dolls are being discussed a lot.”

  “Discussed? How so?”

  “I’m not sure,” Harley said. “I’ll dig some more, but the fact that your name is being brought up at all with these types of people has me a bit worried.”

  “Well, I do have a lot of shows coming up. Milan, Berlin, Japan, Dubai are all within the next couple of months. I’m sold out for all already, so maybe it’s all the hype around them.”

  Harley shook his head. “I don’t think so. The murmurs that are floating around involving your dolls are with the kind of men who don’t appreciate art unless it’s something they can steal or kill someone over.”

  “I’ll put out my feelers too,” Lennon Wolf, the art dealer and thief, said. “I haven’t heard anything other than Victor’s art shows are the highly sought out events in the art world.”

  “It could be just that,” Harley said. “But just to be sure, I really think you should up security. Just to be safe.”

  I didn’t like hearing that Harley was concerned. He wasn’t one to be dramatic or overly cautious. “All right. I’ll get some more security put in place, and have them travel with us as well.”

  Harley seemed satisfied with my answer. “I’ll dig deeper.”

  “I appreciate it,” I said, feeling uneasy with the information. Harley ran with the worst of the worst. I didn’t like my name being on the lips of any of them.

  The meeting continued for another hour or so, but my mind kept drifting off on all that was still needed in getting ready for Milan. Before leaving this morning, Allen had assured me that the new doll Ivy had picked up enough on what was needed for Milan, though needed a reminder on discipline due to some recent behavior. He said she was a quick study, however, and did cast her in the show regardless. I didn’t have time to hear about what role she was cast in, or her behavior, but I would try to make time when I returned this evening. I didn’t like throwing someone new into the mix, but Milan really was an easy art exhibit to start with. It required holding the positions rather than choreography she would have to remember. Milan was more about discipline and focus rather than skill and precision. But I made a mental note to make sure that Ivy Adams did indeed have the discipline required. If not, I would not hesitate in the slightest to show her exactly the level of discipline I required to be a Drayton Doll.

  10

  Ivy

  Victor had summoned me to his study, and I arrived in the ridiculous doll dress with ruffles and all as he’d instructed I always wear while living in The Dollhouse. His back was to me, and I could see he was dressed down as much as I imagined he could be; white shirt with the sleeves rolled up, loafers with no socks, and trousers in the palest gray. As soon as I arrived, he gestured over his shoulder for me to close the door, but he didn’t turn to face me. I stopped a few feet away after doing as I was bid. Hesitation tangled at my feet before I finally had the courage to speak.

  “Allen said you wanted to see me?”

  “I spoke with Mr. Blake today to see how you have been progressing in your training and if you were ready for Milan,” Victor said. “Do you feel you are?”

  “Yes.”

  I saw his fists clench behind his back as tension took over his body as he stiffened. “Yes, what? Have you not worked on training in submission in addition to the choreography? It’s been a couple of days since I saw you last. When I left you, I felt submission for you would have been the easiest part of your training.”

  “I mean, yes, sir. I’ve been learning as fast as I can… sir.”

  “It sounds like it’s getting easier for you to say the word now.” He finally turned to face me, but his expression was somber, verging on grim. “But you took too long to say it. Showing respect shouldn’t be a struggle.”

  “I’m sorry, sir. I’m trying.” I ducked my head repentantly and stared at my hands folded in front of me. I needed this fucking job, and if using the word ‘sir’ was the way to keep it, I damn well would make a habit of saying it all the time.

  Sir.

  Sir.

  Sir.

  “I know it’s not easy to do if you aren’t used to it. But for the full effect of my dolls to come off correctly, I have to have complete submission. You have to let go of that outer shell you once had. There is a big difference in acting like a Drayton Doll and being one. The people who attend my exhibits can tell the difference. I can tell the difference.”

  “Yes, sir. I understand.”

  The silence that hung after my words was painful, and I fought the urge to lift my head and look at his face. It was only when he closed the distance between us and touched my chin with his fingers that I felt I was permitted to look.

  “It’s been brought to my attention that you’re removing your anal plug during your training.”

  Fuck.

  How the hell did he know that? Were there cameras in the bathroom?

  I tried to look down at the ground so I wouldn’t have to see the judgment in his eyes or give away the fact that I was fighting back the need to curse the motherfucker out for invading my privacy in the bathroom, but he held my chin in place, glaring into my eyes.

  “I thought I made the rules and expectations clear.”

  “You did,” I said softly. “It’s just that—”

  “You’ll be expected to wear the plug for as long as we say,” he interrupted. “And now you’ll be expected to wear an even larger one. Do you understand?”

  Larger? What the fuck? How was that even possible?

  “Of course, sir. I understand.”

  It wasn’t that I truly hated wearing a plug, or that it hurt. It was that I hated how aroused my body became, and that there was never a release. My pussy always dripped in need, and the hunger for touch—any touch—was almost too much to endure.

  Victor didn’t so much as smile. His fingers dropped from my chin and, without the support, my head simply dropped forward again. My breath caught in my chest and everything went dim around me. I felt faint, and my fingers tightened in the folds of my striped and fluffy dress, desperate to clutch something, anything at all, for support.

  “You need to be punished for your disobedience, Ivy. It’s the rules of the dolls. I explained this as well, didn’t I?”

  “Yes.” The word barely squeaked out, breathless and aching. I looked up into his stern face, and the tears that had built in my eyes finally dared to stream forth. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have—”

  “So you have a choice,” he continued. “Punishment or leave The Dollhouse, but this isn’t going to be as simple as the small spanking I gave you before. Your choice. It’s always your choice.”

  I swallowed hard. I didn’t want to leave. I couldn’t. And do what? How would I survive? How would they survive? And even though there was a lot I didn’t like about becoming a doll, I really had liked so much more that it made the job a good one in my book. “I choose punishment,” I said, not believing the words as they fell from my lips.

  Fuck! Was this really happening? Was I really going to allow this to happen? Plus, I didn’t exactly consider the last spanking small. To me, that had definitely been a punishment.

  “Go stand on the doll stand.” The command shook my nerves, and I uttered a small moan of fear, mixed with aroused anticipation. The doll stand. I had heard stories from the others about the stand in Victor Drayton’s study that had me shaking in my patent leather shoes.

  “Now,” he repeated with a bite to his voice.

  I shuddered and rushed to the stand on the right side of the room as he demanded. It was surrounded by full-length mirrors, so there was no way I could miss my reflection. I wanted to close my eyes but resisted, ke
eping them open. I didn’t want to face the scared waifish doll in front of me, but knew I had no choice. Taking a deep breath to try to prevent myself from crumpling into a pile of cowardly bones at my feet, I could both see and taste the salt of my tears as they slid down my face. I could smell the scent of recently used glass cleaner and feel my breath struggle its way from my tightened throat, hearing the quivering of it all the more keenly. My senses were alive. Senses that I used to constrict with drugs, but now welcomed as I learned some control and focus through doll training. Except for now. Right now, my heightened senses were only making my nerves worse.

  It felt like an eternity before his hand came to rest on the back of my head. He stroked his fingers through my hair and whispered in my ear, “You have the makings of a good doll, Ivy. I’ll be easier on you this time because of your obvious attempt at submission. But from this moment on, I expect you to obey the rules of The Dollhouse. The only way this project will work is by following the strict protocol set in place.”

  “I understand.”

  Did I? Maybe. It appeared to be working. Drayton’s Dolls were world-renowned and people traveled around the world to see them in the little hidden gems of galleries set up specially for the eccentric, rich, and famous.

  “Pose,” he said calmly. “Look into the mirrors and pose.”

  I considered asking what type of pose, but decided it best not to. Turning my toes inward so they nearly touched, and cocking my head to the right, I lifted my shoulders and arms like they were connected to the imaginary strings controlled by a twisted and demented puppet master above me. And with the slightest movements and angles of my body, I truly became the creepy doll that had scared the shit out of me as a child in my room.

  Without warning, Victor swatted my ruffled-panty-clad ass as I remained motionless as I knew dolls were to never move once in position. The first searing spank shocked me. The second and third weakened my legs, yet I held my morbid position in fear of what would happen if I didn’t. He continued to spank as my face remained emotionless—wide-eyed with my large lashes fluttering as my only sign of discomfort.