Dolly, Chapter 4: Programming Dolly

Where we learn what Jeff Feinstein is up to

Jeff Feinstein watched on the monitor in the security station as the little redhead played with herself. “You said this is the third time?”

The security guard, Ivan, nodded. “That I’ve noticed. Quite the horny little one.”

Ivan was Russian, as was half of Jeff’s security detail. The other half were Colombians. Another Russian, Igor, had taken the recording materials down to Dolly. Ivan looked to his boss and asked, “It is almost bed
time. Should I turn off the video?”.

Jeff considered a moment. “No, leave it on for thirty minutes, with the audio turned down to, say, ten percent. She should still be able to hear that.” He handed a thumb drive to Ivan. “An hour after you dim the lights, play this on the other audio feed. Have the day shift stop playing this when the lights go back up in the morning.”

Ivan confirmed his instructions, and went back to monitoring the other security feeds for the estate. Gregor, the overall head of security, had been smart to put Ivan in the security office for the overnight shift watching Dolly Being gay, Ivan was not interested in the girl in the cell.

Jeff left the security hub and walked through the mansion, very pleased with his latest acquisition. Doctor Higgins, his consultant on adolescent psychology and behavioral programming, had been right in his prediction that this one would come along quickly.

They were working on a new programming strategy with Dolly. The lack of clothing and isolation enhanced her feelings of vulnerability, the panties were given to her less as covering than to provide something that could be taken away if needed. The air circulated a pheromone which, while not clinically proven, was hoped to provoke a sexual response in the prisoner. The water contained Flibanserin, basically a form of Viagra for women.

The isolation and boredom would create a need for some form of outlet, mental and physical stimulation. The porn provided an obvious outlet for her pent up mental and physical energies. It seemed to be working perfectly.

The thumb drive contained a recording, created by computer using the words and phrases in Dolly’s own voice, which would be played as she slept, the sound barely audible to a waking person, but the sleeping brain would hear and process the words.

“I love…Master.” “I want…Master’s come.” “I need…to feel….his…cock…inside….me.”

While these were all somewhat experimental techniques, when combined with operant conditioning, linking positive behaviors to positive outcomes and negative behaviors to negative outcomes, Dr. Higgins anticipated rapid progress, especially given Dolly’s background.

So far, all of Jeff’s harem came from even less pleasant backgrounds than Dolly’s. At least she came from the US, a nation so rich that even those considered poor were well off compared to the middle class in places like Haiti and Venezuela. His success rate in turning third world trafficking victims, largely orphans and children sold by their parents, into enthusiastically compliant sex slaves was hovering at a bit under fifty percent. Another forty percent would obey commands, but never really embraced the role of sex slave. These, like the Black maid, became servants, still subject to occasional sexual use by Jeff or the male staff members, but for the most part left alone unless they sought out male companionship.

The remainder, about fifteen percent, failed to learn that submission was the better part of valor. When Jeff bored of forcing them, he gave those girls to his guards. These unfortunates were kept in the two guard barracks, their days filled with the ten men who lived in each building raping them when off duty. According to Gregor, this originally meant each girl was violated a dozen or more times per day. At that rate, their long health outlook was grim. Now that there were three in each barracks, and with a schedule in place for their use, the prospect for long-term sustainability were good.

If the programming worked as well as expected on Dolly, the next step would be to use it on girls trafficked via kidnappings from the US and Europe, who had led relatively decent lives before being taken. If success was good with those, he would share the process with his associates, like the woman who had taken Dolly, for use in their operations.

With such happy thoughts in his head, he opened the door to his bedroom where two Hispanic girls awaited, ready to tire him out before they all went to sleep.

The next morning, Jeff went downstairs after checking on Dolly via the security feed. She had slept fairly well it appeared, and had eaten all her kibble and drank all her water. Her recording had been excellent, and so Jeff, always a stickler for keeping up his end of the bargain, had prepared her reward.

He headed downstairs with the Black maid, who was named, like most of the servants, after her job, Maid, and one of his Toys. Natasha was exactly what one thought of when considering hot Russian women. Purchased from an orphanage two years prior, she was the tallest of his Toys, at 5’8” and weighing 130 pounds. She boasted a terrific 36C pair of tits, long legs, slender waist, and perfect ass. With long, straight platinum blonde hair normally in a pony tail and dark blue eyes, her face would attract any man’s attention.
Maid pushed a cart to the top of the stairs heading to the cells, but was forced to carry its contents down.

Natasha, of course, would not have thought to offer to help. Natasha was always a perfect whore for her owner, but she enjoyed dominating the other girls, most of whom were physically much smaller. Jeff often used her in such a role in threeseomes.

There were a total of four cells and all looked the same on the outside from the hallway. The only difference was that the two closer to the stairs featured toilets and were a couple feet wider. At the end of the hall, opposite the security door that led to the stairs, was a toilet for emptying the buckets, hose for cleaning them out, and a shower. In the space between the cell doors there were a brown leather wingback chair and a matching side table. Jeff pulled these into position while Maid brought the trays down and set out a large breakfast on the side table.

When all was ready, Jeff sat, Natasha kneeled at his feet, her form perfect as always, and Maid pushed the button to roll the door up. Dolly, revealed as the door went up, was sitting on her bed.

“Good morning, my dear,” Jeff said to her. “I understand you had a busy and pleasurable day yesterday. I trust you enjoyed the entertainment.” He could not help grinning.

Dolly blushed, her face nearly as red as her hair. “It was…different than I expected, Master.” Suddenly, she realized that the cameras must have taped her, and she turned even redder. She was staring curiously at the table over her knees, pulled up in front of her body, and at the woman kneeling, naked, in front of Jeff.

As Maid went about refilling the water and kibble dishes, then cleaning the bucket, Jeff asked, “Are you hungry this morning? I brought down breakfast for you and Natasha here.”

Dolly’s eyes widened, her stomach growling loud enough for all to hear. She stood up, her bashfulness momentarily forgotten. “Yes, please!” she answered eagerly.

Jeff took a piece of bacon from the tray and bit half of it off, chewing as he lowered the other half in front of Natasha’s mouth. The Russian opened her mouth and took the piece from her master’s fingers.

“As you can see, Dolly, my girls dine nude when they dine with me. You will need to remove your panties if you wish to join us.”

Dolly hesitated. The one shred of decency she had left, or bacon, eggs, sausages, and potatoes? There was even juice.

She lowered her panties, doing her best to hide her crotch with her hands. She had a scanty coat of fine red pubic hair. At a word from Jeff, Maid pushed a button in the hallway that opened the door to her cage.

“You will also need to kneel so I can feed you.” He touched Natasha’s chin. “Show her how, shlyukha” Jeff ordered in perfect Russian, using the word for ‘slut’.

The buxom Russian sighed and rose. “I will try, Master”, she responded in Russian, clearly doubting the redhead’s capacity for learning. Jeff laughed softly, enjoying when she played the bitch to the other girls.
It did indeed take several tries, the matter of a couple minutes, for Dolly to get into a passable pose. She was on her knees, legs spread wide, revealing her sparse bush. Her ass sat on her heels, which were then spread, opening the crack of her ass. She arched her back, thrusting her small breasts out. Next to Natasha, she looked like a lion cub trying to imitate her mother.

Jeff proceeded to eat, feeding the girls as he went. Bacon, sausage, even the eggs and hash browns, were fed to them by hand, Nastasha first and Dolly second with each item. Jeff at with a fork, of course, except for the bacon. They shared his glass of orange juice, sipping as he held it to their lips.

Dolly was encouraged to ask Natasha questions, and the Russian gave curt, brief answers. The picture Dolly put together was that Natasha had not liked her prior life, before being sold to Jeff via the Russian mafia and a corrupt orphanage. She enjoyed life as her master’s property much better. She lived like an oligarch’s woman, she said, although Dolly was not quite sure what that meant. When asked what she did for her Master, the Russian scoffed scornfully. “What do you think we do for Master, you stupid girl.”
Jeff did not scold Natasha for the insult, and Dolly was too sheepish to object.

Maid was waiting to clear the meal away when Jeff was done eating. Dolly looked at the remaining food, hoping there would be similar fare for lunch. She was ordered back into her cage, and Jeff closed the door.

“Master”, she asked Jeff, “How long do I have to stay in here?”

“Until I think you are ready” was his cryptic reply.

“Could I get something to read?” she asked as the door rolled down. Jeff did not reply.

He did, however, send down some reading material later. An old erotic novel titled “Emmanuelle”. Shortly after it was delivered, the television provided further entertainment, a never ending series of pretty girls sucking one or more cocks and then begging to have them cum on their faces and tits.

Dolly spent the day as she had the day before, with one hand between her legs most of the time. She alternated between reading the racy novel and bringing herself to orgasm. She never bothered to put her panties back on.