So, a little more background about my Doktor and me: We have this other thing we do (let’s be honest, we do a lot of different things!) that we have decided to call Complex Roleplay. Basically, we each have multiple personas that we can switch between in any given situation. (If you have an interest in getting a post sometime with more details about this, lmk. If enough people are interested, I’ll be happy to pop one up soonish.) “Doktor” is one of his personas (the one that hypnotizes me, obviously) but there are others such as the one that meditates with me, the one who makes rules in our D/s dynamic, etc. Needless to say, I also have a fair number of personas that can each get called upon. There is one that he calls Poppette who is a doll/plaything for him. So, as he started to check into ideas for different ways to play with hypnosis and stumbled across a podcast that discussed dollification, he immediately thought of Poppette. This was a session where we had an even longer than usual convo beforehand to make sure we had adequate consent/understanding of limits/etc. Please keep in mind that all the activities described have already been part of our play WITHOUT hypnosis, so we both had a really solid sense of safety and tolerance and such. FWIW, during the aforementioned convo, we also discussed consent in general regarding when/where/what with hypno stuff. One of the many levels of things I eagerly consented to is that if we are in a safe and private space that I am excited about his trying inductions that vary in levels of obviousness. So, things that are fairly sudden and/or reeeally subtle are all green lights as far as I’m concerned. Again, we have a massive amount of trust that has built over time in a variety of contexts.
SO! After discussing safety elements, we decided on how to make the overlap of being in trance and using a persona happen. We ultimately decided that he would do the induction, then take my normal “self”/consciousness into a room specifically for this type of play, then help me to switch to Poppette headspace. It seemed a lot easier than the alternatives for a couple reasons, mainly that I had already proven to be pretty damn easy to get into trance. I specifically did not listen to the podcasts he mentioned that he had consumed when we started discussing use hypnosis so that it would likely intensify dollification (again, a thing we had discussed/played with in other ways prior to hypnosis). So I really wasn’t sure what I had in store.
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The day of the scene finally came (it was only two days after we started discussing it, but I’m not the most patient person in the world, especially when I get excited about something…). That morning, he instructed that I lay out a short list of things at some point before we play. I immediately did so as soon as I saw the list: Poppette’s lipstick (he puts it on her when he plays with her), one flogger, one buttplug, some lube, twine, and scissors. And it all sat there, perched on the barstool I had moved into the Playroom, just waiting. I left the door open, so anytime I passed the room through the day (often), I caught a glimpse of the prepared space. It was building excitement, curiosity, and a little nervousness in me on so many levels (scroll up if you are wondering at all how I might do with waiting for Playtime).
Anticipation in FULL supply was brought with me as we sat down to do the scene. I was a little worried that I would have a difficult time dropping into deep hypno because of how amped up I was feeling. Thankfully, I was wrong about that part. He started with a little different type of induction this time. As far as I remember, we were in the kitchen being our usual chatty selves enjoying the moment together. He walked up to me and was being affectionate – touching my shoulder and saying sweet things. I adore both of these things, and was responding as I normally do, and didn’t think anything of it. Looking back, I realize that he did some things slowly and subtly: his speech slowed, the pitch of his voice dropped over the course of a few sentences, the rate that he was caressing my shoulder slowed down too. His words shifted from statements to directives (I think one of the first was something like “Is it cool if I have a cookie then after maybe we can try some hypnosis?” and one of the later one was more along the lines of “We are going to walk into the bedroom and with each step you’ll notice more fully that you are dropping deeper and deeper in.” At one point, I was still lucid enough that I said “Oh, we already started, didn’t we?” He smiled wide, “Yes, and it feels so good doesn’t it?” My own smile grew, I felt a warmth wash over my body, and I let myself sink in deeper with each step, just like the Doktor ordered.
In short order I felt myself land in the Cave of Wonders (TLDR for those of you paying closer attention: we spent a session turning the hallway into a cave between the first session and this one, but I thought this one more fun to write, so I’m doing it first. I’ll write that one next, most likely). He led me around a bit, reminding me of the tree and the Nest; letting me look around at the cave itself, really landing and feeling it. Then we went to a room that had a door that was smaller than the others. It brought up images of Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland, and I was curious how I would fit through. I don’t honestly remember the details of that, but I remember looking inside and seeing the most precious dollhouse I had ever seen. It made me think of something from a Museum (Have you been to The Art Institute of Chicago to see the Thorne Miniature Rooms exhibit? Meticulous and adorable!) so I remember looking in, and then I heard the Doktor ask “Do you want to play in the Dollhouse? If you do, say ‘yes’ if you don’t then say ‘no’.” I heard myself reply “Yes.” and felt the excited, warm tingle converge and crawl slowly up my spine.
He began helping me to drop even deeper into trance, telling me characteristics of dolls – the way that they don’t move on their own, that they don’t have to think on their own, that they don’t have to dress on their own. He asked if Poppette wanted to come off her shelf to try to play with Him in this special place. Then I heard the song I made up for Poppette to sing when she wants playtime or during play when she is happy. Just a gentle, repetitive, sing-songy voice with a rudimentary melody, “Play with me, play with meeee.” I heard a little giggle – I don’t remember if it was just inside or actually aloud.
I heard his voice continuing to talk; my witnessing self that is always present started to feel a bit foggier than usual and I felt more like Poppette. I remember his voice and that my body started moving – I think I sat up because he used words, but it may have been physically suggested/guided as well. Once I was sitting up it felt a little easier to open my eyes, but not much. I clearly remember feeling the sensation on my face of him applying the Poppette makeup. The lips getting their fancy red color applied so precisely, then him using his gorgeous hands to smear it into a grin. A dab on the nose. A smudge on each cheek. All red and ready to play. I feel myself dropping into that sense of ease and distant bliss even just from writing this… In this moment, as I’m wanting to drift back down but know I shouldn’t, I’m taking a deep breath, enjoying the bliss flowing through from the memory, and drinking a bit of water. I play an audio clip he has made for me to use in moments like this as a gentle reminder that I am in the waking world.
Recentered, and back in a place mentally that I can separate memory from desire, desire from action, I feel my hands start typing again. Letting the memory flow, not worrying about how the words exactly fit on the page yet. I’ll come back during edits and think more about you, my friendly readers. But for now, I just let the memory drip out of me. I remember hearing his instruction to stand. Inside my head, I feel Poppette look to my witness consciousness for help in how to follow his directive. The witness, for the first time, experiences a lack of knowing what to do/how to help. She looks back at Poppette and just sorta shrugs. This may have come across externally in some way because he starts to help with his words. “You feel a string attached to the very top of your head. It pulls gently: up up up. Feel your body unfolding and rising to stand.” Both my witness and Poppette watched and felt surprised and giddy that it worked. (It worked!) It felt hard to stand, really, but it didn’t feel very hard to not fall over, if that makes sense. The string he had verbally attached to the top of my head wasn’t going to let me fall over, even if I wasn’t steady on my feet. So, sure there was some wobbliness in my feet and legs, but I didn’t fall over or feel in danger of it at all.
“There are also strings attached to your wrists. Do you feel that? They begin to pull up up up too.” I feel my arms raise in the air. I feel the air shift, and resultant notice the moisture between my legs, as he walks past me. Oh, have I mentioned that I was naked? I think this happened as I was climbing into bed after walking over from the kitchen? But, it doesn’t matter. The Doktor will keep things safe. It is okay to let that whole idea go. Whatever idea it was, we can just drop down, deep down and it is all wonderful down here…
I feel the twine brush against my right nipple ever so gently as he threads it through the silver captive bead ring that pierces it. I feel the friction of it as he pulls it “up up up”. He loops it through a hard point above my head, then brings it back down and ties it around my right wrist. The other side follows, this time with a bit more friction because my nipple is already erect from the sensation when he tied the first. And with only so much twine given to span the distance of nipple to ceiling and ceiling to wrist, it is such that if this doll’s arms drift downward, then it must be that her nipples get pulled up. His voice in the distance announces that, “It is okay that the twine is only the exact right length. Your arms, like the rest of you, is that of a doll. Your body, your whole body, a doll. Your arms won’t move on their own and they won’t tire no matter how long they stay in one position.”
The air in the room shifts again as he walks past a second time. “Your whole body, in fact, won’t move unless I move it.” There is a very subtle, gentle sound of suede rustling. Then a soft fall of the flogger that my intentional self had laid out so long ago, so far away despite being in the same room. It is my favorite flogger, it can vary widely from gentle to brutal depending upon the intention of the wielder. There are more falls from the flogger, moving slowly toward the aforementioned “brutal” side of the spectrum. Poppette feels them, but they feel fairly distant. Poppette knows better than to move when she is told not to, but is suddenly aware that she likely would *not* be able to move even if she wanted to, although sounds still escape her painted lips. Her breath has quickened, and she is getting sweaty. The Doktor likes when she is sweaty. He likes lots of things. He likes his things. She likes being one of his things. “Thank you for playing with me,” she wants to say, but her mouth won’t move and the words stay inside until right now as they ooze through the keyboard.
The sweat slicks the tips of his fingers as he runs them down my back, down Poppette’s back, down its back. There is a gentle “click” and the singular sound of lube getting squeezed out of a bottle. One hand grabs a soft hold on the cushion of her ass, and the other lightly begins to caress the lube onto the parts that dolls don’t usually have. “You are being very good, listening to my voice and letting it feel so good. Such a good Poppette.” His voice coos, likely rendering the lube unnecessary. Slowly but definitely there is a pressure, a mild stretching sensation, then a wave of pleasure as the plug is inserted. Words come neither to mind nor lips, but moans escape – bidden or not is unknown.
He gently tugs on the twine, tweaking the nipples and pulling ever so slightly on the raised wrists. “Do you like this game?” He demands playfully, “Say yes.” likely knowing that unless he gives the directive he won’t get an answer.
“Yes!” the answer escapes in a nearly shouting moan, the mouth thankful to be able to form a word and the mind thankful to express enjoyment.
“Good, good. Don’t forget that a doll will stay exactly where I put her until I move her again.” He replies, followed by the sound of scissors cutting the piece of twine on the right side. Snip Then the left. Snip Then above the head. Snip His arm slowly encircling the waist of who/what is probably still best called Poppette. “And if all the strings are cut, well, then there isn’t anything to hold up the doll.” Arms that for the previous 15 minutes had been almost fully extended upward were suddenly limp, knees abruptly buckled, and she is helped to the floor, placed in a kneeling position. “Open your mouth,” he said, with one hand softly holding the top of the head, the other applying a slight pressure downward on the chin.
The tastes and textures and sensations of his glorious cock have always been different than what I had experienced before, but this? This was in a whole new way. I felt him enter my mouth, but my lips and tongue, throat and hands just… stayed still. I don’t know exactly how to convey this without crossing out of classy and going into crass, but let’s just say that I have some serious muscle memory for how to enjoy him with my mouth. I have a thing for more giving intense oral (read: facefucking) but tend to have a difficult time with it because I want to use my muscles to enjoy all the sensations of him during it. This? It just shut. it. all. down. and I was able to be so open to him in a way that I haven’t been able to do previously. I was salivating like crazy and there wasn’t an urge or idea to swallow. It was just drip dropping down, the long lines of it running off my chin onto my chest, some landing on my thighs, the rest pooling around my shins on the floor. I don’t remember if I was even able to breathe. No need to breathe when you’re a doll, though, I suppose, right?
I do remember that when he left my mouth, I heard a long cry escape my throat. I didn’t want it to stop – it all felt sooo good. While transitioning us onto the bed, he gave more instructions about the ways in which dolls don’t move around on their own. He narrated the ways in which a good doll would be immobile, even if she really wants to move. He moved Poppette so that she was kneeling on the bed, then my Doktor pivoted her at the hips so that the upper chest, arms, and face were on the mattress. “She will slowly notice even those desires to move slip away, as with all other desires. She doesn’t need them here. No, not while she is a doll. Here she gets to let them go free and just be blank. Nice and blank. And it feels sooo good to be blank.” And it does. It feels so so good. I feel so warm and comfortable mentally and physically; so happy, so safe.
He slides himself, still slick with saliva into me, pushing a long, loud moan from my throat. I feel my internal tissues stretch to allow him in, appreciating his warm girth and the way our anatomy fits together just so, a loud, “YESSS” leaves my lips this time. His hands come to my hips, he grips tightly and thrusts hard – so many different moans of pleasure explode from Poppette. This is a dream come true on so many levels, and each are filling me and Poppette alike with utter bliss, and damn if it isn’t going to be known. Just then, he flipped the doll onto her back, and placed a gentle pinch at the center of the skin on the throat. He made a twisting motion, “You’re so loud today. I’m going to turn your volume down.”
He placed the arms above her head, back flat on the mattress, legs up in the air at a somewhat odd angle – almost as though in stirrups. He reentered letting me bask in the bliss of feeling his head rub against my G-spot, then moving in deeper. He rocks and thrusts his pelvis, and I am enjoying it so much, still moaning a fair amount, although somewhat less loudly. After a few more thrusts, he touches his fingers down to the throat again, twisted again, “Actually, let’s just mute that. I usually love your moans, but who knows what the neighbors will think if I let you make so many sounds today.” and then things go silent, save his voice and the sound of him thrusting into the wetness of his plaything. It all feels sooo good.
The waves of his delicious voice keep washing over me, inviting me deeper. I feel my pleasure building, my tissues engorging, and my walls tightening. His words slowly become more in focus than just the sound of his voice and I hear, “That’s right, she is a good doll and stays still. And she would even if she is having an orgasm.” I admit, I laughed a bit internally – motionless during an orgasm, not to mention silent?! Haha you have *got* to be kidding me. He is going too far in thinking these things will work with just a couple minutes of suggestion in one of our first hypnosis sessions – I either won’t cum, or I’ll make sound or move or something. But I just can’t imagine that with so little prep… then I heard his counting.
Oh, did I forget to mention before now that one of the OTHER other things we already had in the repertoire before starting hypnosis is that I cum on his command? Yeah, so that’s a thing. Seriously, sometimes I take a step back – such as when writing this, replying on other threads, or talking to more ahem openminded friends – and I realize that people probably think I am totally making shit up. The things we manage together are in no way short of magical. If you don’t believe me, just look at the pic at the top (and the description of it at the bottom) of this post. Then realize that it is art he made that started with an actual pic of me. This is just how we co-create things. Go big or go home, eh? But I digress yet again.
So there I am.
“Ten.” Full witness mentally on-line again because I am so baffled at this working that I can’t help but be a bit more lucid.
“Nine.” The body I inhabit is lying on the bed on her back.
“Eight.” Legs up in the air, bent at the knees in a somewhat awkward angle.
“Seven.” Volume on mute.
“Six.” He is counting down.
“Five.” I feel him sliding inside of me so delightfully.
“Four.” The warmth.
“Three.” The pleasure.
“Two.” The pressure building.
“One.” Oh my god, it might actua-
“Cum for me!” And then there was an internal explosion. I felt my pelvic muscles contract and loosen for a period of time – it could have been 10 seconds or 10 minutes, it didn’t matter. I felt the waves of bliss and pleasure wash over my whole being. I was just swimming in it all so fully, drifting along on the pleasure and bliss of it all… so soooo good. And as I slowly start drifting back into this realm, I realize: except those internal pelvic muscles? My body isn’t making any sound. It isn’t moving. Just… silent. Stillness. And I float in it.
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Later (I haven’t the faintest clue how long other than that it was still the same day), I heard his voice saying that his doll was going to turn back into a human, starting with her being able to move a bit. He guided me to start with letting my legs come down, slowly helping vocally and physically to let them rest on the bed. I hadn’t even noticed that they were still up in the air until he said something. Even then, as with my arms previously, they hadn’t felt tired or taxed, and when I let them down they felt normal (interesting side note – they weren’t even sore the next day either). His voice did a fairly short body scan with me, gently returning control to different body parts until all were back to “human” and in my control. He reached down and gently twisted the skin on my throat. “And I’ll turn your volume back on too” A long, low moan released itself from my throat. Not nearly all that would have been let out if I had been vocalizing the whole time, but certainly some element of pent up expression via being let out. It took a few full, deep breaths to get the backlog out.
“As you feel yourself coming back to humanness, your body yours again, your voice on again, you start to see around you this little room. It looks less and less like your room; it looks more and more like a little dollhouse room,” he reminded the trance mind where she was. This helped me to feel grounded in coming up that first level back from being Poppette into my witness self, although still in trance. From there he slowly had me leave the Dollhouse room of the Cave, back into the main area. He then gently brought me back up from trance, “Up, up, up, back into the waking world. Crisp, clear, conscious. Snap Awake.”
We snuggled in bed, marveling at wtf had just happened and how well it had worked, discussing some of the details, and each checking in with each other about what types of aftercare would feel most helpful/loving/connecting. In time, we got up from the bed, and took a slow, warm shower, each feeling the other as we gently washed. Mostly, we spent the rest of the time together that day exchanging a combination of loving smiles and “WTF?! Did that actually just happen?!” type statements. Another magical scene: Check!
Bonus!
The Doktor wants to show you His doll! [This](https://imgur.com/a/mxpjDnu) is his art from a photoshoot we did recreating this scene. People probably won’t believe that some of the things I describe are real. You don’t have to, but if you want to see that it is NOT just a story, it is our life, check this out: This is art he has created from a photo of me (original photo [here](https://imgur.com/a/BD1uxgd)).
Yes, I *actually* wear tight-lacing corsets (for those who know anything about it: I am currently able to wear at 4ish inches of reduction for 4-5hrs at a time, and for longer with less reduction, obviously). For this re-creation shoot, he *actually* tied ropes to me (These ties are not meant to be anything other than aesthetic, no weight was on them blah blah blah radial nerve damage be careful with ropes please!) and popped them to one of the hard points on the ceiling that we installed in the Playroom. He took pics. Then he made the one we chose from the shoot *super* artsy and fun and amazing with his editing skills. Again, most people would have not taken a pic at all. We aren’t exactly “most people” (to say the least!).
Source: reddit.com/r/Erotica/comments/xfgzjo/chapter_three_the_dollhouse_oc_nonfiction