© Copyright 2007 - Jay Petto - Used by permission
Storycodes: M/f; dream; mc; marionette; strings; doll; cons/reluct; X
For the real Michelle, who sometimes graces my dreams.
On a Wednesday night, in a room that did not exist, I stole a kiss from Michelle. She was dreaming, of course - but then so was I.
Few people understand the power of dreams; even a meddler like myself can only grasp fragments of it. I'd imagined this comfortable parlor and then called Michelle to it as she slept. It was only a dream, she thought - but dreams can reshape the daylight world.
And I can shape dreams.
Michelle's lips were delicious; we pressed against each other for an eternity and yet not long enough. I drew back, but did not take my arms from around her.
"Mmmm", she said. "That was great, Jay." Her lovely green eyes blinked, and something about her face seem to change. "I feel funnyyyyy". My Kiss had done its work, and she slumped in my grasp.
The magic of the Kiss had left Michelle in a warm, hazy state, her eyes open, though not focussed. I caressed her cheek, then stood, lifting her small form as I did so. She was a delightful bundle to carry, dark hair spilling over my bare arm as I made my way towards the door. I could have simply willed the dreamstuff to change around us, but my power works best when the conscious mind perceives a mask of reality.
"It's time to go the workshop, Michelle", I whispered in her ear. "There we'll get you out of those clothes and into something more suitable for your new role." She smiled back at me, her normal inhibitions suppressed, not really aware of what was happening.
My workshop was a largish room, lined with shelves and tables. Brushes and paint fought for space with costumes of varying design, except on the table set aside for Michelle. I deposited my precious burden on this, leaning her gently against the wall.
"Where ... where am I?", she asked in her little girl voice.
I smiled gently at her. "This is my workshop; this is where I make marionettes".
"Marionettes? But why am I here? Feel so strange ...".
"It isn't a bad feeling, is it?".
She giggled softly. "No".
"Then there's nothing to worry about. I'm about to make a new marionette, the prettiest one that ever was".
"M...me?". She blushed, though I couldn't tell if it was in embarrassment over the compliment or something else.
I began to unbutton her blouse. "Yes, you silly little doll. But first we have to get you ready". Her blouse came off with only a little trouble and I turned my attention to her skirt. Fortunately it was the sort that buttoned along the side.
"You're stripping me!". She giggled again and I laughed along with her.
"That's right. These are the wrong sort of clothes for a marionette. They hide too much of that wonderful body of yours and I need to prepare you first. Then maybe I'll dress you again".
She wasn't wearing panties. On a whim, I leaned over and blew on the lips of her pussy, which caused her to make an interesting little noise. Anything beyond that had to wait, even though I was sorely tempted.
I did take it upon myself to massage Michelle's breasts after removing her bra, though. They had seemed so constrained in their lacy prison. Stockings and shoes followed the rest of her garments, and I was ready to begin.
I selected a soft, feathery brush from the table and took her left leg. "First we have to paint the marionette", I said, beginning to move the dry brush across her foot. "Every inch of her". The brush stroked higher, until I'd reached her hips. The right leg was 'painted' next. "Every delicious inch". The brush danced across her inner thigh and made a feint towards her pussy before I withdrew it. This caused her belly to flinch. "Ticklish?", I asked with a grin.
"Then I wonder what that reaction was?", I said, starting on her arm. "Maybe I should try another tool - the brush might not be the right one".
She giggled as I worked. "I know what tool!"
My laughter joined with hers. "I'm sure you do, and that's part of why I love you - for that dirty mind of yours".
"Sweet", she murmured.
I pointed the paintbrush at her. "You'll ruin my reputation saying that; do it again and I'll have to spank you".
"Promise?" What a beautiful smile she had.
I sighed in mock exasperation. Some days you just can't win an argument, some days you don't want to.
"Quip now, but you'll be yipping away if I decide you deserve it. But no free spankings for you!" Having finished her arms, I sat on the edge of the table and pulled Michelle into my lap.
"Must be camping", she said with an unfocussed smile. "I always get the spot with the big root!"
"Maybe the big root will get your spot this time". A kiss silenced her reply and I had to remind myself that the real playtime couldn't start until I finished preparing her.
If Michelle hadn't been mostly paralyzed, she probably would have been squirming as my brush continued on its blissful journey, down the graceful neck, across very kissable shoulders and up onto her breasts. She purred as I stroked her erect nipples with the brush. On reaching her navel, I moved the brush in ever widening circles, making sure to stop before I got between her legs. Patience is a virtue - or so I had to be told, not being well acquainted with them.
Leaning Michelle forward, I started on her back, carefully tracing her spine down to its base, then making a quick run towards her shoulder blades. After a series of light sweeps across her back I was free to tickle her buttocks. She was mute as I worked, having drifted off into the warmth that clouded her mind.
When I pulled her back, her eyes wandered a bit until they settled on my face. "Hellooo", she said.
"Hi there". I eased her head onto the table. "Hey, I missed a spot. Wouldn't want to neglect a nice spot like that". Since her rump was planted in my lap, I had a great view when I spread her legs. Down boy, I thought.
"I like this part", she said brightly.
"Somehow I thought you might". A light kiss on her navel triggered a giggling fit, the nature of which changed as my brush slipped between her legs. Several more strokes whispered across her pussy, each somehow ending up wetter than the last.
"Just a little more and you'll have to go back into the toy box", I said. Raising her legs allowed me to stand up for the next stage.
"Don't fret - just think about tomorrow night and how it'll feel to be played with. Now be quiet so I can concentrate".
I switched to a smaller brush and opened a handy jar of paint. A moment's work resulted in two pink circles on Michelle's face - one on each cheek. They enhanced her natural doll-like appearance.
The last bottle of paint was special, being of no color or perhaps all colors; it was impossible to say, even while looking at it. I dipped my index finger into the bottle, took a deep breath and began to seal my claim on Michelle.
Awake, I could never hold the designs in my mind, but here my fingers knew precisely how to move. Shifting patterns appeared as my hand flashed to her shoulders, wrists, and knees - lovely knees. After rolling her over with my other hand, the final sigil was marked at the base of her spine.
The room started to melt as my power flowed into a new channel. Each symbol, a mark of my desire, glowed briefly then faded from ordinary sight. As they disappeared, the dream around us became more vivid and the workshop resumed its usual appearance.
My first night of work was done. Michelle drifted back into her usual dreams and I decided to see what oblivion was like for a few hours.
Thursday passed in a mixture of preparation, rest and impatience. At the proper time I arranged myself comfortably on the bed and went to work.
Naturally the setting for this dream was a stage, marked off by red curtains trimmed with gold to the front and a painted forest scene for the backdrop. On either side the wings were hidden in darkness. The bridge, a walkway about fifteen feet overhead, was reached by a spiral staircase on the left. A giant control hung from the ceiling; the cords fell almost to the floor, awaiting only the helpless puppet.
I closed my eyes and summoned her.
Michelle appeared, eyes closed and sitting upright in the center of the floor. Thanks to my groundwork the night before, she was entirely unaware of her surroundings.
For her costume, I'd chosen a German dirndl. This consisted of a short red skirt - which was about two millimeters away from being automatically indecent - and a tight black bodice with a low cut. Short, puffy white sleeves were fitted to the latter, making it seem as if Michelle wore a blouse. More white cloth was arranged in the front to further the illusion. This section had the added benefit of being attached by buttons, so that the wearer - or someone - could easily reveal her beautifully rounded breasts. A black ribbon graced her throat; the rest of the outfit was composed of thin white mittens, a pair of smooth black stockings and black heels.
Kneeling beside her, I took a string and placed it where I'd painted a sigil the night before. It momentarily glowed with a silver light as the end attached itself, as did each of its mates in turn. My work was done; it was time to play with my new toy.
"Wake up, Michelle".
She blinked, fully aware of herself again. "That was the strangest ... Hey! Why am I sitting on the floor? And, uh - where did these strings come from?"
"I thought they suited you".
"You did this? Not funny, Jay". She scowled and tried to shake the line off her arm. "You can't go around doing ... whatever it is you just did. Dammit, this thing won't come off! I'm ..."
"A marionette?", I asked in a helpful tone.
"That's not what I was going to say! Now are you going to release me or not?"
I pretended to think it over, then grinned. "Nope - you're too tempting. I think I'll play with you instead".
Michelle stood, the lines retracting to fit her new pose. "You aren't playing with anyone but yourself".
"Ah-ah-ah", I said, waggling a finger at her. "Puppets can't move". The view up her skirt was amazing.
She slumped, held upright only by her strings. "I ... I don't understand!", she said. "This isn't possible - I can't be a puppet!"
"Well, you certainly look like one to me", I said, rising to my feet. "Your face is painted like a marionette's and it seems as if you can't move now. Something isn't quite right though".
"Nothing is right about this! Why can't I move?"
"Because I'm not pulling your strings - yet". I brushed a stray lock of hair from her face. "Aha! That's what it is - puppets shouldn't talk back to the Puppet Master. It's very naughty".
"You wouldn't!" Somehow, she knew exactly what I had in mind.
"In a heartbeat", I said with a laugh. A few quick tugs and she found herself leaning far forward. While Michelle wasn't quite falling out of the front of her costume, she was beautifully exposed behind. Or perhaps she just had a beautiful, exposed behind.
"You can't spank me! I'm an adult - and you aren't even my husband".
"Hmmm, I was going to just give you ten, but I think fifteen is called for. Now be a good little doll and count along". I took careful aim, made a preparatory swing, then gave her a good, firm slap across both buttocks.
Apparently, she did yip.
"You aren't counting. I can make it twenty ..."
"Ai! Two ... yi! ... th-three ..."
Her tender flesh reddened nicely, even more so than her face. She was panting slightly by the time I struck fifteen. My hand was a little moist; I wiped it on my trousers, then decided to let it wander over something more appealing.
"Let that be a lesson to you, Michelle", I said, stroking her stockinged leg. "And always remember to thank me for punishing you". When she didn't respond, I gave her a little pinch.
"Ow! Thank you, sir!"
"Always 'Jay' - never 'sir', Michelle". I kissed her neck. "And now it's time for your first performance".
"Please ... please don't do this to me! I don't want you to pull my strings, I don't want to be a marionette!", she pleaded.
"If that's really true, all you have to do is stand up. I can't stop you; these strings are as much your work as mine. They're your desires - your passions; if you let them control you, you let me control you". I laughed. "We both win".
Seconds passed and Michelle didn't straighten. "I'm not feeling like a winner right now".
"Just wait - you'll love it when I pull your strings. It's another sort of stimulation". I started to give her a friendly swat, thought better of it and headed for the stairs instead.
"S-stimulation?" I'd never heard someone turn pale before.
"Well, you won't be able to get off on just that, but it will make you very, very horny. Don't bother to thank me yet - you'll being doing that afterwards". My apparent height grew with each step upwards. By the time I reached the walkway above, I was about twelve feet tall. It looked impressive, but also gave me the reach to handle Michelle's controls.
She waited silently below. I wondered what she was thinking, but my talents never extended to mind reading. Pity.
"Would it matter if I said no?"
"I might be obliged to spank you again".
I took up her controls, sliding them from the hook they'd depended from. Michelle shuddered as I did so. A few quick tugs placed her arms at her sides and level to the floor.
"Jay, it's ... it's like a wave coming from the strings", she said. "Warm and ... oooo".
I'd only made a few slight changes to her position and the effect had already hit her. "I thought you might like it. Whoops! Almost forgot.". A large button was mounted on the bridge railing. I bumped it with my knee, causing the curtain to rise and allowing Michelle to see - herself.
Instead of a theatre filled with seats, the curtain had concealed a mirror that stretched to the rafters. Not only was Michelle confronted with her new persona, but I could look across and see exactly how well I was manipulating my little plaything.
I let her take in the view until her eyes sought out my reflection. "Ready to dance?"
"D-dance? No! Please don't pull my strings! I can't resist, it would be too ... oh my god."
"Now, now. There's no need to worry, Michelle - I'm certain you'll be an excellent puppet. The first time I laid eyes on you it was obvious how easy and ... pleasurable it would be to manipulate you. Just be a good doll and give me a happy smile".
A smile, possibly unfelt, pasted itself across Michelle's face as I began to pull her strings. A simple dip of the controls forced her to bow with arms outstretched. Further movements drew her up upright, arms raised above her head and left leg up. She gasped, but was powerless to stop herself as I sent her prancing across the stage. Each high step sent the tiny skirt bouncing upwards, reminding both of us that she wasn't wearing panties.
"Stop!", she cried. "Please!"
"Now, now", I said. "Puppets can't speak unless they're made to. Hmmm, yes - how about a song?"
Michelle blinked in bafflement and began to sing as I made her move to match the words.
I'm a little puppet, short and fit
Here are my titties, here is my slit.
When you get all horny, I can't tease
So bend me over and fuck me please!
Her face reddened at the words that came out of her mouth, but Michelle could no more stop singing than she could resist the strings that controlled her.
I'm a sexy puppet, yes it's true
There's lots of things you can make me do
If you like my body, I can't tease
puppets all have strings, I'm bound to please!
She was breathing heavily by the time her song was done. I made her take a bow and wondered if I should tone down the effect of the strings. Pulling her into an upright position several inches off the floor, I secured the controls and made my way back down. My extra height faded as I descended the stairs, in the same manner it had increased going up
Michelle waited for me below, not that she had any choice. It would have been a silent wait if she hadn't been so aroused. As it was, I could hear her moan softly while I approached. Her eyes were begging me for something.
"That was beautiful, my dear. I can tell I'm going to enjoy playing with you". Reaching over, I began to undo the two top buttons of her bodice. "And there are a lot of ways to play with toys. Would you like to offer some suggestions?". The top part of the garment folded down and I cupped an inviting breast.
"Oh ... my ... god", she said, free to talk again. "It's too much - I need ..."
"Yes?" I licked my lips and ran a hand lightly along her inner thigh. "What is it that you need?"
"I need to cum! Pleease!"
Anticipation is half the fun. "Any ideas about how that could happen?" My wandering hand discovered her pussy and traced its wet border.
Hungry eyes flashed towards my bulging crotch. "I need you inside me!"
That was obviously my plan too, but I wanted a little bit more. After a brief pause to lick my finger I made a suggestion, "Ask nicely".
"Please, Jay - please fuck your little slutpuppet!"
Things can just disappear in dreams - like my self control, which evaporated along with my clothes. Ducking to put her arms over my shoulders, I slid my hands around Michelle's legs and pulled them about my waist. As she was still suspended above the floor, sliding into her was a enjoyably easy matter.
It was as if Michelle was on a swing. Each thrust pushed her slightly away and then the strings swung her back onto me, the softness of her breasts pressing against my chest as we came together. Then the sound of her voice, the growing pressure I was holding back, the grip of her desire, my lust - everything came together in a shared implosion that blasted both of us out of the dream.
Alone in bed, I opened my eyes, wanting Michelle in my arms, a cigarette and a drink, in that order. The second two were close at hand, but she was out of reach for now. I lurched to my feet and went to deal with the desires that could be immediately satisfied. When I passed the mirror, it was occupied by some guy with a tired grin.
Further satisfaction came two days later at a costume party thrown by some mutual friends. I waited near the door, watching an assortment of odd characters pass by. My host, a pirate named Heath, waved at me from across the room and gestured at the curtained-off area we'd set up that afternoon. I gave him a thumbs up; he and his wife had been kind enough to let me arrange part of the evening's fun and I didn't plan to disappoint them.
Michelle rang the doorbell a few minutes after eight. She didn't recognize me when I let her in; except for the silver mask of comedy, I looked like a refugee from the late eighteenth century. "Enter freely and of your own will", I said with my best courtly bow. It gave me a chance to admire her legs as she stepped inside.
"Thanks", she said as I took her coat. The costume she'd chosen was a dirndl - black bodice and stockings, red skirt and white blouse. It suited her in the real world as much it had in our dream.
"You're just in time", I said. "We were waiting on the entertainment".
"Really? What is it?"
"You". The cheerful mask echoed my laughter. "Ready to dance?"
A smile, possibly genuine, pasted itself across Michelle's face.