In the Land of the Dolls 2: Making the Bells Ring

by Cropsncuffs

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© Copyright 2015 - Cropsncuffs - Used by permission

Storycodes: F+/f; dolls; lycra; boots; captive; enslaved; bond; rope; stocks; nipple; bells; tease; tickle; cons/nc; X

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Part 2: Making the Bells Ring

My arms were still tied behind my back, tight ropes fastened about my wrists, and another loop had been added above my elbows to force my straining arms into a column of knot-muscled agony.

There was a tight collar about my throat, and from the three gleaming steel D rings ran long lines of rope that drove me forwards ever forwards to a fate the finer details of which I could only guess at.

I stand at about 5ft 6 in my bare feet, and right now I have never felt barer. Deprived of so much as a stitch of clothing, my bare feet are scrabbling for grip on straw covered flag stones.

I had been blushing, but now my pale skin is back to it’s natural shade as other things have overtaken my natural desire to be embarrassed. My long red hair is flying out about me as I feel myself throwing my head back and forth, my feet struggling for grip as my three tormentresses drag me towards a wooden construction in the middle of the room.

They each stand barely three feet tall, and every one of them is quite a perfect figure of the tiny feminine form. Some trick of gravity seems to give them a mass and strength way beyond their size, and each one of them has the other end of those ropes attached so carefully to my collar.

Just like the giant dolls they resemble, each is perfectly attired in a costume that seems drawn from reality, yet somehow different and just a little too perfect. In this case, each of them is clad like a tiny riding mistress, their tight arses sheathed in implausibly tight riding breeches, their riding boots gleaming just that little bit too brightly, and their shirts just a little too bright a shade of white.

But of their strength there is no doubt. As I watch their pony tails swing back and forth and their tight arses wriggling within their skintight jodphurs they are dragging me forwards, ever forwards no matter how I try to resist them. And before us stands an looking evil construction of pale wood that must be my fate.

And overlaying everything is the tinkling of the bells. A damn bell that they have hung from the front of that high leather collar that enables them to drag me to my fate. There had been others attached to my poor nipples, but they have removed them for now. Hopefully for ever.

Attentive hands had salved my tormented nipples with a warm unction that had reduced me to tears as those soft hands had lovingly applied it with firm strokes and swirling movements that had reduced my to a blubbering orgasmic wreck.

My eyes distracted by that wooden construction I am taken by surprise when there was a sudden scurrying of feet and six hands were suddenly behind me and lifting me up onto the wooden table. A wooden table with some terrible attachments.

I crashed down on my back, my arms screaming as they bent under my weight, my shoulders twisting down until they brushed the rough planking. Two of them sprang up with me and I was treated to a brief glimpse of a pair of impossibly perfect arses rushing past me towards my feet as they moved to do their evil work.

Half-scale hands grabbed my ankles and hauled on them, pulling what little purchase I had out from under me. I watched helpless of they swung up the top half of a set of wooden stocks at the end of the wooden bed and pressed my unwilling ankles into the cut-outs. I tried desperately to pull them out of their grasp, but they were too strong for me and I watched in tears as they lowered the top plank and I felt the padded holes take a firm and implacable grasp on my ankles.

They ran swiftly back up the wooden bed, their wicked heels hammering on the woodwork as they rushed past my head and eager hands tugged at the bonds on my arms.

I felt the cords part and I my muscles wailing in protest as those same eager hands swiftly twisted them out from under me and I was crying as my muscles unknotted from their bondage and were quickly unwound until they were stretched out above my head.

I watched in horror as a second set of stocks was opened above me and my wrists became the prisoners of another set of tightly padded wooden gaps.

My tormentresses sprang away from me and I took in a silent study of my situation. Stretched tight on those boards between two sets of rigid wooden stocks I was as helpless as I had ever been. I had played bondage games for years with allsorts of people, but I had never felt so out of control. Our of my comfort zone, so helpless, and so damn horny it wasn’t true.

I heard footsteps approaching, and there was a sudden flurry of movement as the figure I shall always think of as ‘Snow White’ sprang up onto the boards beside me. Pinned flat as I was, her three feet of height towered over me as I looked up the line of her magnificently perfect legs.

“Welcome to our land little Funling” she said “and before you say anything, get used to that. You are a funling now. A human brought here just for our fun. For our pleasure” She smiled wider as she watched my mind working on what she had just said to me, “But fear not, all is not going to be bad for you. While we are having fun, at times your will experience pleasure and delight beyond your wildest dreams and fantasies.”

“And how long will you keep me here ?” I gasped. She laughed down at me.

“Well, as long as we wish of course. But no times passes here for you funlings. You could stay here for years, never age, and when you go back barely a minute will have passed for you back in your world.”

She could see the turmoil in my features as she looked down at me as my mind digested this information.

“But first, we have a little ceremony we call ‘making the bells ring’ that we go through will all our new funlings.”

She lay down by my side and I felt her soft fingers tracing the lines of the tight muscles of my torso. She bent a tightly jodphured leg and pressed her tightly muscle thigh against me.

“My, but what a splendid body you have my love. I can tell I am going to enjoy having you in my life,” she purred, then I heard a faint sound that I had heard before, and which filled me with dread.

She lifted her hand into view and gave it a little shake. Two little bells dangled from a wicked looking clip, and they gave off a delicate ringing as they shook. I knew exactly where they were going to be fastened and the prospect filled me with dread. I could hear myself pleading as she squeezed the clip and the jaws slowly opened to reveal a rough surface on the inside of the jaws.

She smiled and lent towards my helpless breasts, her mouth enveloping my nipple. The sudden warm embrace of her mouth made it spring to attention, and I felt her tongue caress it roughly until it was hard in her mouth. Withdrawing quickly she allowed the nipple clamp to close tightly on my flesh and I let out a wail of pain.

The second nipple clamp followed swiftly on my other breast, and as I pleaded for mercy a jangling handful of fresh bells was clipped to me collar and Snow White was laughing at my pain and discomfort.

“Now my little funling,” she quipped, “It is time for us to make those bells ring!”

I looked down my helpless body as I hear the clatter of heels somewhere near my feet. There were two dolls standing beyond the stock board that held my feet prisoner, and through my tears of pain I could see them holding up large feathers. For a moment I could not imagine what they had in mind, then the reality of their plans hit me.

With big smiles on their faces they lent forwards and applied the very tips of the feathers to the souls of my poor defenceless feet. For a moment I resisted, kept my sanity, concentrated my mind of the pain in my nipples, but it was all a sham and I knew it. I was ticklish, ticklish as hell, and I knew what was going to happen next.

The fist wave of inside tickles pleasure hit me hard, and my wails of pain and protest were overtaken with gales of helpless, debilitating laughter. I screamed, I laughed, I cried. I felt my feet twisting and turning in their stocks, but no matter how hard I twisted and turned them those terrible tickling feather tips followed them, dragging themselves across my tender souls, danced between my toes and caressing my delicate ankles. More feather joined the assault on my flanks, dragging themselves slowly down my tender ribs and across my stomach until my laughter turned into a maniacal scream from which there was no return.

I threw myself back and forth in my bondage, desperate beyond all measure to escape from those damn feathers, but those two stocks held me tight and fast on my back. But above and beyond the creaking of my wooden bonds and my screams of laughter I could hear another sound. The sound of my bells ringing as they swung back and forth at my throat and upon my nipples, and I knew I was theirs for as long as they wanted to keep me.

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