Cindy Inc.: The Dollhouse, Part 3

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I cannot emphasise enough that this story is meant for
over-18s only, and that while most of the people are
real, the events in it are purely fictional and not
intended to represent the actual conduct of the people
involved (especially in the cases of Cindy Crawford
and Kelly Brook’s boyfriend). All comments and/or
complaints to [email protected]

Previously on “Cindy, Inc.”: The moled one and several
of her ladies arrive in Barbados to shoot some tourist
spots, but disapperances and charges of opening a
brothel there get in the way. As more and more of her
women are seduced and either whisked away (Anastacia,
Christina Milian) or caught in the act (Liv Tyler and
Sofia Vergara), she finds out that she’s been framed
by Jennifer Garner and Kelly Brook, the latter of whom
leads Cindy to the next clue before going into a
drug-induced coma. Then our heroine is captured
herself, and finds herself face to face with the woman
behind it all – Madonna. Now read on:

“The Dollhouse?” Cindy repeated, glaring at Maddie and
a sneering Christina Aguilera.

“Get used to it,” Christina continued, beckoning to
Cindy to get up. “You’ll be here for a while.”

“Now it’s time for you to meet your other bosses,”
Madonna added as she clutched the supermodel’s arm;
though Cindy towered over her (and Chrissy-wissy),
Maddie’s grip + Christina’s gun = discretion being the
better part of valour. Besides, Cindy still had to
track down the other ladies. “I think you’ll recognise
a few of them.”

“Let me guess – you’re with John Casablancas, right?”
Cindy cracked. “He’s always bitching about how I don’t
worship him…”

“No, this is an all-woman thing,” Madonna assured her
as they left the luxury cabin Cindy was in. “It’s not
far to the conference room, and all your questions
will be answered there.”

“Here’s a question – will you please eat shit and
die?”

“Trust me, Whore-ford,” Christina sneered, “if there’s
any shit-eating to be done, YOU’LL be doing it.”

* * * * * * * * * *

Kelly Rowland was fast asleep, dreaming of the
buggering she had gone through in the shower. That had
been something to relive in her mind for sure; Ryan’s
rod sending its come-fountains up her fundament, Ryan
pounding her eager ass as he did her… in her dream
he could come and come and come for days on end; where
was it all coming from?

Ryan studied the slumbering singer and nodded to
himself as he brought his car to the edge of the pier.
Another one for the boss lady.

* * * * * * * * * *

“Did you do it?”

“Yes – I gave it to Cindy while I was… well…
giving it to Cindy,” the hotelier smirked.

“Excellent behaviour.” The woman inside the car tapped
out a few codes on her laptop, and began the transfer
of the money promised to his account. “You get to fuck
Cindy Crawford and be paid for it. You’re a very lucky
man.”

“Tell me, are they still…”

“No, we moved them to the yacht afterwards. But if you
go to the house, we’ll have someone just as good there
within the hour.”

The hotelier nodded, returned to his car and drove by
the canefields, looking for the entrance that would
take him into the plantation house.

* * * * * * * * * *

Because Liv Tyler was to all intents and purposes
well, she and Sofia Vergara had been taken from QEH to
the nearest station, with a surprisingly large amount
of policemen eager to book them in. But it was a
policeWOMAN who was standing guard over the Misses
Tyler and Vergara as they sat in their cell (“Just to
make sure you don’t get into mischief”). Sofia was
crouched in one corner, reliving it over and over in
her mind; she couldn’t believe that she had found
herself kissing Liv, actually giving her head… and
she was usually strictly for guys.

“Sofie?” asked Liv shyly from the other end of the
cell.

“Don’t talk to me,” Sofia muttered, embarrassed.

“Look, if it’s about the hospital I’m as surprised as
you are. I think I know what happened.”

“We all know what happened there, dearie,” the
policewoman laughed. Neither prisoner said anything.

“It was the boat. It had to be,” Liv continued.

“Something happened while you were gone to make you
fuck me?” Sofia asked. “Like what?”

“Well, I don’t know,” Liv admitted. “I’m still fairly
hazy, but it IS coming back to me… I know I was with
these two guys, and before that there was this bunch
of women… I remember now.”

She started to tell Sofia and the policewoman what had
happened on that boat.

* * * * * * * * * *

Mariah Carey paid off the cab driver and stepped onto
the road outside Jon Anderson’s house, thinking over
the last time she had been there; the last time it had
been all crew and no other family. This time – okay,
Jon had assured her the others would be out until they
were finished, but you never knew…

Then again, a little danger made it all the better.
Mariah’s hand went for the doorknocker, but it never
got there – Jon opened it himself. “I was watching
from the front room,” he told the surprised singer.
“Don’t go thinking I’m psychic or anything.”

“The thought never entered my mind,” Mariah told him
as they moved through the front room.

“I’ve been reading about all that stuff in the
papers,” Jon continued. “You don’t work for her, do
you?”

Mariah hesitated, then nodded. “If it makes a
difference, just say so.”

Jon pondered it for about seven seconds before shaking
his head. He knew she wasn’t exclusively his anyway,
so whether she was putting it about in her personal
life or in the line of duty, it didn’t matter.

“She’s a nice person, though,” Mariah continued. “Fun
working with her. A lot better than Calista
Flockhart.”

“Oh yeah – I bet you loved doing the scene where you
accidentally killed her.”

“Too bad the director got it right on the first take,”
Mariah laughed as Jon set aside his crutch and invited
her to join him on the sofa. The TV was on, and she
grimaced at the endless loop of tele-classifieds. “Oh
man, do we have to have this on? And people moan about
American daytime TV… I thought your folks had
multi-channels.”

“We do, but I didn’t want to get distracted,” Jon
pointed out.

Mariah ruffled Jon’s hair and cradled his face in her
hands. “Then why not turn it off?” she suggested.
“Like you said, we’re all alone here…”

Jon stabbed the remote, winking the classified ads out
of existence, before returning his attention to the
sultry chanteuse on his lap. “Stand up,” he said. “I
want to undress you.”

“Ladies first,” Mariah countered as she helped him to
his feet, watching as he winced slightly. “No – lie
back down…”

“No…” Jon replied. “I can take it…” He grabbed the
side of the wall, relaxing with the support as Mariah
started to undo his trousers. The memory of what he
had in them had lingered, and she slowly let the pants
slip. “Great legs,” she murmured.

“Whatever I’ve got, yours is better,” Jon told her as
she lowered his underwear, airing his cock and balls.

“Not THIS,” Mariah smiled, surveying the heavy
equipment and kissing it. “Call that a taste of things
to come.” She rolled up his T-shirt, pleased that he
was as fit as the last time they had been together.
“If they had ‘Playgirl’ or ‘Freshmen’ on this
island… fuck it, come back with me to America and
I’ll get you in there anyway!”

Jon was zipping down the back of Mariah’s light,
summery dress as she complimented him. It fell to the
floor, displaying her form in lingerie; her bosom was
heavenly, stomach soft but hot, perfect legs, and he
could hardly wait for what lay inside the panties.
Steadying himself, he undid Mariah’s brassiere and
shut his eyes. When he opened them, the first thing he
saw was those beautiful big mammaries, hanging there
just waiting for him. Staying fixed on them, he slowly
knelt and hooked his fingers into her panties, taking
them down and unleashing her splendid hairy snatch.

Mariah soon felt Jon’s head moving around down there,
listening to his happy moans as he sucked, licked,
kissed and smelt her pussy. She hadn’t had a good
munch from a man in a long time (her last job at Cindy
Inc. had been with a certain veteran female singer),
and she missed it. Her body quivered with delight as
Jon cupped her much-lusted-after ass, and worked his
fingers deep inside. “When you’re finished, you want
some of that for afters?” she managed to say.

Jon started to lever himself up her fine body,
sticking his tongue in her navel and squeezing the
sides of her stomach before nestling his head between
her tits, kissing each one in turn over and over. “Do
mine first,” he begged. “Your mouth feels so good.”
Mariah let his lips move over her chest once more
before lifting him away and helping him turn around,
presenting his cheeks. “I’m clean down there, don’t
worry,” he added.

Mariah, who had been caught out like that once before,
lowered herself and started to do to his anus what he
had done to her pussy. It was lovely; good and fresh,
with a little layer of hair around the rim that Mariah
loved to tickle. Jon felt like he could fly as
Mariah’s tongue teased and adored him down there,
letting out a breath of delight as she penetrated him.
She licked each of Jon’s cheeks, nipping them lightly
with her teeth, and then embraced him from behind,
rubbing her crotch against him. “That was nice,” she
cooed, stroking his front. “But you’ve got something
that’s even nicer…” She found his solid cock, and
slowly moved around in front of him. Jon wanted to put
it in her mouth badly, and she saw it in his eyes.

“Like you said, you were clean,” Mariah smiled, and
brought to life what they had only talked about
earlier.

* * * * * * * * * *

Halle Berry, Jessica Alba, Jennifer Love Hewitt and
Brooke Burke were still waiting. It had been a whole
day since Cindy had gone to play detective, and
nothing…

They couldn’t even keep in practice with the men. And
the papers weren’t helping matters any: each had seen
the comments on Liv Tyler and Sofia Vergara being
caught in the act. As far as they were concerned, it
was just fuel to the fire of the Cindygate affair (a
reporter for “Entertainment Tonight” had christened it
thus, and so it remained). It was painful for them to
read the letters condemning them all; the editorials,
the phone-ins, the interviews.

“Switch the damn thing off!” Halle shouted, on hearing
yet another caller hail them as “Jezebels.” “Put on
the TV instead – maybe there’s a ‘Fresh Prince’ rerun
or something on…”

Brooke Burke offed the radio and looked at Jessica
Alba, her head buried in that day’s “Nation.” “I can’t
believe this shit,” she fumed. “They’re saying we’ve
been propositioning schoolboys now! I mean, some of
them are kinda cute in their uniforms, but…”

“I know, I know,” Brooke agreed, picking up a copy of
one of the magazines she’d had delivered.

“And look at this son-of-a-bitch,” Jessica continued,
waving the paper around. “He said he fucked Cindy the
day she got here and… wait a minute.” She stopped
using the paper as a fan and spread it out on the
floor. “Look at this son-of-a-bitch.”

“We heard you the first time, Jessie.”

“No, I mean it. Come and look at him,” Jessica said.
“I’ve seen him before. Back in L.A.”

The man she meant was in a picture accompanying the
day’s “Cindygate” story. He was in his mid-20s, dark,
slightly fleshy nose but still quite handsome. Under
his picture a caption read “KENRICK ROGERS: One of
Cindy’s conquests.” Jessica nodded; “This guy came by
the last night I was there before the trip. In fact, I
was the one he was with.”

“Are you sure?” Jennifer Love Hewitt asked.

“Damn sure. He was the only one I slept with that
night.”

“You only had one?”

“He was VERY demanding.”

“Shit, I’ve seen him too!” Brooke said suddenly. “I
was doing my behind the scenes piece for this shoot
with Liv Tyler and Jenny Garner, and he was hanging
around the set both times.”

“You sure?” Halle asked.

“I may not be Peter Jennings, but I’m not stupid,”
Brooke told her. “He was there.”

“And now he’s somewhere else,” Jessica added. “Hewitt,
do you mind staying around here in case Cindy calls
back? We’ve got a man to find…”

* * * * * * * * * *

With Jon’s rod on her breath, Mariah locked lips with
her lover as she felt him pumping away inside her;
this time he was on top of her on the sofa. Finally,
his biggest fantasy – that he could fuck her almost as
“normal” – was happening. She clawed and rubbed and
slapped and stroked her lover, yelling his name over
and over. Jon was screaming Mariah’s name as he
luxuriated in the heat from her frame, feeling himself
being sucked into her through her fiery cunt. So fine,
so heavenly; she moved her body so well, her hair
begging to be stroked, her legs fucking him all by
themselves.

As Jon felt himself finally, finally about to give her
all his come, he knew he still had Mariah Carey’s
excellent ass to look forward to… The cries of
“JON…JON…JESUSJONNNFUCKMEDAMMIT!!!” and “MARIAH
MARIAH I LOVE YOU SHIT YOU’REMINNEEE!!!!” blended into
one, and Mariah’s pitch reached its highest, her
creamy and luscious body almost melting into Jon’s as
he gave himself to her.

“I don’t want this… to stop…” Jon begged, almost
in tears.

“It’ll have to…” said his mother from behind the
lovers, grimly. “The police want a word with Miss
Yankee Slut here.”

Jon swerved his head around, the shame at being naked
in front of his mother wiped out by the shock at her
being with a policeman. Denise had never been a fan of
Mariah’s, and he could see in her eyes she was
relishing this moment. The officer beckoned to the
singer to get up, “and get some clothes on, son.”

“What’s going on?” Mariah asked, confused as they
complied.

“You’re under arrest for soliciting, Miss Carey,” he
told her. “And since this is neither America nor
television, I don’t have to read you your rights.”

“But I wasn’t – ” she protested as they dressed.

“Save it for the judge, hussy,” Denise interrupted.
“Get her out of here. And as for you, my lad…”

Jon blanked his mother’s words as he tried to argue
with the officer, but nothing swayed him – he dragged
a defiant Mariah out towards the police wagon. Jon
continued to watch as they drove away…

“…and right under my own roof too! You wait till
your father hears about this! Bet he loves it though -
don’t think I don’t know what you’re all thinking
behind my back…”

“Mum, SHUT UP!” Jon shouted. “I need to get after
her…”

“No you don’t,” Denise retorted. “You need to learn
some manners and keep your cock in your pants is what
you need.”

“He’s taking her to the police station, right?” Jon
insisted. “So why did they drive the other way?”

* * * * * * * * * *

“It’s all right, let him through – he’s her
boyfriend.”

“Thank you,” Jason Statham said to the nurse on duty
near Kelly Brook’s ward. Like Liv and Sofia before
her,
she had a private room to herself – no reporters, but
relatives and close friends (who, like Jason, could
actually prove it) were another matter.

Jason had a few words with the doctors, was assured
that she would be fine, and then let himself inside.
Kelly was out cold, but her chest rose and fell
steadily; she was breathing fine. She looked almost as
wonderful asleep as she did awake, especially with her
hair spread out along the pillow – she looked like a
painting. Jason touched her forehead delicately,
looking at her with a small tear in his eye.

In “While You Were Sleeping,” Sandra Bullock had
played with the patient to find proof of his only
having one testicle – Jason had winced in the cinema
and continued to wince every time he thought about it.
Kelly Brook thankfully had no testicles, but as he
reached for the sheet to pull it back he figured this
was still a bit more dangerous… he had seen the
stories about Liv and Sofia. But this wouldn’t take
nearly as long; he studied her in her hospital gown.
Jason really wanted to enter Kelly’s beautiful bottom,
but there was less chance of leaving any signs of
disturbance the normal way. Not, he reflected as he
carefully hiked up her gown, that there was anything
wrong with the slit between her legs.

Jason unzipped his jeans, letting his pink member poke
out, and carefully mounted the slumbering woman.
Kelly’s brunette pussy was a sight to behold – Jason
was sweating already. He opened her legs slightly,
giving each of her thighs a little caress, and slid
into her with a satisfied sigh. Soon his inches were
rapidly going back and forth as he fucked the comatose
Kelly; he wished he could just clutch her to him, but
again no signs.

Kelly’s tight, gorgeous cunt was something no man
could hold out against for long; Jason gritted his
teeth to keep himself from shouting at how hot she was
as he came inside her, sooner than he had hoped. Then
again, the longer he stayed, the more suspicious they
would get. As he drained himself into Miss Brook,
Jason couldn’t resist a little stroke of her chest.
But that was the only bit of pleasure he could afford
himself; he had a job to do, and this was only part
one.

He pulled out of the lovely young actress, replaced
the gown and sheet, zipped himself up, and walked over
to the side of the bed. Placing his head against
Kelly’s left ear, he whispered into it for a few
minutes, and then made his way out.

Mission accomplished. Madonna had nothing to worry
about.

* * * * * * * * * *

Maverick, as well as being James Garner’s best-known
pre-Jim Rockford show, was also the name of Madonna’s
record label. It was also emblazoned proudly on the
size of the luxury yacht moored offshore; the
“Maverick” was a large ship. Not for nothing had this
been unofficially dubbed the Love Boat, except of
course that Capt. Stubing would probably have drawn
the line at nude sunbathing on deck. (Certainly if it
had been Dr. Bricker.)

Cindy was being given a tour of the ship before being
presented to the other people in charge of this
aquatic whorehouse; flanked by Madonna and Christina,
she had feigned interest in the way it was laid out
(“All the amenities of home,” Christina cackled), but
her mind wasn’t perked up for real until she saw
Anastacia, relaxing on the deck. Her fantastic body
was covered with sun lotion; oiled and nude, Anastacia
was a treat. She was humming to herself as she tanned,
her jugs slowly becoming a delicious golden brown.

“Annie, say hello to our guest,” Madonna ordered.

“Howdy, Cindy,” husked the pint-sized warbler. “Glad
to have you aboard.”

“Anastacia? But you HATE being called Annie,” Cindy
pointed out.

“Better turn over, Annie,” Madonna said. “You’re about
done on that side.”

“Yeah, you got a point there boss,” Anastacia replied,
and slowly turned herself over, to Madonna’s
glint-eyed approval. But not before Cindy had noticed
a slight hesitation in the blonde’s eyes – had she
remembered something for a moment…?

“Most of the women you were doing that shoot with are
on the boat now, Cin,” Christina continued as they
walked along the deck. “Mmmm-mm! Love that sea air!”

“You’re downwind,” Cindy said tersely.

“Wanna check up on them?” Christina continued. “I
think Christina’s just about finished… ah, here we
are.”

Christina Milian was on her hands and knees, washing
the deckchair area. She was also stark naked. (“Saves
on uniforms,” Madonna laughed.) She was also singing
away happily as she worked, with some encouragement
from a man who was overseeing her cleaning. The
encouragement mainly consisted of pawing away at her
firm young body; he was at the moment fingering her
trimmed little cunt as she finished scrubbing. As she
worked out the last few spots, his fingers rubbed
Christina’s lovely, tender clit and poked in and out
of the opening.

“Whhoooo… love it, sir!” Miss Milian giggled as she
splayed her nice slim legs apart, the job all done.

“You work hard, you deserve a little pleasure,” the
man told her. “Now if you could take a little time off
and work on me…”

“My pleasure, sir!” Christina squealed, bounding
around and offering herself to him.

“But you’ve got to mop the suds up first,” he told
her. As she eagerly complied, he added “And if you
could pour the rest of the suds in the mop-bucket over
yourself, and just sort of rub yourself all over with
them…”

“I know you want to watch,” Christina told Madonna as
she studied the singer, “but we’ve got to move on…”

“Oh yeah. Right,” said Mrs. Ritchie, reluctantly
tearing her eyes from Miss Milian. There was something
very sexy about a naked black woman all covered in
sweat from working her tight little buns off.

A less reluctant Cindy could hear a familiar sound as
they entered the body of the ship – it was the sound
of cameras being clicked rapidly. Cindy couldn’t help
but smile; was Madonna’s ego that big that she had let
camera crews on her ship? Put the whole thing on the
cover of “Hello!” already, huh? They were progressing
towards the shutting sounds; Cindy started looking for
a paper bag so no one would see her with these two
gargoyles.

They entered the ship’s restaurant; the stage was
vacant apart from a camera crew. The place was filled
with more flashing lights than a nightclub, and in the
centre of the lightstorm was Jennifer Garner and
friend. Jennifer was naked, and playing with her
breasts for the benefit of the camera. She was opening
up each hole of her long body as if she was posing for
“Hustler.” And loving it; she was laughing and joking
with the cameras as she turned to and fro, joining
with the unidentified male friend in simulated
love-making.

“Hiya, Cind!” she laughed, clutching her friend’s
member and pulling on it as he kissed each of her
tits. “Wanna join in?”

Cindy gave her a withering glare. Jennifer ignored her
- “All the more for me!” – and dived down for one of
the shots where the woman pretends to be sucking a
cock. Except she really did blow him for the cameras,
getting the inches all the way down her throat and
wiggling as seductively as she could while the
shutters froze the moments for posterity.

“0069 – license to fuck,” Madonna joked.

“As a comedian, you’re a good manipulator,” Cindy
replied.

“Make all the rude comments you want, but you’re still
our prisoner. And I don’t just mean myself and
Madonna’s,” Christina continued as they arrived at the
conference room and she pushed open the doors. “Meet
the other women in charge of the Dollhouse.”

* * * * * * * * * *

Kenrick Rogers pulled up his motorcycle outside his
house. The end of another busy day at work, but
tonight – yeah, tonight would be fun. Go out dancing
and drinking, maybe even pick up a couple of hot babes
for some late night delight…

“Hi, Kenrick baby,” Jessica said flatly. “Remember
me?”

Under other circumstances, Kenrick would have been
delighted to find Jessica Alba waiting for him on his
porch. “What are you doing here?” he asked, making it
clear those circumstances didn’t apply.

The gorgeous young woman held up a copy of the
newspaper. “You wanna explain what this is all about?
Or should I make you?”

“You and what army?”

“Maybe we’re not an army,” Halle Berry admitted, “but
the three of us still outnumber you.”

Surveying Halle, Jessica and Brooke Burke, Kenrick
nodded. “Sure. But I need something from you in
return; first we fuck, then we talk. And before you
start to argue, I’ve got information you need and
you’ll have a hard time finding it from anyone else.”

“Well, it’s not like it’ll be the first time we’ve
done it,” Jessica sighed. “Shall we?”

The quartet were soon ensconced in Kenrick’s bedroom,
admiring each other’s bodies. Kenrick was preening
over himself, and Brooke was fondling herself on the
bed, with Halle and Jessica on either side. “Come on,
honey,” she urged him. “It’s not like you’re paying
for it this time.”

“That’s true,” Kenrick chortled as he turned his nude,
finely sculpted body towards the three women. “Do you
like what you see?”

Brooke spread her free hands into her companions’s
respective cunts. “Do YOU like what YOU see?”

Kenrick answered by climbing onto the bed and kissing
Brooke, using one hand to join the E! presenter in
manipulating Halle’s box, and the other to stroke
Jessica. “You only have time to get inside one of us,”
the latter laughed.

“Well, I don’t want to give a baby to a white woman,
so…” and Kenrick ran his tongue along the six
nipples in front of him as each woman slapped and
kneaded him. Great muscle tone, and what a cute butt.
He stopped at Halle, wishing all the ladies here had
such a lovely light brown complexion. And it wasn’t
just her breasts that were worth half a million
dollars. Kenrick enjoyed feeling Brooke and Jessica
taking turns sucking on his balls, while he and Halle
smooched and she crushed her body against him.

“Give that monster a good home, Ken,” Halle murmured,
opening her legs and wrapping them around him to give
him an idea. Kenrick’s cock was heavy, and when it
plunged into the star of “Strictly Business”… all
right, the star of “Monsters’ Ball”… his mouth
dropped open. Halle Berry’s pussy was as sweet as the
fruit of her last name; he could tell from the
expression on her face that she was loving what was
inside her. And with Brooke kissing him all over while
he used a free hand to finger-fuck her, and with
Jessica sucking on his feet, he only had to grind into
Halle once before the inevitable happened. “Ohhh
FUCCKKK!!!” Kenrick shouted, upset that it was over so
damn quickly.

“Oh FUCK!” Halle echoed, surprised that he could
produce so much juice so damn quickly. “What happened,
did a dam break or something?”

“Well,” he said as he left Miss Berry’s box, “I guess
a deal’s a deal. Can’t let a lady down, can I?”

Jessica was too busy swallowing Kenrick’s toes to
notice at first, but when he reached down and slapped
her butt, he got her attention. “You know, I was kind
of enjoying that,” she pouted, noting with delight
that his cock was beginning to rise again.

“That can wait, Alba,” Brooke admonished. “Time to get
down to business.”

“You’re so right, Brooke,” Kenrick agreed. “Jessica,
could you and Halle beat up Brooke and tie her up for
me?”

Brooke’s surprise at that request was only excelled by
the pain she felt as Jessica hit her in the stomach
very, very hard. “What the fuck are you doing?!?” she
gasped as Halle slapped her hard around the face and
Jessica whipped her on the other side of it. Brooke’s
shock was starting to turn into anger, but she had
left her reactions a second too short; before she
could start to defend herself the two were on her,
punching and scratching, beating her to the floor.

Brooke struggled to rise and get some blows in, but
Jessica and Halle were too much for her. “HELP ME!!!”
she begged as Jessica grabbed a fistful of her hair,
raised her head with it and brought it to the ground.
Not hard enough to kill her, nor hard enough to break
the skin, but enough to daze her.

“Don’t cause too much damage,” Kenrick laughed on the
bed, stroking his cock and watching the action. “The
bosses don’t want broken merchandise.”

Kenrick’s laughter and Brooke’s own screams were the
last things she heard before she passed out.

* * * * * * * * * *

Cindy was greeted by a long, round table, around which
were seven seats. Two were empty, the other five were
occupied by Naomi Campbell, who gave Cindy a grin best
accompanied by the theme from “Jaws”; Kylie Minogue,
who waved at her in a successful attempt to hide her
dislike; Anna Nicole Smith, who seemed more oblivious
to her surroundings than the others; Danni Ashe, who
Cindy didn’t recognise at first because she was fully
dressed; and

“Jennifer Lopez?” Cindy asked. “But Kelly Brook told
me she wasn’t involved in this.”

“She isn’t,” Naomi assured her. “You see-”

“I thought I told you, I’M doing the explaining!”
Madonna snapped.

“OK, OK, don’t go all ballistic on me, just trying to
be helpful…” Naomi muttered.

Studying her hated rival, and wondering what that look
was in her eyes as she sat there glaring, Cindy
started to listen.

“I like to give credit where credit is due, and it was
actually Christina’s idea,” Madonna began, giving her
protegee a little squeeze around the waist. “The
details of that whole Britney business really pissed
little Chrissie off, on top of the recruitment thing-”

“Which she failed, by the way,” Cindy interrupted.
“That’s why your friend didn’t make it – Mini-Me here
didn’t want to audition, and she hightailed it off to
J-Lo’s. Only she fired you, didn’t she? I heard you
brought the place into disrepute after a quarrel with
a client, although I’ve got to admit I don’t know how
somewhere that employs Li’l Kim and Pamela Anderson
could be brought any more into disrepute…”

“It was HIS fault!” Christina shouted, hands on hips
as she faced Cindy. “I wouldn’t suck him off because I
didn’t feel like it!”

“You didn’t feel like it?” Cindy argued. “You work as
a celebrity whore and you didn’t FEEL like it? No
wonder Lopez fired your non-existent ass!”

“My WHAT?!? You’re going down, Crawford…” the tiny
diva snapped as she lunged at her.

“Oh, she will,” Madonna assured her. “Just not on you.
On her,” she added, and pointed to Jennifer. “J-Lo,
sit on the table and open your legs.”

“Yeah, like she’s going to…” Cindy’s voice tailed
off as Jennifer sat on the table and opened her legs.
She wasn’t wearing anything below the waist, and
little above it but a cooperative smile and dead eyes.

“I don’t like having to share this planet with the
heifer there,” Madonna continued, “but since murder is
out of the question this is the next best thing, Miss
I Starred In ‘Fair Game’.”

“Consider it pardoned, Miss I Starred In ‘Shanghai
Surprise’ and ‘Body Of Evidence’ and ‘Bloodhounds Of
Broadway’ and ‘Who’s That Girl’ and ‘The Next Best
Thing’ and…” Cindy chuckled. Ignoring the way she
had been outgunned, Madonna sipped at her water and
continued.

“I also don’t like being behind in anything. Not even
celebrity brothelling. I bided my time when you
started because I thought you wouldn’t really make it
this far, but when I found I was wrong will you go
over to Miss Lopez and eat her pussy?”

Much to her own horror, Cindy found herself standing
up and walking over to her hated enemy’s open slot,
listening to Madonna as she continued to talk. “The
reason this place is called the Dollhouse is that all
the women here are ours to play with and do whatever
we want. Like dolls, the women here have no real minds
of their own. Including you. But don’t worry – the
only person here who you HAVE to obey is me.”

Cindy, willing herself to resist but unable to, knelt
down and began to lap away at Jennifer’s snatch. She
was no stranger to going down on women, but this was
different – Jennifer’s cunt gave off a strong, not
disagreeable odour, but it was the owner that turned
her stomach. Which was a pity; she didn’t taste that
bad. Cindy rolled Lopez’s button between her teeth and
kissed the opening, hating herself all the while. If
only she could tear herself away… but she knew her
controller wouldn’t like it. Cindy looked upwards as
she worked her tongue around; Jennifer wasn’t
reacting. She was still under the spell. That was the
worst thing of all…

“It’s all in the drugs,” Madonna continued, studying
Cindy’s long, trim body. “You’ve all been dosed by a
little something that makes you open to suggestion.
Just before Garner joined you and made the deal, I had
one of my employees slip it to her, and to Fatass
here. The drug’s injected directly into the scrotum,
so it mixes with the sperm, and when the target is
fucked the come sends the drug into you. All he has to
do is give the orders, and…”

It all fell into place in Cindy Crawford’s mind as she
burrowed deeper into J-Lo, and despite herself reached
under to fondle the notorious buttocks. That bastard
at the hotel must have been the one who drugged her…
(Nice and firm, good and juicy… concentrate Cindy,
dammit!) And what about all the others?

“They’re all under her control now, Cindy,” Kylie
said.

“And we’ve got a special job for Kelly Brook when she
wakes up,” Christina added. “And in the words of Diana
Ross, there ain’t nothing you can do about it.”

Jennifer Lopez finally started to move slightly.
“Good,” Madonna nodded approvingly. “Keep going,
Cindy. Make her come… you can do it.”

Cindy could feel her enemy’s body starting to heat up
as she continued to love her with her mouth. Utterly
humiliated, tears started to drop from her eyes and
land on J-Lo’s pussy. As she felt Jennifer Lopez start
to come, Cindy Crawford swore to herself that Madonna
would pay. Bigtime.

This entry was posted in Cons, MF, MFF, Oral, Reluc, Victor Field, Viol and tagged , , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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