Doll

By Daniel May

Christoph is an escort, a failed boxer who has tried since puberty to get his pretty face broken, and still a beauty despite all his best efforts.

Waltz is a domineering and possessive shut-in with deep pockets, for whom it isn’t enough to merely buy Christoph’s time. He intends to shape the escort into his perfect fantasy, and unveil what Christoph was really meant to be all along — a human doll.

Doll is a short work of dark contemporary MM erotica.

It features forced feminization, sex work, emasculation kink, makeup, lingerie, cock cages, humiliation, domination, toys, and feminizing language for certain body parts.

It is not part of any series and can be read as a standalone.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Daniel May
• Release date: May 13, 2024
• ISBN: 9798224577224

Daniel May

Writer of MM erotica & romance. Works fall under steamy contemporary, dark sci-fi fantasy, and other.

Book preview

1

Christoph stalked in wearing the coat Waltz had bought him — mink.

He shut the door too hard. Just short of slamming it. He was angry, but he knew the rules.

Stormy-faced, he began stomping his shoes on the welcome mat and swatting snowflakes from his sleeves, his hair, his eyelashes.

Long eyelashes.

He was just like a doll, a cold and pretty thing, cheeks flushed as much from resentment as from the winter wonderland. Pink.

Waltz sat in his armchair, in the shadow of a living room cramped with antiques, with only one lamp on. He had it turned low. He let the electric chandelier in the foyer be the main light — a spotlight. Dropping down and illuminating his bombshell.

The bombshell glanced over, found him in the shadows, and glowered.

Are those flowers? he asked, disgusted.

A vase of long-stemmed roses sat off to Waltz’s side. His lips curved at their effectiveness, and at the reliability of Christoph’s temper.

He was going to hate the wine.

Christoph was a beer drinker, a capable mechanic, and a failed boxer who had tried valiantly since puberty to get his pretty face broken. Despite all that effort, he was still the kind of beauty you would expect to see claw someone’s eyes out before using his fists.

Waltz was twice his age. A renowned concert pianist turned shut-in, Waltz lived in a cramped and isolated house just big enough to be comfortable, and no bigger. His needs were small and few these days; he had traveled the world, rubbed elbows with oligarchs and glitterati, sampled the most exquisite creature comforts money could buy. There was little left for him to desire.

But those things which he did desire… he ensured that he would get them.

He was tall, handsome, and vampiric. Once he had been tan, charming. Now he was nocturnal. Bored, vain, sunless. He frequently considered growing a beard. He put his feet up on a plush stand, folded his long pianist’s hands on his lap, and gave his plaything a perverse smile.

Christoph’s lips twisted into a hateful curl.

He looked away,