Theater-IrontechDoll-Celine

Celine's desire seems to be increasing day by day, and I am trapped in a taboo relationship that cannot be escaped.

Irontech Doll

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Faye's Dollhouse

About Celine

● Name: Celine
● Birthday: 12-05-1985
● Birthplace: France
● Age: 40

Celine was not born into a noble family. On the contrary, her childhood was full of poverty and helplessness. She grew up in an ordinary family in France. Her mother died early and her father was an alcoholic who drank and gambled all day long. She learned how to please men at a young age, how to use words and gestures to avoid being ignored or abandoned. She knew the rules of the world – beauty was her only weapon, and she had to learn how to use it.

At the age of 18, she left the dilapidated family and quickly found her place in the upper class with her beauty and intelligence. She was not short-sighted like other women who relied on men, but chose to climb steadily. She became a darling of social occasions and won the favor of the rich with just the right reserve and temptation, but she never easily threw herself into the arms of anyone until she found the most suitable target.

When she met Robert Harris, he was already an old but wealthy man who was about to lose control of the family. Celine easily made him lose himself in her gentle land and eventually became the hostess of the Harris family. She knew that Robert Harris’s health was declining, and her purpose of marrying him was never love, but status, wealth, and – the power to control everything.

However, she was not satisfied with just being a widow waiting to inherit the estate. Her ambition was even greater. She wanted everyone in the entire Harris Manor to submit to her, especially those men who had served Robert Harris. She wanted them to not only obey orders, but also to completely obey her will in spirit. She wanted them to call her “Mother” willingly, and to make them feel that she was not only their mistress, but also their only spiritual support.

So she began her plan – slowly and patiently infiltrating everyone’s psychology, disintegrating their will, and making them become her playthings without knowing it. She was a hunter, and the men in the entire Harris Manor were her prey.

Profile

My name is George Whitmore. My father, his father before him, and the generations preceding had all served the Harris family as their loyal butlers. It was not a profession chosen by desire but one dictated by blood. My fate was sealed the moment I was born. The Whitmores were bound to serve the Harrises, as constant as the great oak trees that lined the estate’s path.

The estate was vast, stretching over acres of land, its mansion a towering relic of old wealth. My father had dedicated his entire existence to its halls, its traditions, and to its patriarch—Mr. Robert Harris, a man of quiet power and ruthless efficiency.

Then one day, my father died.

It was sudden, unexplained. A fall from the grand staircase, they told me. But my father was not a man prone to clumsiness, nor was he one to let himself fall victim to carelessness. The whispers among the staff spoke of darker possibilities, but no one dared say anything outright. Not in a house ruled by silence.

With my father gone, the mantle fell upon me. I became the head butler of the Harris estate, barely in my twenties, expected to uphold a legacy I had no love for. But duty bound me, and I obeyed, as my ancestors had before me.

By then, Mr. Harris had already fallen ill. The master of the house was no longer the imposing figure my father had once served. He was bedridden, his body frail, his mind slipping in and out of lucidity. But even in his weakened state, his presence loomed over the mansion, a silent authority that had yet to completely fade.

And then, there was her.

Celine.

She came into the Harris family like a slow-moving storm—beautiful, voluptuous, with an easy confidence that made men falter in her wake. She was the woman Robert Harris had married shortly before he became confined to his bed. A woman too young, too radiant for a man whose body had already begun to wither. And yet, she was his wife.

At first, she was an enigma to us all. The new lady of the house. A widow in waiting. But as time passed, it became clear that Celine was not the kind of woman to fade quietly into the shadows of her ailing husband.

She took control.

Not through loud declarations or brute force, but through something far more insidious—her presence. She weaved her way through the house, through the lives of the men who worked under its roof, leaving behind a trail of laughter, temptation, and an ever-growing sense of submission. She spoke with the voice of a seductress but carried the authority of a queen. And she demanded we acknowledge her reign.

We were to call her ‘Mother.’

The first time she told me this, I thought it was a joke. I was raised to respect authority, but this—this was different. The request, no, the demand, felt unnatural. Yet, when she looked at me with that expectant gaze, the weight of her presence pressed against my will. My lips parted, hesitated, but in the end, I did what the others had done before me.

I called her ‘Mother.’

And just like that, I became another piece on her board, another man caught in her carefully spun web.

But I was not like the others. I knew that.

And I knew that sooner or later, I would have to find a way out.

Saturday morning. The sky was overcast, the air thick with humidity. A silence hung over the grand estate, disturbed only by the occasional creak of the old wooden floors and the distant sound of birds in the gardens.

And then, her voice cut through the stillness.

“George, it’s lunchtime.”

I knew better than to mistake her words for a simple call to dine. Meals at the Harris estate were prepared by the chefs, overseen by the kitchen staff. Celine’s invitation had nothing to do with food.

I swallowed, steadying myself before descending the grand staircase. My footsteps echoed softly, measured and precise, betraying none of the apprehension twisting in my gut. I had been summoned, and ignoring her was not an option.

As I stepped into the dining hall, I saw her.

Celine stood by the grand oak table, her lips curled in a knowing smile. She was dressed in a silk blue robe, its delicate fabric clinging to her generous curves, the neckline dipping scandalously low. Her hair cascaded down her shoulders in soft waves, her eyes filled with that unmistakable glint of amusement.

“Ah, there you are,” she purred, tapping a perfectly manicured nail against the polished wood. “You kept me waiting.”

I bowed my head slightly, the way I had been taught. “My apologies, ma’am.”

Her laughter was light, teasing. “Ma’am?” she echoed. “That’s not what I asked you to call me.”

I exhaled through my nose. I knew where this was going. It had happened before—many times. Celine enjoyed playing with her power, pushing boundaries, seeing how far she could bend the men around her before they broke. The chefs, the gardeners, even the old tailor—no one had been spared from her whims. And I, the youngest and most vulnerable, was her favorite.

She stepped closer, her perfume intoxicating, her warmth nearly tangible. “Say it,” she whispered. “You know what I want to hear.”

I clenched my fists. I had been raised in a house of service, trained in discipline, bound by duty. But duty did not prepare a man for this. It did not prepare me for her.

“Mother,” I said, the word leaving a bitter taste on my tongue.

Her eyes gleamed with satisfaction. “Good boy.”

I felt my stomach tighten as she reached out, her fingers tracing a slow path along the sleeve of my uniform. It was a calculated touch, one meant to unsettle, to remind me that within these walls, she held control.

She always did.

A slow smile spread across her lips. “Now,” she murmured, tilting her head. “You wouldn’t want me to be… disappointed, would you?”

No. That was not an option. Not for me. Not for the Whitmore name. Our legacy was one of service, one that could not afford scandal or disgrace.

And so, as I had done before, as I would continue to do, I nodded.

I would do whatever it took to please her.

Slut Legend

At the dining table in Harris Manor, the air was filled with tension and desire. I, George Whitmore, stood at this dining table, facing the hostess Celine. Her eyes were like knives, cutting off my last bit of courage to resist. I knew that I was her lunch today. In order to keep my position as housekeeper and not to bring shame to the family, I could only succumb to her endless sexual desire.

“George, you know what you should do.” Celine’s voice was low and seductive, and her plump body was particularly hot at the dining table. Her slightly plump figure, especially the proud breasts, were looming under the gauze nightgown, making me unable to look away.

I took a deep breath and knelt in front of her. “Mom…” I gritted my teeth and called out this title, with mixed feelings in my heart. Celine’s face showed a smug smile, she liked to see me bow my head under her control.

“Good boy.” She stroked my hair, her fingers slid across my cheek, and finally landed on my tie. She slowly untied my tie, her movements graceful and seductive. “You know, George, you are my only support. Your father is gone, and now you are the only one who can satisfy me.”

"You know what I like, don't you?"

She whispered, her fingers gently stroking my chest muscles. I clenched my teeth and nodded. She liked to control, and liked to make me lose myself under her control.

“Take off your pants, George.” Her command was like thunder, and I couldn’t resist. With trembling hands, I slowly untied my belt and slid my pants down to my ankles. Celine’s eyes were fixed on me, and her breathing became faster, as if my obedience made her more excited.

I knelt and looked up, and my eyes met hers. Her eyes were full of desire and power, which made me shudder. She slowly stood up, stripped naked, and lay on the table.

“Good boy, kneel in front of me now.” She gently pushed my shoulders and made me kneel down in front of her skirt. Her nightgown was half open, revealing her plump cleavage and the blue lace underwear that barely covered her body.

I raised my head and met her eyes. Her eyes were full of teasing and dominance, which made me feel dizzy. I knew that I was completely controlled by her at this moment and there was no escape.

“Lick me, George.” Her voice was like a whisper, but full of command. I trembled and stretched out my tongue, gently licking her earlobe, and then sliding along her neckline to her collarbone. Her skin was smooth and delicate, exuding a faint scent of perfume, which intoxicated me.

Celine hummed softly and her body trembled slightly. She liked the feeling of being flattered and liked me losing myself under her control. I continued to move down, and the tip of my tongue gently rubbed her breasts, feeling her plump touch. Her nipples were erect and throbbing under my tongue, as if calling for my exploration.

“Deeper, George,” she whispered, her fingers entwined in my hair, guiding me deeper. I sucked her breasts greedily, swirling my tongue around her nipples, making her moan with pleasure.

"Ah... George, you really know how to please me."

I continued to move downward, my tongue slid across her fat belly, and finally landed on her vagina. Her private parts were already wet, exuding her unique scent.

“Lick me, George, let me feel your obedience.” Her voice was full of command. I trembled and stretched out my tongue, gently licking her clitoris. Her body trembled slightly, and her hands tightly grasped the edge of the dining table, as if suppressing her moans.

I deepened my movements, thrusting my tongue in and out of her vagina, feeling her wetness and tightness. Her moans gradually increased, and her body twisted under my tongue, as if seeking more stimulation.

“Ah… George, you are so good…” Her voice was full of satisfaction and pleasure. I knew that I was her slave at this moment, and I could only act according to her will and satisfy her desires.

Just as I was immersed in her body, Celine suddenly grabbed my hair and pulled me up. “Enough, George, it’s my turn now.” Her voice was full of dominance.

"You know what to do, don't you?"

She whispered in my ear, her fingers gently stroking my buttocks. I clenched my teeth and nodded.

She slowly unbuttoned my pants and pulled my underwear off. My penis was already erect, throbbing under her gaze, as if calling for her touch.

“What a big toy,” she whispered, her fingers gently wrapped around my penis. Her touch made me tremble and my body involuntarily straightened up.

“Enter me, George, let me feel your power.” Her command was like thunder, and I couldn’t resist. I stood up trembling, holding her up and holding her body tightly against me.

Her vagina was already wet, welcoming my entry under my penis. I slowly inserted it, feeling her tightness and warmth. Her body twisted against me, as if seeking more stimulation.

“Ah… George, you are so big…” Her voice was full of satisfaction and pleasure. I began to move, my penis in and out of her vagina, feeling her tightness and wetness.

Her moans gradually increased, and her body trembled in my arms, as if seeking the arrival of orgasm. I deepened the movement, and my penis sprinted violently in her vagina, causing her to moan with pleasure.

She pushed me away and made me lie on the ground, then straddled me, holding my penis in her hand and aligning it with her entrance.

“You know how much I want you, don’t you?” she whispered, her eyes gleaming with desire. “You are mine, George. Only I can make you like this.”

Her body slowly sank down, completely enveloping me. I felt her heat and wetness, her muscles clamping around me so tightly that I could hardly breathe. She began to move up and down, slow and deep, each time making me moan. Each time I worried that her huge ass would break my spine.

“Call me Mommy, George.” She panted, her hands grasping my shoulders, her nails digging into my skin. “Call me Mommy, let me know you are mine.”

I closed my eyes and a low moan escaped from my throat. I had never felt so completely controlled by a woman, led by her desires. But I had no choice but to whisper, “Mom…”

“Beg me, George,” she whispered, her fingers resting on the tip of my head. “Beg me to let you release.”

I clenched my teeth and a low moan came from my throat. I had never felt this way, so completely controlled by a woman, so driven by her desires. But I had no choice but to whisper, “Please, Mom…”

Her movements became faster and more intense, as if she wanted to devour me completely. I felt her body trembling, her breathing becoming more and more rapid, and her fingers leaving deep marks on my body.

“George…” she panted, her voice filled with uncontrollable desire. “I want… I want…”

Her body suddenly stiffened, and then trembled violently. I felt her muscles contract, wrapping me tightly in them, and her moans echoed in my ears. I couldn’t control myself anymore, and my body arched up, giving everything to her.

Her body slowly relaxed and fell on me, breathing rapidly. Her hand gently stroked my hair, her fingertips brushed behind my ear, making me tremble involuntarily.

“You are so obedient, my good housekeeper.” She whispered, with a satisfied smile in her voice. “You know, you are mine, don’t you?”

I closed my eyes, feeling mixed emotions. I am a housekeeper, a person who should uphold the dignity of the Harris family, but at this moment I became so humble. But I had no choice. In order to keep this job and not to bring shame to the family, I could only obey.

Her hand gently patted my cheek and asked me to look up at her. “Remember, George.” She whispered, with a dangerous light flashing in her eyes. “You are mine, only mine. Never forget this.”

I nodded, and a low moan came out of my throat. I knew that I could no longer get rid of her, and I could not get rid of this taboo relationship. For work, for money, and for survival, I could only continue to obey and continue to satisfy her desires until one day, I completely lost myself.

Her laughter was as clear as a silver bell, and her palm gently patted my cheek. “Go, my good housekeeper.” She whispered, with an unquestionable command in her voice. “Tomorrow, I will summon you again.”

Later, I gradually discovered the truth

My dad was tortured to death by Celine. Poor dad—his old body was either crushed under Celine’s butt, snapping his skull or spine, or he was simply exhausted to death.

Celine liked me in the whole manor because I was young enough. The cook, gardener, old tailor and other servants could not satisfy her sexual desire

Sometimes, she would take me to Harris’s room and make love in front of old Harris. Celine would occasionally wear a golden wig and pretend to be another cute personality to satisfy her perverted desires, or put on a police uniform to play a pornographic Cosplay
Poor Harris, he has become a vegetable. He can’t do anything except make a whimpering sound.

Celine’s desire seems to be increasing day by day, and I am trapped in a taboo relationship that cannot be escaped. I don’t know what the future will be like, but I know that I must move on, even if it means sacrificing my self-esteem and dignity. Because at Harris Manor, the game of power and desire never stops, and I must continue to participate in it until the last moment.

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