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Devilla-Roche
Supernova
- Joined
- Mar 18, 2013
- Location
- Norway
My father always said that I was my mother’s daughter. He always said that with an edgy, sarcastic tone. Growing up, I did not understand what he meant by this phrase. It wasn’t until years later, after his mysterious death did I come to understand what it meant.
My mother was a peculiar person. She had odd habits. Was a bit of a collector of things. Actually she was quite the pack rat. Many of the items she collected were a bit unusual. The bone collection, which she made into jewelry, from time to time, was one of her favorites. There were also the taxidermy collection, from my grandfather. Mother especially enjoyed all the birds.
If you can imagine Morticia Addams from the Addams Family or Elvira, Mistress of the Dark, that was my Mother. She was tall and slender and beautiful. She always wore black. I don’t think I can ever remember her wearing any other color. With her creamy alabaster skin she looked eerily scary at times, but always beautiful.
The house I grew up in, and now own, was my grandfather’s house. Actually, it was originally his father’s house. He won the house in a game of poker from a man who made his fortune in railroads.
The manor house, named The Lace, was a four-hundred room house that sat on ten-thousand sprawling acres. It was named by my great-grandmother, who was fond of anything made from lace. This was the Victorian era, and the architecture of The Lace reflected that. Inside, you could find something everywhere, and each room was replete with lace curtains and lace tabletops, ergo the manor’s name.
The Lace, therefore, was appropriate for my mother’s collections. Every room contained something. And yes, it seems that as my father stated, I am my mother’s daughter as I too became fond of collecting.
From my earliest years, as far back as I can remember, I had dolls. As a child I had hundreds of them. As I grew older, so did my obsession with them. Even into adulthood I continued to collect them. At the same time, I became very liberal in my approach to sex and my proclivities toward sex. Fetishes developed and, with each partner, with each experience, I became more daring and was willing to try almost anything.
When my mother died, The Lace was all mine. And, so was a great deal of money.
Not too long after her death, a friend of mine introduced me to the world where people volunteer to have themselves made into living, human dolls. The owner is known as the doll maker, while the submissive person, typically in ownership by the doll maker, is the living doll.
With that, I began my obsession to collect such things, these human dolls, these bimbo dolls. Like my play dolls from long ago, my human doll collection grew. I obtained them in various ways. In some cases I purchased them from the black market in places like Russia and Somalia. In some cases, the potential doll wished to have such a life and was willing to sign unconventional contracts that basically turned them into slaves – who would be owned by me. I also obtained some human dolls by way of abduction, at first from a middle man, but then ultimately, with my minions I did it on my own.
There are sixteen in my collection and the time has come for number seventeen to come to “The Lace.”
My mother was a peculiar person. She had odd habits. Was a bit of a collector of things. Actually she was quite the pack rat. Many of the items she collected were a bit unusual. The bone collection, which she made into jewelry, from time to time, was one of her favorites. There were also the taxidermy collection, from my grandfather. Mother especially enjoyed all the birds.
If you can imagine Morticia Addams from the Addams Family or Elvira, Mistress of the Dark, that was my Mother. She was tall and slender and beautiful. She always wore black. I don’t think I can ever remember her wearing any other color. With her creamy alabaster skin she looked eerily scary at times, but always beautiful.
The house I grew up in, and now own, was my grandfather’s house. Actually, it was originally his father’s house. He won the house in a game of poker from a man who made his fortune in railroads.
The manor house, named The Lace, was a four-hundred room house that sat on ten-thousand sprawling acres. It was named by my great-grandmother, who was fond of anything made from lace. This was the Victorian era, and the architecture of The Lace reflected that. Inside, you could find something everywhere, and each room was replete with lace curtains and lace tabletops, ergo the manor’s name.
The Lace, therefore, was appropriate for my mother’s collections. Every room contained something. And yes, it seems that as my father stated, I am my mother’s daughter as I too became fond of collecting.
From my earliest years, as far back as I can remember, I had dolls. As a child I had hundreds of them. As I grew older, so did my obsession with them. Even into adulthood I continued to collect them. At the same time, I became very liberal in my approach to sex and my proclivities toward sex. Fetishes developed and, with each partner, with each experience, I became more daring and was willing to try almost anything.
When my mother died, The Lace was all mine. And, so was a great deal of money.
Not too long after her death, a friend of mine introduced me to the world where people volunteer to have themselves made into living, human dolls. The owner is known as the doll maker, while the submissive person, typically in ownership by the doll maker, is the living doll.
With that, I began my obsession to collect such things, these human dolls, these bimbo dolls. Like my play dolls from long ago, my human doll collection grew. I obtained them in various ways. In some cases I purchased them from the black market in places like Russia and Somalia. In some cases, the potential doll wished to have such a life and was willing to sign unconventional contracts that basically turned them into slaves – who would be owned by me. I also obtained some human dolls by way of abduction, at first from a middle man, but then ultimately, with my minions I did it on my own.
There are sixteen in my collection and the time has come for number seventeen to come to “The Lace.”
