He Turned Her Into His Perfect Doll and She Obeyed

Today, Camila is what many would call a doll. Blonde, full-lipped, with a sweet, empty gaze. A little cutie with not too many ideas in her head. She smiles easily and puts her index finger in her mouth when she doesn’t understand something, which is almost always.

But she wasn’t always like this.

Until three years ago, Camila was an educated, sharp woman, with firm opinions about everything: economics, politics, women’s rights. She was in her fourth year of economics and imagined a brilliant future, with office windows and important decisions. She read the great authors and understood every line. She argued without fear and rarely lost an argument.

All that changed when Damián appeared.

***

It was an ordinary afternoon, as she was leaving the university. Two boys ran past and accidentally shoved her; her folders and notes ended up scattered across the sidewalk. Damián, who was walking behind them, bent down without thinking to help her gather the papers the wind was trying to carry away.

—People who run without looking —he said, handing her a notebook—. Are you okay?

Camila looked up and found herself facing a man who was around forty, with slightly silvered temples and a calm that you didn’t see in boys her own age. They talked for a few minutes about nothing, and before saying goodbye, he asked her for coffee.

That first conversation was enough for her to understand that the man in front of her was out of the ordinary. Damián was an engineer, owner of his own company, and he moved through the world with the confidence of someone who rarely heard the word “no.” He spoke to her looking her straight in the eyes, unhurried, as if he had all the time in the world for her.

They started seeing each other. Within a few weeks, Camila was in love in a way that frightened her. It wasn’t a calm kind of love; it was a need. She thought about him all day, counted the hours until their next meeting, felt that without Damián life lost its color. She had never felt anything like that for anyone.

The first time they slept together was in his apartment, two weeks after meeting. Damián undressed her slowly, without rushing, looking at her body as if he were evaluating a purchase. He opened her legs on the bed and lowered his face to her pussy. He started sucking her clit with a broad, flat tongue, moving up and down, sliding two fingers deep inside her and curling them upward. Camila clutched the sheets and moaned like she had never moaned before. He ate her pussy until her back arched and she came, soaking his mouth and chin. Then he grabbed her head and pushed it down to his cock.

—Suck my whole cock, baby —he told her, in a calm voice that made her legs tremble.

Camila opened her mouth and took his cock all the way in, licking the head, sucking his balls, spitting saliva over the shaft so it would slide better between her lips. Damián grabbed her hair and started fucking her mouth, mercilessly, until tears filled her eyes. Then he flipped her over, put her on all fours, and slammed his cock into her in one thrust. Camila screamed. He grabbed her hips and started fucking her hard, banging her ass against his groin, making her tits bounce against the mattress. He fucked her on all fours, then from the side, then on her back against his chest with her legs spread, and finally came inside her, groaning low, filling her pussy with hot semen that dripped down her thighs when they pulled apart.

Camila fell asleep that night pressed against him, with her pussy burning and her heart in pieces. No one had ever fucked her like that. No one had ever made her feel so much like she belonged to him. And then, some three months later, he started talking to her about his tastes.

***

It was one night, in Damián’s apartment, with two glasses of wine poured and the city glowing on the other side of the glass. He looked at her for a long time before speaking, as if weighing whether it was worth saying.

—I like you, Camila. I really do. But I’m a strange man when it comes to this.

—Strange about what?

—About what I look for in a woman.

He explained, without beating around the bush, that women who were too intelligent exhausted him. What really turned him on, he said, was something else: a docile woman, simple, made to please and little more. A doll. Pretty, obedient, with no big questions. The exact opposite of what she was.

—That’s why I know this isn’t going to work, sooner or later —he said, setting down his glass—. You’re too much for me. Too smart. And I don’t want that.

Camila felt the floor open beneath her. They went out a couple more times, but he was already speaking like a man saying goodbye. Until one afternoon, in a café, he told her straight out: it was better to stop seeing each other.

She couldn’t breathe. The mere idea of a life without Damián was unbearable to her, a bottomless darkness. And then, without measuring what she was saying, she let out the sentence that would change everything.

—I can be whatever you want me to be.

Damián looked at her differently. Not with tenderness: with interest.

***

A few days later he called her and arranged to meet again. This time it was he who spoke slowly, choosing each word.

—I’ve been thinking about what you said. Were you serious?

—Completely.

—Because if you’re going to become the woman I want, it’s not enough to promise it. You have to really change. Inside and out. Do you understand what I’m saying?

Camila nodded before even thinking. She was willing to do anything not to lose him, and she told him so: she accepted whatever he decided for her.

Then Damián explained something she would once have rejected outright. There were new methods, still clandestine, that combined deep hypnotherapy sessions with certain medication. Applied properly, they made a person gradually forget much of what they knew, and even made their ability to reason slower, smaller. It was illegal, of course. But he knew a professional who did it, for a lot of money.

—I’ll take care of everything —he said—. You just have to let yourself go.

Any woman in her right mind would have gotten up from the table. Camila, instead, felt something strange: relief. If that was the price of staying with him, she would pay it. She took his hand and said yes.

That same night, when they went back to the apartment, Damián fucked her with a new intensity. He stripped her the moment they crossed the door and pushed her against the living room wall. He bit her nipples through her bra, tore it off in one pull, dragged her panties down to her knees. He slid his hand between her legs and found her pussy soaked.

—Look how wet you are —he whispered in her ear—. All wet just thinking you’re going to be my doll.

Camila moaned and went for his mouth. He lifted her up, hooked her legs around his waist, and drove into her right there against the wall, fucking her from top to bottom while her tits bounced against his chest. Then he carried her to the sofa, threw her face down, spread her ass cheeks, and spat on her asshole. He pushed a thumb in first, moving it in circles, and then set his cock against her ass.

—Are you going to give me this one too? —he asked.

—Everything —she said, her face buried in the sofa—. Everything you want, Damián.

He pushed his cock into her ass slowly, gaining ground little by little, until he had it all the way in. Camila screamed, muffled against the upholstery. Damián started fucking her ass with long, deep thrusts, grabbing her by the hair, while with the other hand he slid two fingers into her pussy. He fucked her like that until he came inside her asshole, trembling, leaving her ass cheeks stained with semen that slowly leaked down over her perineum. Camila knew, while he stroked her back with his cock still inside her, that she would sign anything for him.

***

The first session was a month later. She arrived shaking at a clinic without signs, on a high floor, and Damián accompanied her and stayed with her the whole time, holding her hand while the hypnotist’s voice slowly sank her into a thick calm. She came out of there dizzy, not quite remembering what had happened, with a bottle of pills she was supposed to take every morning.

That’s how the sessions went, week after week. Hypnosis and pills. At first Camila thought it wasn’t working. She felt just as lucid as always; she went over what she knew from her degree in her mind and everything was still in place.

Until it started failing.

The first time was unsettling. She tried to remember a history fact she’d known her whole life and, no matter how hard she searched for it, it wasn’t there. Like a room you walk into and forget why you went in, but permanent. Then it was other facts. Then entire ideas. Little by little she noticed it was harder to follow a conversation if the subject got complex, something she had once done without effort.

It was really happening. She felt it like a tide going out and taking pieces of her with it. It should have terrified her. And at times it did. But then she thought of Damián, of his arms, of his voice telling her he wanted her this way, and the tide seemed like a fair price.

Every night, after the sessions, he fucked her. And every night, the Camila who spread her legs was a little less than the one from the night before. Her conversations got poorer; she no longer asked for weird things or suggested positions. She let him do what he wanted. Damián laid her on her back, spread her legs, and ate her pussy until she came two, three times in a row, while she let out moans that got higher-pitched and less articulate every time. Then he slid his cock into her and fucked her in a thousand ways: sitting on top of him, bouncing on his cock, her tits growing bigger and bigger as they slapped against his face; on all fours against the headboard, her cheek against the mattress and her asshole presented like an offering; on her side, with one leg in the air, while he sucked a nipple and gave her slow, deep thrusts. He came in her mouth, on her tits, on her face, in her ass. And Camila, more and more of a doll, learned to say “yes, my love” and “thank you, my love” with her tongue thick with semen.

The treatment went on until one day, simply, it ended. And the changes were undeniable.

***

Before, she loved documentaries about science, history, the deep sea. Now they bored her to the point of yawning; she lost the thread after five minutes and didn’t understand what they were talking about. Who was governing some country? Before she knew. Now she had the faintest idea, and if someone told her, she forgot it right away. Nothing of the world’s big issues remained in her.

What entertained her now were gossip shows, soap operas, fashion magazines, beauty magazines. She was up to date on all of that, and almost nothing else. Before she devoured difficult novels and enjoyed every page. Now she barely opened a book, and when she did it was some little romance novel, the only kind she could read without getting lost.

A test done at the beginning had measured her IQ well above average, in the range some call brilliant. Another test, at the end of the process, left her well below average. She wasn’t incapable; she could get by, do the shopping, keep house. But following the plot of a slightly tangled movie was already impossible. When they watched one at home, she had to keep asking Damián to explain what was happening, and he did so patiently, amused, knowing that his doll could do no more.

***

Her body changed along with her mind. Damián kept molding her on the outside too, with the same calm with which he had shaped the other part. One surgery enlarged her breasts until they were impossible to ignore. Another rounded out her hips and ass. She dyed the brown hair he said made her look ugly a light blonde, and injections filled out her lips.

Every week, without fail, she spent the afternoon at the beauty salon: nails, waxing, styling, everything in order, so she would always be pretty when he arrived. That was Camila now, exactly what Damián had asked for. An adorable doll, with big curves and a small head.

And she was happy. Or she thought she was, which in the end is the same thing. They lived together like husband and wife. He treated her gently, spoke softly to her, rewarded her when she obeyed. Every anniversary of that afternoon on the sidewalk he showed up with flowers and chocolates, because he knew how much she loved both things. She clapped like a little girl.

The mornings were always the same. Damián left for work and Camila took care of the house with the money he left her. She cleaned, did the laundry, went shopping. By midafternoon the long ritual of making herself pretty to receive her man began.

***

That night marked three years since they had married. Camila greeted him at the door with a long kiss, hanging from his neck as if she hadn’t seen him in months. Damián went into the kitchen and she poured him a beer and something to snack on, happy, busy, talking about nothing.

As always, he took her by the waist and sat her on his lap. From there he could look at her cleavage, something he never stopped doing.

—Want to guess what I brought you? —he said, taking a case from his jacket pocket.

Camila put a finger in her mouth and opened her eyes wide, with that stupid half-smile that had become natural to her.

—I don’t know… I don’t know…

Damián opened the case. Inside, a choker with two emeralds glimmered. She let out a tiny squeal and ran to the mirror to try it on, turning her neck from side to side to see it better.

—It’s beautiful, my love —she said, settling back onto his lap and giving him another kiss.

Damián pulled down the neckline of her dress and took her tits out. He grabbed them with both hands, squeezing them, sucking her big hard nipples while Camila looped her arms around his neck and sighed.

—Want to celebrate the anniversary, doll? —he asked, biting her neck.

—Yes, my love —she said, her voice soft and her gaze lost.

Damián lifted her, carried her to the bedroom, and threw her on the bed. He ripped off her panties and spread her legs wide. He buried his face in her shaved pussy and started licking it, running his tongue over her swollen lips, in and out of the hole, up to the clit and sucking it until she began to tremble. Camila clutched the choker with one hand, as if she were embarrassed to dirty it, and with the other she pressed Damián’s head against her pussy.

—Oh, my love, oh… like that, like that… —she babbled, with no words beyond those.

She came with a long moan, soaking his mouth. Damián stood beside the bed, pulled down his pants, and offered his cock to her face. Camila opened her mouth without being asked and took it in. She sucked his cock slowly, with a dutiful doll’s dedication, looking up with empty, sweet eyes while he held her chin and stroked her blonde hair.

—That’s how I like it, doll. Like that.

He put her on all fours on the bed, ass up high, and drove into her pussy in one shot. He started fucking her with hard thrusts, holding her by her stuffed hips, watching how her big ass rippled against his pelvis. Camila moaned and kept repeating “yes, yes, yes” as if it were the only thing she had learned to say. He shoved two fingers into her mouth and she sucked them gratefully.

—Now in the little ass, doll —he said, and pulled his cock out of her pussy, dripping with arousal.

—Yes, my love —she answered, without hesitation.

He set the head of his cock at her asshole and eased it in slowly, until he drove it all the way inside. Camila bit her painted lip, smiling stupidly, while Damián fucked her ass calmly, holding her giant tits from behind to knead them while he penetrated her. He fucked her in the ass for a long while, changing positions: first on all fours, then face down with her legs closed to squeeze his cock, then on her back against his chest, sitting on the cock buried in her asshole, with Damián stroking her clit and whispering in her ear how pretty she was, how empty she was, how perfect she was.

—Come for me, doll —he asked.

And Camila came again, trembling all over on the cock buried in her ass, shouting things that were not words. Damián slammed her face into the mattress, put her back on all fours, and came inside her asshole with a long growl, emptying himself completely. He stayed like that for a few seconds, with his cock still inside her, looking at her arched back and the blonde hair spread across the sheets.

Then he lay down beside her and held her. Camila curled against his chest, semen dripping from her ass down to her thighs, smiling with her mouth slightly open. She touched the choker with the tip of one finger, like a little girl touching a new toy.

Damián hugged her and smiled over her shoulder, satisfied. He was the cultured man, the successful engineer, the one who decided. And she was his woman: a doll with painted lips and a sweet gaze, made entirely to his measure, with not a single thought of her own to get in the way.

Empty, yes. But, in her own way, perfectly happy.