Mounted

The window display area was separated from the main shop by a low wooden platform, raised perhaps six inches off the ground and covered in a soft velvet fabric the color of champagne.

"As I said," Angélique continued, "the mannequins have been sent for repairs. But my display cannot sit empty for an hour. It would look quite unprofessional." She glanced over her shoulder at Cassia, her emerald eyes glittering. "Fortunately, I have two lovely dolls of my own who can stand in for them until the repairs are complete."

Dolly was already positioning herself near the platform, her white hair catching the light, her painted smile wide and eager. "Do we get to pick our poses, Mistress? Or will you arrange us?"

"We shall see, ma chérie. We shall see." Angélique straightened and clapped her hands again. "First, though. I have something special for you both."

She moved to a cabinet near the window, a tall, narrow piece carved from dark wood that Cassia had never paid much attention to before. Angélique opened it and reached inside, and when she turned back around, she was holding two polished wooden stands.

Cassia stared at them, trying to understand what she was seeing. The stands were perhaps four feet tall, carved from dark hardwood and polished to a gleaming shine. Each had a heavy, weighted base, and a central pillar that rose up to end in a knob-like protrusion perhaps three inches long. The knob was smooth and rounded at the tip, slightly flared at the base where it met the pillar, and it had been polished so thoroughly that it practically glowed in the afternoon light.

She did not understand. She did not understand what those stands were for, or why Angélique was bringing them out, or what they had to do with standing in the window.

"Mistress?" Cassia said slowly. "What are those?"

Angélique's smile widened, but she did not elaborate. She set the two stands on the platform, positioning them where the mannequins had stood, spacing them perhaps four feet apart. Then she turned to Dolly.

"You know what to do Dolly."

Dolly nodded enthusiastically. Without hesitation, without a trace of self-consciousness, she reached beneath her frilly pink skirt and pulled down her bloomers.

Cassia's eyes went wide. "Dolly, what-"

But Dolly was already stepping out of the pooled fabric, kicking the bloomers aside with one foot. Beneath her skirt, she was naked from the waist down, Cassia could see the pale swell of her thighs, and the small, caged beta cock that Angélique kept locked at all times. Dolly spread her arms wide, like a doll waiting to be placed on a shelf, and parted her legs just enough to reveal...

Oh...

Oh, no!

Cassia's stomach dropped as understanding crashed over her like cold water. The knob on top of the stand. The way Dolly was positioning herself. The way Angélique was now moving forward, reaching for Dolly's hips with obvious intent.

"Wait," Cassia said, her voice cracking. "Mistress, you can't possibly-"

But Angélique could. And she did.

With a casual display of alpha strength that made it look effortless, Angélique lifted Dolly off the ground. Dolly let out a happy little squeal, her arms still spread, her legs still parted, and Angélique lowered her onto the waiting stand.

The knob slid into Dolly's pussy with a wet sound that made Cassia's entire body flush with mortification. Dolly gasped, her head falling back, her painted lips parting in a small 'o' of pleasure as the stand seated itself fully inside her. Angélique adjusted her slightly, turning her this way and that until she faced the window at the proper angle, then stepped back to admire her work.

Dolly stood there, impaled on the stand, her toes just barely brushing the wooden platform. Her arms remained spread, her expression dreamy and blissed-out, and a faint flush hidden behind her white-powdered cheeks.

"Perfect," Angélique said approvingly. "You look lovely, Dolly."

"Thank you, Mistress," Dolly breathed. She shifted slightly on the stand, and the motion made her sink a fraction of an inch further onto the knob. Her eyelashes fluttered. "Oh. That feels… nice."

Cassia could not tear her eyes away. She stared at the place where the wooden stand disappeared beneath Dolly's skirt, at the way Dolly's toes stretched for the floor, at the way her whole body seemed suspended and displayed like something in a museum.

"I'm not doing that," Cassia heard herself say. The words came out flat, definitive, though her voice trembled slightly at the edges. "Mistress, I cannot. I will not."

Angélique turned to her, one elegant eyebrow raised. "You will not?"

"I won't." Cassia's heart hammered against her ribs. She could feel the contract pulsing, warning her of her disobedience, but she ignored it. "That's- you're asking me to-" She gestured helplessly at Dolly, at the stand, at the obvious implication of what Angélique expected. "I cannot stand in a window with something like that inside me. People will see. They'll know."

"Will they?" Angélique circled toward her, slow and deliberate, her heels clicking against the floor. "Your uniform skirt should be sufficiently long enough to cover yourself. The stand is four foot tall. The platform is raised another six inches. From the street, through the glass, they would have to get very low to be able to see under…" She shrugged, a casual, dismissive gesture. "They will see Bonnet, a pretty doll in a pretty dress. Nothing more."

"That's not-" Cassia swallowed hard. "But, I'll know. I'll feel it. What if I move the wrong way and someone sees-"

"If you move wrong," Angélique interrupted, "you will simply just sink further onto your stand. Which would, I imagine, feel rather pleasant after a while." Her smile turned sly. "Dolly here always look so… satisfied when I take her down at the end of the day. Isn't that right Dolly?"

"Oh, yes Mistress. Dolly loves her stand." Dolly gushed.

Cassia's face burned. She wanted to look away from Dolly, from the way the other doll was already starting to squirm on her stand, but she couldn't. Dolly's chest rose and fell more rapidly now, her breath coming in soft little gasps, and her hips had begun to make small, almost imperceptible circles.

"This is degrading," Cassia whispered.

"No more complaints now," Angélique admonished gently. "Put your arms up Bonnet. It's your turn."

"No."

The word hung in the air between them. Cassia felt the contract surge once more, threatening to break, but she held firm. She would not do this. She could not. There had to be limits, even here, even with the contract binding her. She would find them. She would draw a line, and Angélique would respect it, because-

"Bonnet." Angélique's voice had gone low. Dangerously low. "You are testing my patience."

"I don't care." Cassia's hands were shaking. "This is too much. I won't let you put me on display like some object. I'm not your doll. I'm not-"

"You signed a contract." Angélique took a step closer. Then another. Cassia backed away, but the counter was behind her, and she had nowhere to go. "You agreed to my terms. You accepted my uniform, my rules, my authority. And now you stand in my shop, wearing my clothes, calling yourself by the name I gave you, and you dare to tell me what you will and will not do?"

"I-"

"Bonnet, you will put your arms up," Angélique continued, her voice rising slightly, "you will allow me to place you on that stand without complaint, and you will attract customers, because that is what dolls do. Do you understand me?"

The contract screamed at her now. One final warning. She gasped, her knees buckling, and she caught herself on the edge of the counter. Reluctantly, she began to obey, her arms twitching at her sides, her body preparing to submit even as her entire being screamed in protest.

"Mistress," she tried one last time, her voice breaking. "Please. Someone might see. Someone from the Academy, or-"

"No one will recognize you." Angélique's tone softened slightly, though her eyes remained hard. "You are Bonnet right now. Bonnet the shop assistant. And Bonnet does what she is told."

Cassia closed her eyes and felt her resistance crumble.

I can't believe that I'm about to do this...

Slowly, Cassia raised her arms.

"That's a good doll Bonnet. Since it's your first time, I will help you out a little." Angélique moved behind her, and Cassia felt the alpha's hands reach down beneath her skirt and pull down her frilly undergarment. The lace whispered against her thighs as it fell, and the open air made her pussy tingle. "Now, step out of those bloomers."

Cassia complied and spread her legs apart. She had never felt more **** in her life.

"That's better. See how much easier it is when you stop resisting?" Angélique lifted her. It was effortless, the alpha's strength was far beyond Cassia's own, and she rose into the air as if she weighed nothing at all.

Cassia's heart hammered. Her breath coming in short gasps. And then as Angélique was lowering her, she felt the wooden knob of the stand pressing against her folds, parting them, and moving inside her with a slickness that spoke of her body's unwanted readiness.

Cassia bit her lip to keep from moaning. The stand filled her slowly, inexorably, until the bottom of the flared knob pressed against her outer lips. Her toes stretched for the floor, found it barely, the very tips of her heels brushing against the wooden platform. She was mounted. Displayed. Impaled in the front window for anyone walking by to see.

"There," Angélique said, stepping back to admire her work. "Now, you match."

Cassia burned with shame underneath. She stared straight ahead, at the window, at the street beyond the lace curtains, at the shadowy shapes of futas passing by without any idea what was inside of her. Her arms were still raised, she realized, spread like Dolly's, and she slowly lowered them to her sides.

"No, no." Angélique tutted and lifted Cassia's arms back into position. "Arms out, chérie. You are a doll. Dolls stand with their arms extended. It makes it easier to change their clothes."

"I'm not a doll," Cassia whimpered pathetically.

"You are while you are in my boutique, in my window." Angélique stepped back again, tilting her head as she assessed both of them. "Dolly, you look lovely. Bonnet, you need to relax. You are far too stiff. A doll should look serene, not constipated."

Cassia wanted to scream. Instead, she **** her face into something approximating serenity, though her jaw remained tight.

"That's better." Angélique circled the platform, making small adjustments, turning Cassia slightly to the left, tilting Dolly's chin up, smoothing a wrinkle in Cassia's skirt. "You will stay here for one hour. I have work to do in the back. When I return, I will take you down."

"Mistress," Cassia pleaded, her voice strained, "I can't stay like this for an hour. I'm already slipping."

It was true. Even in the few moments since Angélique had placed her, Cassia had felt her weight settling further onto the stand. The knob pressed deeper inside her, stretching her, filling her in a way that made her thighs tremble. Every time she shifted, every time her toes lost their precarious purchase on the platform, she sank another fraction of an inch.

"Consider it a part of the experience, mon cœur." Angélique smiled. "Do try to stand still. The more you squirm, the deeper you will go."

"That's what I'm trying to avoid-"

"Too late." Angélique reached out and gave Cassia's bottom a sharp slap under her skirt. Cassia yelped, jerking forward, and the motion drove her another half-inch onto the stand. She gasped, her eyes widening, as the knob pressed against something electric inside her.

"Smile now Bonnet. And do try to attract some customers. I expect the two of you to bring in at least a few curious shoppers before I take you down."

Cassia panted, trying and failing to center herself. "How are we supposed to-"

"Just follow Dolly's lead." Angélique instructed before turning away, heading for her office. Over her shoulder, she added, "And Bonnet? Do try to enjoy yourself. You will be here for an hour regardless. You might as well make the best of it."

The door to the back room closed behind her, and Cassia was left alone with Dolly, a full pussy, and a rising sense of panic.