<?xml version="1.0" encoding="utf-8" standalone="yes"?><rss version="2.0" xmlns:atom="http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom" xmlns:content="http://purl.org/rss/1.0/modules/content/"><channel><title>Millie on Gromet's Plaza Archive</title><link>/authors/millie/</link><description>Recent content in Millie on Gromet's Plaza Archive</description><generator>Hugo</generator><language>en-us</language><lastBuildDate>Sat, 30 May 2026 20:13:47 +0000</lastBuildDate><atom:link href="/authors/millie/index.xml" rel="self" type="application/rss+xml"/><item><title>No 4 - Sold</title><link>/stories/2012/01/22/no-4-sold/</link><pubDate>Sun, 22 Jan 2012 00:00:00 +0000</pubDate><guid>/stories/2012/01/22/no-4-sold/</guid><description>&lt;p&gt;continues from &lt;a href="no4.html"&gt;part one&lt;/a&gt; &amp;amp; &lt;a href="no4_forsale.html"&gt;part two&lt;/a&gt;_&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Part 3: Sold&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;em&gt;Mr. Grey arrived with a new girl. He carried her in his arms. She was apparently unconscious. Her arms and legs dangling as he walked. Her head bent back and eyes closed. Mr. Grey put her down on the table in front of my cabinet. The same table, I was laid on two weeks ago. I still tried to keep track of the time even though if it was to no use – and albeit I somehow didn&amp;rsquo;t care anymore. I knew I had been forced to be a living doll. And I knew I would be sold as soon as Mr. Grey had the right buyer. My concern was more like whether I would make as fine an appearance as sister No. 1. Still there was nothing I could do about it. So since I accepted to be a doll, I just wanted to look as beautiful as possible.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/p&gt;</description></item><item><title>No 4 - For Sale</title><link>/stories/2012/01/17/no-4-for-sale/</link><pubDate>Tue, 17 Jan 2012 00:00:00 +0000</pubDate><guid>/stories/2012/01/17/no-4-for-sale/</guid><description>&lt;p&gt;continues from &lt;a href="no4.html"&gt;part one&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Part 2: For Sale&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;I had become doll number 4. Living in a cabinet in a basement. I was captured by Mr. Grey and put on display along with three other girls. I had been on display for a week now. I can&amp;rsquo;t be sure though. Nothing in this basement tells the time. No watch, no calendar. No windows showing daylight. There was only a mirror. A huge mirror where I could see me and my sisters on display. They are not my real sisters of course, but as we apparently share the same destiny I had chosen to consider them my “sisters”. - And I don&amp;rsquo;t really know the name of my captor, but as he always was wearing gray – I called him Mr. Grey.&lt;/p&gt;</description></item><item><title>No 4</title><link>/stories/2012/01/04/no-4/</link><pubDate>Wed, 04 Jan 2012 00:00:00 +0000</pubDate><guid>/stories/2012/01/04/no-4/</guid><description>&lt;p&gt;I will be No. 4!&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;When the lights were turned on I saw the three girls immediately. Recognized the faces from photographs in the newspapers. Those were the girls reported missing during the last two months. At first glance I thought them dead. But then I saw their eyes move. They looked down at me with a sad expression. Not that there were much expression, but if there were, then sadness must be the word. They were standing upright – each girl in her own separate glass display cases – stark naked - supported by some kind of shop stand. You know the kind of shop stands with a steel rod coming up from the foot plate and going into the bottom of the mannequin. – I wondered.. But soon I should learn! - These stands had supports for legs and arms as well – each rod ending in a steel cuff surrounding an ankle or wrist. Finaly there was a similar steel band around the girls neck. From my angle I couldn&amp;rsquo;t see how the contraption was built, but it was not hard to figure out anyway. It kept the girl posed. All three girls were immobile. Apparently were the eyes the only body part, they could move.&lt;/p&gt;</description></item><item><title>Living Doll 3: Amara Abandoned</title><link>/stories/2011/04/10/living-doll-3-amara-abandoned/</link><pubDate>Sun, 10 Apr 2011 00:00:00 +0000</pubDate><guid>/stories/2011/04/10/living-doll-3-amara-abandoned/</guid><description>&lt;p&gt;(story continues from &lt;a href="livingdoll_modelamara2.html"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Living Doll 2: Amara Abducted&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/a&gt;)_&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Part 3: Amara Abandoned.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;_This story is a sequel to &amp;ldquo;&lt;a href="livingdoll_modelamara.html"&gt;Living Doll: Model Amara&lt;/a&gt;&amp;rdquo; and ”&lt;a href="livingdoll_modelamara2.html"&gt;Living Doll: Amara Abducted&lt;/a&gt;”– you will want to read that first!&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;I am a statue!&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;I am nothing but a piece of art in marble. Not “out of” but rather “inside”&amp;hellip; A motionless inflexible object. But I don&amp;rsquo;t cry. - I have been standing here in the same position - in this pose - for seven days now. Alfred – the duke – left for France seven days ago. – I know the time because this time I am set up, outside in the open and I can see the sun rise, the sun set and people passby. Some look up at me while passing. A few stop to look closer and eventually read the brass plate on my plinth. It says I am Aphrodite in nude. I know because Alfred told me the day he changed my shell to this texture. Anyway, most people just hurry by without showing any interest at all.&lt;/p&gt;</description></item><item><title>Living Doll 2: Amara Abducted</title><link>/stories/1/01/01/living-doll-2-amara-abducted/</link><pubDate>Mon, 01 Jan 0001 00:00:00 +0000</pubDate><guid>/stories/1/01/01/living-doll-2-amara-abducted/</guid><description>&lt;p&gt;(story continues from &lt;a href="livingdoll_modelamara.html"&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Living Doll: Model Amara&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/a&gt;)_&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;_&lt;strong&gt;Part 2: Amara Abducted.&lt;/strong&gt;
This story is a sequel to &amp;ldquo;&lt;a href="livingdoll_modelamara.html"&gt;Living Doll: Model Amara&lt;/a&gt;&amp;rdquo; – you will want to read that first!&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;ul&gt;
&lt;li&gt;&lt;/li&gt;
&lt;/ul&gt;
&lt;p&gt;He was back again! - He had returned every day since the grand opening. Every day- and at the same time judging from the beams of sun seeping in through the skylight. It was the seventh day since I was put on display. It had been an exceptional experience. Far from anything I could have imagined. No demands or expectations to my performance. I could just lean back (figurative) and enjoy whatever came my way. Unfortunately I could not feel the touches to the surface of my hard shell. Many times I wished&amp;hellip; Still my numbness had disappeared as promised, so the vibrators made a very good job and they were activated several times each day. Sometimes the visitors turned them on and left them on. But every now and then some staff member passed by, smiled at me and shut them down. No complaints from me! - In the past week I enjoyed more orgasms than I did in the life I left behind!&lt;/p&gt;</description></item><item><title>Living Doll: Model Amara</title><link>/stories/1/01/01/living-doll-model-amara/</link><pubDate>Mon, 01 Jan 0001 00:00:00 +0000</pubDate><guid>/stories/1/01/01/living-doll-model-amara/</guid><description>&lt;p&gt;The door closed behind the manager with a definitive click. I was alone. No way back. There were only two doors in this room. The one that just had been locked and the one leading out into the plant. This room represented the end of my former life and the beginning of&amp;hellip;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;I tried not to think of it. I shivered. Both from fear and because I was totally naked. Well - even more than naked. The clothes I wore when I arrived to the address had been shoved into a bin and would be sent to destruction together with other garbage - I wouldn&amp;rsquo;t need it anymore. I felt a ripple down my spine. The room was not cold, but I was not used to be naked in public. Yes I was alone in the small room, but I knew I was monitored. I could see at least three lenses pointing in my direction. And I knew I would be monitored all through the process. Another shivering hit me.&lt;/p&gt;</description></item></channel></rss>