Page 17 of Seth’s Doll

Additionally, I’m wondering if I’m doing more harm than good by handling my daughter with… well… kid gloves. What’s going to happen to her when she goes to school? She starts Kindergarten in only six more months. Children can be fucking assholes. I know that from lots and lots of experience. Experiences that continued all the way up through college—never mind the fact that I was almost a decade younger than all my peers. I might’ve been genius-level book smart, but I didn’t have the life experience or the upbringing to know how to recognize manipulative motherfuckers and defend myself against them.

Fuuuck, even I just used manipulation to get Luna to do what I wanted—no matter if it was done specifically to protect her, so she wouldn’t get her feelings hurt. Is that just making her more susceptible to it? Will her dad doing that to her, the one man in the entire world she’s supposed to be able to trust a hundred percent, make her think that’s normal and what people should do to one another? Will it make her weak against coercion when she’s older?

Am I doing Luna a disservice by not jumping on every teachable moment I can, to prepare her for life, how sometimes we have to do things just because we’re told, because they’re the rules, the law? That there are times when she won’t be allowed to justify her actions or talk her way into or out of things, even when she believes with her whole heart that she’s right? What will she go through when she gets into trouble for something I never took the time to teach her is actually a no-no?

And since I’m not doing that, it’s fallen on Twyla to try to do all of it, to essentially pick up my slack, on top of trying to be a type of parent she wouldn’t choose to be if given the opti?—

“Seth!”

My name being yelled in Doc’s “Dad voice”—the strong, authoritative tone that makes a kid’s ass clench with dread, which, come to think of it, I’ve never once even come close to using on my daughter—startles me out of my spiraling internal crisis. My ass, in fact, clenching with dread.

When I meet his eyes, his head nudges in the direction of his study. I nod, and we both stand, everyone’s stare darting back and forth between the two of us.

No one says a word. No one pokes fun or jokes about me “being in trouble.” They know better. They’ve all been in my exact spot. On multiple occasions. So they know what this feels like. They also know Doc takes his job as our leader extremely serious, and he wouldn’t call any one of us out like this unless he felt it important. Especially on one of our birthdays.

The only reaction besides quiet respect comes from my wife. She stands from her seat before I make it past her, places her small hand gently along my bearded jaw, and looks deep into my eyes with so much unconditional love that my chest fills with equal parts comfort and shame. I lean down and kiss the tip of her nose, using my pointer finger to guide her glasses back into place, and give her what I know is a reassuring smile.

All the while thinking, How could I have done this to the only woman I’ve ever loved?

CHAPTER 10

Seth

Normally, I’d sprawl across the couch, fold my hands together on top of my torso, and stare up at the ceiling like patients do in every therapy-session scene ever filmed. But I know Doc’s couch in his home office is off limits. I know this, because I made the mistake of sitting on it four years ago, and the man threatened me with bodily harm if I didn’t remove myself from it immediately.

A threat like that coming from a man as calm-natured as he is intimidating-looking had me hopping up like my ass was on fire, no questions asked.

This is why I trudge directly to the chair across from it and collapse into it, and I watch my best friend take a seat on the couch that shall not be sat upon by anyone but him and his wife. He leans back and rests his ankle on his opposite knee, trying to appear relaxed, but his voice gives him away.

“Wanna vent about whatever it was that had you so spaced out that you didn’t hear me call your name five times before I had to yell?”

“Shrinky voooice,” I tell him, but my usual playful tone isn’t in it.

“Yeah, yeah. I don’t think this is a night you want to waste a bunch of time in here, alone with me, and talking about your feelings. So how about we skip the banter, and you just answer my question?” he counters.

I lift my brow at him. “You know Twyla’s surprise, don’t you?”

“Of course I do.”

While I want to press him for details, a bigger part of me doesn’t want to ruin my wife’s gift. It’s obviously important to her if she’s put in so much work to keep it under wraps and sworn our friends to secrecy. She’s usually the type who can’t keep a gift she’s gotten for someone a surprise if it’s meant for a birthday or holiday. If she gets it too far in advance, she can’t stand the wait and goes ahead and gives it to them. And then she’ll feel guilty that she won’t have something to give them on the special day, so she gets them something else too. So, if she’s actually been able to control herself, then I’m proud of her and will reward her with a genuine reaction. She puts so much thought into anything she ever gets people, especially me. Whatever it is, I’m sure I’ll love it.

And I seriously have no idea what it could be. Doc has kept me in the loop about her recent sessions and the progress she’s been making, using exercises to build up her self-esteem and learn to have more control over her fear instincts. But as far as the present she either purchased or made for me? No clue.

My only real guess, if I piece together little clues from the past week, is she got me a brand-new sex toy that just hit the market, one that hasn’t been brought to my attention at the club yet and I would need to educate myself on… with hands-on experience.

That could be why she felt the need to build some extra confidence and try to be able to stop from freezing—this toy intimidates her.

I had another idea pop into my head, but it was too crazy to even entertain. My doll is entirely too possessive—adorably so—to share me with anyone, not even someone who isn’t a living, breathing human. So I immediately shut down my harebrained thought that she might be gifting me a threesome with her and the new sex doll she ordered for the shop. And thank God for that, because I would’ve had to hurt my wife’s feelings by telling her I didn’t want her present.

Fake or not, I have absolutely zero desire to touch anyone other than my beautiful Twyla. That goes for other toys men stick their cocks in to get off. Pocket pussies, cock sleeves, and all the other male masturbators do nothing to pique my interest.

The various parts of Twyla’s irresistible body, on the other hand, is a-whole-nother story.

She’s all I’ll ever need.

“Something my wife said at the table made me realize what a shitty Dom I’ve been for her,” I confess, and my statement surprises Doc. Whether it’s because I didn’t annoy him into giving me details about the surprise or because of what I said, I can’t be sure.

And for once, I’ve struck him speechless, so I answer the question I know would be his next one.

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