Page 14 of Little Doll

I pushed the skull in until it disappeared inside her and the long wooden cane hung out of her like a tail.

Her shriek must have been heard from miles around.

But I knew it wasn’t. Because, although we were in front of a window, I knew that the proprietors of this wonderful place went to great lengths to protect their clients.

Including cleaning up the mess.

I pulled the skull back toward me and then pushed it back inside. A few rotations such as that and she was screaming and squirming on the table again. I leaped back onto the table between those deliciously spread legs and thrust into her once again.

This time, I pumped hard and slow. Syncing the rhythm of skull’s pull in and out. She clenched madly at my cock, and I could feel the glorious ridges of the skull through her personal barriers, rubbing against me and her both.

When I became enchanted by the feel of my cock sliding in and out of her, hitting her as deep as she had to offer, I stopped moving the cane and just let the skull rest inside her ass while I fucked her mercilessly.

I breathed heavily and grunted, desperately wishing for the build but not there yet.

Izetta had gone a little more still beneath me, which snapped my attention back to her. She was weak and trembling. I gave the cane a little tug, and she jolted. I reached between us and accessed her clit.

I re-situated myself to get on my knees, arching her back to keep myself in her. This onlyproduced a soft groan of exhausted pain. Bent backward and stretched over my lap, I could see everything. The ornate wooden cane protruding from her. My thick cock in and out. And her throbbing clit, there for the taking. I rubbed a single finger on her clit, back and forth. Light and fast. Faster and faster. Thrusting. Little tugs of the cane. Though I already had her bent severely, she arched her back even more. Her body convulsed and her teeth clanged together. I rubbed still faster and finally I could feel my own release building, almost like a lump in the throat of someone who wanted to cry… Except in my cock…

I heard a wet squelching sound as thrust into her now and that was my undoing. I pulled out my cock and sent hot ribbons of cum painting her stomach, and the sudden removal of my cock triggered a massive spray of orgasmic fluids from her. That had never happened before.

Not with Izetta, anyway. It was, however, the second squirting orgasm I’d delivered in 48 hours.

I moved back and let her back fall flat against the table again. I slid off the table and stared at my work for a blissful second. Even though the cane remained lodged in her, she lay splayed still and spent. Dripping cum and sweat. Eyes closed, shallow breaths, with long gaps in between them.

I pulled the cane out and delighted at the sight of her pulsating asshole before tossing it away and bowing to look under the table. There was a crank there, which I began to turn. With an ominous clanking of gears and scraping metal, the table with Izetta locked to it rose up. Soon she was in a bizarre sort of standing position, but still entirely spread, and now with her weight hanging off her arms.

“It hurts,” she murmured. But it was a whisper, as if from a dream.

Next, I strolled behind the now upright table, grabbed it on either side, and turned it around, until she was displayed in the stained-glass window. Anybody who might me down at the street looking up could catch glimpses of shadows of her and me in the window. Shame there wouldn’t be anyone at this hour.

“Please, let me go,” she whispered.

I stood behind the table and produced my knife again from my jacket. Fisting my cock and stroking it, I clicked open the knife.

“I said I’d never let him hurt you again, my pet,” I whispered. The entire wooden table began to tremble.

I stroked my length and sighed.

Without stepping from behind the table, I reached around with the knife and dragged it across her throat, so deep that I felt her vocal cords sever.

The shaking of the table stopped instantly, and her body strained against her chains as she slumped without another sound outside of the quiet gush of her spurting blood.

I stepped around to see her, avoiding the spray of the blood. She looked glorious, eyes still open behind the haunting mask, head slumped to the side, and crimson red blood spraying down the front of her.

I reached forward and dragged a fingertip through the blood on her breast and then tasted it.

I grimaced. Oh, how I wish I could develop a taste for the stuff.

Chapter 7

Nova

When I finallywoke for good, I was calm.

My eyes fluttered open, and I lifted my hands to study them and found that they were now flawless and pale, delicate like a porcelain doll. No trace of the ugly black slashes remained. My body was cool and comfortable. I noted my head resting on a pillow and my long curls softly billowing out around me, brushed and smooth where the last I had awoken, it had been stringy and soaked with feverish sweat.

It was as if all the pain, all the suffering, had been but a nightmare.

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