Page 7 of Dolly

Beardman rocks over me, his cock bruising, tearing into me with each thrust. Tears burn my eyes as I become wet, my body creating enough lubrication to ease some of the pain.

“Fuck. That’s right, Dolly. Get your pussy good and wet for me. You like this, don’t you, you dirty dolly,” Beardman says between grunts. My body is trying to protect me, to make the pain stop, but Beardman knows how to make it hurt deep in my chest.

“A good, slutty, dirty dolly for me.” He buries himself deep into me, grinding his hips into my body.

Hide. Hide. I try to fall back into the dark corner of my mind, but the sound of my juices on his cock while he continues his twisted dance won’t let me run away.

I’d make my cunt dry if I could. No matter the pain, I’d rather keep him from getting this satisfaction. He shouldn’t get to have this part of me.

The computer dings again, and I bite down hard on my lip.

“On those pretty tits,” Bossman says, and he starts playing with the ropes again.

“Now. Fuck yeah, now,” Beardman cries out. He never takes long. It’s my only reprieve with him.

The ropes creak as they twist and dig into my wrists. The room spins. Down becomes up. It blurs my vision, and my skin burns. My legs are jerked again. I press my lips together, stifling my cry.

I try to turn away, but Bossman digs his fat fingers into my hair, forcing me to watch Beardman jerk his cock over my chest. Hot ropes of cum land on my breasts, searing me with his demented pleasure. The thick white liquid slides over my skin, making me the dirty dolly they call me. By the time his last grunt passes his lips, I’m painted in his scent. A musky stench I won’t be able to cleanse from my mind as easily as my body.

“Fuck, her cunt is good.” He tucks his dick back in his pants.

Bossman lets go of my hair and checks the monitor again.

“They’re happy,” he announces, and finally, I can breathe. It’s the end. It’s over. I can go back to my cell, ease my aching muscles on the cot, and try to forget.

Bossman maneuvers me out of the ropes, but he doesn’t give Beardman the order to take me back. The cameras are still on. Why are they still blinking?

He forces me to the corner near the bed and shoves a stuffed rabbit in my hands. “You stand here like the naughty girl you were today. You think about the ways in which you’ll be better next time. Don’t move a muscle, Dolly. Not a single muscle.” He pats my shoulder and disappears.

My nose is in the corner. My joints are on fire.

Stand here?

For how long?

My legs wobble.

“Don’t be naughty, Dolly.” Bossman’s voice echoes in my head as the door closes with a soft click.

Silence fills the room, making the air thick.

My knees buckle, but I keep myself upright.

Maybe I can move a little.

The computer pings.

I choke back a sob.

Five

KENDOLL

The girl is still sleeping in her cell. Hanging limp over the shoulder of one of the goons, he’d dumped her on the floor, dropped a metal bucket next to her, and slammed the door on his way out.

I grab hold of the bars and pull myself to my feet. Every muscle in my back rages, but I force myself through it. The pain breaks through the heavy fog in my head, giving me a moment of clarity.

Rubbing my hands over my eyes, I chase down a blip of a memory. I stretch my body, letting the ache work itself out, but the pain in my ass isn’t going to go away with a little yoga pose.

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