Page 30 of Pretty Stolen Dolls

And then it does.

Whateveritis.

Blinding white light explodes around me in my pitch black cell. A pleasure I never knew existed possesses my body until I’m shuddering without abandon. Nothing makes sense. Benny hurts me. And now he touches me in ways that feel good.

I’m lost in my thoughts when his heavy body falls over mine, crushing me beneath him.

I can feel his…

“Oh God,” I moan when the tip of his penis pushes against my slick opening.

I start to cry out in disgust of myself. I have mixed reactions and emotions, my mind telling me one thing, but my body saying another. Human contact in any form after a while becomes longed for.

His mouth on mine silences me. He’s never put his mouth on mine. He’s never kissed me on the lips.

What’s happening?

“Shhh,” he murmurs, hot breath tickling my lips as he begins pushing his thickness deep inside me.

He doesn’t normally care if he hurts me.

He loves to hurt me.

I don’t understand.

I sob as the pain of letting him bring such pleasures conflicts me. His thrusts increase and he begins pounding away, getting rougher, plowing into me so hard, my body jolts and shifts beneath him. It feels as though he’s ripping me in two. And for all I know, maybe he is. Maybe he’s going to rip me apart and consume the remnants of my soul.

“Shhh, I love you, pretty little doll.”

Sobs choke my throat as tears streak down my cheeks, causing me to hyperventilate. It’s official. I’m in hell. He remains still inside me while I attempt to catch my breath.

“You’re mine. All mine. Love me, my pretty little doll,” he murmurs, his lips finding my neck. He suckles my flesh and begins kissing me in an almost reverent way that confuses me. I’m so caught up in his kisses, I don’t realize he’s also massaging just above where he’s inside me. Curls of pleasure begin to build again and the pain of him within me subsides.

And I need…

I lie there, my hands fisted at my sides, but as he makes me feel good again, the urge to touch him takes over.

Contact. Connection.

My fingers skitter up his sculpted shoulders as a fantasy begins playing in my mind.

That he loves us now.

He’ll be kind.

He’ll let us go.

He’s changing. This will all be over soon.

The thought is fleeting. He will never let his dolls go.

His lips find mine again and he kisses me with an emotion I feel down to my very being. He believes this is love. That this is real.

It’s not.

But if I play along, maybe he’ll take me out of my cell.

I could see Macy…

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