Damaged Doll (Broken Doll Series Book 2)

by Zoe Blake

  “Hey, it fits!” she proudly announced as she cruelly twisted her fist.

  My jaw ached as the corners of my lips split.

  “Watch out. You’re tearing her lips,” warned someone.

  In one brutal motion she wrenched her fist out of my mouth. My lips tore further as I screamed in agony.

  “Max, shove a beer in her pussy while I fuck her asshole,” cried out an unknown face already positioning himself between my legs.

  John’s friend Max obliged by forcing the blunt wide end of the beer bottle into my already stretched pussy. The cold glass made me shiver all over again as it pressed deeper into my body. Two hands grabbed my ankles and lifted my body till my ass was in the air.

  “Fuck her good, Dan.”

  A hard cock entered my asshole.

  “Fuck! Fuck! What the fuck!”

  The shaft was pulled free so quickly it felt as if my skin tore.

  Then fingers were being jammed into my unprotected hole.

  Owe! Owe! Stop it!

  Something metal scraped my insides.

  “What the fuck! A fucking bottle cap was shoved up there. Nearly tore my dick in half.”

  “Bad whore. Bad whore!”

  Two of the women began to slap my breasts as punishment as they laughed and spilled their wine on my stomach.

  “Fucking whore!” said Dan with the now bleeding cock. I watched in horror as his arm raised up. With his palm down, he slammed it against the lip of the beer bottle wedged in my pussy. It pushed the bottle so far in, my plastic hole closed around it.

  A scream was torn from me as I felt the large bottle sink into my body. It was agony. It felt like I was being kicked from the inside out. The wrenching throb didn’t abate. My stomach twisted as once more I felt like I was going to throw up, knowing I couldn’t.

  With the bottle wedged tight in my pussy and the men worried about fucking my ass, they decided to just cover me in cum instead.

  The women at the party watched as all the men grabbed their cocks and began to roughly jerk themselves off as they stood over me.

  The first shot of hot cum hit my right breast. Then someone aimed for my mouth.

  “That’s it. Make the whore swallow your jizz!”

  Another man covered my left eye. His cum stung as it coated my glass eyeball. There was another gooey warm shot of cum in my mouth and several on my breasts. There was so much cum on my stomach it dripped between my legs and down my ass crack.

  I was surrounded by the warm musky scent of cum. I could taste it. Feel it. My skin began to itch as the viscous substance began to cool and dry.

  “Cheers to the best fucking party ever!” shouted someone as they clinked their bottles over my prone, jizz-covered body. Then several raised their full beers high and tipped them over. Cold sudsy liquor rained down over me in a mock golden shower, and I was actually grateful because it washed the cum out of my eyes.

  Nine

  I’m staring at white tile surrounded by grout stained gray with dirt with the cold smooth surface of a toilet seat pressed against my stomach. I can hear John running water into a bath tub.

  I’m trying to temper my excitement. For the first time since this whole nightmare began, I am feeling what I can only assume is happiness. A bath! An actual bath. All the dried cum and marker smears will be washed from my battered body. Maybe this means he will start to take better care of me. Maybe I’ll get some hair and be allowed to wear clothes again. I’m almost too afraid to hope. For now, I’m focusing on the wonderful sound of rushing clean water as it fills the tub. I hope it’s warm! It probably will be. Not for my comfort as I’m not so foolish enough to think John suddenly cares about an inanimate object, but the only way to clean something is with warm water, so I figured I have a chance of a warm bath.

  I can hear the sputter of a soap bottle being squeezed.

  Soap!

  If I could cry, I would. I never thought I would be so grateful for something as simple as a bath.

  John lifts me up and places me in the water.

  It’s hot. Scalding hot. Too hot.

  I start to scream.

  My body floats on the molten surface.

  Placing his hands on my breasts, he pushes me under the water. Piercing pain blossoms over every inch of skin as the searing heat of the water penetrates.

  He releases me, and I float upright again. Gasping for breath.

  Once more he grabs my sore breasts and pushes me under.

  I hold my breath as I can feel his rough hands scour my scorched skin. He then pushes his fingers into my mouth and swirls them about before reaching between my legs to dislodge the beer bottle pushed deep into my pussy. The hot water has softened my plastic body and the bottle thankfully slides out. I felt a rush of relief as the pressure was finally eased.

  Releasing his grip, I bob to the surface again.

  “Fucking jizz. I should just throw this fucking thing out,” mutters John angrily.

  This time he steps on my stomach, forcing me below the surface.

  Bubbles ripple out of my open mouth as my lungs seize. My whole body begins to cramp as I can no longer hold my breath… water rushes in. Everything hurts.

  My head starts to pound as I feel the water push into every orifice.

  Weighing me down.

  John lifts his foot, but I stay under the water. In a mockery of the blood that should be pumping through my veins, I can feel the warm water as it courses into my hollow form.

  I can’t breathe.

  I can’t breathe.

  I realize with dawning horror that I am dying.

  Again.

  And I can’t even call out to god for help or forgiveness.

  God doesn’t listen to the pleas of the damned.

  I watch as a single bubble escapes my mouth. It floats to the surface and then bursts.

  Then, only darkness.

  Ten

  Something is wrong.

  Different.

  I feel different.

  I feel.

  I can actually feel a heartbeat in my chest again. Alarmed by the foreign sensation, I instinctively raise my right arm to place my hand over my left breast to feel the subtle throbbing pulse.

  I raised my arm.

  I raised my arm.

  I moved!

  Oh, my fucking god. I fucking moved!

  Lifting my hand before my face, I wiggle my fingers and wonder at the ease of it. There is no focused anger or concentration. No crushing disappointment. Just the deceivingly simple gesture of my very own fingers wiggling.

  I run my hands over my upper thighs. Relishing in the comforting feel of cloth.

  I’m clothed.

  A warm feeling of safety and protection enfolds me as I realize I actually have clothes on. No longer am I naked and exposed to humiliation. With a start, my hand flies to the back of my head. My fingers delve into soft curls. Hair.

  I gasp with surprise, at the same moment realizing my lips had been closed. Not open in an obscene “o” waiting for the next cock, fist or beer bottle. Closed.

  “Helen.”

  A voice breaks into my reverie.

  “Helen. Please pay attention, this is very important.”

  Who is Helen?

  “I am not going to sign off on the judge’s order if all you do is sit there and make rude gestures at me,” said the exasperated voice.

  Dropping my hand, I focus on the woman sitting across from me. She is older. Her gray hair was pulled back in a severe bun. A pair of tortoise-shell glasses have slipped down to the tip of her nose. Her eyebrows are drawn close in a severe expression of anger and annoyance.

  “Helen. You haven’t answered my question.”

  Who is Helen?

  Am I Helen?

  In confusion, I look about me. On my lap is a folded piece of paper. Ignoring the exasperated sigh from the older woman, I unfold it and read. It is a court order for anger management therapy sessions for a Helen Bryan.

  �
�If you won’t talk to me, perhaps you’d like to write down your feelings,” said the older woman as she placed a small notepad and pen on my lap.

  I pick up the pen, still marveling at my ability to do so. I roll the cold piece of smooth metal between my fingertips.

  “That is enough, Helen. I’m afraid I’m going to have to inform Judge Murphy that you are completely uncooperative and perhaps a jail sentence would be a more appropriate response to your recent transgression.”

  My body moves in one smooth, effortless motion. Bracing my left hand against the old woman’s shoulder I raise my right arm.

  “My name isn’t Helen… it’s Jane.”

  With that, I stab her in the throat with the pen over and over till her body is nothing but a soulless, dead object.

  Jane the murderess lives.

  About Zoe Blake

  USA TODAY Bestselling Author in

  Dark Romance & Horror.

  We are all attracted to the forbidden. Addicted to the rush we get from reading something naughty...something kinky. We love to lose ourselves in the fantasy. The powerful lord who sweeps the lady away to his remote estate to ravish her. The cowboy who takes the sassy city girl over his knee to teach her a lesson. The devilishly charming pirate who seduces his beautiful captive.

  I write those dark fantasies.

  Check out Zoe’s website here!

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  For more of my books check out my Amazon Page!

  BROKEN DOLL SERIES

  No One is Coming to Save Her.

  Broken Doll, Book One

  My last memory is of the accident.

  The rancid smell of gasoline and the silence...the deafening silence.

  Then there was only darkness...and him.

  I am his captive.

  His broken doll.

  There is no escape.

  No hope.

  No one is coming to save me.

  Damaged Doll, Book Two

  I’m property.

  Something to be passed around - used, abused, owned.

  I have no power to stop him.

  No choice but to submit.

  But I’ve just learned why I’m trapped in this hell…

  I will escape my fate.

  And then they will be the ones who are sorry.

  Damned Doll, Book Three

  God doesn’t listen to the pleas of the damned.

  I’ve been given a second chance.

  A chance to set things right.

  A chance for revenge.

  I will make them pay.

  They all will pay for every degradation, every humiliation, every moment they treated me like an object…like their property.

  God didn’t listen to my pleas for mercy…let’s see if he will listen to theirs.

  Coming Soon!

  DANGEROUS DADDY SERIES

  Dominant. Demanding. Dangerous.

  Fight Me, Daddy - Book One

  No one screwed with him...ever.

  Logan had a fierce reputation.

  He was cruel, calculating and very dangerous.

  Above all, he got the job done - by any means necessary.

  When he is hired to retrieve information from a young woman who has fled to an isolated cabin, he decides to amuse himself with the powerless female.

  He'll make her submit to his every depraved desire.

  Subjecting her to pain and punishment, he won't relent, not even when she submits and calls him Daddy.

  She can beg and plead her innocence all she wants, but he won't stop.

  And if his little plaything decides to fight him?

  Even better.

  Own Me, Daddy - Book Two

  Michael was a Marine, hard-wired to conquer and claim.

  When Phoebe walked into his office lying thru her pretty red lips, his first impulse was to throw her over his desk and take possession.

  The more she tried to deceive him, the more determined he became to bend her to his will and maker her call him Daddy.

  She was about to find out how dangerous it was to deny him.

  He owned her, whether she liked it or not.

  Bite Me, Daddy - Book Three

  Paine was not just his name, it was his profession.

  So when an upstart thief tries to kill him, he can think of nothing more pleasurable than teaching her a very painful lesson.

  She was about to learn how Paine earned his dangerous reputation.

  He would have her on her knees, begging him not to hurt her, submitting to his demand to call him Daddy.

  And if his little kitten showed her claws and sharp teeth?

  Daddy will bite back.

  Grab All Three!

  Dangerous Daddy Box Set

  DARK FANTASY

  This is no fairtytale.

  Snow & the Seven Huntsmen, Book One

  This is no fairytale…

  They’ve been sent to break me.

  Not one, but seven.

  They plan to steal my beauty, my innocence.

  Seven Hunters to track me down and claim me as theirs.

  I try to run, but it is hopeless.

  They have caught me.

  I am their prey, their prize, to do with as they please.

  But I will capture something far more precious… the Huntsmen’s hearts.

  Red & the Wolves, Book Two

  This is no fairytale…

  As the Blood Moon rises, I’ve been chosen.

  Chosen to serve, to obey…to die…for no one survives their time with the Wolves.

  As I am dressed in the ceremonial Red Hood, all I can think of is escape.

  But there is no escape.

  The lives of my village depend on my submission to the accursed Wolves.

  There are five of them.

  Five men cursed to live as Wolves.

  Cursed for generations, forced to protect my village from the dark forces.

  But they demand a heavy price for their protection. Me.

  Five against one…against me alone.

  My only hope for survival is to tame the wolves…but submission is not in my nature.

  Queen & the Kingsmen

  This is no fairytale…

  Captured and imprisoned.

  They seek to break my curse by breaking me.

  They want to know what I did to Briar Rose, but I will never tell

  And I will not submit, no matter what tortures they have planned.

  I am stronger than the Kingsmen.

  Not just one man, but four.

  For I am the powerful and feared Queen.

  My curse will stand.