Rag Doll

by Catori, Ava

  Rag Doll

  Ava Catori

  Copyright 2014, Ava Catori

  This story is a work of fiction.

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  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 1

  Kendle turned away as they passed the intersection. Her face was expressionless, her body still. It was too painful to see her standing there. Shifting the attention back to Graham, she hid the ache deep inside. Kendle’s stomach knotted. Her sister, Cree, was selling her body at the corner of Fifth and Main.

  She wouldn't rest until she saved her, even if it meant dragging her kicking and screaming from the only life that helped her forget. They both found their own path to numb the past, but Kendle refused to let Cree waste her life, thinking that she didn't matter. She sold herself to the highest bidder; a sleazy exchange of time and money. Kendle never judged her though, not after what they’d been through. Kendle wasn’t a stranger to the life Cree was living. At one point, it was the only way to survive.

  Graham shifted in his seat. “I hate this part of town.” He apologized for the route they had to take due to construction, being forced through the seedier side of town.

  From the back of the limo, Kendle wore a fake smile and politely agreed. She didn't tell him that these streets were once her home, or that her sister was standing on the corner they’d just passed. Cree was selling her body, and Kendle was about to sell her soul.

  She couldn’t protect her little sister, not now and not then. Kendle ached to free her sister from the chains that held her down. The past was out of her control, but she’d be damned if she didn’t change the future.

  If Kendle could save her sister, she’d save herself in the process. Redemption and the desperate need to escape the guilt that plagued her were the only motivation she needed. She’d do whatever it took to make things right.

  She looked over at Graham. If he knew about her past the charade would be over. She needed Graham, and thankfully Graham needed her. The tendrils of fear twisted in her belly. He couldn’t know who she used to be, a street walker, no better than a two dollar whore.

  He’d found her waitressing at a greasy truck stop. He wasn’t the type to frequent those sorts of places, but he was putting together a book, photographing real life and real people. Kendle laughed at that. Wasn’t everybody real? In his eyes real meant gritty, raw, and hardworking. Was he that far removed from the working class? He’d been wealthy for too long and lost touch of his roots.

  Spotting Kendle had him seeing dollar signs. He saw her potential and a chance to climb back into the world he’d been cast out of. He desperately wanted to claw his way back into the fashion world. Kendle would be his golden ticket…his great discovery. He’d launch them both into the fame he desperately craved once again.

  Graham Sheppard was once the “it” man of the modeling world. Women clamored to have him take their pictures. His work was raw, and he managed to pull intense emotion from his models. His photos spoke volumes next to the average. He was a mastermind, and had an eye for perfection where others often couldn’t see it. He stood out. At one time, everyone wanted to work with Graham.

  The man who once had it all came undone. He fell from grace at the hands of a drug addiction. He blew through half of his fortune, putting it up his nose and popping pills like candy, and lost one too many clients as his dependability came into question. Pretty soon, nobody would work with him, his reputation taking precedence over his work. He was a washed up ‘has been,’ and while he had enough money to last him for ages, it was the fame he craved more than anything. The fake love and adoration filled him with an orgasmic high. He’d get it again, and Kendle was the key.

  Chapter 2

  She didn’t know. How could she? He’d been using her for so long…and then he went after her little sister. If she’d known, she’d have left sooner. The thought of the man made her stomach churn. Man, what a joke. He was a monster. She held back the urge to vomit and swallowed hard.

  When she found out about Cree, she knew they had to get out. Her insides were set on fire, from the horror of their reality. The moment she saw it happen, the last bit of spark she had in her life was extinguished. There was no reason to be here, no reason to live.

  It would be hard, but there were only a few other options. She didn’t have it in her to kill the monster, though she thought about it often. Her mother wouldn’t believe her. She didn’t believe her the first time she told her, or the second. By the thirty-fourth time, she barely felt a thing, numbing herself, getting lost in her mind until it was over. But the moment she knew he touched her little sister, she drew out of the hardened shell she wore for protection and yanked her sister free.

  They’d run away and live on the streets, whatever it took. How much worse could it be than being molested by your own father time and time again? She didn’t know about Cree. How could she? She thought she was the only victim. It was the middle of the night. She got up to use the bathroom. When she saw him sneaking into her sister’s bedroom, her stomach wrenched. She knew. In that instant, all bets were off.

  “Dad?” She called out, hoping to startle him. The sick, twisted bits in her belly told her what he was doing. She didn’t want to believe it.

  Spinning around, he demanded, “What are you doing up?”

  “Dad?” The fear in her face spoke volumes. She didn’t know. How could she? Her sister was his victim too. Kendle ran to the bathroom to vomit.

  He showed up in the doorway. “You didn’t see anything. I’d hate for something to happen.” His voice lowered, eerily. “I’ll kill you all, slowly and painfully.”

  He already had. Kendle had nothing left inside of her.

  She should have grabbed her mother, forced her to see for herself, but she wasn’t thinking when she called out to him.

  The past lived in her brain, vivid, like a fire breathing dragon. She barely heard Graham’s voice as the events of that night pulsed wildly in her mind.

  “…you’ll love Clarisse. She’s fabulous with up and coming girls. She’s a little critical, so don’t take any of it personal.”

  Kendle nodded absently. She was still lost in her own world. She heard the name, heard him talking, but barely put the words together. Another polite smile covered her lack of interest.

  Most girls would be falling over themselves for an opportunity like this, but Kendle wasn’t most girls. She had one goal and purpose, to save her sister, and to do that she’d use every chance she could get.

  If Cree couldn’t talk for herself, Kendle would do it for her. If Cree couldn’t find her self-worth, Kendle would search alongside of her. If Cree wouldn’t pull herself from the gutter, Kendle would drag her out. Saving Cree meant saving herself, and until they were both safe, Kendle would live in the twisted nightmare of the past.

  Chapter 3

  The limousine pulled up to a stack of tall buildings clustered like weeds in the jungle of the city. They all looked the same, only in this part of town the streets didn’t house prostitutes and they were neatly aligned with expensive cars. Parking garages were wedged in tight spaces, offering overpriced vehicles a place to shelter their bodies from weathered elements. Manicured trees were forced into the sidewalks surrounded
by iron wrought frames to tidy the neighborhood. Only the elite could afford this part of town.

  Graham had mentioned Clarisse to her once before. She was the key to all of this. He’d explained that she had ‘the eye.’ She’d know if Kendle would make it beyond catalog work. Catalog work sounded like a dream at this point. It was more money than slinging burgers to over-tired truckers who left small tips and called her “honey” or “sweetie” all day long. One too many wanted to touch her, and every single time she glared and threw icy daggers at the men.

  But this, this was a dream come true. She’d stand in front of a camera and let somebody pay her. This would be cake compared to the gigs she’d handled. She’d once stood on the street corner with her sister, but finally found her opening at a little truck stop. Once she started a new life, she left the old one behind. Kendle tried to convince Cree they could make it another way, but Cree said it numbed her pain. She wasn’t ready to leave the lifestyle behind.

  Graham led her into one of the brick buildings. Walking through the door, the building transformed itself into glass, texture, and strands of multiple colors decorating the walls. It was a lively building, artsy even, and after being buzzed in she knew she could happily just live in the hallway. She hadn’t even seen one of the condos that resided here.

  Clarisse opened the door and gave a fake greeting, air kisses to Graham that Kendle could see right through.

  “What have we here?” She eyed Kendle and held the door open. “What a lovely creature,” she sighed. “Graham, you may have outdone yourself.”

  Graham gave a smile, lapping up the praise like a dog that had been waiting patiently for his owner’s attention. “Isn’t she magnificent? I told you it would be worth your time.”

  Kendle was right there, though they spoke as if she wasn’t. Their eyes ran up and down her like some prized object.

  Clarisse circled the girl like a shark, taking her in at all angles. “This could work.” Tilting her head, her glasses slid down her pinched nose. “Darling, it’s about time you brought me something of quality. What does she go by?”

  “Kendle.” Turning his attention to the girl for only a nanosecond, he introduced them. “Kendle, this is Clarisse, the magnificent woman I was raving about.”

  “It’s nice to meet you.” She hated all this phony nonsense, but stood silently until she was asked to speak. Everything inside of her hated this, but if it meant a better future, she’d tolerate it.

  Besides, she’d once stood in black thigh-high boots while an artist drew her and then came all over her for a few bucks. She’d bent through a car window and jacked off men at traffic lights. And she’d blown more men than she could remember. If she could tolerate that, she’d tolerate them talking about her like she wasn’t here. She’d trained herself to keep her thoughts to herself. It was a matter of self-preservation.

  At least at the burger joint, the greasy truck stop that she learned to call home, she could use a flippant comment time to time to put a guy in his place. She didn’t do it often, because she knew her tips were a measure of how willing she was to take what was dished out. If they got touchy, she drew the line.

  There was just one small problem that could get in the way. Graham didn’t know her past. He’d found her at the truck stop passing out food. He didn’t know she’d worked the seedy streets of the city, and he didn’t know that she was broken, had been abused, and sold herself to the highest bidder.

  Only this time instead of selling her body, she was ready to sell her soul if Graham was willing to purchase it.

  A rise to fame sounded charming when it was the story of a hard working waitress being scooped out of her line of work to become a superstar. A corner whore didn’t offer the same quaint feeling. And the shame of her past was nothing next to her upbringing. She still didn’t know if the pictures he took of her were only in his possession, or if had he shared them in the filthy fetish colonies that dotted the web.

  She’d stood before a camera before, only this time she’d have clothes on and be of legal age. Her stomach churned again, remembering the damage her father had done. The sex, the photos… he’d shattered her mere existence, exploiting the weakness of a young woman.

  Kendle’s hand slowly slid across her stomach, as if the mere action alone would keep the bile down. A deep breath, casual and quiet, not to give anything away, and in a blink of an eye she’d forced the images out of her head for a few more moments in time.

  Clarissa and Graham were talking excitedly about her, not with her. She tried to focus on their voices to ground her back to reality. Her mind had a way of escaping at the worst moments possible.

  She felt the woman’s hand on her and flinched.

  “Gentle, pet, I’m not going to hurt you.” Turning to Graham, she said, “She’s a bit jumpy.”

  “She’s just not used to strangers touching her, darling. Modeling is a new way of life.”

  How ironic. Strangers touching her is how she fed herself for far too long. Strangers paying her to perform vile and disgusting acts, strangers groping and fondling her, fucking her, and paying for their animalistic needs was how she’d survived.

  “I think you’ve got something here,” the woman said, clucking her tongue. Her lithe frame looked almost skeletal. Her boney hips pressed through the tight clinging skirt she wore, and her collar bones jutted out with little meat to cover them. Her blonde hair was champagne colored, a shade taken from a box that didn’t match her dark eyebrows.

  The chain that held her glasses on reminded Kendle of an older woman. It was hard to tell this woman’s age. Tiny signs of age had been obliterated by plastic surgery, she was certain. And boxed color hid any signs of gray. She was older than she wanted to be, that was certain. She looked pulled together, but it was like she was trying too hard, a woman fighting the aging process tooth and nail, but not gracefully. Her heels were too high and her voice was dotted with the roughness of a heavy smoker.

  “She could stand to lose a little bit of weight, but don’t let her lose too much. Maybe five or ten pounds, but no more.”

  Lose weight. Ironic. She’d worked hard to put weight on now that she could afford to eat more regularly. There was a time she could barely afford a hot meal. That was one good thing about working at the truck stop, access to food.

  Sure she’d made money working the streets, but she didn’t get to keep it all. There were people to pay for the right to work on their streets. A commission. Even if you didn’t work for a pimp, you still paid for your safety.

  Kendle shivered inside. There were some scary people on the streets. She was glad to put that life behind her, yet another one. She’d reinvent herself hundreds of times if she had to.

  While the truck stop wasn’t fancy, it did give her a different life. It was exactly what she needed to find her identity once again. After leaving home, it was about survival. But once she scraped herself off the pavement, she searched for some form of quality in her life. If only she could convince Cree to do the same thing.

  Graham pulled her back to reality by clearing his throat. “What do you think? You’d need to shed close to ten pounds, and we don’t have a lot of time. Two to four weeks tops, so make it a priority.”

  Kendle nodded. Losing weight was easy when she could barely afford to eat. It would be hard to starve on purpose. Food was something she cherished at this point. When you’ve eaten out of dumpsters, a fresh meal was a king’s ransom. Now he was asking her to drop the weight that she’d only just re-added to her slender frame.

  Clarisse poked and prodded her. Kendle’s shoulders tensed feeling the woman’s hands on her body. She hated to be touched. Biting down on her cheek, she kept her feelings inside.

  “I think she’ll do nicely. Bring her back to me when she drops this baby fat that’s hanging on here.” She pointed to the slender girl. This Clarisse woman was insane. She barely had any fat on her body…she was pointing out flawed areas that weren’t even flawed. Kendle took it in, tryin
g not to give the weight of the woman’s words any value. Just go along with it. It will be worth it later.

  It was a step up. It meant money, more money. It meant a chance at a normal life, even a rags to riches story…as long as they don’t know about her past. Nobody knew her. She was a faceless stranger. Her secret was safe. The only ones that truly knew what she did were Kendle and Cree. Half of her clients were strung out, drunk, high, or didn’t bother looking at her face. They just wanted a body to use, to release their spunk into.

  Graham thanked Clarisse for her time, and babbled down the hallway as they headed back to the car. He was rambling a mile a minute, almost to himself. “This could be it. This could be your big break, and mine too. I’ll be back on top, like I belong.”

  The long dark limousine was waiting for them. “To the penthouse,” he instructed. The car drove off, blending seamlessly into the traffic.

  Penthouse. He has a penthouse. Just the fact that Kendle was sitting in the back of a limo was more than she could imagine. The only other time she’d been in the back was when a client rolled up and wanted a quick blowjob on the side of the road. She climbed in, collected her money, and climbed out. This time she was a passenger. If she played her cards right, she might have her own limousine one day. It didn’t hurt to dream, even if most of her dreams turned into nightmares.

  When he first saw her, she took some convincing. She thought he was joking.

  “I’m busy.” She shrugged. “What do you want to order?”

  “Fine. Bring me a cup of coffee and a slice of pie.”

  “Look, I get hit on all day long, so don’t think you’re special.”

  “I’m serious.” He pulled a card from his wallet. “Look me up, and then give me a call.”

  She tucked the card in her pocket, and then tossed it in the trash can in the back. She never even bothered to look at it. She knew guys like him, guys that used empty words, trying to woo a girl into sexual favors. No thank you.