DOLLY

by Stone, Measha

  Ken won’t tell me their real names, but he knows them. I’m sure one of them is the contact my father has in his cell phone. The name my father gave us—Mortimer. Yeah, Bossman looked like a Mortimer.

  “When they find your parents and they dust the place, they’ll find our prints, yes. But they’ll also find the closet with all the CDs,” Ken explains.

  Another thought sinks into my stomach. “People will watch them? They’ll see what I did.” Heat rises to my cheeks.

  “Dolly.” His hard tone makes me snap my attention back to him. “They’ll see the torture your father put you through, the other girls through. Nothing else.”

  “But—”

  He points a finger at me, stilling my objection. “No more talk of guilt. You carry none of it.”

  The waitress stops by and picks up his plate. “Ready for the check, or would you like more coffee?” It’s a question, but she doesn’t ask it that way.

  “Just the check,” Ken answers, not pulling his gaze from mine. He’s back to being bossy.

  I like him that way.

  “What movie do you want to see?” He opens the newspaper, and the front page flashes in front of me.

  The playhouse stares at me. A wrecking ball looms in front of the upstairs bedroom window. The room with the extra clothes. The room across the hall from the playroom.

  The headline screams at me.

  AIRPORT EXPANSION FINALLY UNDERWAY.

  Twenty

  KENDOLL

  “You’re not a khaki kind of guy.” Dolly scrunches her nose at the pair of pants I pulled from the rack. While she had found plenty of clothes for herself, plus what she grabbed from her bedroom, I was still sporting the same jeans I had on the day we escaped and managed to spill enough popcorn onto my lap at the movies to stain them. Not a high priority considering what we learned at breakfast, but it’s helping to keep Dolly’s mind off everything.

  “No?” I look back at the straight-legged corporate attire. “You’re right.” I shove the hanger between two others on the overcrowded rack.

  Dolly flips through the items and pulls out a pair of jeans with rips on the thighs and the knee cut out of one leg.

  I laugh. “Can we find a pair that’s not missing any pieces?” I pick up the leg with the hole.

  She raises her eyebrows. “It’s in fashion. I’ve seen lots of boys wearing stuff like this on campus.”

  I frown. How much of her college career was spent locked away at home or in a library?

  “I’m no college boy,” I remark.

  She searches me for a long moment, her gaze wandering up and down my body. “I guess not.”

  “What’s that mean?” The lighthearted jab lifts the worry from inside me. She’d been wound tight after the news article in the paper showed the playhouse about to be demolished. With her fingers tapping on the tabletop at the diner, I sped through the words until I was able to assure her there was nothing to worry about.

  The demolition was underway, but in wrecking the house, they would most likely destroy any evidence of our involvement. It was the only lie I told her, but until I knew more about what was happening over there, it made no sense to keep her wound up in panic.

  She lifts her shoulder in a dramatic shrug. “Only that you’re old.”

  I lunge for her, grabbing her waist and pulling her to me, pinching her belly until she squeals.

  “How old do you think I am?” I ask, releasing her. The salesclerk has made an appearance, and I don’t like audiences.

  She wipes the hair from her face, her smile lighting up my soul. Even with the fluorescent lighting trying to drown her in harsh rays, she outshines everything in the room.

  “Fifty?” she teases, ducking behind the rack, out of reach, but not too far away.

  “Oh, I think you’ll have to pay for that,” I warn with a smirk.

  “Okay, forty-nine?”

  My stomach rumbles with laughter. “Not a day over thirty-two.” I dip my chin and look at her with a mock sternness.

  She laughs, a full body trembling laugh, and the sound could not be more like heaven.

  I grab a few pairs of jeans—with no holes or tears—and motion her to the register. “Let’s get out of here.”

  Her bottom lip tucks between her teeth, still grinning at me.

  I shake my head at her. “No more trouble.” I point a finger in her direction. “You still need to pay for your little joke about my age. Don’t make it worse.”

  Her cheeks redden. “How much worse?” she whispers as we wind our way around the clothing racks.

  I reach down and grasp her hand, squeezing tight. “Well, naughty girls typically get spankings where I come from.” I haven’t spanked a woman in years. Hell, I haven’t been serious with one in even longer. But Dolly isn’t any woman, and my suggestion may have made my cock hard, but I could scare her.

  “Well, I suppose I was a little naughty.” She tightens her fingers around my hand. I pull us to a stop when we get to the register, before the cashier is in ear shot.

  “Dolly, I didn’t mean it for real. I would never hurt you.”

  Her smile fades. “You…you don’t want to spank me?” Her dilated pupils give me an inside look into her mind.

  “Oh, I do, but I don’t want to hurt you.”

  She sighs and tugs my arm hard. “You won’t.” She’s determined. “No one’s ever done that with me, Ken. It’s always been against my will and for bad reasons.”

  Her point resonates.

  “Then let’s get back to the room.” I pull her up to the register and toss the jeans down on the counter.

  We’re back in the motel in short order. Dolly walks to the middle of the room and turns to me, eyes wide with expectation. I kick the door closed and throw the lock, not that anyone in this place will be bothering us.

  Tossing the bag of jeans onto the desk, I make my way to her. Her gaze never leaves mine. She’s biting her plump, pink lip between her teeth again.

  “So.” I rest my hands on her shoulders. She’s still slim, it will take time to get weight back on her, but she’s perfect.

  “I teased you about your age,” she prompts when I don’t continue.

  The perfect hue of pink tints her cheeks as she nods. Her hair is loose around her shoulders, so I brush the locks back.

  “I’ll never hurt you,” I tell her. There was a time when the cries and yelps from a woman beneath my hand drove my libido, but I won’t chance harming Dolly. Not ever.

  “You won’t hurt me.” She picks up my arm and brings my hand to her mouth, placing a tender kiss to my palm. “Every time they hit me, it was from anger, from sick pleasure of taking what wasn’t theirs. You won’t do that to me.” She kisses my palm again, licking along the line arching toward my thumb. “Replace the bad with the good.”

  She doesn’t want me soft around the edges, which is good, because I don’t think I can be with her. I want her mewls and cries. I want to own her pain and gift her with pleasure. I aim to own everything about her, and the desire building in her eyes as my hands roam down her arms holds promise for what she’ll give me.

  I sit on the edge of the bed, throwing her across my knees. She gasps, but doesn’t try to get up. Flattening her hands on the floor, she tips herself farther downward, lifting her ass higher for me.

  I flip her t-shirt up her back and yank down her leggings. There are faded scars on her ass, the skin marred and painted with horrors of her past. I’m going to wash them all away and paint a new beginning on her flesh.

  “If you need me to stop, you just say so. Just say stop.” If she so much as hints at it, I’ll heed the warning. I will not put her through anything that doesn’t bring her the joy she deserves.

  “I will,” she promises, craning her head around so she can look up at me. Cheeks flushed from her positioning and her smile wide, she’s ready.

  I’m not even going to pretend not to love this. My cock is hard and pressing against her. Once her ass is n
ice and pink, I’m going to fuck the hell out of her.

  Her ass is warm beneath my hand as I run it over her cheeks. The first smack makes her jolt, but she keeps silent. I drag my hand over her cheeks and bring my hand down hard again, watching the little bounce of her ass. Fuck. My dick twitches.

  Steady and firm, I pepper her ass with spanks. Her right leg slips from my lap, spreading her for me. When she clenches from the impact, her pussy presses into leg, dampening my jeans. Each yelp and moan feeds into my craving for more, until finally she gifts me with a low groan.

  I stop spanking her, soaking in the deep crimson of her ass. Shoving her leggings down farther, I yank them from her legs, which she spreads immediately for me. She pushes her feet to the floor and arches until her ass is lifting off my lap, her pussy on display for me.

  The spanking, an appetizer to the fun, is over. I slide my hand up from her knee to the warmth between her legs. She’s soaked for me. Pressing two fingers to her entrance has her moaning again, louder, deeper than when I was spanking her.

  “You like this?” I ask, dipping my middle finger into her pussy up to my second knuckle.

  “Yes,” she says breathlessly. I could keep her like this all day, spanking and playing with her, letting her create music for me with her cries and yelps. But her pussy contracts around my finger, and I want to be enveloped in her heat.

  I plunge two fingers fully inside and pump in and out of her while she wiggles her hips for me. It’s not too much—no, she’s whining because it’s not enough. She wants the burn and stretch my cock will bring her.

  She only needs to ask.

  “Do you want something, Dolly?” I grab her ass cheek with my left hand and pull it away. Her asshole peeks up at me between her red globes as her pussy opens wider.

  “Ken.” She sucks in air as I bend my fingers, playing with the secret spot inside her that makes her toes curl.

  “You have to ask, Dolly.” I grin down at her, even though she’s given up trying to see me. Her hair covers her face as she stares at the floor beneath her.

  “Ken, please. Fuck me.” There’s no tremor in her voice, only determination and need.

  I remove my fingers from her and flip her off my lap and onto the bed. While she scrambles out of her shirt, I climb out of my clothes. I’m naked, and she’s lying on the bed, propped up on her elbows, watching me like prey waiting to be eaten.

  Grabbing her ankle, I pull her closer to the end of the bed before I climb over her. Skin to skin, we lie. I trail kisses up her body, between her breasts, along her jaw, until I reach the tender spot behind her ear. I nip and lick.

  Her hands are everywhere on me, feeling me as though she wants to never forget me. She arches upward, kissing my shoulder, framing my face and drawing me back to her until she can press her mouth against mine.

  She began, but I will lead. My tongue sweeps past her lips, taking us deeper and harder. My cock presses against her pussy, and I reach between our bodies, rubbing her clit until she breaks free of my kiss to cry out in pleasure. Lining my cock up with her entrance, I look down at her.

  “You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever met,” I tell her. And it’s not bullshit. Not a line to get down her pants, or a lustful statement to further our libidos. It’s the truth. Plain and simple.

  A blush overtakes her cheeks. “I’m just me,” she whispers.

  “And you’re everything,” I say, plunging my cock into her hard while taking her mouth in another passion-fueled kiss.

  Her warmth surrounds me, pulling me deeper as I begin to thrust. I can’t get enough of her. Her kisses, her touches, her pussy—all of her melds into me as I fuck her harder and harder.

  She pulls her legs up, gripping my cock harder.

  “Fuck,” I groan, breaking off the kiss and pumping into her faster. “Fuck.”

  Her nails dig into my shoulders. “Behind, Ken. Fuck me from behind.”

  Any ability I had to argue went out the window the moment my dick slid inside her. I nod so she knows I heard her and slip out. She scrambles to her hands and knees, fitting herself in front of me. Her ass, still pink, wiggles at me while she grins at me over her shoulder.

  “Not soft,” she orders, and I almost snap. Yes, ma’am.

  Gripping her hips, I don’t waste any time giving my girl what she wants—what she demanded. One thrust, and I’m balls deep inside her. My nails bite her skin as I plow into her.

  The bed squeaks, but it’s drowned out by Dolly’s grunts. She grabs the headboard to steady herself as my cock drives into her.

  I grip her hair, fisting it and pulling her head back until she’s groaning louder.

  “Fuck. Fuck. Fuck,” she chants.

  Slipping around her waist, I find her clit. She didn’t want gentle, and she’s not going to get it. Not from me.

  I’m an asshole.

  I want this to hurt.

  I want her to take the pain and mold it into something beautiful for me.

  Pinching her clit gets a rile from her. She bucks up, but she can’t get away. I release her hair, gripping her bundle of nerves again.

  “Ken!” she screams, but not in the horrific way I’ve heard her cry out before. No, she’s doing exactly what I want her to do: she’s accepting it.

  Her cunt clenches around my cock. Hot, wet, and tight, she’s torturing me in her own way—in the best of ways.

  “Are you going to be a good girl for me now?” I ask, bucking my hips and driving her forward on the bed. She stumbles forward, but I won’t let her rest, not yet. I yank her head back until she’s off her hands, dangling above the mattress.

  “Yes. Yes. Yes. Good girl.” The words come out as she sucks in air.

  “You’re close, aren’t you? My girl wants to come?” I tease her clit, gentling my touches while plowing into her from behind.

  “Yes. Please…oh, fuck, please, Ken.” She swings her arms behind her, grabbing onto me, trying to hug me to her.

  I shove her back down, face into the pillow.

  “Ass up.” I release her hair to smack her ass. She groans. “Higher,” I demand, smacking her again. A tremor works its way through her body, vibrating on my cock.

  “Like that. Good girl,” I croon, stroking her clit, alternating between hard and soft until she’s bucking back at me with as much fervor as I could hope for. She’s chasing her release.

  She’s so open and telling with her desires. I’ll never her let her be shoved into a box again. Out where she’s wild and free—that’s where she lives now.

  “Ken!” She screams into the pillow. Her pussy clenches tight, then releases in a wave of spasms that dissolve the very last bit of restraint I have.

  I pump into her tightness again and again, then still as my body releases from my control. My vision darkens, and the sounds of the room warp into strung out waves.

  I collapse on her, but brace myself with my hands so I don’t crush her. Her labored breathing mingles with a soft sigh. I kiss her cheek, and a smile tugs at her lips.

  “You okay?” I ask, slipping from her body. I blanket her with my body.

  “So much better than okay,” she assures me.

  I brush a lock of hair from her forehead.

  “Think you learned your lesson?” She brings out the corny jokes from me. She laughs, so I’ll forgive her for it.

  “I’ll never accuse you of being fifty again.” She tries to pull off a serious face, but it cracks. “Next time, I might assume sixty.”

  I fall to her side and grab her into a hug. My cum is leaking from her and getting all over the bed, but I don’t give a fuck. I have my girl in my arms, and she’s smiling and sated.

  What could be better than that?

  Twenty-One

  DOLLY

  Potato chips can solve almost any problem, I’ve learned in the days I’ve been with Ken outside the playhouse. Mom and Dad never kept any in the house, and I wasn’t allowed to eat such treats anyway. They would fatten me up, and I neede
d to stay trim. For health reasons they said, but I know better now. Daddy needed to keep me small so I could be the perfect dolly for him and others.

  “Careful, you’re going to get a stomachache,” Ken warns me as he returns from the bathroom.

  I pop the last chip in my mouth and crumple the bag in my hands.

  “Aren’t you bored?” I ask him, swinging my legs off the bed. It’s been two days since the playhouse was demolished, and I’m taking no news as good news. Nothing in the papers or the news reports mentions anything about the playhouse or my parents being found.

  “I found something interesting.” Ken clicks the laptop to life. He’s been going through all the stuff he downloaded from Daddy’s computer. I went to the cafe across the street to get us donuts while he watched the videos. He didn’t want me to see them, and I had no inclinations to disagree.

  “What?” I toss the chip bag in the trash.

  He turns the computer toward me. “Queenhearts is still active on the web.”

  My blood runs cold, freezing me for a moment. “You can see her?” I ask once the shock thaws enough. “Can she see you? She knows what you look like,” I rush out, worried.

  “No, it’s okay. I have a user ID and no pictures. People don’t like putting their faces on these sorts of sites. I don’t have a picture of her either, but I can see her activity.” He points to the list of logins on the screen. “She’s been watching old sessions on the Dolly for Hire site.”

  I wrap my arms around my middle. “You didn’t take the videos down?” He’s been letting other people see all the horrible things I did while I was in the playroom. Men and women were still having fun at my expense. Laughing at me. Using me for their benefit.

  His hands on my waist pull my focus back to him.

  “I didn’t because I wanted to watch the activity.” His voice is soft, like I’m a scared kitten who will run away if he gets too loud. Even kittens have claws.