Free Pretty Stolen Dolls by Ker Dukey, K Webster Page B

you keep us?” I find the words leaving my mouth before I can think. My sleepy state has left me bold.
    When his head turns to look down at me, I gulp and try not to wilt under his gaze.
    “You,” he says simply.
    “Me?”
    “I keep you.” His hand cups my cheek and my chest restricts me from inhaling air.
    His body surrounds mine, sucking the oxygen from the room, from my lungs.
    This is new.
    “You’re the prettiest doll I’ve ever seen.” His breath hits my face with a puff of heat.
    Pretty?
    He usually calls me the dirty doll.
    Never pretty.
    My skin crawls when his mouth comes closer and he inhales the space between my ear and shoulder. It tickles when he sighs and nuzzles against my hair. I’m used to his abuse. His cruel words. His starvation torture techniques.
    I’m used to hearing him go on and on about how much he loves to dress my sister in ridiculous dresses and how he paints her face like she’s a real life doll. I’m used to the way he bathes us with a rag and rubs our flesh raw.
    For three years, this has been our life.
    Us being his prisoners in a world that only makes sense to him.
    I’m not used to this.
    His gentle touch.
    The eager crackle of energy in the air.
    I’m terrified.
    Just as I’ve changed and grown into a woman over the years, he too has changed.
    He’s taller and his muscles bigger. The cut in his abs and the deep indents on his hips are more defined and prudent. His hair is longer and untamed for months at a time.
    “I want to play with my dirty little doll. I can’t wait any longer. Do you feel ready—old enough?” he pleads into my neck, his hands balling into fists at either side of my head.
    No…
    “Don’t,” I manage to choke out.
    He rises above me, piercing me with his hollow eyes.
    “I want to play with my dirty little doll.” His repeated words send a shiver of fear rippling through me. “You are mine. All mine. I’m not waiting anymore.”
    His tongue darts out and tastes my neck just below my ear. I’m frozen—too afraid to move. When his hand slides down the front of my bare chest and clutches onto my breast, the world spins around me.
    I’d outgrown my bra forever ago, the one I had when I arrived here.
    Arrived…like a hotel guest.
    When I defied him one time by refusing to take it off so he could wash me, he tore it and my panties from me and made me live naked ever since.
    “It’s time for me to love my dirty doll.” He strokes his hand over my face. “So damn pretty, perfect, this face.” His eyes swoop over me. “This body.” His knee jerks between my legs, forcing them to part. “Your precious, pure cunt.”
    Vomit burns in my throat and hot lava gushes from my eyes, burning my cheeks in the process.
    Wiggling beneath him in the hopeless act of trying to shake him off is met with resistance as his weight pins me to the bed.
    Hands splay and grope at me. The copper scent of blood from the slain dolly fills my nose. He shuffles on top of me, his feet tugging at the legs of his jeans, making them shift down his waist until his hot, hard length slaps against my stomach.
    I shake my head no as realization of what’s to come washes over me like a cold rain.
    “Don’t, please.”
    “I’m loving you,” he hisses, placing a hand over my mouth to silence me.
    Love.
    What a stupid word coming out of his hateful mouth.
    The only love I’ve ever felt was that of my sister and parents. Certainly not Benny. I’ll never feel love for this evil monster taking more of me than he already has. There will be nothing left.
    He lifts my leg over his arm, spreading me open. The prod of his member stabs at me until he reaches between our bodies and lines it up at my entrance.
    My eyes bulge as he shoves into me. I squeeze them shut, fire exploding behind my lids as I hold my breath and will the excruciating pain to subside.
    Why does it hurt so bad? Why would people choose to do this?
    His weight is still crushing me. His breathing is deep and