Possessed: The Dollhouse, Part One (7 page)

“
H
is bail is
twelve hundred dollars?”

Momma sat at the kitchen table, up for the first time in days. My happiness at her improvement was hampered by the impossibility of our circumstances. Her face was pale and the headscarf she wore didn’t hide a line of brown fuzz around the edges which was all that was left of her beautiful hair.

“According to the judge.”

I couldn’t quite believe this was actually happened. It was like something out of a soap opera, all drama and impossible choices. My brother had been arrested for trying to rob a convenience store. Nobody had been hurt, thank God, but he’d been arrested and would stay at the juvenile detention center until the trial – unless we could make his bail.

“Well, we’ll have to figure it out,” Momma said softly.

I stared at her, anger bubbling in me like a pot of water threatening to boil over. There were so many things that she didn’t know, too many secrets that I had to keep. She was the mother and I was supposed to be the child, why was I the one protecting her?

“I make fifty bucks on a good night at the diner, Momma,” I said, my voice clipped. “Where do you think the money’s going to come from?”

“We’ll figure it out.”

I’ll figure it out
, I thought caustically. “Okay, Momma.”

I knew my anger was born out of desperation, but that didn’t stop the emotion from brewing inside of me. Why did everything have to be my responsibility?

She touched my cheek, hand trembling with the effort. “I don’t know what I’d do without you, baby.

The anger predictably dissolved into wretchedness and I immediately felt bad for my uncharitable thoughts. “I know.”

Momma slowly stood, hanging onto the chair for balance. I watched her walk to the living room and collapse onto the couch. Being up for a few minutes had sapped all of her energy.

Her clinic appointment was scheduled for the next day. The money for it, our last, had already been set aside.

Money that I could also use to bail Julio out of jail.

But it wasn’t enough for both.

I slammed my hand on the table in frustration, loud enough that I heard Momma stir on the couch.

“Sorry,” I said quickly. “Go back to sleep.”

All I wanted was to be able to forget about all of this, even if it was just for a little while. Between the bills piling up, Momma’s expensive treatments and now Julio’s legal troubles, it felt like I was drowning and couldn’t come up for air.

I went to the fridge and stood on tiptoe until I could just grab the shoebox off the top with the tips of my fingers. Then I upended it on the table, bills printed on red paper and final notices falling onto the chipped surface.

There were so many – most past due and threatening – that it nearly dwarfed my ability to comprehend. Something was stuck in the corner of the box and I pried it off with my fingernails.

The black business card that the Procurer had given me all those weeks ago was in my hand, its edges worn and faded from repeated handling. I traced the raised phone number with the pad of one thumb – my mind consumed with the possibility.

He doesn’t respond well to being told no.

I abruptly pushed back from the table, nearly toppling over in my haste to stand. It terrified me how quickly my thoughts turned to my patron – to
Julian
. It wasn’t just that I sold myself for money, that I was no different than the pathetic women who walked up and down the streets at night, taking what little they had and offering it up to all takers for some quick cash.

No, what terrified me the most was how much I wanted it. I wanted the pleasure, but I also wanted his anger. I wanted his relentless and unforgiving hands on my body – wanted the pain of it. Anything to take me away from my real life, at least for a little while.

I wanted to know what he would do to me.

And we desperately needed the money.

I knew I had made a promise to Julio and to myself, but that was before the idiot went and got himself arrested. I was the only left to make the difficult decisions.

My hand picked up the phone of its own volition. I had dialed the number and had the phone pressed to my ear without conscious thought. It wasn’t until I heard the sound of ringing that I realized what I’d done.

“Yes?” A cultured, female voice answered.

“My name is Dalea Moreno.” I swallowed hard against the sudden lump that had formed in my throat. “I want to come back to the Dollhouse.”

I
t was different this time
. An air of coldness pervaded the car as we drove, the always mute driver somehow more ominously silent than usual. I tried to dismiss the feeling of foreboding but it remained with me.

The Procurer did not meet me at the entrance, instead a stone-faced guard manned the doorway and the expression on his face was detached and unsympathetic. I was brusquely ushered inside of the Dollhouse, the grip on my arm nearly bruising.

Instead of escorting me upstairs like usual, I was taken to the small room off the staircase that served as a dressing room. Racks of clothing lined the walls and a slanted mirror stood in the middle of the room. An outfit was slung over the back of a tufted armchair that sat next to the mirror.

“You will dress,” was the terse instruction before the door shut behind me and I was alone.

I hesitantly stepped further into the room, heart pounding. Something wasn’t right, but I didn’t know what. Uncertainty made me afraid.

But it wasn’t fear that I felt when I took a closer look at the clothing that had been laid out for me.

“What the fuck?”

It could barely even be called an outfit. A black corseted bodice that came high enough to just barely cover my breasts and would likely push them up to my chin. A lacy pair of panties, thigh-high stockings and a garter were the only thing that I had been given to cover myself, along with a pair of patent leather stilettos.

I wasn’t going anywhere dressed like this, if you could even call it being dressed at all. My skin pinkened into a blush at the very thought of it.

What about Julian?
I could only assume that he had picked this out for me – that he wanted to see me in it. Thinking of his eyes on me, drinking me in, made my belly tighten.

I quickly disrobed, not wanting to be naked when the guards came back. I donned the corset first and had to hold my breath to tighten the clasps in the front. I slipped into the panties and then pulled up the stockings which whispered like silk against my skin. The shoes came last.

I studied my reflection in the mirror. The makeup on my face was at a minimum, like always. A touch of mascara was around my eyes and light blush on my cheeks, matched with a pink gloss on my lips that was so pale it was nearly sheer.

My dark brown hair was loose, curls and waves spilling across my shoulders and down my back. I had been right about the corset, it lifted and separated my breasts into lurid prominence until there was an almost impossible expanse of smooth, creamy flesh. The stockings stopped high on my thigh, circling the top in a line of heavy black lace. And the little strip of fabric that served as underwear left little to the imagination.

I watched my mouth fall open in a gasp and my eyes widen. Spots of color appeared high in my cheeks as I regarded myself in the full-length mirror.

The delicate balance of seduction and innocence that I presented was apparent even to me. What would Julian think when he saw me like this? What would he want to do to me. I slipped into the black pumps, wincing as they pinched my toes.

I was startled enough to stumble on the high heels when the door opened suddenly behind me. The reflection of my patron appeared in the mirror, his expression dark and unreadable.

“
Julian—“
My voice was a near-whisper before I caught myself. “I mean, sir.”

He came up behind me before I could turn to face him, not touching but so close that only the space of a breath separated us. He was like a well of heat against my back. I had to resist the urge to fall back into him.

The expensive black suit that he wore was perfectly fitted and hugged his body in all of the right places. He didn’t have on a tie and the charcoal gray shirt he had on was unbuttoned at the top, giving me a tantalizing view of his throat and upper chest.

“Quite lovely.”

I shivered. His voice was like a brand that I could feel on the thin tissue of my heart. The room seemed to shrink around me, the walls closing in. I felt trapped by the pressure of his body at my back and the intense desire I felt to have his hands on my skin.

“Thank you, sir.”

“Would you like me to tell you what will happen tonight?”

My heart shuddered to a stop. “Y-yes, sir.”

He touched me then, his hand barely skimming the corset where it flattened against my belly. “I was very unhappy with you when you declined to return to me.”

“What—?” And it hit me then that he would be upset at my refusal to return to the Dollhouse. I had only ever gotten the one day’s notice, of course. Had he been waiting for me? How upset had he been when I never showed up?

“I’m sorry, sir.”

“I’m sure you are.” His hand tightened on my waist, hard enough that it wrenched a gasp of pain from me. “But it was quite a public embarrassment, you see, so I think that your punishment should be public as well.”

Punishment!
I crossed my arms over my chest, instinctively wanting to protect myself from the thought. His gaze never left mine, eyes hard and unrelenting in the reflection on the mirror.

“By defying my wishes, you showed your disrespect for me.” The hand at my belly moved lower, brushing too lightly over my inner thigh and lingering on the lace edge of my stocking. “That is worthy of punishment, wouldn’t you say?”

Burning tears welled in the corners of my eyes and threatened to spill down my cheeks. “Please, no..sir.”

“I will allow you to wear this clothing when you walk to the main room, but you will be completely nude for your punishment.” His voice was implacable and the reflection of his relentless gaze burned through me.

I squeezed my eyes tight, willing myself to wake from the nightmare. Where had my attentive patron gone, the one who provided me with both pain and pleasure – the one who almost seemed to care?

A coldness pervaded the room, making me shiver. It was as if the detached nature of his regard had sapped all of the life from me.

The hand that wasn’t gently stroking my thigh moved from behind his back to reveal what he held in his hand. A long instrument curled in his fist. It looked like a braided rope made of thick leather that divided into smaller cords at the end. It swung ominously to and fro with each movement of his hand.

“This is a cat of nine tails.” He twitched it sharply and the leather cords snapped through the air, close enough to my skin that I felt the air move harshly over me. “I won’t lie to you. It will hurt more than the belt.”

I pulled away, finally turning to face him. His face was even more handsome than my memory had crafted it, as if I couldn’t quite comprehend his beauty until I was confronted it.

But the same face that haunted my dreams now stared at me, expressionless and cold as marble.

“You may leave if you wish.” The hand holding the whip reached out to stroke down my cheek, the softness of his skin juxtaposed against the harsh texture of the leather. “Submit and you will be rewarded.”

I didn’t realize how far I had stepped back until my spine struck the glass, whispers of pain ran through me. “No!”

“Leave if you wish.” His sardonic gesture indicated the door. “But you won’t ever be able to return.”

I swallowed against the lump in my throat, more terrified than I had ever been before. He moved closer and my heart beat harder with each step that he took. I don’t know what I expected but his free hand only rose so his fingertips brushed across my lips.

“Say yes.”

My lips were dry and my throat sore. I wanted to scream or run as far away as I could until my legs collapsed underneath me. I hadn’t prepared myself for this and the situation was so foreign as to be surreal. But I wanted his hands on my skin – whether in reverence or anger didn’t matter. I wasn’t physically capable of walking away.

“Yes.”

T
here were more
people in the entrance hall when I followed him out of the dressing room. I saw the flash of a familiar face as we walked towards the large living room. Cassie’s blonde curls bobbed in the crowd but I wasn’t given a chance to say hello. The steady click of Julian’s heels across the tile did not hesitate and neither did I.

Someone called his name but he didn’t halt his inexorable progress forward, merely inclined his head at the greeting. I hurried to keep pace. It was as if I had tunnel vision and everything around me, save the shape of his back as he moved, had ceased to exist.

A girl that I didn’t recognize, but a Fantasy Doll I quickly realized, reached out to brush my arm.

“Good luck.”

He stopped at a raised dais in the center of the room. It looked like a large letter X made out of dark wood that was at least a foot taller than me. Restraints made of thick nylon with Velcro straps were attached at each point of the X. A spotlight shown on it, deliberately highlighting the apparatus of my degradation so that it was clear for everyone to see.

I halted at the edge of platform, terror preventing me from taking another step forward. I wasn’t able to do this. I couldn’t let him humiliate me like this in front of all of these people.

Julian mounted the stage, his movements lithe like a cat. He turned back to face me.

“Step up,” he ordered.

I just stared at him, unable to move or speak. The dark expression in his face softened slightly until I could see something in it that was almost akin to tenderness.

“Please, Dalea.”

Julian took my hand in his much larger one and pulled me onto the raised platform. The movement was hard enough that I fell into him and his arms came around me automatically to keep me from falling, almost like an embrace.

Too quickly, he released me. I stood alone next to the cross, slightly unsteady on the spiky heels.

“Look at me,” he commanded. When I looked up at him, his dark green eyes were consuming and so deep it felt like I could fall into them. “Do you understand what is about to happen.”

I mutely shook my head, barely able to think.

“I am going to strap you to St. Andrews Cross until your wrists are bound above your head and your ankles are spread.” His words burned through me, lighting a fiery trail of desire that settled at my core. I could see the reflection in his eyes was also aflame and I realized then how much he wanted to do this to me. “Then, I’m going to whip you.”

I let out an involuntary gasp.

“Do you agree to submit to this?”

He was giving me an out, one last chance to walk away. Despite the uncertainty and the terror, I couldn’t walk away – not from him.

“Yes, sir,” I said on a strongly expelled breath.

“Face the cross.”

When I turned, he positioned me against the cross until the wood pressed hard against my chest. Holes had been cut into the wood at the bottom and my feet slipped into them so my entire body met the cross in an unbroken line.

“Lift your arms.”

My arms were brought up one-by-one to match the angle of the upper planks. He wrapped the straps around each wrist, tight enough that I could feel the hard pressure on my skin but not quite enough to hurt.

He repeated the procedure with my legs, spreading them far enough apart that my thighs burned. He paid careful attention to the straps, working two fingers in between my skin and the nylon, ensuring that none were tight enough to cause damage.

Once he ensured that I was secured to the cross, his hands moved up my hips, to my back and then around to the front until they rested on my belly. Then his fingers worked at the corset, undoing the hooks that held the thick fabric together. I felt a moment of relief as the constricting garment was loosened then a rush of cold air as it was removed.

Prickles moved up my skin as it was exposed. I was thankful that I faced the cross which afforded me some small amount of modesty.

Searching fingers dipped into the waistband of my panties but did not move to remove them. I felt the heat of his breath against my ear as he whispered into it.

“We’ll leave these,” he said, barely loud enough for only me to hear. “Since it is your first time in public exhibition. But next time, I’ll take them as well.”

I shuddered hard at the thought of
next time
, whether in fear or desire I couldn’t say.

“Thank you, sir,” I said, speaking for the first time since he had brought me out into the hall. I had almost relaxed into the idea of it, my mind focusing only on the feel of his hands gliding over my skin.

I felt him move away and my body tensed, but his face appeared in front of mine on the other side of the cross. We were so close that had I been able to lean forward even a scant distance, our lips would have touched.

His hands moved into my hair, smoothing it up into a bun and securing it at the top of my head.

“Are you ready to begin?”

I nodded wordlessly, lost in the depth of his gaze. The room fell away, all of the people watching us and waiting, faded to the edges of my vision until they no longer existed.

This time when he disappeared, I knew that it was time.

I stared into the crowd. Most of them had gone silent. My vision blurred until their faces were indistinguishable from one another. I had moved past embarrassment to an emotion that I didn’t have a name for. I wanted the ground to open underneath me and swallow me whole, but I also waited for the crack of the whip with something more than fear. I wanted the pain of it.

The whip stroked gently down the surface of my back like a lover’s caress. I closed my eyes as an uncontrollable tremor overtook me, fear and anticipation mingling in a way that caused a physical reaction.

“I want you to count.”

The piercing whistle of the whip cutting through the ear hit my ears almost at the same moment as a flash of pain streaked across my back.

I screamed. The pain was hotter and deeper than anything I had felt when he used his hand or a belt. An answering heat bloomed between my legs.

“Count.” His voice was stern.

“One!” I cried. The word came in a barely audible, croaking gasp.

A second blow came down as hard as the first, wrapping around my right thigh which immediately blossomed in sharp pain. The whip left an aching soreness that I knew would last for days after this was done.

“Two!”

The whip fell on the top of my other leg. The pain was greater than I had imagined it to be, but that didn’t stop the shiver of pleasure that surged through the center of me.

“Three!”

This strike came full across my buttocks. The thin fabric of my panties did nothing to soften the force of the impact. I sobbed, tears wetting the wood that pressed into my face.

“Four!”

The blows halted and the room was silent save for the harshness of his breathing. I sensed the movement before he appeared at my side. One of his hands slid up my thigh and underneath the fabric of my panties. A searching finger slipped between my folds and gently teased the tight ball of my clitoris. A wave of pleasure rode over me and I shuddered against him.

His lips pressed against my ear. “How very wet you are.”

I whimpered, unable to form a logical thought, much less words to speak.

“There’s no need to count for the rest.”

The rest!?
It was my last thought before the blows began to rain down, harder and faster than they had before. It was more pain than I had ever experienced before, either from his hand or anyone else’s.

The whip was everywhere at once until the entirety of my backside felt like it was on fire. A stray braid struck between my legs, barely grazing my aching center, and the world exploded around me.

My vision swam before my eyes as the room receded into a blur. It was as if I was outside of my own body as everything – the pain and the pleasure – faded into nothingness. I felt myself sag against the cross, only the restraints binding my wrists and ankles kept me upright.

Distantly, I realized that the blows had ceased. Air moved as he came up behind me. I moaned when the fabric of his suit jacket brushed against the aching skin of my back.

His hands stroked gently over my sides where the skin had not been touched by the whip. He lips pressed against my hair before moving down to my ear.

“I’m very pleased,” he murmured, the sound just loud enough for me to hear. “Would you like to choose a reward?’

I nodded weakly and my voice came in a croaking whisper. “Yes, sir.”

His hand moved over my back, drawing a moan from me. “Tell me what you want.”

“I want you to kiss me.” My answer was immediate and without hesitation. I craned my neck so I could see his face – a face so beautiful that it nearly broke my heart. “And I want you to fuck me, sir.”

I had lost my virginity at fifteen, but I had never used that word before. It felt sharp and satisfying against my tongue.

The tip of his tongue touched the shell of my ear, making me shiver. “Pick one.”

“Please kiss me, sir.”

It didn’t matter that I was nearly naked and bound to a post, surrounded by people. The entire world existed solely of him and the feel of him against my skin.

His mouth caught mine in a kiss that was deep and all-consuming. The tongue that plundered my mouth met no resistance and I sucked on it greedily. He pulled back and I whimpered at the loss, until his teeth closed none too gently on my lower lip. I pitched forward and moaned into his mouth, hearing an answering growl.

I didn’t realize that his hand had moved lower on my body until I felt two thick fingers push inside of me. His thumb teased over my clitoris, mimicking the movements of his lips. His tongue plunged in and out of my mouth just as his fingers moved inside of me.

His voice rumbled against my mouth. “Come for me, Dalea.”

I had no choice but to obey his command. Even so, the climax hit me unexpectedly, like a lightning strike that raced over me until I was a shaking, quivering mess. I rocked against the cross, caught between his hand and the unmoving wood, as uncontrollable tremors wracked my body.

I floated outside of myself, weightless and unfettered, as the world disappeared around me.