pace picks up with every stroke of his fingers. A loud sob tears through the air, and I realise it’s mine as I fall apart.
I didn’t even last a minute.
My orgasm engulfs me until all I can recognise is him at my back, in me, all around me.
Cole holds my nape to the table and fucks me hard and wild. He fucks me like he’s taking all the previous years out on me with each of his ruthless thrusts.
I fall again, or maybe it’s the first fall bleeding into the second one. I can’t see straight, let alone think right now.
All I can do is feel him — his power, his presence, his need for more that mirrors mine.
He doesn’t stop.
Not when I’m moaning or whimpering or sobbing my orgasm. It’s not until I can’t stand and am nearly ready to collapse that he pulls out of me. A hot liquid drips between my legs, and I close my eyes, soaking in the sensation.
Still holding me by the neck, Cole gathers the cum that’s dripped from me and fucks it inside me with two surprisingly gentle fingers until I’m nearly begging for another orgasm.
I’m sore and feel used, but at the same time, I still want more.
So much more.
The realisation of what I’ve done hits me right there with my head against Papa’s conference table.
I betrayed my own principles. My beliefs. My parents.
And it’s all because of him.
Cole.
He used me and ruined me beyond repair.
And I know, I just know, that from now on, nothing will ever be the same.
“Happy birthday, Butterfly,” he whispers against my ear. “You’re now mine.”
14
Doll Master
My little doll has turned into a woman.
The way her body contracted and her blood trickled down her thighs mixed with cum is a sight I’ll never forget.
It’s art at its truest form.
It’s a masterpiece.
And I’ll have it unfold over and over again.
Blood looks exquisite on her porcelain skin. Almost like it’s made to smother her flesh, bathe it, creep over it instead of underneath it.
My Barbie doll doesn’t realise how beautiful she is. How exquisite. She has a smile to die for, lips to devour, and eyes to stare at for eternity.
People at school call her a bitch, but they’re just jealous of her beauty, her grace, and her mind. Her intelligent, bright mind. It’s the reason why her beauty is enhanced. She’s not one of those bimbo dolls I get tired of after one glance.
She’s not shallow like them, stupid like them, hollow like them.
She’s the whole package.
She’s what I’ve been searching for my entire life while I kept myself busy with their forgettable bodies.
I spent years being patient, slowly creeping under her skin, but not too obviously.
You can’t be obvious with dolls. People say they don’t see, but they have eyes. They say they don’t feel, but they have skin. They can bleed too if you run a knife over their bodies.
Dolls need to be treated carefully, dressed carefully, washed carefully.
Watched carefully.
You can’t let them suspect you. Instead, you have to be the most important part of their lives. Their doll master.
The one who dresses them, washes them, does their hair.
I stare at a picture of her asleep on her side in only her T-shirt and no underwear. I groan as my release comes in waves.
I retrieve my spare phone, coat her pictures with my release, then type with the same fingers.
Unknown Number: You look beautiful today, like a rose finally deflowered. Happy eighteenth birthday. You’re a woman now.
My doll.
My masterpiece.
Now, she’ll never get away from me.
Part II
15
Silver
When I go to school the following day, I’m not focused.
Everything seems to be out of control. Everything.
One, Mum got drunk at the end of the reception and she kept asking what Papa sees in Helen anyway. Is she prettier than her? Better accomplished? She said even her books seem like they’re written by a psychopath.
I told her that all crime thriller books need to be frightening in some way. Helen’s books always give me a chill and that’s why they’re so successful.
I had to ask Derek to help me drive her home. We’d barely gotten her in the car and she had a fight with Papa — again. Thankfully, it was away from the reporters or their other party members.
They screamed at each other and it was like a flashback from the divorce time.
After I tucked Mum safely in her bed, she hugged me, kissed me, and told me she was sad and that she didn’t want to be