My perfect little doll.
And she is finally,finally,all mine.
* * *
Isabella
I look… like a doll. Like a living, breathing doll, the old kind with the pale skin and rosy cheeks and perfectly curled hair you might find behind glass in an antique shop somewhere.
It probably shouldn’t be a shock, since that’s what he’s been calling me from the moment I woke up in this strange house. But somehow it is, and for a long while all I can do is stare at the doll in the mirror who looks like me but not quite like me at the same time. Even the soft buzzing of the vibrator against my clit isn’t enough to distract me from the sight in front of me.
The dress is just as beautiful on me as it was on the hanger, possibly more so. And it doesn’t escape my notice that it seems perfectly tailored to my body, as if he had it made just for me. But that can’t possibly be true.
Can it?
“Time for breakfast, little one.”
I’m still trying to process what I’ve just seen in the mirror when he scoops me up again, and I’m forced to wrap myself around him or risk being dropped. My mind races, trying to fully grasp what’s happening to me as he carries me to a room just off my bedroom. Breakfast is laid out on the table, an array of pastries and meats that fill my senses.
Settling in a chair, Daddy shifts me so I’m sitting sideways on his lap, my mouth watering as I take in the delicious buffet in front of us. “What would you like, little one? I had Chef Martine make all your favorites, though now I can see I may have gone a bit overboard,” he adds with a chuckle.
“How do you know what my favorites are?”
“I’ve been watching you for some time.” There’s a long pause, as if he’s waiting for something, but when I simply sit and stare at the table, he reaches around me to pull a platter of giant cinnamon rolls closer to us. “You don’t indulge your sweet tooth nearly enough, but we’ll change that. Half a cinnamon roll and some bacon, then I have a special treat for you, sent over just this morning from your Auntie Cat.”
“I don’t have an Auntie Cat.” I have an Aunt Susie, my mother’s sister, but that’s it.
“Of course you do, little one. You just haven’t met her yet. I imagine she’ll find a reason to come by today so she can be the first to meet you, just like she’s done with the other girls.”
“Other girls?” I’m not the only one? Where are the others? For reasons I can’t quite explain, the thought of another woman being part of this… whatever this situation is I’ve found myself in nearly shatters me. What hope do I have of escaping if I can’t even rely on another woman for help?
“Yes.” With his arms around me, Daddy cuts the cinnamon bun in half, placing one half on a separate plate, and then he adds three strips of crispy bacon to each dish. I watch, caught somewhere between horror and fascination as he cuts a bite of cinnamon roll off and holds it up to my lips.
Years of controlling every morsel that enters my mouth so I can keep my weight within the “acceptable” limits for a ballerina make it difficult to accept the food he offers.
But not only am I determined to do everything in my power to avoid upsetting him again, it also occurs to me that I may need to build up my strength as much as possible while I’m trapped here. The last thing I want is to have an opportunity to escape but find myself too weakened to do so because I refused to eat.
With that thought in mind, I obediently part my lips, and a low moan slips from my lips as flavor explodes in my mouth.
“Good girl,” Daddy murmurs, and a second later the vibrations against my pussy, the ones I’vealmostmanaged to forget about, increase. Pleasure floods my system, not enough to give me the release I want, but more than enough to have me squirming on his lap.
“Poor little doll.” His voice drips with sweetness, too much to be sincere. He’s mocking me, mocking my distress, and still all I want is more of the pleasure he’s forcing on me. “Would you like Daddy to make you come now?”
It’s a test. Why else would he be asking me exactly the same question he asked when I was in the tub? And if I fail this test, god only knows what other torments he might have in store for me.
“Y-yes, Daddy,” I manage to force out past the tightness in my throat. It’s both lie and truth, because as much as I want the relief, part of me is already recoiling at the thought of this man giving me an orgasm.
“Then you’ll need to be on your best behavior today, won’t you, little doll?”
With that, the buzzing returns to a low hum, keeping me on edge without pushing me any closer to it.
And I can’t decide if I want to weep just because I’ve been denied… or because this is yet another reminder of how firmly this monster I call Daddy has me trapped beneath his thumb.
ChapterFive
Isabella
Breakfast passes with no more teasing, much to my relief. And when I’m stuffed full, Daddy carries me back to the bedroom, where he sits in a large, comfortable rocking chair with me cradled in his arms.
