To avoid answering, because I have no damn clue what to say, I shove a spoonful into my mouth. Doll’s right. It is delicious. Maybe instead of that ridiculous carrot-farming fantasy, I could become a chef. Dammit. Why am I being ridiculous? It’s her fault, this tiny Doll on my lap, humming as she eats the food I made.
It’s no big deal. I always cook for my Dolls. I always feed them too. If they object to being spoonfed, there’s always the option of running a tube straight into their stomach, but I do feed them. Feeding this one shouldn’t feel any different. Except none of them ever smiled at me. None of them relaxed in my arms. None of them asked questions like this one. None of them were truly mine.
This one isn’t either. Don’t forget that, Mikhail.
Could she, though?
Chapter 22
Grace
Iwould have preferred to go back to sleep after that delicious dinner. Or was it lunch? Breakfast? Midnight snack? I have no clue. Either way, I was pleasantly tired from all the training and could’ve used a nap, but Master had other plans, so we spent the next few hours on the couch.
Just like the previous day, he alternated between stretching my ass with plugs, definitely bigger ones than before, and having his cock in my mouth. He didn’t even want me to suck him off, just to have his cock sheathed in my mouth while he scrolled on his phone. It was surprisingly comfortable and…homey? My ass still hurt in every possible way, and I was bone tired, but kneeling on the soft carpet between Master’s legs, surrounded by his warmth, felt peaceful. The crick in my neck was definitelyworth it. After that, I got a few hours of sleep, barely enough to rest, and more training.
At first, I counted the short sleeps and the meals Master fed me, trying to keep track of time, but eventually, time became unimportant. There was rest and training, pain and pleasure. A lot of pain but also a lot of praise. Cuddling. Not in bed, but Master often held me tightly, as if afraid I’d disappear. Ridiculous, really. I haven’t thought of escaping in… I want to say days, but I have no clue how much time actually passed.
How would I even escape? The door’s there, but it never opens. Not even Master ever goes through it. Ithinksomeone brings him groceries from time to time, but it must be when I’m asleep because I’ve never seen anyone. It feels like the world has shrunk to this basement, to Master and me. Does the world outside still exist? Did it ever? I don’t know, and I don’t care.
The fucking machine training isn’t my favorite, but it’s better than the pain-resistance sessions. I prefer it when Master uses toys on me directly or fucks my mouth. It’s always only my mouth, never my ass or pussy. I tried asking why he doesn’t fuck me, but Master just glared at me and later, he strapped me down to a table and used an electric wand-thing on my nipples and clit. I screamed so hard I couldn’t speak afterward, which I guess was the point, and I never tried asking again.
Still, it bothers me. His cock works. He doesn’t mind when I give him blowjobs. He’s always hard when he holds me. He often masturbates while spanking or otherwise hurting me, as if my pain was an aphrodisiac he simply can’t resist. Sometimes, he rubs his cock between my pussy lips, covering it with my juices, but just when I think he’s finally going to sink into one of my waiting holes, he strokes himself and his cum lands on my skin.
It shouldn’t bother me, but it does. Is it me? Does he find me too unattractive to fuck? He says I’m beautiful but unlike Dolls,Masters are allowed to lie. I don’t think he’s lying, though, which makes everything even more complicated.
Strapped to a bench on my hands and knees, I ponder the issue as a machine pounds into my asshole. It’s cycling through shallow, rapid thrusts, and it feels like my ass is on the working end of a pneumatic hammer. If I weren’t so deep in this weightless, nothing-matters state, I’d chuckle at the mental image. Since I’m mostly out of it, I just grin around the inflatable gag in my mouth. It’s cock-shaped and already large, but I know it’ll get much bigger before Master lets me off this bench. I don’t mind, really. The bench is padded and, even with the fucking machine assaulting my asshole like there’s no tomorrow, it’s quite comfortable. Master always preps me well and regularly adds more lube, so there’s no pain, just a slight burn I’ve grown to like.
I’m drifting somewhere near the stratosphere when the door opens for the first time since I arrived. The unfamiliar beep as it unlocks snaps me out of my blissed-out state, and the man who enters makes the hair on the back of my neck rise. He’s older than Master, gray shining in his short hair and wrinkles maring his face. They’re frown lines, not laugh lines; he looks like he’s never laughed in his life. Not genuinely, anyway.
His dark eyes, not dissimilar to Master’s, slide over me, and he smirks. “Mikhail!” he hollers, his voice gratingly loud after the quiet I’m used to here. “Where is my favorite nephew?” the stranger asks. Not me, that much’s obvious as he looks at me like I’m an interesting piece of furniture. Which, in his defense, I currently am. Then his words hit me.
Mikhail. That’s what he said. Mikhail, his favorite nephew. Since there’s no one else living in this place, he must be talking about Master, which means… Mikhail is my Master’s name. It’s trivial in the grand scheme of things, yet it feels like a vital piece of the puzzle clicking into place.
Mikhail. I like that.
“The fuck are you doing here, Anton?” Master—Mikhail!—growls from the gym. A dumbbell clinks as he sets it down, then he steps into view, deliciously sweaty from his workout.
The older man, Anton, smirks. The glint in his eyes makes me want to run the other way. “What, can’t I come check up on my favorite nephew?”
“I’m your only fucking nephew, and you’re messing up my Doll’s training. Get lost.”
“Easy,synok. I bring news from the boss concerning your Doll.”
My pulse quickens. News about me? Are the days of training up? Is he here to take me away? I’m not ready!
Crossing his arms in front of his chest, Master scowls. “Not here.”
“Please,” Anton replies, rolling his eyes. “You’re too soft on these cunts. They’re just holes to fuck, nothing more. What does it matter if she hears? Alfredo Franco is dead.”
The name sounds familiar, but my fuzzy mind refuses to place it. It’s also difficult to focus while getting fucked in the ass.
Master stiffens. “What?”
“Shot dead by a jealous mistress. His underlings are fighting for his operation but no one wants to pay the remaining money for the order.”
The order. Me. I remember now. Alfredo Franco was the one who bought me, my future Master. If he’s dead, what does it mean for me? I doubt it’s anything positive. It’s not like they’ll just let me go.
Glancing at me, Anton scoffs. “Honestly, I’m not surprised. Who would pay such crazy money for a fucktoy with no tits and no ass? Some faggot who likes little boys, perhaps.”
