And bathe me, brush and braid my hair, do my makeup, and generally play with me as if I were a real doll. Looking at the porcelain doll with a cracked face tattooed on Mikhail’s arm, I wonder what the story is behind his obsession. Not that I mind being treated like a precious toy. It’s probably a far cry from normal behavior, but who cares about being normal when you can be happy instead?
I’m not surprised that Mikhail puts all the food on one plate and grabs just one fork, pulling me onto his lap and feeding me bite by bite. It’s his thing and, after a lifetime of being yelled at and brought down, I’m more than ready to let myself be pampered. Besides, fewer dirty dishes.
I eat as much as I can before touching the hand Mikhail has wrapped around the fork. “May I?”
He glowers fiercely. “I’m feeding you.”
“I can’t eat anymore, but I’d like to do the same for you. Please?”
Looking a little confused and a little suspicious, like he perhaps expects me to stab the fork into his eye and run off, Mikhail lets go of the utensil. As I shift on his lap to get a better angle, I notice how hard he already is. I’m tempted to tease him by wriggling more, but I remind myself that I’m not the only one who needs to eat. To keep that gorgeous, muscled body running, Mikhail needs much more fuel than I do.
I’ve never fed anyone before, but I manage to put a piece of the omelette into Mikhail’s mouth without poking him or spilling anything, so I count that as a win. I can’t imagine doing the same with soup, though. We’d probably both end up covered in it.
“Thank you, Grace,” Mikhail says, his voice heavy with emotion. “I’ve never…”
“I’m happy to serve,” I reply with a grin, though I don’t really mean it as a joke. I am happy to serve him. Just him, though.
Mikhail grins. “That’s good to hear because I have something interesting planned for later.”
I narrow my eyes at him suspiciously as I feed him another bite, not sure whether I like his gleeful tone. I really hope this “interesting” thing isn’t something overly unpleasant or painful, although seeing how excited he is about it, I’d go with it either way. Not that I’m being given a choice. Master decides what happens, and I’m quite happy with that.
Chapter 29
Grace
As I wash the dishes, I hear Mikhail setting something up in the back of the “torture corner”, which is worrying enough on its own. Hearing a drill makes it downright creepy. What in god’s name is he doing back there?
“Go to the bathroom,” he calls when he hears me turn off the tap. “You won’t be able to move for a while.”
I want to say his command is even creepier than the drill but I’ve heard it many times before, and I know to go pee even if I don’t really have to, because I’m about to spend the next few hours strapped to some hellish contraption. Once I’m done, I hesitantly approach him. I’m pleased to see he didn’t pull out any of the fucking machines, so it’s unlikely my mouth, ass, or pussy is about to get pounded by one, though that can alwayscome later. My dear Master likes to play games, and I know better than to presume.
Heat curls low in my belly as anticipation builds. What has he got planned for me? I know that just because things changed between us, he won’t go easy on me. He still loves my pain, and I’m happy to give it to him. Knowing he might also fuck my pussy or ass makes it even more appealing. Every time he used one of those machines or a dildo on me, I wished he would just thrust his cock inside me instead. I understand why he hadn’t, though. He said he loves all the Dolls, and it must have been difficult for him to send them away even without actually fucking them.
He loves all his Dolls. The thought makes me pause. I’m different, aren’t I? What we have is different. It has to be. It can’t just be another part of the training, right? Oh god, what if it is? What if he’s just being here for me, supporting me like he promised he would, and I’m reading way too much into it? Dammit, I’m halfway in love with him already, and he—
“What’s that thought?”
Startled, I look into Mikhail’s stern face. My Master. But is he mine? “It’s n—”
Grabbing my throat, he snaps, “You better not lie to me, Doll. It’s clearly not nothing, so talk. Or would you rather be spanked first to help you get it out?”
Just like Mikhail, I’m far from normal too, because I actually consider his offer. Things I struggle to put into words flow easier when I’m hurting, as if the pain unblocks something inside me. But I don’t want to waste time on stupid punishments when we could be doing something interesting. “I was just thinking,” I force myself to say, then hesitate, unsure how to explain my feelings.
He doesn’t give me time to come up with anything more elaborate. Squeezing my throat to hold me in place, he tweaks my nipple until I cry out. “Thinking is a dangerous venture fora Doll. What were you thinking about?” Before I can answer, he moves to my other nipple and puts it through the same torment. “Don’t think about it, Doll, just say it.”
With a clear order and a bit of pain to help me get out of my head, I finally admit, “You said you love all your Dolls. I… Ah!” Another tweak of my tortured nipple makes the words spill faster. “Were you like this with all of them? Cooking with them, joking with them, taking them to your bed? Am I just another Doll?” God, I hate how needy I sound, how pathetic. Why am I asking him this? He’s already been much nicer to me than anyone else would be in his position. He doesn’t owe me anything. “I’m sorry,” I whisper, avoiding his eyes.
His grip on my throat tightens until I can’t breathe, and he slams me against the door. The same door I’d stared at a week ago, hoping I could somehow get past it and escape.
“What the actual fuck?” Mikhail snarls. “Look at me!”
I do look at him, although my vision is blacking out around the edges from him choking me. Mikhail looks even more furious than he did when he thought I was married. Realizing I’m about to pass out, he loosens his grip but doesn’t release me.
“Stupid little Doll,” he grits out. “You’re nothing like the others. Nothing! You’re fucking perfect. You’re everything. My everything. Didn’t you hear me tell you that you were mine? I fucking meant that, Grace, so get that into that pretty head of yours. You’re mine!” he barks out, pinning me against the door as he leans down to kiss my neck. Pain flares as he bites down, not hard enough to break skin but enough to leave a bruise. “You turn me into a feral beast, Grace. I can’t fucking think when you’re around. If you ever say something stupid like that I don’t care about you, I’ll cut your damned tongue out so that you can never repeat that bullshit again. And if you keep thinking it, I’ll scoop your fucking brain out with a spoon so that you can’t think it ever again. You’re it for me, Grace, do you understand?!”
“Y-yes,” I whimper, overwhelmed by his confession. His mouth moves around my body, kissing and biting, marking me as his in a primal way, and I stand there, trembling, absorbing his words. I’m special. Perfect. He wants me. I make him crazy. I’m his. Why does that turn me on so much? “Please, Master.” This time, I whimper for a completely different reason. I try to gently nudge his head toward my pussy but of course, he pulls away.
“I should punish you for such stupid thoughts,” he says, absently tracing the forming marks, “but I think not letting you come for a while will be punishment enough. Let’s go before I change my mind and hurt you because you really made me angry.” He shakes his head. “How can you not know you’re so fucking special?”
