Cal
After buying a whole woman on the internet (twice) you'd think I wouldn't be amazed anymore about the things you can get on there. And yet, as I set up my space, I marvel at the fact that I was able to throw this all together in a few days' time.
Our week of unhindered freedom together is coming to an end. I can afford to take more time off—I'm the fucking CEO for God's sake—but I know that someone would come calling eventually if I tried to push my return off any longer. I've already had to fend off all of Dex's calls, lying about how I'm too busy, elbows deep in pussy, to answer the phone.
It's not exactly a lie.
I've spent every waking moment by my perfect little doll's side, and at least half of those with some part of me buried inside of her. It's been an informative week and a week of training, as I have stretched her, using her body whatever way I want to. I've worked my fingers inside of her up to the second knuckles, stuffed her every hole simultaneously, spread her open with a speculum so that I can see the source of my exquisite pleasure, and experimented with breath play to see how it makes her orgasm more powerful and prompts mine to come on faster.
We fuck, I bathe her, we sleep, and then we repeat.
I put her in all of her outfits one day at a time, switching her into sheer nighties by night so that when I wake up craving her, I can slide right between her legs with nothing in my way.
I talk to her, telling her things I've never told anyone, and I love how she doesn't judge me for any of it. Not when I tell her my kinks or about the peopleI've killed, not when I tell her about how I watched my mom die, picked apart like carrion by vultures as I hid like a little bitch beneath the bed, unable to look away. I’ve never told anyone that last part—not even Dex.
She doesn't judge me for the things I do to her, the way I make her body my cock sleeve, or how I like to fall asleep still buried inside of her, our foreheads pressed together, feeling our souls tethering to one another.
By the time Sunday night rolls around and I have to make preparations to leave her, I'm obsessed. When my eyes open in the morning, they seek her out, missing her like a limb in the seconds between my dreaming of her and my spotting her right where I left her at my side.
After a week of her at my side, leaving her in the dungeon feels wrong, but I secure her to the table, tying her limbs down with rope so that she can't move to hurt herself... and so that I can't hurt her when I try to play doctor.
Luckily, I'm a visual learner with a steady hand, and I'm not squeamish, so when I place the IV, I am able to find her vein easily.
I make it in on my fourth try, realizing I shouldn't have waited so long before doing this. She was too dehydrated— her organs could have started shutting down. Fortunately, that doesn't seem to be a problem, as evidenced when I place the catheter, holding my breath while I sit back to see if I got it right. My research suggests that her kidneys are fine as long as there's output, which comes shortly after I get the catheter tube secured to her inner thigh, covering theslutscars with a piece of tape so that she can't hurt herself by dislodging it should she wake up before I'm ready.
Of course, I'm not worried about that, since the last thing I give her is the sedative.
Just one quick prick in her neck and even pressure to the plunger, and I watch as her fluttering eyelids ease, the discomfort slipping away as she surrenders to the peace of sleep. I'm glad for her, that she doesn't have to feel the tubes and needles pulling at her.
It looks terribly uncomfortable, but keeping an unconscious person alive is no easy task. She can't eat or drink, and now that she's being flooded with the IV, the catheter was necessary to keep her from lying in her own piss.
As I lie in my bed, staring at the ceiling, restlessness steals over me, taking over every inch of my mind. No matter how much I toss or turn, I can't will sleep to claim me, and by the time I'm desperate enough to order sleeping pills, it's too late. I don't want to risk sleeping through work and calls if I take anything now.
Besides, I know why I can't sleep.
I need her next to me.
My body craves her warmth, the way she fits so easily in the space below my arm, her body cocooning naturally against mine. I would have brought her back to my bed, but I don't want to get tangled in her wires and hurt her somehow by yanking them out in the middle of the night.
Instead of bringing her to me, I go down to her, climbing beside her on the cool surface. I'm suddenly grateful I had the counter made from two slabs of quartz instead of one, so there's plenty of space as I nestle beside her, careful to avoid the wires of the machines to the right of her.
“You're all right, little doll.” I tell her, trailing my fingers down her shoulder to her breast. “I've got you now.”
Of course, she doesn’t speak or even move, too deep in her sedation to be aware of my presence. “Do you like that?” I ask. “Little doll?”
When she doesn’t answer, I choose for her, resolving to stick to Little Doll rather than giving her a name.
I slip the end of my king-size pillow beneath her head, offering her some comfort, and drape my blanket over the both of us, rolling onto my side to watch her sleep.
She's easily the most beautiful thing I've ever seen—like living art, trapped inside an ornate frame, she appeals to some part of me I haven't ever identified.
I fall asleep just like that.
10
Cal
“Oh, thank fuck you’re back.” Dex breathes a sigh of relief as he lets himself into my office. I don’t lift my eyes from my phone until he drops into a chair opposite my desk, making it clear he’s not going anywhere until I pay attention to him. I take one last glance at my sleeping beauty and X out of the security app I set up to be able to watch her from my phone, sliding it aside to give my best friend my full attention. The sooner I get rid of him, the sooner I can get back to watching her.
