Dollhouse (Down We Go #1)

by Kyla Faye

Every time I closed my eyes, it brought me back to that moment, a memory I've always been fond of. No one has ever protected me the way that he did. When I think of my childhood,

few memories light up my face, but his bloody hands touching me is one that I've always cherished.

My body was numb, and I wished he'd make my death painful so I could go out feeling something. I'd been a shell of a person for so long that the lines between dying and living were becoming blurred.

Can you ever really get used to being abused? I know what to expect, yet I still get nervous every time.

No man will ever intimidate me again, and it's time I remember who the fuck I am and stop acting like a cowering child.

The sight of him between my legs is the hottest fucking thing. Our cum is still dripping down my legs, but that doesn’t stop him from eating me like he’s a starving man at a buffet.

My release is so fucking close I can feel it. King sucks my clit like a delicious lollipop while his fingers curl inside of me, hitting against the spot that causes my vision to blur.

Today was the day I used death to set myself free.

I love seeing blood on her skin because of me. Because she wants to bleed for me, and vice versa. My little angel is turned on by blood, and I have every intention of fully exploiting the newfound kink.

Eli is the one that has the most control of his emotions and rarely shows how he’s feeling. King is loud, sensitive, and puts his feelings on display and rarely gives a fuck about anything. Rowen is the one with the temper problem who gets angry easily and would rather punch someone or break something than talk about his feelings.

“I want to erase every negative thing he’s ever said to you, every cut and bruise he’s ever left on your body.”

“Let me care for you the way you deserve to be cared for.”

“You. Are. Home. You are ours, and you better fucking understand that. I fucked up once by not running away with you but, baby, I’m here. I’m not running, and you don’t need to run anymore either. I’ve got you.”

I cry for the girl who doesn’t know how to be loved, but still desperately wants to be loved and to love, even if she isn’t sure how.