Broken Dolls

by Kitty Thomas

  She took a deep breath and laid out clearly and succinctly what she wanted. “No penetration. No physical pain. Everything else is okay.” She was sure any theoretical master would ask what else could there possibly be if all of that was off the table?

  She expected Lindsay to laugh at her. These things didn’t exist. Anywhere. Maybe if she built a robot, she could program him to her exact weird specifications.

  “Okay. Are you serious about this? If I find someone who meets these needs for you, will you do it?”

  Mina waited for the punchline, but it didn’t seem to be coming.

  “I’m asking for impossible things, and… I’ve got these scars. Even if you could find some completely bizarre man who would go along with all of this, he wouldn’t want me once he saw the scars.” And he probably wouldn’t be able to deal with the drama of her emotional scars, either.

  “May I see them?” Lindsay asked.

  “I-I’d have to take off my shirt.”

  He raised a brow and leaned back in his seat. It was a challenge. It was a dare. And a small part of her buzzed with excitement, because it was also a show. God, what the fuck was wrong with her? Even now, after everything, she was so fucked in the head.

  Mina stood and turned around. She unbuttoned the silk top and let it slide off her shoulders. She’d never shown anyone her scars in full light—at least not anyone who wasn’t beating or fucking her. She’d worried that if things progressed with Tony, she’d have to insist on sex with the lights off.

  He’d think she was a prude or insecure, but it would be better than him seeing what had been done to her and maybe getting sadistic ideas of his own.

  Circular marks from cigarettes ran down the backs of her arms and her legs. There were whip scars and knife scars on her back. Most of it had healed enough that she didn’t look like a total monster, but the scars were definitely distracting. Mina couldn’t imagine how they wouldn’t be.

  She jumped when a warm finger traced one of them.

  A whimper left her throat.

  “Yes, you definitely need a proper master. I don’t think this will be a problem. You’d be surprised the number of men who have a hero complex and wouldn’t mind at all. You can put your shirt back on.”

  Mina’s fingers shook as she struggled to get the buttons back in their holes. When she sat, the doctor pressed a cup of tea into her hands.

  “It’s camomile. It’ll soothe you.”

  She took a sip and gathered the courage to say what she’d wanted to say since she’d stepped into his office. “Do you have somebody? A pet or slave or sub or whatever?”

  Lindsay shook his head. “Between my work here and… my other work… I don’t feel I have the time or energy to devote to someone like that.”

  “Oh.”

  He was letting her down easy.

  She stared into the cup, trying not to notice as he moved closer to her and leaned against the desk, his leg a mere inches from hers. All one of them would have to do is shift the barest amount to be touching the other.

  She flinched when his hand brushed her cheek.

  “Mina, look at me.”

  She looked up, wishing she could bury all the vulnerability she’d allowed this man to see, wishing he wanted her because if there was a single person on the planet who could give her faith that this could work and that she could be happy, it was Lindsay.

  “It’s not that I’m not attracted. I really don’t have time. I can’t give you what you need outside this office.”

  She nodded and took another sip of tea to distract herself from his looming closeness.

  Dr. Smith moved back behind the desk. “I’m going to call an associate of mine tomorrow to see if he’ll meet with you and if he thinks we should accept you into the program. I will warn you that he will touch you, and not in a safe, platonic way.”

  Mina felt the tremble coming back into her hands and set the teacup down on the desk.

  Lindsay pretended not to notice. “He will touch you. He will look at you. But he will not cause you pain, and he will not penetrate you. Do you trust me?”

  “Y-yes.” She shouldn’t. She shouldn’t trust any other perverts after what had happened with the last four. But the doctor felt more solid, more stable somehow.

  “If he agrees to the meeting will you go and do whatever he asks within those parameters?”

  “Y-yes.”

  He nodded and scribbled something down in the notebook. “Very well.”

  “A-are we finished here?”

  Lindsay glanced at the clock. “Unless you have more to talk about. Do you want me to prescribe a sedative?”

  “No.” There wasn’t a pill in the world that would let her sleep tonight. She gathered her purse and started for the door.

  “Mina?”

  She turned to find intense eyes on her once again.

  “Whether or not you end up in our program, you will not speak of this conversation to anyone. I care a great deal about you and your well-being. It would make me extraordinarily unhappy to have to hurt you. Do we understand each other?”

  “I-I don’t know anything.”

  “You suspect. That’s enough. I can’t let you leave this office unless we understand each other, because if you open your mouth to anyone, no one will ever find you. And that would pain me.”

  Every man she trusted turned out to be a monster.

  ***

  For three days, Mina convinced herself that her late Sunday night meeting with Dr. Smith had been a dream, that it had never happened at all. She’d been too tired. It had been too late. And it had been too weird. There was no way any of that had happened. It was just her sexual fantasies and fears crossing wires and spitting out a fucked-up dream.

  But then her cell phone rang. The doctor’s number flashed across the screen.

  “Hello?”

  “Anton will meet with you. Remember, dear Mina, this is only an interview. No promises.”

  She still didn’t know what the program was. She’d been too stunned to ask many questions the previous night, and she had a feeling that too many questions would only put her in more danger.

  “Mina?” Lindsay said. “Are you still willing to do this?”

  “I-I don’t know what I’m agreeing to. You’re scaring me.”

  He sighed. “You aren’t agreeing to anything just yet except to go see Anton and obey him for one afternoon. You will enjoy yourself. No harm will come to you. Afterward, he and I will speak and make a decision. You aren’t committing yourself to anything long term at this point. Can I tell Anton to expect you at four o’clock today?”

  “I’m supposed to work this evening.”

  “There are other waitressing jobs if this doesn’t pan out. In fact, I’ll find you a better job personally. Forget the restaurant. Go.”

  There might be other restaurants, but the one that employed her was fancy enough that the tips kept her rent paid. She doubted Lindsay could find her something better.

  Mina closed her eyes. “Yes. I’ll be there at four.” The yes bounced and echoed inside her brain so loud she barely heard the directions to Anton’s office. A place called Dome.

  “Wait, isn’t that a spa?” Mina asked, bewildered.

  “Like I said, you’ll enjoy yourself. I’m told Anton is very good at what he does.”

  The line went dead before she could reply. She stared at the phone, wondering if she should call him back, but it felt inappropriate. This whole thing was inappropriate.

  She spent the next three hours trying to convince herself that she wasn’t going to show up, but it rang false even in her own mind. Besides, she worried if she didn’t show up that Lindsay would think she was talking to the police or something. She had no doubt his earlier threat had implied her untimely death—not that he’d keep her prisoner somewhere.

  She tried, unsuccessfully to not think about Lindsay Smith keeping her prisoner somewhere. Because for all the wrong it was, the idea made her stomach flutter.<
br />
  Five minutes until four, Mina stared up at Dome. The building looked like a giant soap bubble, with the front looking as if it had been dipped in bronze. The doors were a shiny reflective glass.

  Mina stared at her reflection as she approached the building. She looked so mousy standing there all insecure in jeans and a t-shirt. Should she have dressed more sexy? Maybe she should have dressed like she did to see the therapist. Anton wouldn’t be impressed with this look. And maybe that was the point. She could still tactfully extricate herself from all of this if the answer was “No.” She’d have to find another therapist. After this she wasn’t sure she could look Lindsay in the face again—particularly not when she’d practically begged him to dominate her.

  A silver bell overhead jingled as she opened the heavy door. She tried not to appear self-conscious and out of place as she approached the reception desk. “I have an appointment with Anton?” It should have been a statement, but out of Mina’s mouth it became a question.

  The blonde behind the counter smiled brightly as she scanned their appointment system. “Four o’clock. Right on time, Ms. Calloway. Just have a seat, and Anton will be right with you.”

  The blonde pressed a button on the desk phone and said, “Your four o’clock is here.”

  Mina sat on a sofa next to a large palm plant. Minutes later, a door opened and out stepped one of the most attractive men Mina had ever laid eyes on. She’d thought Lindsay was something, but this guy… The idea of obeying him for the afternoon was beginning to sound appealing—as long as he didn’t hurt her.

  Anton was much younger than Lindsay, by a decade at least. He had longish wavy dark hair that fell over chiseled cheekbones. He looked like he lived at the gym, which made it a great mystery how he’d found time in his schedule to be here today at all.

  “Mina Calloway, yes?” he said. His accent sounded Russian, maybe Ukrainian. She could never tell the difference between the dialects. The accent made him seem even more dangerous, but he was so attractive that it would be nearly impossible to see him and run in the other direction.

  “Y-yes.” Her feet, without her awareness or direction, somehow moved her from the sofa to Anton’s side.

  “Janette, this is my last appointment for the day. You can pack your things and go home now,” he said, his wolfish gaze not leaving Mina.

  “Y-yes, sir,” the blonde said from the reception area.

  At least Mina wasn’t the only one here who couldn’t manage to speak without her voice wavering. There was some small comfort in that.

  Anton took her hand in his and kissed the back of it. His fingers were long, strong.

  “W-what is it exactly that you do here?” she asked.

  He laughed. “You are adorable. I like you.”

  He took her to a massage room with candles, a burbling fountain, and eastern ambient music. On one wall, a screen showed images from the spa as a soothing voice explained the spa’s philosophies and services.

  The screen went black, and the deadbolt clicked. When she turned, Anton blocked the door. Okay that wasn’t ominous or anything.

  Her mental sarcasm stopped short as she gripped the side of the massage table and doubled over, her breath coming hard and fast as the panic swamped her. This wasn’t a good time for this.

  Lindsay said he wouldn’t hurt you. The voice of reason tried to push through her anxiety, but it didn’t matter what the doctor promised. It didn’t even matter if he was sincere or truly believed she’d be safe. Right now, it was just her and a complete stranger locked in this little room—probably alone in the building now. He could do any fucked-up thing he wanted, and there was nothing Mina could do to stop him.

  Strong arms gripped her and pulled her to stand. “I’ve got you,” he said.

  Why this should be comforting, she didn’t know, but she did feel comforted all the same by the apparent concern in his voice.

  “Come with me.” He led her through a second door to a small attached apartment.

  “D-do you live here?” Mina asked, trying to keep things light, trying to forget she was locked in with this guy.

  “No, but it’s a long drive to my home, and I’ve been known to sleep here on occasion. I ownDome.”

  He took a bottle of wine and glasses out of a cabinet in the kitchenette. “Here,” he said, when he’d poured the wine. “Drink. It will settle you.”

  If she hadn’t watched him open a brand new bottle and pour it in front of her, she might have been too paranoid to accept the drink, but the only thing in it was wine. It was a brand she recognized and one she liked. She downed it in one long swallow, not caring what Anton would think of her slamming the wine back like a refugee from a 12-step program.

  Within minutes, the warm, tingly buzz crept over her face, and she didn’t feel like the world was ending—even though it still might be. That would depend on what Anton did to her.

  She handed the glass back to him.

  “Another?” he asked.

  “No.” She was afraid to be too drunk with him, afraid to pass out locked away in his secret apartment.

  He put the glass in the sink and sat beside her. She was surprised when he pulled her close. Without conscious thought, she leaned against his chest while his fingers caressed her hair and up and down her arm. Even after everything, she drank up the promise and hope of kindness.

  “Lindsay explained what we do, didn’t he?”

  “Well, not exactly. A bit. He was vague.” She found herself relaxing as his hand moved to knead the back of her neck.

  “And you understand you will be naked and being touched by me in a few moments, yes?”

  Maybe she should have taken the second drink. For all her experience in the kink scene, this man left her unbalanced.

  She nodded.

  Mina sat mute as he undressed her. The lighting was low, and for a moment she thought he might not get a good look at her back, but he moved to the wall and flicked a switch, bathing the room in bright cruel fluorescence.

  “Turn,” he said, rotating a finger in the air.

  She turned away and held her breath. The only sound in the room was the central heat clicking on. Anton made no comment. He didn’t trace any of her scars with his fingertips as the doctor had done.

  For those moments of silence, Mina found herself more terrified he would reject her than anything else he might do. Her damage was too much on display. It made her a freak. The longer this silence dragged, the more the images of Jason and the others flashed through her mind. The laughing, the taunts, the humiliation, the pain.

  Why had she allowed any of that?

  Why was she here now?

  “In this room, you will call me, Sir.”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  Something familiar. This would be okay. Even if he were a terrible person like the others, no one else had started hurting her the first day… they’d all pretended at first. He’d probably pretend, too. Then she would go home and forget all this.

  He perched on the edge of the bed. “Crawl to me. I want to watch how you move.”

  She went to her hands and knees and moved across the thick carpet.

  “Stay on your knees and spread your legs.” That accent touched places inside her that she’d been sure were gone now. “Sit up straight.”

  Being under Anton’s gaze was the very definition of scrutiny. Before it had been scenes at play parties followed by scenes that flowed into relationships in private… kink that flowed into abuse.

  Here, Anton held a quiet power, like the doctor’s in some ways. Different in others. These men were a whole other level—a level she’d been unaware existed. She was afraid to know more. The past chased her, biting at her heels, telling her to run. But all she could do was obey him.

  Anton leaned forward. “That’s a good girl,” he cooed as his hand moved between her legs. “So wet. Does it not embarrass you to be this excited kneeling at my feet?”

  “No, Sir.”

  “You’re very b
rave to be here.”

  She tensed at that, even as his fingers caressed the bundle of nerves between her thighs.

  “Relax. That was not a threat. Just an observation.” He stroked the side of her throat, leaving behind a trail of the evidence of her excitement.

  Anton’s hands strayed to her breasts, the lightest touch causing her nipples to harden.

  “I’ve seen enough. You can get dressed now. Lindsay will call you in a few days if we are interested in you.”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  He opened the door and disappeared into the depths of the spa.

  What had just happened? She wanted to run after him and ask if she’d done something wrong. But she knew the problem. Anton was repulsed by the scars.

  She hurriedly dressed, grabbed her bag, and slipped out of the building. It had already started to get dark, and she was grateful not to have the garish bright sun shining down on her to illuminate her shame.

  Mina sat behind the wheel of her car in stunned silence until the cold air seeped in through the edges of the windows.

  She felt used. Of course they weren’t going to call her. Anton had probably taken one look at the wreck that was her back and decided that her face couldn’t make up for it, that there was nothing she could do to impress or please enough to erase it.

  When she reached her apartment, she poured a glass of wine and went straight to her room and stripped. She held the glass in one hand and a cigarette in the other as she craned to study her reflection in the full-length mirror. She’d tried to pretend it wasn’t that bad. But it was that bad—even in the low lighting she kept in her room to minimize it. What had it been like in the bright light she’d been subjected to with Anton?

  Even without the dreams and panic attacks, it wouldn’t have worked with Tony because eventually he would have seen them. And how could she explain? Only a sadist could love those scars, and a sadist would only add to them.

  Mina brushed away a tear. She hadn’t realized she’d started crying again. Maybe she should lay off the wine. It made her more self-pitying.

  It felt as if the Russian’s hand lingered between her legs, those brief caresses that made her believe for the smallest second that something good could happen to her… a gentle dominance that wouldn’t turn to violence. She’d expected something more would happen. She’d found herself oddly hoping for it, praying she could handle it and finally find what she’d been searching for. But they didn’t want her.