Page 49 of Dollhouse

I grit my teeth. My face is shoved again to the floor when it becomes clear I won’t respond, my dignity completely gone. The instinct to fight back as tampered by the only card they have to play right now for my compliance.Bo.I’d suffer anything if it protects him.

“Crawl.”

I freeze, the words ringing me back to that night with Noah, burned into my head. My throat clenches at the memory of the four of us, playing, pushing our boundaries a little at a time. Nothing had felt quite so enticing as crawling for Noah, his eyes burning into me as he watched me submit for him.

This was impossibly different. Leering eyes surround me, getting off on the fact I have no control. I hate that they get to look at me.I’m not theirs.

I’m Noah’s.

My hands move me forward and as I start trembling, I let myself sink into those memories. It’s the only choice I have when Bundy’s straight ahead, sitting back as if he owns the world and I'm merely a toy here for his entertainment.

I’ll endure, but I can hide.

The woods and the smell of pine as I giggle with Bo. Jesse’s laughter. Noah’s hands.

I reach his feet, and look up into dead, empty eyes.

“Kiss my boot, sweet girl. I need to know you’re willing to serve.”

My stomach clenches like I might just vomit, and Bo growls behind me. A thud echoes out, as if he’s been kicked again.

Eric shifts in his chair and I wonder what his reaction is. Does he hate it? Does it bother him to see me being treated this way? Maybe he thinks it’s a fitting punishment for giving myself away.

“I’m waiting.” Bundy’s voice is cold with warning and I swallow, lowering my face to his boot. I pause for the tiniest moment, gathering myself as a warm breath rolls across the leather before planting a tiny kiss there.

His large hand grips the back of my head, scaring a cry from my throat as he shoves my face down, the toe of his shoe lodging between my teeth so that my mouth is forced open.

“Stay just like that.” Bundy’s voice cuts with an edge that wasn’t there before. “Eric, select one of the men.”

For what? To whip me?My choppy breaths aren’t enough, my lungs starting to burn as I fight his grip, which only makes him laugh.

Bo rages in the corner. “You motherfuckers! Eric I will gut you! I will fucking kill you! Emma, fight them. Harder,please, baby.”

His voice breaks and I try, throwing myself backward but the large hand keeps my head locked in place as I struggle. Panic is stealing my senses along with the air from my lungs because I can't get away. He’s too strong. Bo knows it and I know it. Noah’s training was useless. Without a weapon, I can’t keep them from hurting us.

Tears and saliva stain his shoe as I start to break. Eric’s feet have disappeared from my limited vision as he chooses whoever gets to punish me next. Would it be the whip, a crop? Or would it be some other form of pain? Mental, maybe.

My mind works quickly to procure one hundred different things I would rather die than experience.

I hear someone walking up behind me and the fear condenses, festering up my throat. “Stop, please, I’ll be good I promise.” My words are garbled by the leather, but they don’t matter anyway.

“I know you will,” Bundy hums into my ear, mouth grazing my temple. “But this isn’t about you. This is about your husband.” He leans back up. “Get her ready, Eric.”

The second I feel my husband’s hands on the waistband of my underwear, I check out. Bo is spitting threats at the entire room, earning him all of the punishments I’d wanted to protect him from.

Hands are on me, rough ones that grip my hips too tightly.

Come in here. It’s Noah’s voice in my head. Almost as if he’s here, as if there’s a place in my head that even Bundy can’t reach, and Noah’s carved it out just for me. I crawl inside it with him and let his hands cover my eyes and drown out the sounds surrounding me.

I stay there, refusing to count the pieces of myself as they’re torn from my body and scattered like trash on the floor.

What passes next could last minutes or hours and I would believe it. It’s impossible to say. There’s a window pane in the far corner of the room, up toward the ceiling, and I watch the raindrops crying down the glass like it’s the only thing left that exists.

“Oh, look at those empty eyes,” Bundy says, voice thick with false concern as he looks down at me. “Maybe we moved too fast with theangel.”Noah’s nickname for me is a sneer, and it hurts to hear it when I’m so clearly ruined. “It’s comfort we should be giving now, men. Familiarity. Bo knows how to do that, don’t you?”

No. The men take a step back, and my body sags, broken beneath their treatment. “Leave him alone,” I croak, my throat wracked with pain from being forced open around the leather of Bundy’s shoe.

“He’ll do it, or Eric will,” he croons, and I manage to glance up and catch the wicked gleam that lights up his eyes. Tormenting me is the most animated I’ve seen him.