11. Kadence

I really didn't meanto fall asleep. There's just something about this man that makes me drop my guard.

That's dangerous.

I'm aware that at some point we move locations. I moan and try to make myself wake up, but Rafferty shushes me and tells me to go back to sleep. So I do.

I wish I could say that my dreams were peaceful, but I don't think they are. It's like sifting through sand, trying to remember anything, but I know I'm distressed and trying to scream at someone, but no sound is coming out.

"No," I mumble.

"Wake up, pretty doll. You're having a bad dream."

"No," I utter once more, feeling myself fight and frown.

But there's a strong hand on me, running up my bare leg and skimming my tummy. Oh, yeah. I'm not wearing any underwear. I'm with Rafferty. I'm…I'm supposed to be tricking him…

"Shhh, Kiki," he says. His voice is soothing, but there's also something firm and no nonsense about it. I find that comforting. Sometimes, especially when I'm spirally and at my worst, I just want someone to tell me what to do.

"Daddy," I whimper. If I were more conscious, I'd probably feel pathetic. But I'm still half-asleep, and all I can really focus on is the touch of his hand and the low rumble of his voice.

"Shh, Kiki," he repeats. "It's okay. Daddy's here. Be a doll. Just be a doll."

That, I can do. I can be Kiki. Kiki doesn't have any cares in the world apart from being perfect for Daddy. Kiki can relax. Daddy will take care of Kiki.

Gradually, I let the tension seep from my body. The bad dreams fade away. I remember that I had them, but not what they were about. Daddy Rafferty massages my hip, thigh, and side, hugging me to him. I realize that the TV is on, playing some old movie. Daddy is watching it. I'm just an accessory, something to comfort him as he relaxes.

I switch off, giving myself over to him and his wishes.

That's when his hand drifts over my stomach, heading south, skimming my inner thighs, casually pushing my legs apart.

"What's your color, Kiki doll?"

"Green, Daddy."

As his hand encircles my cock, I remain limp against his side. I have no say in the matter. It's my honor to be his plaything. I might as well be a fidget spinner. My hardening length is just something to absently occupy his hand.

I feel so free.

Yet again I think about how good he is with my kink despite only just stumbling into it. Except it's a distant, floaty idea that's dancing somewhere in the distance. I don't need to worry about big thoughts right now. Daddy will make all the decisions.

He doesn't acknowledge me now that I've shaken off my dreams and calmed down. His eyes are on the movie as he strokes my cock. I breathe deeply, not letting myself squirm the way I want to. It helps that Rafferty isn't trying to make me come. But he is keeping me hard.

I'm not sure how long he watches the movie for while he plays with me, but I've leaked enough pre-cum to slick his fingers, which he starts probing my hole with. My cock twitches as he pushes one digit, then two, inside me, stretching me out.

Without a word, he withdraws then pushes me down the length of the couch, so my face is smushed into the pillows and my dress falls down my back, leaving my ass exposed. I hear the click of a cap and the snick of his zipper, then smell more fruity lube. It's the only warning I get before the fat head of his dick is pressing against my entrance.

My head is slightly turned so I can breathe. As he starts to rock into me, the image on the large flatscreen dances at a ninety-degree angle, several feet in front of my eyes. With my gaze unfocused, the colors are just blurs. The voices, music, gunfire, and explosions seem far away.

All I care about is the slow rhythm of my Daddy's cock as he luxuriates in pulsing in and out of me, using my hole to make himself feel amazing. His length strokes my prostate, making my heart race and my skin perspire. The side of my face rubs against the pillow, and I worry about my make-up smearing on the fabric.

Rafferty is rich, he can afford to clean or replace it. And I can reapply if necessary. So I stop worrying.

All I need to care about is the way Rafferty moans as his pace increases. How his fingers dig into my hips, anchoring him as he ravages me. I lie limp, embodying the sex doll I promised him I would be.

As he comes, he gasps and shudders, but otherwise makes no sound. The movie on the TV plays on, the hero saying something to the heroine that just sounds muffled to me. I lie still as Rafferty slowly extracts himself. The sofa dips, and I hear him huff and pull some tissues from a box before zipping his pants back up.

To my surprise, he rolls me gently onto my back. My hole drips with his cum and the lube, but luckily I think my dress catches the worst of the mess. My reddened cock bounces almost painfully against my stomach. With the movie's soundtrack swelling in the background, he leans down and once more takes me into his mouth. My stretched and slippery hole offers little resistance as he pushes two fingers inside me and aggressively massages my prostate.

I do my best to remain inanimate, but my orgasm crashes over me like a tsunami. I gnash my teeth, breathing heavily through my nose as I screw up my eyes, tears leaking down my cheeks. He swallows down every drop I give him, sucking on me gently as I go soft in his mouth until he finally lets me go.

He reaches back for the box of tissues once more, and carefully wipes me down before sitting me upright again and tucking me under his wing, pressed against his side. He pets my hair as the movie credits start to roll.

"Good boy," he murmurs.

I sigh, letting Kiki go as I wiggle my stiff fingers and squirm my aching body against him. "Thank you, Daddy," I whisper.

There's a fair amount of food on the table, not to mention juice and an ice bucket with a wine bottle nestled inside. It's like as soon as I notice the spread, my stomach rumbles.

Without me having to say anything, Rafferty reaches forward and picks up a wooden charcuterie board laden with all kinds of goodies. He rests it on the wide arm of the couch, then begins feeding me bite-sized morsels like he did at breakfast.

No one's ever fed me before. I try not to grin too much as I lick his fingers and waggle my eyebrows at him. Now that I'm not in doll mode anymore I can show my appreciation.

"You like that, huh?" he says, clearly amused.

"I love it, Daddy," I say sincerely. "Thank you."

He rubs his thumb against my lower lip. It's salty from the little cubes of cheese, slices of garlicky meat, and plump olives he's been feeding me. I suck it and even though I'm sure neither of us is ready for another round just yet, I still feel the spark of chemistry between us.

The credits finish, and the screen goes back to the homepage, suggesting other movies in the same sort of genre. "Can we watch something else?" I ask hopefully. His TV is almost as large as my whole bed, and I'd quite like to pay attention to something this time.

"Of course, baby doll," he says warmly. "You pick."

He hands me the remote and I don't waste much time selecting a movie I saw once a couple of years ago at the theater. I want something I don't have to give all my attention to but that will still hold my interest somewhat.

Rafferty continues to feed me, and also insists I drink a full glass of juice followed by some water. Only then does he let me have some wine. Full and calm, I snuggle against him under a blanket, enjoying how he plays with my hair.

We're about halfway through the movie when I realize that this is aftercare. He snuck it on me. But that's not even the most disturbing part.

I love it.

For once, I don't feel all over the place. I thought it was normal to be fidgety and emotional after a scene. I'm used to the waves of sadness and shame, accustomed to brushing them off as part of the regular rhythm of sex. I always told myself that I was strong. Other subs might need coddling after scenes, but I didn't.

Maybe I don't. However, I can't deny that this feels really, really nice.

I swallow the bite of apple and creamy brie cheese, licking my lips as I think that over. So this is just something Rafferty just does with everyone he sleeps with? Part of me is dying to ask him, but I'm overpowered by the part of me that would rather not know.

I'm aware I'm being a brat, but I'd rather live in ignorance and believe that I'm somehow special. That he doesn't spend a typical Saturday afternoon having sex on the couch and a picnic in front of the TV with just anyone.

I'm also not sure I'm ready to admit that this man is simply kind. It's not an act. He would have slipped up by now, I'm sure. He's considerate and takes charge in a way that puts my needs first, not his own.

I mean, yes—he gave that whole speech about me being here purely to be fucked by him whenever and however he wants. He's definitely living up to that promise. But at the same time, he somehow makes me feel like it's all about me. That I'm his priority. That I really am special.

Despite my earlier train of thought, I'm not sure I can cope with that level of attention. I don't want anyone caring about me.

That means they'll have power over me.

"What are you thinking about, pretty doll?" Rafferty asks me, pulling me from my reverie.

I blink and look up at him. I realize I've zoned out and missed at least ten minutes of the movie. That doesn't matter, but I don't want him knowing that's where my mind was at. I'm already giving so much of my power away to him.

"Just pretty doll thoughts, Daddy," I assure him, snuggling closer to his side.

He scoffs and kisses my forehead. I'm not sure he's totally convinced, but he doesn't ask anything further, so that's all that really matters.

It's not until I go to the bathroom a little while later that I realize I forgot to check my make-up. Sure enough, it's a little smudged. Nothing comically bad, but by no means perfect. I feel a rush of panic and shame as I hastily try to fix it with my fingers, but then I slowly let my hands drop. Rafferty certainly didn't care all evening. Why should it matter now?

Besides, it's getting close to bedtime, and I'm not going to sleep with all this on. Now that I'm paying attention to it again, my eyes feel crusty enough after that nap earlier.

So I slip away to my bedroom to remove all the products before applying night serums and moisturizers. I get into my nightgown with the matching silk robe and find the fluffy slippers he also bought for me. Then I pad downstairs once more. I'm curious yet again about the rest of the house, but I respect that he doesn't want me poking around in his private rooms.

I'm not sure how much longer he wants to stay up or what else he wants to do. That's up to him. It is our last night together, after all. But at least now whenever he decides it's time to go to bed, I'm comfortable and ready for sleep.

Still pretty, though. Obviously.

"Hello, gorgeous," he says as I come back to the sofa, opening his arms for me, and his eyes trail over my new outfit. Pleased that he's evidently still impressed, I cuddle up next to him, pressing a sweet kiss to his cheek.

"Hello, Daddy."

For a few seconds, he studies my face, his eyes lingering on my lips. Not for the first time I wonder if he's going to kiss me there. I haven't explicitly said he can't, but he seems to inherently know he shouldn't. However, for just a moment I wonder if I actually want him to.

No. That would be crossing a line, and I think we both know it, because he taps my nose with his index finger, smiling and breaking the spell of the moment.

"Beautiful."

We finish watching this second movie, and I try not to yawn but fail. Rafferty chuckles at me.

"I think that's our cue to head to bed. Come on. I'll clear all this in the morning."

I want to protest about being wasteful, but looking down at the coffee table, it turns out that we've eaten almost all of the perishable food. I guess it really won't hurt to leave the mess for now. And if that's what Daddy wants to do, that's what we'll do.

He places his hand on the small of my back in the way that I'm growing to love. As we head upstairs, he flicks off the light switches and sets the alarm. It feels cozy like I've never experienced with anyone else before. Like we're tucking the house into bed.

When we reach my room, he drags me down onto the mattress with hunger in his eyes, soon pulling himself free and pushing inside me once again. But this time I don't fall into doll mode. I look into his eyes as he fucks me slowly and tenderly, drawing the experience out until we both come, clinging to each other as we grunt and cry out.

He showers my body, careful not to wet my face with all my nighttime products already applied, nor my hair, so we don't need to dry it. Then he puts my nightie back on and tucks me in. Luckily, we contained our mess, so there's no need to change the sheets.

In the dim light, he looks down at me for several moments as he caresses the side of my cheek. I bite my lip, not sure what he's thinking. Just as I'm about to say "Daddy?" he smiles and leans down to press his lips to my forehead.

"Good night, my beautiful doll."

"Good night, Daddy," I say as he turns off the light, then closes the door, leaving me in darkness.

My mind is whirling, so I figure it's going to take me forever to fall asleep. But I underestimated how exhausted I am, and soon I'm slipping into unconsciousness.

As I finally succumb, I hope my dreams will be kinder to me tonight.