9. Kadence

Where the fuck am I?

I was so dead asleep that when I wake in an unfamiliar bed, my first instinct is panic. Is this a hotel? It's certainly not the Sunken Treasure Motel in Paddle Creek. There's a distinct lake of mermaids, fish, and plastic doubloons.

Then it hits me.

McKenna.

No. Rafferty.

I rub my chest as my gaze drifts around the room that's bathed in early morning light. There's a gentleness in the soft pastel colors and twinkling glass of the chandelier. I take a few deep breaths and try to slow my heart rate down. As I massage my sternum, I feel the silky satin and lace trim on the negligee I'm wearing.

Rafferty put it on me. He did a lot for me last night.

This was not a part of the plan.

"Shit," I whisper to myself out loud. What the hell came over me? Deep down, I already know. Another panic attack, like the one I had in front of Logan that started this whole mess.

Except this time no one else saw. No one laughed at me. In fact, Rafferty bullied his way into taking care of me.

And just like that, he's not McKenna to me anymore. That's the name he shares with his fuck boi son. Rafferty was the man who gave me another round of mind-blowing sex last night. But then he gave me something else.

His kindness.

Sickness crawls up inside me. I'm not sure how to handle this. I was prepared for him to be a controlling, heartless jerk who wanted his way the whole time. I told myself that would be fine because he's hot, and I would just suffer through any indignities until I could get the evidence I need. I told myself I was okay whoring myself out for pretty things so long as it brought me closer to my ultimate goal.

But the orgasm was so intense and then the sub-drop frighteningly immediate. Perhaps it was an adrenaline crash? Whatever the case, it left me emotionally defenseless when Rafferty wasn't cruel…he was kind.

I bite my lip as shameful tears fill my eyes again. My sister has been warning me for years that I need some therapy. She says I have too much repressed shit and that it's only a matter of time before it starts to leak out, whether I want it to or not. Is that what these panic attacks are?

Both incidents were different, though. Logan humiliated me and made me feel worthless. Then it was the crying itself in front of others that traumatized me more than anything.

With Rafferty…it was when he didn't dehumanize me that I broke down. Wasn't that what I wanted from Logan all along?

Did I cry last night because when I got what I wanted, I felt like I didn't deserve it?

I think back to Stanley. Sure, we'd hug and stuff after sex, but he was clear that he didn't like ‘that mushy shit.' I always thought that I didn't want that either, but now I'm not so certain.

Maybe I like being a doll because it means that I don't have any expectations of love or affection. It feels safe. But it freaked me the hell out that Logan would fuck me, then not even acknowledge my existence when we met in public.

Kind of like how my rich conservative parents act like they don't have a son at all, at least not one they can be proud of.

Dear lord, I confuse myself. Perhaps Erika is right, and I really should be talking to a shrink instead of concocting elaborate revenge plots. I mean, she's almost certainly definitely completely right about that. But I'm here now, so I'm not sure how much I can walk it back.

And how ironic is it that the man I've painted as my enemy is the only one who's giving me what I want. Not even that. He's giving me what I need without me even knowing it.

If Jessie's friendship and concern were making me uncomfortable, this is in a different league of its own.

I take some more deep breaths and rub my eyes. This—whatever ‘this' is precisely—isn't going to be solved right now, no matter how much I try. I'm only here until tomorrow evening, and despite all these frustrating and confusing emotions swirling around my head, I've still got a mission to accomplish.

Ignoring the seed of doubt that's sprouting in my chest, I make the decision to proceed as planned, and that involves being better than perfect and beautiful at all times. Rafferty gave me a pass last night, thanks to my mortifying meltdown. But we haven't got long together, and I'm determined not to let it happen again.

So I pull the negligee off and fold it under my pillow before getting in the shower. I like the products Rafferty bought for me, so I use those as I make sure every inch of me is scrubbed once more. Then I take my time putting on day serums moisturizers, shimmery lotion, and several hair products. Before I get a chance to worry about going and asking for one, I find a hairdryer in one of the drawers of the dresser. Excellent.

Curls and body sorted, I open up the closet again and allow myself to have a proper inspection of the new clothes. For an older, cis, supposedly straight guy, Rafferty has done an impressive job of spoiling me with some seriously gorgeous threads.

Most of them are the same kind of baby doll design similar to my negligee. But there are also a couple of dresses that wouldn't look out of place on Bridgerton, a kimono, and a voluminous party dress. As I explore further, I also discover a lot of panties, some bralettes, feather boas, and even a faux fur coat. I'm not vegan or anything, but killing an animal purely for an aesthetic reason seems unnecessarily cruel to me, so I'm glad it's fake.

I try not to mark it up as another pro point on Rafferty's imaginary pros and cons list that I'm definitely not keeping in my head.

When I sit down at the dressing table to apply my face, I open up the smaller drawers at the top on a whim. My jaw drops as I realize there are a number of jewelry boxes hidden in there, and I assume they're for me. They're mostly diamonds and pearls, but there's one fancy floral necklace that's made from several different colored gems. It would have been so easy to make a piece like that tacky, but it's extremely elegant. I touch it reverently for a few moments before shutting the box lid and focusing on my look for the day.

Rafferty put up with my shit last night, so I feel like I need to get back in his good books. He might have insisted on the aftercare, but he shouldn't have had to do all that for a fun, no-strings-attached weekend hook-up. So I've picked out a mint-green baby doll dress with long, flared sleeves and opulent feathered trimming. It's a little like the outfit he first met me in, only this one has many layers of silky material, so it isn't see-through.

That's why I'm not bothering with any underwear.

He wanted ready? I'll give him ready.

Plus, I have the perfect green pumps to pair it with. After considering my incredible new jewelry collection, I decide to go with pearls, fastening a string around my neck. I once read somewhere that Coco Chanel loved pearls so much because the light is supposed to reflect off them and make your face look radiant. I'm not sure if that's true or not, but it's the kind of confidence boost I'm looking for right now.

Just doing the base layers of foundation and highlighters and all that takes at least half an hour. I'm becoming increasingly anxious that Rafferty's going to come barging in before I'm ready, but I refuse to rush this part of the process.

I know I'm planning on screwing him over. But he was nice to me last night. He deserves to get what he bargained for, even just for a day. A picture-perfect sex doll.

As I add the last few shimmery touches, I finally relax. My stomach also grumbles, reminding me that I skipped dinner because I was so upset last night. I'm not sure if I'm allowed to simply go down to the kitchen and fix myself something or what.

A knock at the door yanks me from my thoughts.

My head snaps in that direction, and I'm unsure of what I should do for a moment. "Kadence?" Rafferty calls gently through the wood. "Are you in there?"

I open my mouth to reply, but then I remember where I am. Who I am.

I'm not Kadence anymore.

Careful not to trip over my own heels, I rush to perch on the side of the bed that I thankfully already remade, complete with all the throw pillows. Facing the direction of the door, I relax my body into my doll pose, letting my gaze drift.

"Yes, Daddy," I say clearly.

The handle turns, and the door slowly swings inward. I might be looking into the middle distance, but I can still see Rafferty's eyebrows shoot up. If he'd been expecting a crumpled boy hiding under the covers, he severely underestimated me.

"Hello, beautiful doll," he says appreciatively, stepping into the room and caressing the side of my face. "Don't you look absolutely perfect in all of Daddy's pretty presents?"

"Yes, Daddy."

He rubs his thumb over my glossy lower lip before pushing it inside my mouth for me to suck. He watches me hungrily for a few seconds before withdrawing it.

"Is Daddy's beautiful Kiki feeling okay this morning?"

I want to tell him that dolls don't have feelings. That I don't want to mention last night ever again. But I also want to play the game more, so I let those thoughts and feelings dissolve, holding on to my doll head space.

"Yes, Daddy."

This time, he feeds me his middle finger, making me get it slick with spit, before he pushes me back, turning me ninety degrees as he does.

"Oh, good doll," he says breathlessly as he pushes up my skirts and finds that I'm not wearing any panties underneath. The bed dips as he kneels by my feet, and then…

Apparently, my Daddy hasn't had breakfast yet, either.

He wraps his lips around my cock at the same time his wet finger probes my hole. I'm still not sure what his experience with men is, but he knows enough to sheath his teeth so they don't scratch me.

Lying on my back makes it easier for me to stay lifeless, even if his hot mouth feels exquisite and he's already got his finger inside me up to the knuckle. When he strokes my prostate, I have to grit my teeth to stop myself from screaming. He knows what he's doing to me, though, and he laughs, popping off my dick and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

"We're going to keep this dress pretty for now, baby doll. So you're going to come down Daddy's throat whenever it feels good for you."

And with that, he dives back in, slurping on my cock and rubbing my sweet spot like he's attempting to entice a genie from a lamp. I try to make it last. I really do. But ultimately, I'm powerless, and he's got me spurting within thirty seconds.

To his credit, he drinks it all down until I'm softening and sensitive in his mouth. He lets me go with a kiss to my shaft, pulling out his finger gently. Then I feel the mattress bounce as he stands up and moves to the bathroom. I hear the faucet turn on as I assume he washes his hands. Then he's back, giving my intimate areas a gentle wipe-down.

Taking hold of my shoulders, he encourages me to sit back up while he stands in front of me. "Look at Daddy, Kiki doll." I do as he says. "Did you like Daddy's special treat?"

"Yes, Daddy," I tell him sincerely.

He grins, his lips reddened and swollen. I must admit I wasn't expecting that. Stanley never went down on me. That was my job. I think he thought that was too submissive, too feminine for him to lower himself like that. Rafferty looks like he really enjoyed himself.

"Good boy," he says, cupping the side of my face. I've noticed that he only ever called me ‘doll' to begin with, but now he seems more accepting that I'm also a boy.

If he really did think he was straight—or had a limited experience with his bisexuality—that's pretty cool. I did that. Or rather, Kiki did that.

"Are you hungry?" Rafferty asks.

"Yes, Daddy," I answer without hesitation. I won't lie. After another mind-blowing orgasm, I've used up so much energy my stomach is threatening to eat itself and I'm worryingly close to feeling faint.

But…he didn't come. I'm supposed to be the one servicing him this weekend. He's the Daddy. His needs are the most important. For a second, I'm frozen, unable to decide what to do. I don't really have the words in my doll vocabulary to convey what I'm feeling, so should I break the scene? If I'm abiding by my own rules, I shouldn't technically move of my own volition. He's supposed to guide me.

I can't leave him hanging. I just can't. His bulge is clearly visible in his pants. He's been so good to me.

"Daddy?" I say simply, tilting my head as I look at him and jerking my stiff arm toward his crotch.

He's quick to loop his fingers around my wrist and ease my arm back down. "Daddy's fine, pretty doll. We can play again later. Daddy enjoyed making his doll happy. Kiki can do the same for Daddy later, hmm?"

Relief washes through me now I've been given clear instructions. "Yes, Daddy," I say with a little more warmth than I'd usually employ in doll mode.

"Good," he says with a nod. "Daddy needs to feed his Kiki doll now. He must be starving." Taking my hands, he carefully pulls me to my feet. He takes a second to straighten my hair and dress as he beams at me. "So perfect," he says with a sigh.

I'm expecting it this time when he places his hand on the small of my back and steers me out of the room. When I woke up earlier, I felt completely undone and unsure. I didn't know where I was, or maybe even who I was, certainly not what I was doing.

But now I have a purpose again. I am here to perform a duty. I have a mission.

I have given all my control over to Rafferty, and when the time comes, I'll take that control back, unraveling his world. Logan's world. The McKenna reign is over and I'm going to be the one to take them down.

Except as I make my way down the stairs, I can't help but think again of the differences between my two panic attacks. How the two McKennas had such opposite reactions.

Yes, Rafferty is a bastard millionaire.

But does he really deserve his son's punishment?

Honestly…I'm not so sure anymore.