Page 17 of Toy No More

Back in the Dollhouse, my only wish is to get my things out of my locker and head home. Unfortunately, I’m not that lucky. Trey and a few others talk in the hallway, as loud and seemingly bored as usual. The moment they see me, they ask me to play poker with them in the warehouse backroom.

With all of my being, I want to refuse, but I can’t do that.

I have to stay, instead of spending some quality time with my family, because otherwise, I’m going to remain a stranger here. Once I decline this one offer, there might be no more coming after. I become that omega who never wants to hang out. I get othered and pushed to the side. The last thing I need is to make life harder for myself. Even if it means having to waste time doing something I don’t enjoy with people I don’t like to be around.

At least I’m not the worst at poker.I watched Mr. Wilson play enough of it with his old hotshot colleagues to learn a thing or two.

“Sure,” I say with feigned interest. Trey slaps me over the back excitedly and we head out.

The group takes a route that goes right through the Dollhouse—definitely not the shortest one, but somehow good enough for the guys to have a quick little peek at the scantily clad and actively-at-work dolls.

The sound and scent of the place overwhelms me for a moment. It does every time I have to be here, which thankfully isn’t often. I was informed of the rules all of Jasper’s men have to abide by when I started here—no fooling with the dolls. Unless you pay for it. That is aside from the wonderful tradition of getting a night with one of them on one’s birthday. Jasper’s gratuitous gift to his loyal workers.

Still, it doesn’t stop some guys from staring them down suggestively, and it doesn’t stop two of the uncomfortably young-looking girls walking from the bar, wearing nothing but tiny tutu skirts and sheer corsets from flirtatiously winking at our group.

I face away, not in the mood to engage, and when I do, my eyes inevitably meet the stage. Today, it’s crowded. What’s happening nearly makes my heart stop. Without realizing it, my legs stop moving, and I stare at the scene, this one nowhere near as enchanting or poetic as the first time.

What’s in front of me is not short of a vulgar, animalistic display. A terrifying, hedonistic show of…whatever it is.

Four men surround Apollo, all much older and larger than him. Trembling on his knees in the middle of the bed, he’s harshly taken from the back by one, while another tall, buff alpha thrusts into his mouth. Two more sit to the sides—one jerking off to the sight, the other fondling Apollo’s cock. They’re using some sort of gadget connected to his nipples and his penis that I can’t see properly.

My stomach twists. I can’t look away. Inside my heart is nothing but pure terror, not a shred of anything resembling arousal. How could I be turned on bythat? How could they?

He looks… He looks so completely…

Apollo looks like a toy. Like a sex doll. An object. He’s playing the role of the victim in one of those horribly violent pornos, only this is real life. Thisisn’ta fantasy.

His face draws me in, no matter how much I want to break away from the sight. Drool drips down his mouth as the alpha holds him by the hair and thrusts in and out, unrelenting. Is it sweat running down his cheeks or tears? I can’t tell. He barely looks like he can breathe.

Apollo’s eyes roll into the back of his head until he blinks and turns them to me. The moment his gaze fixates on me, I jolt like I got an electric shock.

I finally manage to tear myself away, quickly turning to catch up with the group.

What felt like me standing there and watching the scene for hours was only a few seconds in reality. I try to push it out of my memory when the door closes behind us, but the image plays in my mind’s eye.

Against all odds, I welcome the distraction of the few poker games. I hate to admit to myself that it clears my head and makes me forget about everything for an hour, but it really does.

When I go back before finally going home, I can’t help but glance into the main room through the small window in the door. The stage is empty now. I’d hope so, after all the time I spent playing. But…something prevents me. A nagging, illogical feeling.

I don’t need or want a smoke, I even refused a cigarette with the guys because I’m not trying to become fully addicted, and yet…I put one between my lips, heading to the back entrance by the loading dock.

What am I expecting? To see him and apologize? For what?Staring?

It’s completely foolish, and still I do it.

To my shock, Apollo is actually there. The other day, I must have accidentally found his favorite place to unwind.

He turns sharply when I step outside. For a moment, there’s a clear discontentment on his face, before he chuckles and shakes his head, looking down. “You again,” he mutters.

The image of him from before flashes in front of my eyes, making me tense up. I light up the cigarette to look like I have a reason to be here—and to calm myself—before stepping closer to him. This time, I don’t sit next to him but stay resting against the pillar above him.

Apollo’s quiet.Of course he is. What those men did, he—

“Are you okay?” I ask softly. I can already predict that he probably won’t appreciate my concern much, but I don’t care. Even if I make him mad again, I have to ask.

“Why wouldn’t I be?” he snaps without looking at me. His otherwise smooth voice twists and distorts with desperation at the end, making my heart tug.

I sigh to myself and stare at my feet while smoking the cigarette.Maybe I shouldn’t have come here after all.“Look, I didn’t mean—”Damn it. I can’t get my thoughts straight.“I’m not trying to be weird or disrespectful. I just wanted to apologize for upsetting you last time.”

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