Chapter 1: Dangerous Obsession
“That’s the third time I’ve seen that man near Asami in a week,” River says darkly, watching Asami and Liam Maddox. “Dangerous.”
“You say that about all the over-eager customers. If he’s that obsessed it means she’s doing something right,” I say.
There’s something between them, I see it in the way Asami laughs – a real laugh – and the way it makes the man Liam light up. He can’t help but smile at her despite the corner they’re lingering on.
River lights a joint and shakes her head as the lines of smoke from the cherry tip obscure her face. She might as well have pulled a mask over her expression. She exhales slowly, as if she’s the source of the lingering sticky fog clinging to the hot, damp roads.
Obsession causes problems. Your clients should want you, but never crave you.
River
“Obsession causes problems. Your clients should want you, but never crave you. If you become an addiction… it’s as dangerous as falling in love, usually with worse fallout,” River says. She lets the joint drop down around her hip when she spots a man. “Play it safe, Lacy. know the kind of man that can fuck without emotion. It’s better to be a used toy than a broken woman.”
She leaves me to think over those words while purring ‘baby’ at a man as if it will disguise the ice clinging to her heart and the claws she wants to sink into any man she believes can afford her.
River’s been doing this longer than most and only has scars she chooses to show. She’s a bit of an inspiration for any doll that wants to make it on her own, but I’m not sure if I can be as cold and apathetic as she is. Even if she makes it look graceful, intoxicating, powerful.
My gaze slowly moves back to Asami. She gently tugs on Liam’s shirt and he steps towards her, welcoming her control. There’s more than adoration in his eyes though, especially when another man whistles at Asami and asks when she has free time with a wink.
Something sharp and lethal flits across Liam’s face as he stands and locks eyes with the other man. River says when a man gets protective, it’s a sign to start to say no. Men like that don’t want to be fucked, they don’t want to talk, they don’t want our services, they want us.
I wouldn’t know. I became a doll after four relationships ended after I gifted them my body. I never should have done it for free or in exchange for a few tender words when I could have made hundreds off them to soften the disappointment of a boring, unimpressive lay.
A man being inspired to protect me, rather than push me further and further down their cock until I can’t get a word out doesn’t sound like a problem. Asami strokes over Liam’s chest, her face softening into a smile that doesn’t reach her eyes.
She stands on her toes, kisses his cheek and leaves him. He watches after her for a moment, then glances at the man who yelled her way. After a moment’s hesitation, he follows the man, his hands stuffed into his pockets as he swaggers that direction confidently.
Something other than the humid, hot air teases my nerves until I get the intense urge to walk away. Whatever is going to happen isn’t meant for my eyes. I head to a row of bars and nearly dip into The Black Wire, but everyone knows how Rowan feels about business being done on his property, so I slide into a bar next door, a kind of hookah lounge that definitely serves more than nicotine.
Chapter 2: Lovers on Loan, Secrets for Sale
A buzz lingers in the thick smoky air as floral and fruity scents swirl with the sharper smell of nicotine and whiskey. I find a lounge and lay across it. My light purple gauzy dress is completely out of place in the city, but that earns me more looks. I’ve always wanted to look like a Renaissance painting and since my recreations of those paintings didn’t earn me enough, I slid into one.
My dark brown hair rolls in curls over my neck, teasing the top of my breast. My deep dark eyes have tinges of gold to them. I never went in for the eye surgery so many dolls get, but they’re getting better at it, allowing dolls to see more without the now stereotypical mark to their gaze.
Men approach, offer me their brand of smoke and I entertain two men that night. They’re friends in the loosest sense of the word, competing with one another once we get to my private room. Cam takes my mouth while his friend, Dom, takes my pussy, both thrusting at different paces, trying to steal my focus under the guise of sharing me.
No one really wants to share – that’s one of the first lessons of being a doll.
Lacy
No one really wants to share – that’s one of the first lessons of being a doll. I never talk about other clients when one is near me and this is my first time being shared by men who can actually stand each other, not that the insanity and ripple of threat leaves until they’ve both finished.
They cuddle me between them and ignore their fingers brushing as they stroke my body.
“You’re something, Lacy,” Cam says as he turns my chin to kiss my chin.
“A wonderful something,” Dom agrees. “If only you could be more talkative.”
“Maybe if I didn’t have a cock down my throat and buried somewhere else at the same time,” I tease.
Both of them chuckle. Dom tugs on my hair, drawing my attention while Cam sucks and licks my nipple. They both paid for two hours, knowing they were sharing me for that time, and they’re apparently going to get the most out of it.
I arch against Cam’s mouth.
“How could anyone be rough with someone as sweet as you?” Dom asks as he traces a scar along my jaw. “I could pay to help you forget that pain.”
“And this one,” Cam says, kissing my other deep scar, between my breasts. “Was someone so upset you wouldn’t give them your heart that they tried to claw it out?”
“We know what to do with people like that,” Dom purrs, stroking my bottom lip.
“Put a knife in your hand and hold the man in place,” Cam agrees, his tongue tracing the scar as his fingers trial over my hip and towards the apex between my thighs.
A soft, breathy sigh leaves my throat but after my eyelashes flutter, my eyes focus on Dom. “I’m not as innocent as I look.”
“A danger all the same,” he says, leaning towards me and rubbing his nose along mine. “Maybe more of a danger.”
“Perfect for Danger City,” Cam purrs as his fingers work inside me.
A whimper leaves my throat and I lose myself to the pleasure they offer me again. This time they switch positions, both determined again to have the most of me. Cam leaves first, saying he has to take care of something. He gives Dom a pointed look, but Dom doesn’t move from my bed where he’s smoking.
I crawl towards him, watching his skin soak up the neon lights from outside, first yellow, then red, yellow, then white. Over and over, the color dances on his dark skin. If people consider me tan, he must be the color of a moonlit night.
“You’re beautiful,” I compliment.
He smiles around his cigarette, his eyes burning coals in the low light. “I meant what I said, Lacy. If you want revenge, I’d be happy to help you find it, the same way you helped me find pleasure.”
“Ah, so you’ll slide between my thighs while that potentially alive man watches?” I tease, running my fingers over the muscles in his skin. This level of muscle must be like built-in armor. I lick over his neck. “That sounds like it would cost extra.”
Dom laughs and brushes my hair over my neck, his fingers ghosting across my skin, raising goosebumps over my flesh. Turning, Dom’s nose brushes mine as he stares into my soul.
“Cam wanted you to be innocent and sweet,” he says. “I want an hour of you exactly how you really are.”
“What makes you think I’m not exactly what Cam thinks I am?” I tease.
Dom’s hand wraps around my throat and squeezes. My eyelashes flutter against my cheek as I pant. He nods. “That’s why. I recognize a naughty woman who craves pain when I see one.”
My eyes study his intently, desperately. I hide my own kinks well, never allow clients to explore them because innocence – especially the right level of fake innocence, earns more attention. Men and people in general want a fantasy, what better fantasy than a woman in Danger City being untainted by violence and gore?
“I don’t…” I start, but he squeezes his hand, teasing me with a small sample of his true strength as his fingers bite into the side of my throat, making me dizzy. A rebellious moan leaves my throat.
Allowing him to enjoy the kink he clearly wants, a kink I enjoy isn’t breaking rules. I’s not allowing any kind of emotional connection, it’s just … a crack. A crack in a wall can be repaired. With the right tech and the right drive, a crack in anything can be closed and it’s not as if I have dammed up my emotions and something a small as a night of actual pleasure will lead to a flood of affection I can’t take back.
“Dom, it’s not that I don’t want to,” I wheeze out.
“It’s that you do. I’ve known plenty of dolls in my time. All of you punish yourselves, starve yourselves of what you really want because you’re sure genuine pleasure will break you,” he says before sucking my earlobe. “What if instead, it makes you like the job more?”
His words are hypnotic.
“I’ll pay double,” he murmurs as his palm tightens around my throat.
He rolls with me and holds me down. His other hand pinches and tugs my nipple painfully. “Pain is a more real pleasure when you know I don’t have to leave a mark. Give me fake control, real control, whatever you can for an hour.”
“Dom,” I whimper, grabbing his wrist.
“I’ll drag Cam back next week and we’ll give you the same. A guarantee in a life without them,” he barters.
Considering I’m wetter than when I was taking both of them, I can’t say no. I don’t want to, which is something I can evaluate later, right now, I just want to watch his midnight hands trace every inch of my body. I want to surrender and let him make every choice.
“One hour,” I negotiate, clinging to the tatters of my control.
Dom groans and ties my wrists above my head. I feel electricity radiate from every touch before realizing he’s using a device to make that happen. He smirks at me. “That’s a good girl. Your safe word is “Doll,” remember it.”
That’s the only warning I get before Dom twists pleasure and pain into a luxury best enjoyed together. By the time our hour is up, I’m dizzy on the high of real orgasms and the simmering promise of future connection.
Dom pays me, tips me, leaves with a wink that promises more in the future while I try to repair the cracks in my mask. I stare at my ceiling, the marks of spackle that have fixed a deeper problem and keep it at bay for the future.
A shower is a good start. I scrub the praise and punishments Dom layered on me from my skin. I waste all my hot water taking care to scrub the memories from my system. I write down their names, what they like, and that’s enough. Despite the pain Dom gave me, he didn’t leave marks, proving he knows more about dolls than most clients do.
To most, we’re whores, sex workers, toys that are used and tossed to the side, no matter what condition we’re left in. Dom is… different.
Different is more dangerous than innocence. Different makes me think and thinking about a client beyond determining their worth or how to get them to come back for more is a death sentence to composure.
Chapter 3: Rules Are Made to Be Broken, Right?
So the next afternoon, I go to the Black Wire. Asami is there, playing with her drink. I clear my throat and she glances up at me, stashing her phone and welcoming me. She’s risen far and fast in her few years and she hasn’t slipped, she hasn’t broken rules, hasn’t cracked, so maybe…
“I have a unique client and I’m not sure how to handle him,” I whisper.
“Drop him,” she says immediately. “If you’re questioning yourself rather than him, you have to be done, even if it’s tempting to say otherwise.”
“Is that what River would say?” I ask.
Asami goes silent, then looks to the side before downing more mead. She licks her lips and rubs her wrist. “Keeping your composure is necessary. It’s not always easy and if you’re not sure how to … to compartmentalize, it’s better to disengage.”
I watch her for a long moment. “I’ve always just … liked my clients at the surface level. It’s the deeper ocean in me that doesn’t get attached. Like … like I don’t have a moon to start some kind of tide in me or something.”
“A good metaphor,” she murmurs.
“Sorry. I didn’t even ask how you are,” I say as I lean back.
“Order a drink. We don’t take up space when Rowan’s good to us and he’s so sweet. He could use a little bump in business,” Asami says, glancing at the bar tender who’s eyes are on us.
I head over, order a beer, then sit back down. Asami keeps chewing her bottom lip. I glance behind her and see a man who I’m guessing is Liam Maddox outside. I take a long swig. “Is a client waiting for you?’
“Hmm?” She asks, lifting her gaze from her drink. “Oh, no. I don’t have a … date for another hour. I’m meeting my client across the road.”
“I think he’s early,” I point out.
Asami’s eyes widen, then she turns and huffs. Rather than frustrated, she actually looks … impressed. A light blush teases her cheeks and she shakes her head. “Him and his promises.”
“I thought we didn’t make promises to clients,” I whisper.
“We don’t. They make fake promises to us,” she murmurs, finally tearing her gaze from the man. “And never uphold them, which is why you know something is at play when they do.”
We’re both silent for a moment, and I clear my throat. “I don’t want to drop my client.”
“Then you have to remind yourself that you have levels, Lacy. We’re detached. They love the fantasy we feed them, they come back for more. It’s all a transaction.”
“He read me,” I reveal. “He knew what I like to do in bed and did it. And there was no mistake – he knew and I liked it. I… I’m starting to think it’s not a bad thing. He’s coming back because-”
“I won’t pretend I know what’s going on in your stranger’s head, but he is a stranger,” she interrupts. “He knew you were a doll, approached you knowing that, and got what he wanted with a bonus of awakening something in you. If you break the rules for a client and they know it, they’ll be twice as determined to have you again… they’ll push for more… and more, want to break every rule and they’ll forget.”
“Forget what?” I ask.
“That dolls don’t have relationships. We don’t connect with people for free. When their hour is up… we don’t belong to them because we belong to ourselves. That’s better, no matter what they promise,” she answers, but she sounds sad about that.
Asami rubs her bottom lip and I feel desperation claw at me for a second. I’m allowed to feel around other dolls. I don’t have to hide myself here, it would be like trying to hide from my own reflection.
“Then how do you do it!”
“It was one night. Get under someone else, feel your own power and independence, notice how you’re providing for yourself, and it gets easier. If that doesn’t work, remember you’re protecting yourself and you’re the only one in Danger City that will do that,” Asami whispers.
“Freya,” I whisper.
Her eyes latch onto mine. I know that next to no one uses her real name, but I want her to pay attention, really pay attention because it sounds like she’s talking to herself, not me. Sure, there have been rumors that her new client is more demanding than others, that he spends more time with Asami or Freya out of bed than in bed, but she’s not running to him, so she must be fine.
“We don’t use real names. You know that,” she hisses.
“I need to know if you’ve ever had questions like this, if they went away the more clients you got, if they linger. It’s exhausting enough to service all these men however they want, but to have to manage myself too?” I ask.
“Can I drink with you?” A male voice interrupts.
Asami nods to me once, only answering my first question. “We’ve all felt that, Lacy.” Then she turns to Liam Maddox who watches her with churning eyes. “Liam, this is Lacy.”
“A pleasure,” he says with a nod to me. “May I?”
“Has anyone ever told you no and enjoyed the consequences?” Asami asks with a slight smile turning up the corner of her mouth.
His sly grin answers hers. “You tell me, considering last night-”
She slides over in the booth and pats it, cutting him off. Asami’s eyes flick to me, then she clears her throat as if I’ve reminded her of something. “I only have half an hour, so if you want-”
“Four hours is my minimum. I’ll pay for your company, nothing else, darling,” he says, gently stroking through her hair.
Asami meets my eyes, then her gaze flicks to the bar. It’s a subtle goodbye which puts another piece of the puzzle in place. I walk to the bar, but keep glancing at Asami and Liam. She can’t believe that an heir to a company and fortune would linger with a doll for long. She’s smart, she knows to keep him at a distance or take him for everything she can before he disappears.
Chapter 4: Lovers Without Clocks
“Rowan?” I ask softly.
He offers me another beer and I pay him without question. I lick over my bottom lip and look over at Asami and Liam. “Is that becoming a regular thing?”
“Asami’s business is her own,” Rowan says for a long moment, then he clears his throat and braces his elbows on the bar, his glasses lighting blue from the bar lights. Does he know his eyes and emotions are concealed at this angle? As if I can’t pin any gossip or secret to him? “He’s becoming a regular.”
“When she’s here?” I guess.
“Half and half,” he answers. “But it’s obvious he doesn’t come here to drink and befriend others.”
I watch Asami interact with Liam. I’m gifted with reading lips after working side by side with a mute doll in a sex club downtown. Liam watches Asami’s face and strokes her bottom lip with his thumb.
“My nights are empty without you. Just talking with you is better than any kind of therapy I’ve experienced,” he praises.
“I’ve told you, I’m best in doses. I don’t want you to get tired of me,” Asami answers, a polite request for him to dial back.
Instead, Liam pulls her closer, her legs over his lap and she… doesn’t say no. She doesn’t push him away, she doesn’t untangle herself. Instead, she strokes over his neck and gazes at him as if she can find stars in his eyes. The stars that we can’t see through the smog and neon lights that halo the city.
“The magic isn’t in the mystery, princess,” he answers.
My nose wrinkles in disgust and Asami has the same reaction. Some pet names are fine, but ‘princess’ is just rubbing salt in a wound. No doll would claim to be anything but what she is, even if she does crave more.
“You only say that because I’ve given you nothing but mystery,” she teases.
“I’m greedy. I want to know you, want to be the man you can cuddle with after without watching the clock. As it is I’m tempted to… take care of your other clients when they get in my way,” he says, leaning closer to her, until their noses brush.
Asami doesn’t pull back. She should. I know her rule on kissing. I know the cost she gives when a man pushes her for a kiss. It’s always too steep. It’s more than getting her for an entire night with kink included.
Because kissing tethers us to someone, a thread knotting us to them. Sex is safe, sex is a simple exchange, but kissing leads to emotions. Once you know how someone tastes, how their lips move against yours, it opens a need that few dolls know how to calm alone.
“Lacy,” a deep voice pulls me from the interaction I’m watching.
The last thing I see is Asami leaning forward to kiss Liam’s neck, denying him her mouth, but a part of me wonders if that’s the only thing she’s denying him.
I drag my eyes away, confused at how Asami’s advice, her words, her warnings fall short of her interactions with Liam. Until now, no one could accuse her of being unprofessional and be believed.
Chapter 5: A Real Laugh, A Dangerous Crack
“Baby,” the deep voice commands my attention and I find myself staring at my midnight man. Dom. It’s a name he lives up to in bed since he owned me with pure, potent domination.
‘Owned’ – the word plays and warps in my mind until it becomes something feral and haunting, the kind of cryptid locked in old books I’ve read that has threatened lives and sanity itself.
“Funny running into you here,” he says with a knowing smirk as I adjust the corset just under my breasts.
“Dom, good to see you again. Cam not around?” Rowan asks, saving me from an answer.
“Not today. He’s selling in UmbraCity, I’m… doing my part of the business,” Dom answers. “Speaking of, have any hints for me?”
“When you make it so obvious, it’s hard to give advice,” Rowan says, his smile not falling.
“Come on, you know us Shadow Traders don’t cling to shadows like other rebels,” Dom dismisses, his fingers idly stroking my thigh. “We cling to other things, better things.”
Dom’s eyes flick to me and his smile spreads a little wider. I cross my legs, trying to remember that he has to pay to touch me, he has to pay to have my attention. I focus on my beer, then glance back at Asami.
If I deny Dom my attention, I won’t end up tangled up like she is – in public, being paid for her time maybe – but not making what she should be. I see more on her face than I should. A smile that touches her eyes, a real laugh, her fingers playing with the button on his shirt even though she’s not watching.
She’s either the best doll I’ve ever seen, playing a man like a fiddle while she’s blindfolded, or there’s something opening up in her. A crack so deep that it’s impossible to ignore unless something else is more pressing.
Chapter 6: A Touch That Burns
“Sure, give me a minute,” Rowan says, stealing my attention.
I glance over at him and take another swig of my drink. Dom’s eyes flick to my lips and I remember him tracing my lips last night before putting duct tape over my mouth. He said it wouldn’t count as a kiss that way.
But I felt his lips molding to mine, tried to stop mine from answering as my spit loosened the tape. He’d cupped the back of my neck, let his tongue trace the indent between my lips, teasing me with barely protected intimacy – the kind that shouldn’t exist between dolls and clients.
Another fracture spreads along my chest, one that matches the scar that’s already there. I swallow. “Cam?”
“Next week,” Dom answers. “If only I had the time for you tonight.”
“I don’t do… I’m not supposed to do back-to-back nights,” I whisper.
He moves closer, uncrossing my legs and standing between them. It’s not a move that’s fast, but it should be an invasion all the same. It doesn’t feel like one. It feels like desire, feels real.
“Doing what we’re not supposed to do is much more fun,” he says.
“You proved last night that breaking rules has consequences,” I argue.
I’ll end up with rope burns as I try to cling to the shreds of my control and restraint. No man has ever looked at me the way Dom does. He knows, he understands, but he doesn’t care about any rules but his own. He looks at me like I’m something magical, but level – equal to him rather than below him, rather than above him.
But his hands dancing across my skin are toxic. His dark eyes a curse and the way he skirts rules without breaking them is going to… to make me feel good.
He gently plays with one of my curls. “You look beautiful in red light. I’ll have to remember that.”
“For what?” I ask.
“Next week. Cam will only have an hour, I’ll have three, and I want to see you wearing red and only red,” he decides.
“That could be a threat,” I warn. “Maybe I should bring a different kind of protection.”
Dom chuckles and leans down before stopping himself. Still, feeling his breath on my lips is a sin I want to taste more fully. I clear my throat and take another drink of my beer rather than playing with a thought, an impulse that will damn me.
“I proved I can give you the pain you want without leaving a mark on your gorgeous skin. What makes you think I want blood on you?”
I should have a list of reasons. He’s a stranger. Dolls who don’t take precautions are killed or claimed. People are worse than any monsters I’ve read about. But I’ve read about romance too, when it bloomed naturally between people, no matter what was in the way. It grew in desolate places between people who didn’t seem to want it and it refused to be ignored.
Love strangles people, but maybe it strangles people the same way Dom choked me – to make every emotion more tangible and real.
“Do you?” I ask softly.
“The only thing I want on you is me. Maybe Cam so I can watch you dissolve into real pleasure,” he says.
Rowan comes back and hands Dom a USB drive. Dom nods and recedes from me. He’s the tide, dragging my emotions towards him until he slips from my vision. I’m panting, feel like I’ve touched something I shouldn’t, but there’s no promise I won’t touch it again. Not when feeling is so much better than drowning myself in apathy.
“Dom’s a good one,” Rowan informs. “An old friend. A good… client.”
The way he lingers on the last word tells me all I need to know. I try to clear my face and glance back at Asami and Liam.
Liam is speaking intensely as she strokes through his hair and gives him gentle nods, gentle prods to continue. Until he cups her face and turns her to face him. Again, his nose brushes hers. This time his lips part like he can breathe her in even if he can’t kiss her.
Her mouth opens ever so slightly and she licks her top lip before drawing back.
“Some lines can’t be crossed,” she says.
Reading the words on her lips without hearing her voice makes her statement feel weak. As weak as my carefully constructed mask feels when Dom’s involved. Are we all just pretending to be strong? Pretending not to feel until a consequence drags us out like a tidal wave and punishes us for being anything more than a doll to be used?
“Lines are nothing to people,” Liam answers before kissing her cheek, close to the corner of her mouth.
He might as well say: we’re all dying, best to enjoy what we can.
