Doll House – Ba
The silence that followed Howard’s broken confession was heavy, thick with the musk of sweat and the copper tang of fear that hung in the bedroom air. His chest heaved. Every breath was a jagged effort, his ribs aching where the riding crop had bitten into the flesh. He was spent, his balls drained, his mind a fractured mess of terror and exhaustion. The leather straps binding his wrists to the bedframe creaked as he slumped forward, his head hanging low, the gray strands of his combover plastered to his forehead with perspiration. Baby Kay stood over him, a vision of predatory elegance in her tight black dress. The glossy sheen of her lips curled into a smirk that didn’t reach her cold, hard eyes. She trailed a single red fingernail down the side of …