# Chapter 8
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Braidenville had one of the best beaches in the east coast: flour-like sand that formed hills and valleys at every footstep; clear, bright water, enough to see the fishes nibble one's ankles. In the summer, tourists would come for vacation, many from Portcinnere. They were few enough to be tolerable, but a new horror story always popped up at the end. Late summer meant that nice and quiet came to town---this year would've been no different.

Sprawled on the shore, all star-shaped, was a naked Polly. The salty foams of the waves caressed her, while the seashells underneath massaged her back. At times, she would be tugged by the waves back and forth, left and right. Other times, the waves would fill one of her ears. No tourists around to bother her, or any undesirables. Until Mystery entered her line of sight, crouched in a slim speedo that hid little. The clouds behind him spiraled in anticipation.

"Hey, sugar," he spoke through his sleazy smile, "do you know the way to St. James?"

"Go away, stinky. Get out of my town."

"Hoo hoo, you're one bratty girl."

He hurled her into the sand and the dark abyss below it. She fell without making a sound, nor expecting to hit the bottom; only the sight of the fading sunlight preoccupied her.

The landscape of a courtyard emerged as she flattened into a checkered pathway. In the magenta sky, rainbows stirred like soap in water, almost menacingly. The highest point of the surrounding brick buildings contained a huge bell; the wind scraped its golden surface, which made it ring---not like a typical bell, but a steady, squeaky hum that droned on. Suddenly, Polly had a schoolgirl uniform---right after she raised her gaze from it, the courtyard was jam-packed with faceless white students, all wearing uniforms. Their chatter grew louder. Polly rushed to stand up, only to be tripped over by a boy student.

"Where are you going, slut?" he said, then tore her skirt off and fingered her bottom.

"Stop, stop, stop!" Polly yelled, but no sound came out.

Other students joined in to restrain and abuse her: a couple girls took turns spitting on Polly's face; boys behind her took turns humping her butt; a few onlookers held her arms and legs in place, shouting words of encouragement at the bullies, others took the opportunity to grope her. Hands at every corner of her body, her holes, even ghosting through her skin to touch her delicate stuffing. A vague pain stabbed her, despite her being mostly numb.

Behind and inbetween the crowd, double doors swung open to reveal Mystery, dressed in a golden vestment with a cross in front. He walked through the students, as if they were holograms, and approached Polly with a warm smile.

"Children, leave the maiden alone, will you?" he spoke with a butter-smooth, domineering voice. In no time, the students bunched up against the corners of the courtyard, leaving Polly alone with him in the middle. "You should come with me, you must be cleansed." He held her by the hand and dragged her into the building he came from.

Inside, rock walls circled around a spiral staircase, each step shining in granite. While Polly stumbled up the stairs, Mystery rose with grace; his hair---which looked cleaner than it should've---grazed her as if in reassurance. At the top, a hallway lined with a red carpet; a turn to the right, and they reached a tall office. Huge, arched windows reached for the ceiling, giving view to only a bright fog; alongside them were overflowing bookshelves. Ahead, as modest as could be, a wide mahogany desk accompanied by a few chairs.

Once inside, Mystery locked the door. "I have you all to myself now. God has blessed me with a fine maiden."

"Do we have to? Isn't this against your duty?" Polly asked, spinning thumbs.

"This *is* my duty." He led her to lie on the desk, admiring her half-nudity. "I have to take care of you, lest He punish me for not doing so."

Mystery undressed her, then dipped a finger between her tightened thighs. It spread them, bit by bit, until it snuck up to her crotch. Polly yelped---the sudden heightened touch was unexpected. He parted her lips and massaged her, nearing his face to hers in a trance; his hair hung like a curtain beside her. None of it hurt Polly the way she feared---in fact, she was warming up to the sensation.

"Dear God," he whispered, "release all evil and impurity from this maiden, as she is one of Christ's most faithful lambs. Bless me with the permission to repair her, and allow her to take on a dignified life, far from temptation and sin. Amen."

"Amen," she mumbled. Polly entered the same trance as him, now focused on his eyes and the feeling between her legs. The room gradually dissolved; only the two of them, the desk and the lighting remained.

With his other hand, he caressed her face. "Polly?"

"Mhm?"

"You might be a grown kid, but you sleep like a baby." He licked his right fingers before dipping them back in. "So pretty ... you don't deserve those puffy eyelids."

There was no reason to question his true intentions anymore; Polly swam in his positivity.

"I wish we could've met a different way. I regret taking you like that so much. So, so much. I hurt my baby doll." He buried his face into her neck, smelling and pecking her. "I want you to stay. I'll be good to you. I'll be all you need."

"Mystery ...."

Her vision dissolved further.

Polly woke up from her dream.

Opening her eyes, she saw Mystery in the same position: buried into her neck, whispering to her, pinning her down to the bed and fingering her crotch. Since he was naked, she could see his dick point longingly at her. The bedroom was dark, lit only by the streetlamps and the lone candle on the bedside table.

"Where were you?" Polly mumbled.

"I told you before I left, silly." He raised his head to look at her; joy in his eyes. "I got a bag from the psych."

"For so long?"

"Mhm. But I'm back now."

"Are you still mad at me?"

"Not at all." With her legs dangling off the edge of the bed, he grabbed her hips and positioned his dick to kiss her entrance. "Don't worry, I'll make it not hurt."

"You sure?" Sweat ran down her face.

"Don't worry about it."

His dick went inside, slow and gentle, nudging the deepest end of her hole. His groans weren't threatening anymore---if anything, they excited her. The familiar back-and-forth rhythm began while he fondled underneath her shirt; jolt after jolt of pleasure, shivering across her body along with every moan. Polly missed the feeling of being stretched out like this. For the first time, she felt truly good. Mystery made her feel good.

"Mystery, thank you," she mouthed the words, but no sound came.

"Hm?"

"Thank you, Mystery," a little louder, "for making me feel good."

"You're welcome," he chuckled. "If anything hurts, you can yell, okay?"

She nodded.

His thrusts picked up the pace, hitting her in spots she never knew existed. The way she could feel every bump and ridge of his dick roll against her was delicious. They couldn't stop staring at each other; with how tall he was, she had to crane her neck back. Oddly enough, even breathing the same air as him turned exciting; his musk, the cherry on top. To think that, in this same position, with the same man, she had a night of unforgettable horror. None of it mattered for now---or anymore.

"Have you ever been kissed in the mouth before, Polly?"

Too embarassed to say, she shook her head.

"Then just relax."

He pulled himself out of her and pressed his lips against hers, snaking his tongue inside to explore her mouth. At first, she was unsure on how to act, but once his taste of burnt cinnamon came to her, she chased his tongue with her own. An awkward dance: wrestling tongues, tilting heads, wandering hands.

When Mystery stopped and pulled away, the pounding came back, quicker; moans followed after. "Good girl. Very good girl," he whispered, holding her hand inside a fist. "I love you so much."

"I love ...." Polly stopped herself as soon as she felt tears.

"Who do you love?"

Her family, friends. Mystery was a friend. Wasn't he? "I love you, Mystery."

"Hm? Didn't quite catch that." His thumb circled her button.

"I love you, I love you, I love you."

"I love you too. I love you like mommies and daddies love each other."

That familiar feeling came again: a rising urge, deep inside her belly. Each of his words drew it closer. She didn't understand why---she didn't have to. The tears that squeezed out of her closed eyes were of happiness.

"You're mine, only mine," he grunted, jackhammering into her. "No one's laying their hands on you but *me.*"

Closer. Polly gripped the bedsheets and bursted. High waves of pleasure pulsed throughout her body, ones that escaped the mouth in the form of loud whimpers. Every lower muscle cuffed his dick in place and milked it; he throbbed in sync. Mystery's tongue poked out from his grin, where drool and sweat dripped from. Fluid leaked from her crotch and clung to their skin, falling onto her tail. Minutes later, his dick went soft; he pulled out and collapsed beside Polly, heaving as much as her.

"Mystery?"

"Hm?"

"When we do it, I feel so full." She wiped her face with a wrist, opening her eyes. "It's nice."

He chuckled. "That's because I'm big."

"Are men usually this big?"

"Nah, I'm the biggest in town. And you're the *tightest* doll in town."

"Is that good?"

"Very. When it comes to holes, nothing beats small cunny like yours."

With a smile, she sat up and nudged him to lay his legs on the bed. "I wanna sleep on you."

"Oh yeah? Why?" He seemed flattered.

"You're fluffy." Polly snuggled up against his chest, feeling his fur, wrapping a leg around him. "And you're big."

"I'm glad to hear that." He rubbed her head and back. "Good night, Polly."

Polly closed her eyes. "Good night."
