Their Broken Doll Novels & Stories

****Excerpt**** “You see yourself as ordinary,” he said softly. “But entire worlds have crumbled and come apart for far less than a woman of your beauty.” He pushed his horn further again, filling her another inch. Her flame flared white-hot behind her ribs. Begging, pleading, clawing. “That’s it, my little whore. You like that, don’t you?” he preened against the corner of her mouth. His voice hit her harder than the horn. Dirty, cruel, worshipful. The word whore sent heat spiralling down her spine, making her clench around the invasion. She hated the word. She loved how he said it. “Please…” She started. He squeezed her throat, cutting off the rest of her words. Her breath hitched violently at the pressure, but she surrendered to the feeling. “Unless you are about to beg me to fuck your ass harder with this horn, I don’t want to hear how you can’t take any more.” He growled, low and threatening. A wave of want crashed into her so hard she whimpered. Adelaide should have been scared. In a way, she was. It wasn’t fear that made her heart pound, it was the terrifying realisation that she wanted exactly what he demanded. She wanted to feel the thickness of his horn deep inside her, wanted the stretch, the pain, the pleasure. She wanted all of what she knew he could give her. She leaned her head back to run her tongue over the seam of his lips. “Fuck me harder.” She said softly, the words barely a whisper. They carried the desperation, surrender, hunger, devotion, need. Her voice trembled with the weight of what she was giving him. Of what she was asking him to do to her. He growled. The sound vibrated through her, deep and possessive.

He didn't want her money. He wanted her. Elara Vance is one bad week away from losing everything. Her freelance career is barely keeping the lights on, her sister is falling apart on her couch, and her car is about to be repossessed. So when she accidentally damages a stranger's luxury car on an empty street, she knows she's ruined. But the man who steps out of the black sedan isn't interested in her insurance. He isn't interested in the police. He isn't even interested in the forty‑two thousand dollars she owes him. Adrian Volkov wants something else entirely. He's been watching her for weeks. He knows about her sister, her bills, her father's death. He knows she's desperate enough to do anything. And he's about to prove it. The contract is simple: she moves into his mansion, follows his rules, and becomes his Doll. In exchange, her debt disappears. No police. No record. No questions. But the rules aren't what she expects. The mansion is a cage, the servants know more than they say, and Adrian's cold exterior hides something darker than she ever imagined. He doesn't just want her body. He wants her submission. Her trust. Her surrender. And he won't stop until he has all of it. Elara tells herself it's just a transaction. A way to survive. But the line between obligation and desire blurs with every glance, every touch, every night she spends in his bed. The more he controls her, the more she craves it. And the more she learns about his past, the more she realizes: she was never the one in control. And now that she's his Doll, he'll never let her go. Doll is a dark romance with explicit content, power dynamics, and a slow‑burn descent into obsession. Recommended for readers 18+.

I am standing in front of the mirror only on my red skirt and blouse.He is wearing me a red saree.Tears are flowing from my eyes like nigra falls.After wearing me the saree,he sat me down in front of the mirror and started wearing me jewellery. He applied red lipstick on my lips and said seductively, "you look very fuckable in red colour."I replied crying, "please.Let me see my brother.He is very sick.Let me go to the hospital for once".Hearing me, he slapped very hard on my face and fisted my hair tightly.He said anger dripping from his voice,"you dare to talk back.Did you just forget your place in front of me.Tell me who you are?Tell me whom you belong? I hissed in pain and replied," I am your doll. I only belong to you. I am only yours" . . . Devika, A 20-year-old college-going girl was married to the mafia leader Abhinav. After her marriage, her husband started torturing her for some reason which she doesn't know. Will she ever come to know why she is being tortured?Join Abhinav and Devika's, bittersweet love journey and be a part of their journey.. . . Warning- Disturbing scene ahead like violence, rape and mental abuse. Read at your own risk. It's a work of fiction. So, kindly take it as fiction. English isn't my first language so apologizing in advance for grammatical errors.

‘It’s not that there aren’t good people in the world. It’s that the bad ones are so much easier to find.’ A teen mother raises her daughter on a looping road trip, living hand-to-mouth in motel rest stops and backwater towns, stepping occasionally into the heat and chaos of the surrounding cities. A life without permanence, filled with terrors and joys, their stability is dependent on the strangers—and strange men—they meet along the way. But what is the difference between the love of a mother, and the love of a friend? And in a world with such blurred lines, where money is tight and there’s little outside influence, when does the need to survive slide into something more sinister? ©️ Crystal Lake Publishing

My childhood friend said that he was connected with the doll. Now that he had lost it, he called me up to cry. One hand held my phone as I consoled him, while the other toyed with the doll. His voice began to take on a more interesting tone with my purposeful touches… I squeezed and pinched the toy and comforted him, “Shh, I agree with you. Whoever took your toy is a terrible person…”

“You don’t mean anything to me,” he spoke dangerously, the tips of his fingers curling in my hairs as he jerked my neck back. “A mere toy that I’ll use whenever I want,” a breathless whimper escaping my lips. “Leave me-“ “Or what?” His lips stretched into a wide grin. “Tear me with your tiny claws?” He backed me into the wall behind me and leaned in closer, his grey eyes pierced my soul. “Remember, Amara, you exist solely for my pleasure.” He pulled my hair harder and my flesh burned the moment he nuzzled his face into my shoulder. I bet he could hear my heart beat accelerating with passing breath. His other arm circling to wrap around my waist, my heart pounded when his strong sandalwood essence in-filtered my senses. “Rhys-” “Shh…and for your punishment, I want you to bend over the wall and lift you skirt.” ****

"Tell me how do you want me to make it up to you??" I asked, putting myself at risk by asking the big bad alpha wolf that question. "I'm not simply interested in having sex with you," He smiled and came closer, running his finger up my neck, "I want to experience everything with you." "How about not wearing any clothing whenever we are alone in this mansion?" I gasped in shock as he murmured into my face. (Content/ Trig*er Warning: The following read consists of extreme profanity, violence, or gore. Subjects like SA and abuse are briefly discussed that might be difficult for some to read)

"Mr. Harrison, this new toy has incredible suction skills. I guarantee it can fix your problem." Never in my wildest dreams would I expect that my husband would make me disguise myself as a sex doll to help treat his boss' impotence, all just to secure a promotion and a raise for himself.

When I first started at Serenity Hills, the head nurse told me coma patients paid well—but the job was messy and brutal. They could only get IV nutrition. Screw that up, and you're basically killing them. Today was day thirty of looking after the girl. Young. Gorgeous. Like always, I hit the nurse's station to grab her IV bags— But then I saw it. Thirty glucose bottles gone. IV nutrition? Still sealed. Chills shot down my spine.

"It is an anxious, sometimes a dangerous thing to be a doll. Dolls cannot choose; they can only be chosen; they cannot 'do'; they can only be done by."