Teaser Tuesday! ‘Damned Doll’ by Zoe Blake

Feb 19, 2019 | Teaser Tuesday

This week I wanted to share a special, super fucked up story by Zoe Blake. She wrote a story called Broken Doll, which was AMAZING and then she followed it up with books 2 and 3 of a series! It is a totally new and downright scary take on a horror story, and I fucking loved every word of it. I hope you are ready, lovelies, because the conclusion, ‘Damned Doll’, is now live and there is no happy ending. Because it is SO twisted and fucked up, I am sharing part of Chapter 1 of Broken Doll so you can be as surprised as I was when I found out what was happening!

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Damned Doll

God doesn’t listen to the pleas of the damned. 
I’ve been given a second chance. 
A chance to set things right. 
A chance for revenge. 
I will make them pay. 
They all will pay for every degradation, every humiliation, every moment they treated me like an object…like their property. 
God didn’t listen to my pleas for mercy…let’s see if he will listen to theirs. 
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Excerpt
I can’t tell if my eyes are open.
That was my first lucid thought.
I couldn’t tell if my eyes were open or closed. It wasn’t just the darkness. I couldn’t feel myself blink. I tried lifting my hands to feel my way around whatever room I was in, but my arms felt weighted down. As if they were trying to move but couldn’t. My heart beat faster. I could feel the panic rising. A fist in my chest painfully squeezed my heart. I needed to stay calm and focus. The last thing I remembered was the accident.
Jesus fuck. The accident.
All that crushed metal and the acrid smell of smoke. I remember the fire, then nothing.
I must have blacked out before they pulled me free. I must be in a hospital.
I must… I must…I must be….
Jesus fuck. I must calm the fuck down and think.
I couldn’t move my body. Nothing seemed to work. Did that mean I was paralyzed?
No. No. I might not be able to move but I could still feel. I could feel the clothes against my skin. The press of fabric against my back. The hard floor beneath my feet.
The hard floor?
Was I standing?
That didn’t make sense. I was probably lying down in a hospital bed.
Jesus fuck. Why couldn’t I see anything?
I tried to speak, to call out for help, but was met with only silence.
Silence and darkness. Darkness and silence.
Just like the accident.
Was I still trapped in the car? Was my mind playing tricks on me? I have heard of people in extreme situations hallucinating. Was that what this was? Would I know it if I were?
Jesus fuck!
Wait. I can hear movement. The shuffling of feet. A nurse? Doctor?
A thin beam of light in the shape of a rectangle appears before me. The outline of a door. But if I’m facing it, then does that mean I’m standing?
I try to close my eyes to the bright flash of light as the door is opened but nothing happens. The light hurts.
“There you are!”
Framed by the white light, the person in front of me is in shadow. I don’t recognize his voice.
I try to speak but nothing happens.
The man grabs me by the waist and spins me around. I see clothes dangling from hangers. Shelves with shoe boxes and a clear container filled with ribbons and hair brushes.
It’s a closet.
Was I in a closet? No, I must be confused.
Jesus fuck, what the fuck is going on?
The man lifts me off my feet and carries me.
I can’t move.
Can’t cry out.
I’m trapped inside my own body.
I can’t tell if my eyes are open.
That was my first lucid thought.
I couldn’t tell if my eyes were open or closed. It wasn’t just the darkness. I couldn’t feel myself blink. I tried lifting my hands to feel my way around whatever room I was in, but my arms felt weighted down. As if they were trying to move but couldn’t. My heart beat faster. I could feel the panic rising. A fist in my chest painfully squeezed my heart. I needed to stay calm and focus. The last thing I remembered was the accident.
Jesus fuck. The accident.
All that crushed metal and the acrid smell of smoke. I remember the fire, then nothing.
I must have blacked out before they pulled me free. I must be in a hospital.
I must… I must…I must be….
Jesus fuck. I must calm the fuck down and think.
I couldn’t move my body. Nothing seemed to work. Did that mean I was paralyzed?
No. No. I might not be able to move but I could still feel. I could feel the clothes against my skin. The press of fabric against my back. The hard floor beneath my feet.
The hard floor?
Was I standing?
That didn’t make sense. I was probably lying down in a hospital bed.
Jesus fuck. Why couldn’t I see anything?
I tried to speak, to call out for help, but was met with only silence.
Silence and darkness. Darkness and silence.
Just like the accident.
Was I still trapped in the car? Was my mind playing tricks on me? I have heard of people in extreme situations hallucinating. Was that what this was? Would I know it if I were?
Jesus fuck!
Wait. I can hear movement. The shuffling of feet. A nurse? Doctor?
A thin beam of light in the shape of a rectangle appears before me. The outline of a door. But if I’m facing it, then does that mean I’m standing?
I try to close my eyes to the bright flash of light as the door is opened but nothing happens. The light hurts.
“There you are!”
Framed by the white light, the person in front of me is in shadow. I don’t recognize his voice.
I try to speak but nothing happens.
The man grabs me by the waist and spins me around. I see clothes dangling from hangers. Shelves with shoe boxes and a clear container filled with ribbons and hair brushes.
It’s a closet.
Was I in a closet? No, I must be confused.
Jesus fuck, what the fuck is going on?
The man lifts me off my feet and carries me.
I can’t move.
Can’t cry out.
I’m trapped inside my own body.
I should be dead weight, but he lifts me as if I weigh nothing. The room is a spinning flash of color and distorted shapes before I am set down. I cannot move my head, but I see he’s placed me on a sofa. He moves away to walk behind me. I take the moment to observe my surroundings. Expecting to see the usual white linoleum floors and bad pastel artwork of a hospital room, my stomach clenches with fear as I observe the dark, wood paneled room. There is a massive flat screen TV with two leather recliners in front. A small bar with several glowing neon signs, one of which says Steve’s Man Cave. A pinball machine and several black book shelves filled with what looks like movies and video games. The walls are covered in those cheap beer mirrors you see in dive bars.
I can hear what sounds like the opening of a refrigerator. Then the pop and hiss of a beer bottle being opened. The man steps back into my line of vision.
Is this Steve?
He’s older than me. Much older. And tall. He has the sort of build you see in older men who used to be jocks in high school. Broad shoulders and strong arms but with a bit of a soft belly. His hair is dark, but I can’t make out his eyes.
Who the fuck are you? Where the fuck am I? I scream but I hear no sound. His face shows no reaction as he just takes a sip of his beer and stares down at me.

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This series just so dark, twisted, and fucked up, it makes my black heart sing with delight. I hope you pick it up and find out just how dark things are for poor Jane!
If you are looking for something to do this weekend, come see me in San Antonio at Wild Wicked Weekend! I will be co-presenting a BDSM Q&A on Friday and will be at the signing on Saturday with Livia Grant. AND we will have the first ever paperback copies of Black Light: Celebrity Roulette to debut. Otherwise, grab Damned Doll and make sure you leave a light on.

Amazon: 1-Click Now!
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Want more of Zoe Blake?

There is something delicious in our desire for the corrupt, our ravenous appetite for the brutal, the profane, the unspeakable. The taboo. I write the type of books that give you a frisson of unease; that will have you questioning your own resolve as I take you on a dark ride of twists, kinks and perversions of both the flesh and mind. Enjoy the blush and tremble as you read each decadent word. XOXO Zoe

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