My Broken China Doll

Dr. Christina Kathleen Morgan, DMD, was the only female dentist I had ever met. She and I met a few months after she finished dental school, when I was sixteen and she was twenty-six. I was a floundering high schooler with no career goal and no idea where my life was going.

Dr. Morgan was a new dentist, as I said before. She was so kind and gentle, and our senses of humor complimented each other perfectly- we could always crack each other up. But there was a deeper, more sensitive side to our relationship too, in the way we trusted each other with everything. We talked about hard stuff from our past that we couldn't imagine telling anyone else. We were friends, as well as teacher and student.

The amount of time I spent with her sparked my interest in dentistry. After careful research and consideration, I decided that I also wanted to be a dentist. She let me come in every day after school and observe her. During the summer, I would spend all day every day in that office with her. When I entered college as a Pre-Dentistry major, she offered me a job as her assistant. I was so happy to be following in her beautiful footsteps.

Yes, she was beautiful. Obviously Scandinavian, she was petite and delicate-looking, with extremely pale skin and nearly-white blond hair and the most beautiful blue eyes God ever made. Her hands were small and delicate, like the rest of her, and they wrapped perfectly around the various tools her work required her to use. She was slender, but with a fairly large chest for her size, and her hips had a nice shape. Although I identify myself as heterosexual, and was never attracted to her in "that way", so to speak, there was no denying that she was truly gorgeous.

Her hair was about shoulder-length, and it was always in a ponytail. She had a bit of a Southern lilt- being from upstate South Carolina-and her voice was the most calming force in the universe.

Katie, as she eventually allowed me to call her, was one of five dentists at Duncan Dentistry. The only female dentist, of course. And let me tell you, the other four: John Duncan, Jack Jordan, Dan Bayer, and Steven Richards, treated her like absolute shit. They treated her with less respect than they treated the hygienists, and that's saying something.

They called her Katie in front of patients, but required her to call them Doctor. They constantly checked out her ass, her boobs, and sometimes even made that obnoxious whistling sound (the one usually made by drunk fraternity boys or horny middle-aged divorced men) at her, then they would laugh at her when they saw how uncomfortable it made her.

Having known Katie for three years, I had seen them treat her badly constantly, and it bothered me. (Let me tell you something: I respect Katie. I respect her with all my heart.). I hated seeing her being treated as anything less than the goddess she is in my eyes.

I even saw Dr. Duncan hit her fairly often. Just slapped her across her perfect face, leaving a mark on her porcelain skin, making her eyes drown in fear and shame and little crystal tears.

I wanted to kill him, and although I certainly had the ability, I could never bring myself to do it. See, as a seventh-degree black belt, I cling to the Black Belt Code with all my heart, including the clause that says "I will not use my training to take the life of another, save it be the only way to remove an imminent threat to my own life or the life of of someone whom I deem to stand in need of my protection." He had hurt her, yes, but he had never presented an imminent threat to her life. So I waited, hoping someday I could find an excuse to kill him.

And one night, when I was eighteen, I did.

Katie and I stayed late one Tuesday night. Dr. Duncan had criticized her for sloppy paperwork filing, and hit her pretty badly before leaving. She stayed, determined to fix whatever was wrong with her filing.

I offered to stay with her and help her with the paperwork, not wanting to leave her there alone, and she had accepted. I think we both knew that my offer was more one of company than of help, although I provided both. We worked together as efficiently as a machine, as always, but after an hour or so of filing, Katie collapsed in my arms, sobbing. I held her, rubbing her back and trying to reassure her. "Katie," I told her, "I hate it when he hurts you like that. It makes me want to kill him. But I'm here, and I'll protect you."

The shadows in the doorway should have caught my attention before they revealed themselves to be four asshole dentists. Four asshole male dentists, reeking of whiskey.

"Poor, poor little Katie. That's right, let a kid ten years younger than you comfort you. Aren't you supposed to be her mentor? Shouldn't you be caring for her? You're almost thirty, Katie. Be a big girl." Dr. Duncan mocked. His cruel words burned me inside, hearing my dear mentor berated like that.

"Stop it. You did this to her. Leave my mentor alone. I mean it." I could barely growl out the words at him. I tightened my grip on her back, as if that could protect her.

Although she was my mentor, and she was nine and a half years my senior, and someone I respected deeply, I felt an instinct to protect her.

See, I have always been rather tall for my age, despite being half Oriental. I am almost six feet tall, and muscular from years of karate. I look completely Korean, but my almond-shaped eyes are halfway between blue and green. I wear about a 32DD bra size, and my black hair is waist-length. I think my size, combined with my martial arts knowledge and my general maternal nature, makes me a pretty protective person, especially of the ones I love. Especially Katie.

I felt her being ripped from my arms, heard her gasp as she hit the ground, felt my own hands being chained behind my back, chained to the wall before I could react. I saw them bind her, tape her mouth, chain her tiny wrists to the arms of the dentist's chair, and I could do nothing.

I didn't even dare to whisper her name as Dr. Duncan hit her, over and over, until her whole face was red and purple, and her eyes were swollen and she trembled like a child. They mocked her, laughing at her tears and her fragile little shaking hands, and they laughed and hit her harder.

Sweet Katie, who had been like a sister to me, who had coached me through the hardest days of undergrad school, and dried hundreds of my tears, was being beaten to a pulp. Her nose and lips bled, and they laughed. I watched them break her china doll face, and I could do nothing to stop them. Nothing.

"Are you enjoying this, Emma?" Dr. Bayer sneered at me as he hit her shoulder with his fist, grinning as I sobbed at the sight of her poor, beautiful face.

"No. Please stop hitting her."

Dr. Duncan grinned. "What do you say, guys? Let's stop hitting her for now. Let's try something a little different, shall we?"

His face was so purely evil as he took the chains off her hands, holding her wrists tight as Dr. Jordan slowly removed the top half of her pink scrubs.

He re-handcuffed her, lifting her face so that I had to look at how ashamed she was, and she had to look at me. She had been beaten, and now they were stripping her naked.

Her boobs bounced free of her bra as they pulled it off of her. I maintained eye contact with her, because I respected her far too much to stare at such a sacred part of her body. She seemed to recognize and appreciate the sentiment.

"Look at these tits, guys. We could have some fun with this little bitch, couldn't we?" All ten of their nasty hands grabbed at her chest like hungry dogs, pulling and squeezing way too hard, making her wince, laughing.

I kept my eyes locked to hers, deeply hurt by the way they disrespected her beautiful body. I mouthed the words, "I love you," hoping to comfort her somewhat, but she was beyond comfort. They grabbed at her, mauling her chest, hurting her, and there was nothing I could do.

And unfortunately, they weren't satisfied with just her chest. She was now completely naked, and they were all over her, their hands and eventually tongues violating every inch of her fragile-looking body.

They sucked her nipples, biting them and making her flinch. They put their hands all over her beautiful flat belly, marring its pale perfection with bruises and bite marks and red handprints.

I couldn't watch anymore; I turned my head away. She lay there, a broken china doll, and I just couldn't look at her face.

Dr. Richards, who had been keeping an eye on me, noticed that I had closed my eyes and turned my head. He slapped me, and said, "Fine, then. If Emma won't watch, then she'll have to play too. Come here, Emma. You're going to show your precious Katie just how much you love her."

Unsure of what he meant, I approached the dentist chair they had chained her to. My hands no longer bound, I instinctively took Katie's hand in mine.

Dr. Duncan, who was shoving a dry finger in and out of her pussy, grabbed my hand and shoved it onto Katie's breast. "That's right, Emma. Show Katie you love her. Squeeze that sweet little tit of hers."

I was horrified. I quickly withdrew my hand and refused to touch her like that. "She's my teacher. I won't humiliate her like that. I love and respect her, and I won't touch her chest because I'm not a nasty barbarian like the four of you!"

"Fine, little Emma. But do you know what you will touch? Her little blond cunt! And if you don't, you get to watch Dr. Bayer shoot her, right in the face, and you get to watch her die. Sound good, Emma?"

I saw the gun as Dr. Bayer pulled it out of his pocket. 'My God,' I thought, 'they really might kill her.' But I couldn't touch her private parts; that would be so disrespectful.

All I could say was "I'm sorry, Dr. Morgan," calling her Doctor to show respect, "I really don't want to do this, but I hope this is what you want. I can't let them kill you. Please understand." She nodded, like 'go ahead'.

"Oh, and one more thing," Dr. Duncan added as he choked her on his huge cock, "if you can't make your precious little teacher cum, she'll be killed. So I suggest you do a good job." I nodded. He was hurting her jaw, his cock was so huge that her mouth couldn't take him all in at once, but he was making her do it anyway.

I decided at that moment that if I had to pleasure her, I was going to do the best job I could. I had never done this to a woman, or had it done to me by anyone, but I had gotten myself off enough times to know the finer mechanics of the human pussy.

She had Dr. Jordan's cock in one hand and Dr. Bayer's in the other, being forced to wrap her tiny, delicate, milky white hands around two huge, disgusting monster cocks, and to pump them, pleasure them, even though all they had done to her was cause her pain. Dr. Richards now had the gun, threatening us both with it.

So I licked my fingers so they would not abrade to her tender skin, apologizing again, and began to work on her.

I gently traced the outlines of her outer lips, surprised to see that they were shaved just like mine. I could feel her shiver with relief at the gentleness I used. "I won't hurt you, Katie," I whispered. "I swear. I love you."

The tenderness of my words, the fear and the love all mixed together, made her relax her pussy muscles a bit. I opened up her outer lips and explored inside with just one wetted finger.

She was dry, completely dry, so I kept lubricating my fingers with my mouth, and I swirled them around the outside of the inner lips.

She trembled a bit, and I felt a trace of moisture escape her. Her pale flesh and the soft pink of her pussy were so beautiful, like the type of model that artists dream of being able to paint. I kept stroking and rubbing, becoming less uncertain and more rhythmic.

I touched the hood of her clit, and she shivered again. I licked my fingers again and began to use them to apply steady, rhythmic thrusts of upward pressure to the hood of her clit.

Her hips began to move, and I could tell that she was embarrassed that her body was betraying her pleasure.

"It's okay, Katie. We're not attracted to each other in this way. I respect you way too much to think of your body like that. It's just your body making those movements, not your mind. I won't think of you any differently, or respect you any less, when all of this is over. I love you as a teacher and a friend, and that won't ever change."

I hoped that talking her through it was helping her, because it helped me. The guys were screaming at her, calling her a slut and a whore and a little bitch, telling her to suck harder, or keep pumping, or telling her how much they wanted her little cunt. It disgusted me to hear them degrade her like that, but I kept working on her pussy.

I felt a hand slap my face. I looked up to see Dr. Richards, standing next to me with the gun. "You love her, how sweet. You wouldn't hurt her, isn't that adorable? You want to protect her, but you can't, can you?" His words brought tears to my eyes. "You can tell her all you want that you love her, but it won't mean a thing if she's dead. So suck her cunt, bitch. Lick your teacher's hot little cunt. Make her cum for us."

I glared at him, but after apologizing to her one more time, I obeyed. It was strangely natural, licking pussy. I traced the outside of her pink inner lips with my tongue, gently, then harder. I moved inside them, tasting her wetness and smelling the soft, delicate musk she released.

I kissed her clit, softly and reassuringly, like I wanted to kiss her forehead, over and over. Her squirming alerted me to the fact that this may be the way to get her to cum.

I started with a light sucking motion, then sucked harder and harder on her clit, mirroring the sucking motion she was using as Dr. Duncan's cock hammered in and out of her mouth.

She bucked her hips back and forth against the finger I had placed inside of her for added pleasure, and I alternated my sucking with licking as I pumped my finger against the wall of her pussy, looking for that special spot inside of her. The moment I added a second finger, she came all over my hand, bucking and moaning.

It killed me to see her face just after she came. She was sobbing from the shame of being made to cum by her young assistant, and being made to suck one cock while holding two more in her hands. She was horrified that we had all seen her naked, touched her bare flesh, and that I had been able to give her pleasure when really she didn't want me to touch her, and I didn't want to do it either.

I removed my fingers from inside of her, looking into her pained eyes, mouthing the words, "I'm so sorry" over and over.

"She cums just like a porn star," Dr. Bayer laughed. "Let me feel that little cunt." He stepped around to where I was standing, shoved me aside, and put a finger in her. She tightened up quickly, feeling a cold, fat finger, a finger that obviously wasn't mine, violate her.

"Come here, John. She's a virgin. This slutty little whore's never had anything bigger than a finger in her. Come feel this."

Dr. Duncan pulled his cock out of her mouth, replaced the tape, and joined Dr. Bayer at the front of the chair. He forcefully shoved three fingers into her, hurting her so much she gasped, and said, "She is. Saving yourself for someone special, little bitch? Or maybe you're queer. You sure liked having a girl eat your cunt. Maybe you're queer."

She shook her head vigorously. I knew that she wasn't. She was straight. She had almost fucked her boyfriend in dental school, but he had broken her heart and she swore she'd have nothing to do with guys, at least for a while. But she was straight.

"Okay, then, slut. You're going to prove you're not queer. You're going to get fucked, right now. Look at you, all covered in cum, giving handjobs like a whore, getting eaten out by your barely legal little assistant, and swallowing cum just like a little slut. I could take your little pussy right now. In fact, I think I just might do that. What do you think, Emma? Should I fuck her?"

Rage boiled inside of me as he stroked his disgusting cock, getting it ready to tear her apart. I saw the panic in her eyes as it approached her tiny hole. At the height of her arousal, I had hardly been able to fit just two well-lubricated, slender fingers into her without hurting her. I didn't even want to imagine what Dr. Duncan's massive cock- about eight inches long and almost as thick as a coke can- could do to her poor little innocent body. I wanted, more than I had ever wanted anything, to kill him.

Dr. Richards pulled the tape from her lips. "I want to hear her scream when you take her." She began to take short, gasping breaths through her mouth. They surrounded her pussy, gaping at her like animals, whistling and making nasty little comments. She was truly terrified.

"Please," she breathed between sobs, "don't."

He aimed the head of his gigantic cock at the opening of her pussy. "Open wide, little Katie."

He fell to the floor. You see, in an eager attempt to get an eyeful of her tight pussy, they had left the gun lying on the instrument tray. And my hands were free, and the guys were distracted, and without even thinking, I did what I had always fantasized about doing: I killed Dr. Duncan.

My ears rang so hard that I didn't even hear the two shots I fired, but I saw that their placement had been perfect- one in the head and one in the heart.

The other three dentists fled immediately, leaving me alone with Katie. She was in shock, from her giant orgasm earlier when I had licked her pussy, from humiliation, from fear of Dr. Duncan's cock, and from the realization that I had just shot him.

I released her slowly, removing the tape from her mouth and then the chains from her ankles and wrists. Realizing she was too traumatized to move, I carefully wiped all the cum, sweat, and blood off of her body with a cool, wet paper towel. I wiped the blood from her face and the fluid from her pussy.

Gently I re-dressed her, making sure nothing was inside out or twisted or backwards. I ran my fingers gently through her thin, silky hair, getting the tangles out before using my extra elastic to put her hair back in its usual ponytail.

I washed her face again with cool water, trying to make the awful, silent tears stop. I washed their filthy cum off of her hands, and the whole time she just stared at me, wanting to speak, but unable.

"I love you, Katie." I took her into my arms for a moment before noticing that it was almost eleven at night. I took her hands in mine, lifting her tiny body to her feet. "Come on, Katie. I'm taking you to my apartment for tonight. I want you to be safe. Come with me."

She couldn't seem to will her feet to walk. So I silently thanked God for making her only about five-foot-five and a hundred or so pounds, and lifted her into my arms like a fireman, and carried her to the parking lot. I balled up my sweatshirt into a makeshift pillow for her head, and laid her in the back seat of my truck. "I love you, Katie," I whispered. "It'll all be okay, I promise."

I looked into her eyes, and the sweet baby-doll innocence which had always endeared me to her had been replaced with a broken emptiness that clawed at my heart.

Back at my apartment, I laid her on the couch, wrapped her in a blanket, and used my fingertips to wipe away her tears.

"I killed him, Katie," I whispered, "I finally killed him."

---- about a month later------

"Will the defendant please rise?"

I rose to my feet, tears in my eyes, turning to look at Katie for a moment before facing the judge.

"Has the jury reached a verdict?"

"We have, Your Honor."

"On the sole count of the indictment, murder in the third degree, how do you find?"

"We find the defendant, Emma Parker Chong, not guilty by reason of self-defense."