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Description
The servant had done wrong.

"Master, shall I prepare the guest?" It had said.
Three lashings sufficed.

"He is no mere guest. You will address Him as you address me. And you will not look at Him. Not touch. Nor speak. If Those eyes see your own, it will be your folly. You are aware I do not tolerate defiance in this house. As for the garments. Have them brought to His room. I will prepare Him myself."

I must make an example.
Which behavior is unacceptable.

Those that reside beneath this roof must learn their places.

My Queen in His tiny tower. Four solid walls. He would see. I was tending to His needs. I supplied a room for his very own. Attendants for His care. He mustn't have worry for any need. And certainly not have for any want.

My Queen in his tiny tower cried sweet tears. A tempestuous sound.
Rather shameful it was that I had to interrupt.

"You must not linger on this grief. Yes, you have felt fear, but empty your thoughts, My doll, you will see, you are shrouded in luxuries."

"I am prisoner!"

"My dear doll, I know of the life that befell you. No parents of your own. You were left a ward. The ward of a man who had not time nor respect for you, My dear doll. Dear doll. My dear. Yes. I know what kind of man your Baron Rosenski was."

"Y-You know the Baron?"

"Dear, dear doll. There are not many I know not. I am familiar with. This arrangement is better for you. Better for him. He wanted you not. You must know that."

"I-I---"

"You were a burden. Useless and unprofitable. Rosenski is a business man. Yes. You know this. You know he managed that theater of yours, and yet, who is his young star?"

"Not I…"

"Yes. What is her name? The one that sings like a crow?

"Judit."

"You are no Judit, My dear sweet doll. No. You are My ward now. Come. Let me prepare you for this evening's meal."

Tonight's wear: a hand-picked gown. Black taffeta and satin sash. Lace stole and stockings. My doll's every curve and crest accounted for.

succulent skin, rippled blue eyes, moist tender shoulders. Flesh. so fleshy, so lean and soft and scented, my teeth yearned to sink within, puncture the pure white stainless stretch. To release.
Release.
Tense.
Release.

"Come now, My doll."

"W-What are you doing? Don't! Let me alone!"
He fought.
Beautifully, he fought.
Beat against me like a tiny tempest. All the while His little lips making sounds. Sounds.

sounds sounds sounds
sounds sounds sounds

Fingers clawed. His and mine. His defending. Mine craving.
That skin.

Gods, that body.

That light.
I craved.
That body.
So prim. So perfect. So pure pure white.
I craved.

To ruin it.

Not yet.
Not quite yet.
Not till I am mad with Him. Drunk with it. Not till this wanting Wanting Wanting! fills up every pore.

Tension.
Till the release.
His sounds. His screams.

screams

stop crying stop crying
Stop running.
He stumbles. Weeps. Rises. Weeps.
I reach. Miss. Reach. Gripping at his clothes. It's torn now. In bits. In tatters. He's leaving them behind. A bread crumb trail of silk.
Untidy. Unkempt.
What a mess. A little White Spot on my floor.
The floor is no place for My doll.
I won't have it.
I won't.
Learn your place.
get up get up
Stop crying!

Am I not hospitable?

You'll never leave this house.

Stop running. STOP RUNNING!

"Let me alone!"
We'll never be alone again.
No, My doll. I know what it is you truly desire. I will open your eyes to it.

Stop running.
Watch.
Watch.
I will show you.
Clip your wings.
You will learn

"Your place."

He at one head and I at the other.

All the good silver laid out. The candelabra. The chandelier. My little Queen bound to His
throne with thick black rope.

If it is how he learns, so be it.

Quiet was the dining room. But his soft weeping.

"You will run out of tears soon. Eat. This dinner was prepared in your honour."

He would not say a word.
His hands stayed.
He did not eat.
Did not move. Resist his bindings.
I was ever hospitable. I assured they were not so constricting that they might harm My doll.

"You must be exhausted. All of that… running."

I rose.
I sealed off all the doors.
I positioned my throne next to His.

And carefully I began to tend.

What a naïve little doll He is. So young. So helpless.

I cut His food into tiny doll bites. I fed them to Him one by one. And with each little bite
He would see.
My doll loved me more.

I would care for Him. Feed Him and bathe Him and nurture Him and rock Him to sleep at night.

Whatever My doll needed I would be.

Description
The servant had done wrong.

"Master, shall I prepare the guest?" It had said.
Three lashings sufficed.

"He is no mere guest. You will address Him as you address me. And you will not look at Him. Not touch. Nor speak. If Those eyes see your own, it will be your folly. You are aware I do not tolerate defiance in this house. As for the garments. Have them brought to His room. I will prepare Him myself."

I must make an example.
Which behavior is unacceptable.

Those that reside beneath this roof must learn their places.

My Queen in His tiny tower. Four solid walls. He would see. I was tending to His needs. I supplied a room for his very own. Attendants for His care. He mustn't have worry for any need. And certainly not have for any want.

My Queen in his tiny tower cried sweet tears. A tempestuous sound.
Rather shameful it was that I had to interrupt.

"You must not linger on this grief. Yes, you have felt fear, but empty your thoughts, My doll, you will see, you are shrouded in luxuries."

"I am prisoner!"

"My dear doll, I know of the life that befell you. No parents of your own. You were left a ward. The ward of a man who had not time nor respect for you, My dear doll. Dear doll. My dear. Yes. I know what kind of man your Baron Rosenski was."

"Y-You know the Baron?"

"Dear, dear doll. There are not many I know not. I am familiar with. This arrangement is better for you. Better for him. He wanted you not. You must know that."

"I-I---"

"You were a burden. Useless and unprofitable. Rosenski is a business man. Yes. You know this. You know he managed that theater of yours, and yet, who is his young star?"

"Not I…"

"Yes. What is her name? The one that sings like a crow?

"Judit."

"You are no Judit, My dear sweet doll. No. You are My ward now. Come. Let me prepare you for this evening's meal."

Tonight's wear: a hand-picked gown. Black taffeta and satin sash. Lace stole and stockings. My doll's every curve and crest accounted for.

succulent skin, rippled blue eyes, moist tender shoulders. Flesh. so fleshy, so lean and soft and scented, my teeth yearned to sink within, puncture the pure white stainless stretch. To release.
Release.
Tense.
Release.

"Come now, My doll."

"W-What are you doing? Don't! Let me alone!"
He fought.
Beautifully, he fought.
Beat against me like a tiny tempest. All the while His little lips making sounds. Sounds.

sounds sounds sounds
sounds sounds sounds

Fingers clawed. His and mine. His defending. Mine craving.
That skin.

Gods, that body.

That light.
I craved.
That body.
So prim. So perfect. So pure pure white.
I craved.

To ruin it.

Not yet.
Not quite yet.
Not till I am mad with Him. Drunk with it. Not till this wanting Wanting Wanting! fills up every pore.

Tension.
Till the release.
His sounds. His screams.

screams

stop crying stop crying
Stop running.
He stumbles. Weeps. Rises. Weeps.
I reach. Miss. Reach. Gripping at his clothes. It's torn now. In bits. In tatters. He's leaving them behind. A bread crumb trail of silk.
Untidy. Unkempt.
What a mess. A little White Spot on my floor.
The floor is no place for My doll.
I won't have it.
I won't.
Learn your place.
get up get up
Stop crying!

Am I not hospitable?

You'll never leave this house.

Stop running. STOP RUNNING!

"Let me alone!"
We'll never be alone again.
No, My doll. I know what it is you truly desire. I will open your eyes to it.

Stop running.
Watch.
Watch.
I will show you.
Clip your wings.
You will learn

"Your place."

He at one head and I at the other.

All the good silver laid out. The candelabra. The chandelier. My little Queen bound to His
throne with thick black rope.

If it is how he learns, so be it.

Quiet was the dining room. But his soft weeping.

"You will run out of tears soon. Eat. This dinner was prepared in your honour."

He would not say a word.
His hands stayed.
He did not eat.
Did not move. Resist his bindings.
I was ever hospitable. I assured they were not so constricting that they might harm My doll.

"You must be exhausted. All of that… running."

I rose.
I sealed off all the doors.
I positioned my throne next to His.

And carefully I began to tend.

What a naïve little doll He is. So young. So helpless.

I cut His food into tiny doll bites. I fed them to Him one by one. And with each little bite
He would see.
My doll loved me more.

I would care for Him. Feed Him and bathe Him and nurture Him and rock Him to sleep at night.

Whatever My doll needed I would be.