Christine had just finished scrubbing the lines off her body, careful not to stretch her back too much. Those things were still sore, especially after he decided to redo them. She had her hair pulled up after she washed it. Her jewelry had been carefully put back in it's boxes. She heard him call her name and after slipping into one of the only nightgowns she had that exposed her back, she quietly padded to him.
"Yes?" she asked quietly, feeling exposed in the sheerness of the gown and his gaze. Christine had to look down at the floor, suppressing a shiver at the chill in the air.
"I'm in need of your services. Follow me." Said Leonard plaintively. He turned on his heel, making his way back towards the tiny room, the slightly inklings of a smile playing upon his lips as he tread past a seemingly innocuous study, medical texts open on the desk and various samples in vials, some masculine decor over the walls. But his favorite part of this house was the transition between reality and fantasy, even the floor to his private room and life was strewn with glitter and dust from his dolls.
He didn't have to look back to know she was following. If she wasn't, which would be most unwise, she would be in for a great deal of trouble and honestly, Leonard wasn't opposed to that either. It was always fun to show her her place, which was his doll. Not his lover, nor his slave, not his pet and never his companion. His creation, and for this, he loved her if only in the perverted sense of the word.
His tongue swept over his bottom lip, wetting it and turning around to face her in his room.
Christine followed him, though slowly. Her eyes darted to some of the books, ones she had tried to read when he wasn't around. They were fascinating and she wished she could learn more. It kept her sane, kept her remembering she wasn't a living doll.
When he stopped she did, a few feet behind him still. She cant help but look around, wondering what he needs from her. He's a mystery to her and she can't quite say she hates him for what he does, for it's never anything outright mean or unexpected, unless she's being bad. But she hasn't come to terms with how he treats her, either.
He would have hardly cared if she had simply asked to read his books. In fact, he knew she was attempting to educate herself in some way, or to entertain herself. She was his prisoner, but her living conditions were far from poor. He liked to treat his dolls, his little perfect dolls nicely, and since the last one ran out on him, (which was a mistake. She was found, raped and gutted. Pretty nasty, but it was her fault in Leonard's reasoning) his most realistic doll as if she was on the line of reality and fantasy
( ... )
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"Yes?" she asked quietly, feeling exposed in the sheerness of the gown and his gaze. Christine had to look down at the floor, suppressing a shiver at the chill in the air.
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He didn't have to look back to know she was following. If she wasn't, which would be most unwise, she would be in for a great deal of trouble and honestly, Leonard wasn't opposed to that either. It was always fun to show her her place, which was his doll. Not his lover, nor his slave, not his pet and never his companion. His creation, and for this, he loved her if only in the perverted sense of the word.
His tongue swept over his bottom lip, wetting it and turning around to face her in his room.
Reply
When he stopped she did, a few feet behind him still. She cant help but look around, wondering what he needs from her. He's a mystery to her and she can't quite say she hates him for what he does, for it's never anything outright mean or unexpected, unless she's being bad. But she hasn't come to terms with how he treats her, either.
"...Sir?"
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