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The unexpected light blinded your eyes as soon as you crossed the door, forcing you to abruptly stop. Before the place you had gotten into could be properly analyzed, a sudden gust of wind closed the door with a slam, pushing you almost face down into the sand. Sand. Your fingers dug into the loose, coarse soil, the surprising texture making you hyperaware of your surroundings.
Blinking a few times before getting up and looking around, you tried to process the surreal landscape before your eyes. Above your head, the bright blue sky of a sunny day, with occasional white clouds drifting by. Around you, the typical aspect of a tropical island. As the natural white noise of crashing waves filled your ears, you realized something was wrong. Back in the hallways, a thread of light coming from a small gap underneath a door had caught your eye. Believing the light could mean freedom, you instinctively went after it, finding the door unlocked and swinging it open. Still, you didn’t find the outside, only some place that felt like it was engineered to push anyone to the brink of madness.
With a deep sense of unease, you reached for the door again, aggressively whipping it open. Hoping to come back to the labyrinthine, dark hallways you were wandering before, only to find yourself facing the edge of the sea. Ocean foam rhythmically moved seashells and pebbles, making them almost reach your feet. You swore you could hear gulls off in the distance. Only then you realized how odd was the placement of the doorframe, standing there disconnected from any other place, seeming to come from nowhere. Apparently, the path that had led you to this place no longer existed.
"Have we been introduced?"
The unpredicted question made you immediately turn around, your expression shifting from confused to frightened as you faced the unexpected caller. Striking, with a hairstyle that seemed to accentuate his height. Extravagantly adorned with face tattoos and shiny, golden capital letters. Underneath his impeccable white vest, a black shirt with a heart marked a distinct contradiction, in which a gentle symbol gained a new, ominous meaning. Utterly menacing. Still, polite enough to introduce himself with a smile.
“Terence T. D'Arby. I’m the butler of this house.”
Paralyzed from shock, you didn’t find yourself being able to answer, but Terence didn’t need your words at all. He could easily deduce the major points of your history based on his routine alone. Terence was used to the vicious circle of outsiders who entered the mansion only to become bodies for him to dispose of. To deal with the aftermath of Dio's hunger or the promise of a new ally was part of the usual daily chores, but whatever experiment Enya was currently doing with the stand arrow was worsening his workload. Still, he didn’t expect one of her test subjects to end up invading his room.
"So, were you trying to escape?" Despite the words, his tone was cheerful, almost as the failure of your plan amused him.
"No, I—" You stuttered, realizing you had seconds to create a convincing lie.
Your mind raced as you failed to hide your obvious discomfort, smoothing the wrinkles and wiping some imaginary sand off your clothing. For the first time looking at yourself under daylight, you realized you couldn't recognize the fabric that covered your body. That piece of clothing had never been yours, but at some point turned out to be your only option. The more you tried to come up with an excuse to justify your situation, the free flow of memories worsened the lump in your throat. You remembered you hadn’t been the only one brought to the mansion, but soon found yourself to be the only one left. The same old woman that made your eyes shine with the opportunity of a better life was the one who locked you in a crowded, dark room and returned only to pick people one by one, making them never return. You knew you weren’t supposed to escape, yet you tried and there was no use in trying to hide it.
Terence just observed the scene, truly entertained with your distress. You hadn’t been the first person who tried to escape from captivity. Most of the runaways unfortunately met Vanilla Ice and found their ends in Cream's void. While Terence himself was far from being that destructive, it didn't mean he couldn't have some fun before taking you back to the place you shouldn’t have left. He only needed to distract you from your own misery.
“It’s my duty to return you,” he stated, “but since you’re here, I could use some company for a game."
"A game?" The surprising proposition worked well enough to make your voice return.
"We can make a bet. If you win, nobody will ever know you tried to escape.” Terence offered his hand in a gentlemanly gesture and saw your features light up.
It was always interesting for him to see how people saw betting as hope, if they stood a chance. Still, as the fear in your eyes gave room to a genuine, childlike curiosity, he wondered if you had been so disconnected from human interaction to the point of becoming fascinated with the superficial courtesies involved in everyday etiquette.
Accepting his offer, you let him take the lead and admired the surroundings for the first time, wondering if the paradisiac scenario was an illusion of some sort. It was hard to believe you were still inside the mansion. Illusion or not, it was oddly funny to see how the place combined sparse furniture, two tables and an antique cabinet, with palm trees and swaying shrubs. Terence’s voice called your attention to the bigger table.
“You may choose the game.” He waved a hand, indicating the set of computers and the console there, along with a huge amount of game cartridges.
You started picking up the games one by one, amazed with the variety of his collection. Some were classics, others you couldn’t recognize. Video games were fun, but you have never been a specialist. Still, one realization hit you a little too late.
"Wait," you looked around, searching for the butler who had come out of your visual field, "what if I lose?"
Standing near the cabinet, he smiled at your question.
"You become a part of my collection.”
As the cabinet doors were opened, you learned Terence also collected dolls. Not ordinary dolls, but living wooden creatures that sheltered souls and started to talk and tremble at the sight of light. He passionately talked about each one of them, citing names and parts of their stories, but you couldn’t quite register his words over the multitude of voices filling the air. Little screams echoing around with pleads for help, freedom, or just a little bit of attention.
A shiver crossed your spine as you eyed your most probable future if you lost the bet. Ignoring your distraught looks, he picked from the top shelf a blonde woman, beautifully dressed, who insistently cried his name. You had no idea to what extent she could control her movements, but her tiny limbs quivered in his hands.
"This is my Sonia. Stunning, right?" Terence nuzzled her face like an affectionate cat before offering her for you to hold.
Frozen in place, you didn’t make any motion to take the doll in your hands. Not taken aback with your lack of reaction, he trailed a finger over her little body, lifting her skirt to show off the ruffles of the dress. Her eyes got glossy.
“Look at all these accessories, I made them myself.”
From the fancy clothing to every tiny piece of jewelry, everything she wore was impressively detailed, but you were just too creeped out by the way the dolls acted to really admire anything about them. Content enough, Terence placed Sonia inside the cabinet and locked the doors, muffling the voices until they became completely silent.
"Aren't they beautiful?"
The sweet tone of his voice made your heart race with fear. Disturbed, you only nodded, not wanting to be rude.
❤
The victory theme played when the computer screen announced the car 15 as the winner, not only finishing the circuit in first place but setting a new highest score. You weren't surprised with his victory at all, but it didn’t stop you from placing the joystick on the table with shaky hands and a depressed sigh. Mortified, you felt unable to look up, as if avoiding facing your adversary could miraculously postpone your terrible fate. The total hopelessness was too much to cope with, clouding your vision with warm tears that threatened to spill out anytime.
Regret and defeat weighed so much on you that Terence could feel your soul almost detaching itself, to the point that the lightest tug, or even a caress of his stand, would be enough to take a hold of it. But the warm hand that landed on your head grabbed no soul, gently stroking your hair instead. Confused, you looked through your lashes, only to find D'Arby closer than he should be, admiring your features with a satisfied smile.
“You can keep your soul,” he remarked, “I just want you to act like a good doll. Are you going to behave?"
His words clouded your mind with a certain euphoria. Keeping your body and soul seemed the best outcome possible in that situation. Terence already knew you were desperate to save yourself, with Atum reverberating your positive answer inside his mind. Still, you emphatically nodded, accepting a new part of one wicked deal.
"Good!” Easily lifting you by your armpits, he sat back on his chair placing you on his lap.
Wide eyed, you stared blankly at his face, not knowing what to expect. In fact, some part of your mind felt terrified with the perspective of being treated like an object. All of a sudden, he grabbed you by the shoulders and shook your whole frame. You instinctively tensed.
“Too stiff for a ragdoll,” he affirmed, before cupping your face in both hands and tenderly squeezing your cheeks, “too soft for porcelain. Tell me, what kind of doll are you?"
The interaction had you disoriented, engaging in chit chat was completely out of your plans. Your mouth opened, but the dryness of your throat prevented any sound from coming out. He glared at your lips with crescent expectation before suddenly pinching your thigh, making you wince with a yelp.
"You're a squeaky toy." Terence chuckled, before suddenly hugging your form.
Once more taken by surprise, you remained immobile, not reciprocating the affectionate gesture. Remembering the dolls you’ve seen earlier, they probably lacked mobility to do it as well, so maybe you weren’t taking your role wrong. It was hard to relax with his arms around you, but you tried to ease the tension by planning your actions. Or lack of actions. Probably you just had to stay in place, not moving. Perhaps trembling a little, but your anxious state had it naturally happening.
Hiding his face on the crook of your neck, Terence hummed, your softness reminding him of how much he missed this kind of warmth. Dio was, of course, inebriating as a master and a lover, but the cold touch of his skin could be unsettling sometimes. The puppets were always receptive and easy to torment, but he longed for more. Between living alabaster and hard sculpted wood, nothing compared to the heat of another human, trembling muscle and skin rising into goosebumps after pressing against his own.
Heat rose in your cheeks when you felt his hands start wandering, sneaking down your back and feeling up your sides. A surge of adrenaline had you wiggling your body, trying to get away from his invasive touch, only to have him tighten the embrace in response to your action. To have your body completely pressed against his only worsened the situation, making you able to feel his arousal right between your legs. Still, you felt somehow relieved for being able to rest your head on his shoulder and hide your embarrassed face.
From the way he felt your breath hitch, Terence presumed you wouldn't be able to repress your noises for longer. Loosening his hold on you, he vaguely smoothed your thighs for a while before deciding to explore your body further. Hands going from the small of your waist to the hem of your nightgown, he hiked up the fabric to grab a handful of your backside and welcomed the first of many whimpers with a smile. You tried to repeat mentally like a mantra how you had agreed to behave, but it was impossible to stay completely still.
His touch was overwhelming, spreading an unwanted fire over your skin, and the impossibility to move and brush off the sensation was making some anguish grow into your heart. You hated to know how every twitch and mewl only showed how vulnerable you were. So when he hooked a finger on the edge of your panties and made the elastic snap against your skin, it was the last straw. The sudden sharp feeling sent your mind on overdrive and your resolve broke with an audible gasp.
Making you talk had never been an explicit challenge, but your muffled noises were too entertaining to pass unnoticed. Abruptly redefining his priorities, Terence grabbed you by the jaw, separating your bodies and subjecting your embarrassed features to his gaze. Panic filled your mind, somehow the possibility of maintaining eye contact felt too humiliating. In an attempt to fight the urge to break your act and struggle to be let go, you squeezed your eyes shut, the motion revealing itself to be tear inducing. In no time, as quiet as you tried to be, it was impossible to hide your soft sobbing. While you hoped he wouldn't get upset with your startled reaction, Terence felt incredibly lucky.
There was something adorable about how you didn't dare resisting anything he did, but your facial expression betrayed your well behaved act. A soft, receptive body in contrast with furrowed brows and tightly closed, wet eyes. Such a cute distressed face was really a rare sight. Still, you panted and profusely trembled, indicating this kind of inner turmoil had a cost for a body made of flesh and bone. By the way your gaping lips breathed uneven gulps of air, Terence could tell you were almost hyperventilating. He wouldn’t let panic suffocate you.
A warm feeling on your cheeks slowly brought you back to reality, at first unable to tell whether it was your tears, his lips, or an adrenaline rush sending blood to your features. Realizing the repeated light pressure felt and sounded like soft pecks all over your face, a wave of relief numbed your mind. Whether Terence adored you or the salt of your tears, you couldn’t distinguish. At least he wasn’t angered nor disappointed with your nervousness.
You had no idea how long it took for your breathing to normalize, but anxiety did start to subside, replaced by some new feeling you couldn’t quite describe. An obnoxious kiss to your forehead had you wondering if what you felt was helplessness, as sad and soothing as it could be. A playful kiss on the tip of your nose changed the hypothesis to peace, a deep peace within yourself. A kiss on the corner of your mouth had you remembering that peace made no hearts race like yours. Another kiss, symmetrically placed, had your lips parting with a sigh.
A hand threading on your hair tilted your head, the movement interrupting your thoughts and persuading you to open your eyes. The stare that met him was resigned, the remaining tears and dilated pupils a distant echo of the previous stress.
“See, I’m just taking care of you.” Terence playfully bounced you on his lap.
The contrast between the kind words and the inappropriate gesture pulled a soft gasp from your lips. Taking advantage of your more submissive state, he adjusted your arms in a loose hug around his neck, happy to see how the pose gave him more freedom to explore your body. Devoid of any will to fight, but lively enough to complain, you couldn't contain an exasperated huff when both his hands creeped under your gown, bunching the fabric to pull it up and over your head.
“Be still,” he softly ordered, patting your thigh, “this secondhand thing needs to go.”
As he carefully detangled the piece of clothing off you, a shiver ran through your whole body, making you realize that only the thin fabric of your panties prevented you from being completely naked. Uncomfortable with the sudden exposure to the cold air, you leaned onto his chest, erect nipples and goosebumps seeking relief through direct contact.
“Such a good girl doesn’t deserve to be this disheveled.”
The sweet tone of his voice was making you feel lightheaded. It was utterly confusing how the whole situation turned out to be so unpredictable and how someone could be so overbearing - oppressive, pushy - yet affectionate. You couldn’t deny how good it felt the contrast of the chill marine breeze with his touch. Warm hands mindlessly groping, squeezing your round edges - breasts, waist, hips - appreciating every inch of the plush skin that escaped his fingers as he added pressure.
Too focused on the white noise of your own thoughts, you didn’t register when Terence removed you from his lap, letting your body plop on the floor. Despite being startled by the impact as the soft sand cushioned your fall, you simply stayed still, laying on your back. An used toy with flushed cheeks and ragged breathing, temporarily discarded on the sand. Noticing Terence’s feet pace around and disappear from your peripheral vision, you turned your head to see him near the cabinet, humming a tune as he apparently searched for something.
“Too bad I have nothing in your size here. You’d be stunning wearing this.” He waved a picture in your direction, not really minding if you were paying attention.
The distance made it impossible for you to actually see what he meant to show you. As far as you could understand from the shapes and patterns, the piece of paper seemed to be a torn page from a fashion magazine featuring a model on a runway, wearing some extravagant dress.
”Don’t you think it’s perfect for a tea party?”
You didn’t have enough time to muse about his question, but the perspective of having a future caused an instant spark of wonder in your mind. Even better, a future with a tea party felt truly heartwarming.
You would properly meet the other dolls and certainly apologize for having been so scared and impolite earlier. You all would be gracefully dressed and perfectly placed around the table. Allowed to enjoy existence by contemplating the same landscape you adorned with your presence. Perhaps the blonde one would become your new best friend. Some company could even make you feel confident enough to talk. Maybe your dress would even match the china set, ornate patterns of lace, antique roses, blue motifs with intricate detail. Any flavor of tea would be welcome. Whether it was the gentle embrace of the honeyed notes of chamomile or the warm spark of the cinnamon, in the end, all of them would feel like a homey delight.
Your daydream was interrupted by the noise of Terence dropping some items over the table before picking you up and placing you on his lap again. This time you didn’t try to hide, unbothered by your partial nudity, preferring to stare at the man at your front as if he fascinated you. Vivid eyes expected his next action, eyelashes fluttering as gentle fingers brushed aside the hair strands that stuck to your cheeks. He definitely fascinated you.
With a soft handkerchief, Terence started drying every reminder of your tears. Feeling the need to close your eyes, for the first time your body allowed itself to truly relax. You were sure he was taking care of you in the same way he did with his other dolls and it filled you with joy. When he guided you to lay your head on his shoulder, you caught yourself wishing for one routine where you would be his favorite toy. His voice would determine when you should wake up. Your eyes would always gleam and reflect whatever he decided you should pay attention to, whether it was the landscape or a loading screen of some new game. Oblivious to your reverie,Terence started brushing your hair with meticulous care.
Soothed by the feeling, you longed for the day where he would wrap you in fabric, cut and sew a dress your size. You would make sure to ask if he preferred odds or evens to make your measurements gracious, and wouldn’t even flinch when pins and needles pricked your skin. At the end of the day, his hands would be the ones laying you to rest. Once more, the time for fantasizing was short lived. It did not take long for Terence to stop brushing, even though your hair hadn't been properly styled, just untangled.
Grabbing your face and squeezing your cheeks until your lips formed a silly pout, he decided you could use a little more color. Promptly, a tinted finger pad brushed your mouth, smearing a sheer red hue across your lips. The gesture felt intimate enough for you to emit a pleased sigh, quickly turned into a gasp when he palmed one of your bare breasts. His avid kneading induced a sequence of hushed, quiet moans and made you wriggle against his body. Convinced that you no longer wanted to deny the heat pooling between your legs, you didn’t bother to contain a high-pitched whine when your nipple was rubbed between skilled fingers, unclear in the purpose of coloring or teasing.
Encouraged by your noises, Terence didn’t refrain from hugging you tightly again. One large hand holding you to his chest, the other firmly grasping the hem of your panties, using it as leverage to guide your hips to roll and grind against him. Obscenely selfish, he could have attributed his arousal to the mere excitement of getting a new toy, but when you first displayed a delicious mix between discipline and refusal to surrender, he became inclined to believe that you were the perfect fuel for his libido.
With his name being the only comprehensible noise leaving your lips, you couldn't discern anymore whose heartbeat you were hearing. Through the damp patch on your panties, you could feel him straining inside his pants. The ever present friction had been more than enough to get you soaked with anticipation, but your pleasure reached new heights when you focused on how easy to maneuver you had become. Loose on the joints, feeling the way your body draped over his in total abandonment was the best reminder that nothing felt sweeter than pure submission. Lost in the delightful haze of an almost orgasm, it was useless to hide how much you loved — his care, his touch, his decisions, anything he decided to give — you simply loved . And Terence loved to be loved in such a selfless way.
You were left in complete shock when he abruptly stopped, large hands pressing onto your chest and separating your bodies, making you lean back and face him once more. Trembling limbs, glazed eyes and a gasping voice, yet completely different from before. Terence knew that under his hands, any toy ended up a mess — whether by panic, pleasure or both — but only a few turned out so lovely. His smile was proof of how much he appreciated the result of his work. As your gaze met his satisfied expression, you automatically smiled back, confirming that once and for all, you were completely his, to play as he pleased.
It wasn’t a habit for Terence to pick favourites among his dolls. He preferred to believe the true worth of a collector’s item was an ever changing rate, directly proportional to the love the owner felt for it. From masterpieces to breakable pastimes, it was purely a matter of how loved you were at the moment. So, as soon as the smile reached your eyes, he knew you were a piece of incalculable value. Whatever future that anyone else had planned for you would have to wait. He couldn’t let you go.