Turn the Ey 09 - Pull the Strings

A note to my readers: Deeper into darkness we sink. CW: Mind control, Dollification, Non Consent, Capture, Substances. Domestic Violence. All characters are adults.

Pull the Strings

Daddy: Hide and Seek

"Daddy!," Fleur cries out for me, reaching out her arms in supplication. The terror in her lovely voice twists in my gut like a knife in a mortal wound. l throw my body forward towards her, only to find myself immobile as if my joints are soldiered, rendering them still. Darkness surrounds us and her small naked forms appears to glow with a bioluminescent cast, allowing me to see the threads that bind her limbs like some sort of fucked up marionette. I draw from every atom of strength in my reserves to propel myself forward, the futility of my struggle becoming more apparent. I scream out her name into the void, as my love is drawn backwards in darkness by a sick and twisted puppeteer lurking somewhere out of view. As the blackness envelopes her completely, concealing her from my view, I burst forward only to find myself sitting upright in bed, drenched in a cold sweat and tangled in a mess of shitty thread count hotel sheets. My phone vibrates on the bedside table beside me, and my blood runs cold when I see the text from Ana.

Fleur is gone. Someone has taken her.

I'm out of bed in a moment, tripping over my own feet as a scramble to text my private security team.

Code Red

I text to the team's captain before noticing the three missed calls from earlier this morning. I slam my fist into the wall, furious that I've slept through the ringing. We'd expected a second attempt on Fleur, I just hadn't thought it would be successful. My phone buzzes again and I answer it before the second ring, "I want a status update!" I demand.

I curse under my breath again. The search of Jonathan's known properties is already underway but he has too many resources at his disposal for that to be of any use. I tell the captain I want a private plane chartered and ready to depart within the hour. The flight will be a short one, and I am on my way.

The flight attendant begins the pre-flight safety blather, but I snarl at the crew to skip the bullshit and get us in the air. Normally, I pride myself on politeness but there is no time to waste and I can buckle my own damn seatbelt. As the attendant scuttles away to fasten herself into place, I begin to wrack my brain.

Fucking Jonathan.

He'd given me the creeps from day one, lurking around and trying to ride the coattails of his better connected friends. I'd tolerated him at social gatherings these past few years because of my respect for his late father and our ongoing business dealings with his company, but when he'd approached me about procuring a living doll of his own the request had made me balk. Judging from reckless way he'd managed his own interests; I couldn't imagine him being responsible for the care of another human being. I'd been surprised to learn he already had a willing young lady in mind, and after significant ribbing from the rest of my dollhouse friends I'd agreed to at least meet her.

Ella, or Mademoiselle Pêche as the girls had called her, had been timid to say the least on the morning I'd arrived to meet her. She'd sat silently through brunch tugging on her cream-colored, elbow length gloves and shifting restlessly in her flouncy apricot hued sundress. Ella hadn't been as careful as she thought however and the gloves had slipped out of place when she'd reached for a muffin, displaying the heaving bruising on her forearms. The poor thing had needed that muffin, she'd looked like she hadn't eaten in two days.

I'd demanded to speak with her alone, and Jonathan had only agreed because he'd seen his chances of my help with her programming slipping away like sand through his fingers. I'd been gentle in explaining to Ella that to be a doll was the ultimate gift of submission, and that the sort of power dynamic Jonathan had in mind shouldn't even be considered if there wasn't a foundation of trust. Her eyes had watered in response and while she'd refused my offer of an escort from the premises, she'd been brave enough to say she didn't consent to giving Jonathan power over her mind. It had been a wise choice, not that I'd have helped him with the process of doll making at that point anyway. I'd given her my contact information in case she ever changed her mind about enlisting my help to flee, told Jonathan to go fuck himself, and left.

My mind snaps back to reality with laser sharp focus as I send a text to Ana, requesting the contact information of Madmoiselle Pêche. I hold my breath waiting on a response and hoping that Ana has kept contact with Ella, having travelled in the same social circles for some time. My heart begins to race with anticipation moments later, when Ana responds with the necessary information, I immediately call and leave a voicemail beseeching Ella's help in locating my darling babygirl.

I feel helpless waiting for information and knowing that I'll be trapped in the air for at least another hour. Guilt plagues me as I dig my nails into my thighs and look out the tiny fogged window. I knew the risk was there. Jonathan's resentment had grown exponentially after the garden party when he'd been the only one in attendance without a companion, let alone a doll. He'd attended hoping to find himself back in my good graces, but that ship had sailed and I'd honestly invited him that day for the sole purpose of inquiring after Ella's welfare. When he'd arrived alone, I'd hoped that she had left him for good. I'd realized after the fact, that my little demonstration of doll play must have seemed like gloating.

The letter we'd received on Christmas had been an obvious threat. The message had been clear, if I wouldn't help him procure and program a doll of his own, my personal doll would suit him just fine. Even after the first attempted kidnapping, I'd not increased the security presence on site at our home. Fleur had been distraught at the lack of privacy the extra security would bring, and after her large green eyes had filled with tears, the captain had assured me of a rapid response time should any alarms be triggered. I settled for extra cameras and silent triggers instead. My worst mistake of all however, had been the wiping of my love's memories of Jonathan on the night of the gallery opening. I'd wanted her to feel safe. I'd wanted her to

be

safe, and clearly, I had failed.

The attendant announces from a safe distance that we are preparing to descend. I nod in approval, feeling mildly sorry for my earlier outburst. My despair is mitigated by a tiny spark hope when my phone vibrates again beside me. The message is from Ella this time.

There's a cabin

, it reads,

I'll help you find it.

Fleur: Beat the Drum

When I wake, I am alone in a strange bed. I find myself completely nude. My head feels as though someone has hammered a nail into it and my mouth is dry like parchment. There are two bottles on the bedside table, one with water and one with acetaminophen. I inspect them carefully. Both appear to have the safety seals intact, and so I take two tablets of the pain medication and force myself to drink the entire bottle of water. Judging from my chapped lips, I'm severely dehydrated and I'm not sure when I'll have access to more.

The bedroom has no windows and only one door. I know the man is out there. I resolve not to call him by his name. I don't appear to be bound in any way, and when I search the tiny armoire for something in which to cover my bareness, I find a single complete outfit. I take in the yellow-colored pinafore dress with matching silk slippers and knee-high stockings. Looking back to the bed, I note the deliberate lack of sheets.

It's clear that the dress and white ruffled blouse are for a doll. My stomach turns despite its emptiness. There are no undergarments to be found and the message is clear. I can wear this or nothing at all. I summon all of my remaining dignity, determined not to allow him this victory. I slip on only the shoes, to protect my feet in case I need to run, and reach for the doorknob leaving the dress behind.

The man chokes on his coffee. "Well, that's a choice my stubborn little thing," he says in greeting. I glare back at him in defiance even as my nipples harden in the morning chill. "I suppose I should tell you in case you were considering running that we are at least sixty miles by foot from the nearest public road. It would take you several days to hike out, even if you had the proper supplies and started in the right direction."

My belly growls loudly when the scent of pancakes reaches my nose, but I resolve to not take any food he has prepared. He slides a dish towards me and I look away, dismissing it. The man sighs and removes a bottled meal replacement shake from the refrigerator. "I thought we might have this problem," he says calmly, "you'll find it's still sealed." This time I accept. I can't afford to lose my strength. He'll have the last word though it seems as I gulp down the chalky strawberry flavored mixture. "I'm sorry you missed out on the pancakes little darling," he says sternly. "The afternoon tea however, won't be optional."

The man leaves me alone to wash in the economical tub and shower combo. I scrub my body with water so hot that it nearly scalds my skin. I can't stand the thought of him touching me. Strangely I find no soreness between my legs. I wrap myself in a towel and exit the bathroom, for lack of other options. There are no locks on any of the interior doors and no furniture I'm able to move as a barricade. The window in the bathroom is only a small vent, not large enough to fit my body through.

"Tea party time!" the man announces from the sofa when I exit the bathroom. I see he's laid out two tea cups on the coffee table, already filled with tea, and a small plate of cookies. I take a step backwards and in response he smiles. The man produces another syringe and lays it on the table. "I won't lie little darling, the tea is laced with something to help you relax. The dose is just enough to help you float calmly until we can get acquainted." The man gestures to the syringe. "This on the other hand you are already familiar with, and I'm afraid this is an easy way or the hard way situation. I was hoping you'd remember some of the first time we play dolly together but the choice is yours."

I freeze. I realize he hasn't taken me fully yet. I'm filled with an impulse to bolt for the door. We both know I won't make it there in time however, and I do not want another shot. He uncaps the syringe.

Mind made up, I fight back tears as I sit down on the floor and reach for the tea cup. "Such a good girl," he praises me when I drink it down. I eat a cookie. I'm starving and at this point, I'm already drugged. It takes a little longer this time but the world around me begins to feel unreal. My mind seems to float but my body seems to sink closer to the floor.

Once again, I see the man above me with a key outstretched. I know that it won't work, but he seems content to pretend. The man carries me into the bedroom and arranges me on the bed. He dresses me in the yellow dress, disregarding the blouse and other accessories to leave my breasts bare and

ma minette

exposed beneath the short skirt. He braids my hair. "Perfect," he whispers.

The man disappears from view, but I'm unable to turn my head to follow him with my gaze. He returns with several colorful objects. I'm unable to focus on the purpose of each object, only their vivid hues. Some of the pieces shine like glass and my mind briefly holds an image of the flowered toys from the art exhibit I'd attended with my Daddy earlier in the year. Unable to cry out, a tear rolls down my face when I think of Daddy and how much I want to go home.

The man moves slowly. I feel his tongue on my nipples, my belly, and between my thighs as he pushes them wider apart. More tears fall as his fingers penetrate my core. He's not rough in his treatment of my body, caressing me and whispering softly. It's as if he expects me to derive some pleasure from this exchange.

I feel another wave of the drug hit me, its effects intensifying beyond the light dose he'd promised, and as I dream my body loses form and becomes only sensation. I'm am floating all alone here. The man is gone. The room is gone. There are no thoughts, only tingles and colors and wetness, and eventually the need for release. I don't even cry out, I simply convulse.

The room begins to roll, or maybe it is me rolling. I feel my hips and bottom being lifted into the air as by a string.

Maybe I'm not a doll. Maybe I am a marionette.

. I hear the sound of a zipper behind me and it shocks me into a moment of clarity and fear. I expect to be invaded and hold my breath, unable to struggle, but instead I feel softness press against me. It does not go inside. For the first time since entering this room a sound escapes my lips. It's simply involuntary, and largely born of anxiety when the giggle bubbles up from my belly. Unfortunately for me, I can't stop it. I can't take it back.

I hear a snarl behind me now and I begin to float again.

Am I in the jungle with some kind of animal?

I see a hand reach into the pile of colors, and before I can process the change in the demeanor of the beast, the invasion comes. This time he fills me and I feel a pounding inside of my body like the beating of a drum of war. I feel no soft sensations now, but I do feel, until the world goes dark again.