Fantasy Doll

The drug worked beautifully. Of course, it did. One paid for premium quality for a reason. Bella slumped against me, a deadweight of intoxicating potential, her body all soft curves and yielding warmth. I savored the moments of carrying her through the club’s back corridors and out into the cool night air.

Supporting Bella’s limp weight against my side was unexpectedly pleasant. The floral scent of her shampoo mingled with the faint, lingering aroma of her fear, a combination that was utterly intoxicating. Her head lolled onto my shoulder, the soft dirty blond, almost brown strands of her hair brushing against my cheek like a caress. My security team discreetly cleared our path, as we boarded my yacht.

The ride back to my private island was smooth, silent, and utterly satisfying. My new prize lay draped across the plush leather seats, her dark golden hair spilling like liquid sunlight over dark upholstery.

An unfamiliar ache bloomed in my chest… a mix of triumph and something startlingly close to tenderness. I’d captured countless girls before, trained them, broke them, sold them. They were products, assets. Livestock.

But her…

​Yes, there was something different about this one. It wasn’t just her stunning beauty… that perfect hourglass figure, those full natural tits begging for a firm hand… it was the flicker of vulnerability in her eyes. The raw, untapped potential simmering just beneath the surface. Other women wore submission like a costume. Bella… Bella was born for it. She just didn’t know it yet.

During the choppy ride out to my island, I tucked a blanket around her, studying her slack face in the moonlight. She was exquisite. So much more delicate and honest than her fiery sister, had been. Her sister had been a conquest, a challenge I’d enjoyed breaking and selling. But this one…

Reaching out, Bridgette brushed a stray strand from Bella’s forehead, her touch infinitely tender. A surprising wave of possessiveness washed over her. She had seen potential in thousands of slaves she had acquired and sold, glimpsed flickers of submission begging to be fanned into flames. None had ever affected her like this. This wasn’t just another acquisition; this was something else entirely.

My security team met the boat at the private dock on my island. They knew their jobs. Two large, efficient men lifted her slight, unconscious form from the seat, handling her with surprising gentleness as they carried her toward the main house.

Stepping into the grand foyer of her island mansion, her men snapped to attention. “Take her to bedroom number four,” I commanded.

Following the procession upstairs, I entered the lavishly appointed bedroom, its walls painted a soft lavender. Once the guards placed Bella’s sleeping form on the king-sized bed, I dismiss them with a sharp nod.

Once they were gone, the silence of the suite descended. I moved to the bed, my gaze devouring her. Here, laid out on my cream colored Egyptian cotton sheets, she was even more breathtaking than I’d allowed myself to hope. I peeled away the ridiculous domme costume she wore, layer by ridiculous layer. Each piece revealed more of her perfect, soft skin.

My fingers itched to touch, to mark, but I restrained myself. Patience. Taming a creature this beautiful, this innocent, required strategy. I cataloged every inch of her with my eyes: the gentle swell of her belly, the creamy skin of her thighs, the dusky rose tips of her surprisingly large breasts that begged to be tormented. She was a masterpiece. A canvas.

From the bedside drawer, I retrieved my prize. The custom forged steel chastity belt felt cold and heavy in my hands… a symbol of my absolute authority. Carefully, I maneuvered the device around her slim waist and rounded hips. The metal warmed slightly against her skin as I worked.

I methodically adjusted the straps, ensuring the front shield sat flush against her mound, denying any possibility of penetration or relief. The secondary strap ran snugly between the cheeks of her luscious ass, a constant reminder of her new status. There. Perfect.

Locking it with the small, silver key felt immensely satisfying. The soft ‘click’ echoed in the quiet room like the sealing of a pact. She belonged to me now, in the most fundamental way possible.
I stepped back to admire my handiwork. The stark steel against her soft, vulnerable flesh was a work of art in itself. It framed her most sacred places, declaring them my property.

But one element was missing.

On the nightstand sat the matching collar, identical polished steel. It would complete the set, visually announcing her as my property. It would feel so right around that slender neck. My fingers actually twitched, wanting to reach for it.

But I hesitated.

Something stayed my hand. An unprecedented impulse. Collaring her felt too abrupt, too… final. It would immediately plunge her into the deepest level of her new reality. There was a certain artistry in a gradual descent. Besides, putting that on now felt… impersonal. A routine applied to just another slave. And she wasn’t just another slave to be broken and sold for profit.

This one needed to be coaxed, molded, and seduced into her destiny.

Looking at the metal collar resting on the nightstand. Its cold silver seemed suddenly… inadequate. This was the same grade of stainless steel I used for all my acquisitions, durable and functional. It marked them as what they were: high-end livestock. Merchandise. I stared at the beautiful girl sleeping peacefully in my bed, and the idea of branding her with the same collar as all the others felt… wrong. Insulting, even.

A thought sparked, gold. Not plated, but solid 24-karat gold. A collar and belt matched in shining, warm yellow gold. Something that bespoke not just ownership, but treasure. Coveted prize. It would be unique, just like her. It would set her apart from the common stock of my enterprise. Yes. That was it. A declaration of special status. Not just a slave, but my girl. My doll.

I glanced at the steel belt already locked securely around her hips. A pity it wasn’t gold already, but that could be rectified later. A replacement commission. I made a mental note, then retrieved my small leather bound journal from the drawer. Sitting in the plush armchair by the window, I flipped to a fresh page and began to take some notes. After some time… I closed the journal and took it with me. The plan was forming…

Rising, I approached the bed once more. The sterile silver belt was a stark reminder of the reality of her situation, but her face was still so serene, so untouched. Leaning down, I gently pulled the duvet up over her shoulders, covering the steel and tucking her in as if she were a cherished guest and not my captive.

I hesitated for a fraction of a second, then bent lower, my lips brushing against the cool, smooth skin of her forehead. The kiss was feather-light, possessive, and utterly sincere.

“Wet dreams, my doll,” I whispered, a genuine smile gracing my lips. Let her subconscious start the work for me.

With that final, provocative thought hanging in the room, I turned and walked to the door.