The doll

In the past few months, I’ve been participating in a special kind of training. With my husband’s consent, I’ve been open and willing to be led to a place that, perhaps, not many people go. I’ve been working with a dominant man with the goal of becoming ‘the doll’. I’ve eluded to it any number of times and a discerning reader could have filled in the dots already. I’ve talked a little of anal training, of dress codes and of my gorgeous acrylic, red slutty nails. I’ve even alluded to the ‘bimbo speeki’ which I adopt in discussions.

The vigilant reader would have noted that ‘the doll’ appeared a few months ago. It was early in the proceedings when she simply emerged in conversation. In fact, she emerged when she was given her name and she is very much her own...doll. The doll was introduced to ‘bimbo speeki’ and she embraced it quite naturally. From the outset, she referred to herself in the third person as the object that she is.

Recently, ‘the gurl’, the girl with the over-thinking brain, broke into the doll’s account and had a few things to say, but she was not made welcome and she left as quickly and unceremoniously as she arrived. ‘The gurl’ does ‘the doll’ no favours. She confuses her, tells her she is “stooopid” and if she is really worked up, she will even lock her up in the cupboard. She “kidnaps” the doll and makes her life miserable.

‘The gurl’ thinks she knows it all. She uses her brains, her intellect and her education to persuade the doll that she is “right”. ‘The gurl’ is strident and she refuses to be put in her place. She may accept that she is a ‘bottom’, and she may even say that she wants to be submissive like the doll, but when things are not to her liking, she wants to manipulate everything to her own choosing. The sweet, good natured doll doesn’t stand a chance against her passion, her emotions, her intellect and her “sensibilities”.

This training, for me, is more than a type of ‘game’. It is an opportunity to feel free and liberated; to live in harmony and at peace. The benefits to me are not at all easy to explain. Yet, I feel I want to try because if you don’t know about ‘the doll’ (I’m just not ready to tell you the doll’s name), then you don’t really have an opportunity to understand me and what I seek.

My trainer (for want of a better word) asked me recently how I feel about ‘bimbo speeki’; if I was prepared to only speak to him in that way, and my response was in the affirmative. Although he enjoys the mode himself, he has made it clear many times that he only wants to lead me where I want to go, and he checks my mindset regularly. I was explaining something to him about my weekend when he suggested that perhaps this was better explained in girl language.

In fact, ‘bimbo speeki’ was entirely appropriate for me to explain myself to him. “Why?” he wanted to know. Well, in bimbo speeki I am contained. In that mode, I am the doll and I react as the doll would. I know my place. I’m not at all bright (as one would expect of a doll) and I don’t have the capacity or the desire to argue or worry. I remain the passive, pretty dolly and I let it all wash over me.

In girl language, my emotions and upset would have got in the way. I would have felt ‘unglued’ and out of control and my ability to function would have been impaired. I’ve been there countless times before and I never ever enjoyed it, found it productive or have ever wished to return, although I did, over and over. ‘The gurl’ may worry about things, from petty to important; hold grudges, be petulant and even rage, but never once did her unglued state work in her favour. ‘The gurl’ had tried to emulate the doll perhaps, but the doll was unthinkingly being herself. ‘The gurl’ was unhappy: the doll was not.

Make no mistake. What I am doing is not easy. A doll accepts. The owner of a doll can do whatever he wants. A doll is always pretty. A doll always smiles. A doll can be put back on the shelf. On the other hand, a good owner takes care of his dolly well and enjoys playing with her with enthusiasm. She is delicate and he handles her with care (although that care might include rough play). He loves her well. He ensures her needs are met. Lucky dollies have very good owners, and I am a lucky dolly. The dolly on the shelf has a charmed life. She loves her owner and her owner loves her. Life is good.

The opportunity for me to express myself in girl language here on this site has not been discouraged. This is the site of the girl who needs to express her thoughts in the way in which she is accustomed. She is going nowhere and nor should she. But, she is not welcome on the doll’s account and she won’t go there again. Should she feel the need, she has other avenues to express what is on her mind. She has acknowledged that the doll is here to stay and she is even prepared to make some room for the doll here. Secretly, she rather admires and envies the pretty, pink, happy dolly. ‘The gurl’ deludes herself that she has the power, but has been forced to admit that it is the dolly who is powerful. She holds her owner’s heart in the palm of her hands.