There's no denying that the doll is a slut. What she does and how she does it all relates to allowing her to be that which society would shun. As the doll, she is in a state of constant arousal. Basically, whatever allows her to feel her dolly state is allowed. Whatever doesn't allow her to sink into that space is not.
I hope it doesn't need repeating that the doll doesn't dress in such a way as her appearance would be considered slutty. To the contrary, the doll's mindset cannot be identified by the way she grooms and dresses at all. Her preference is skirts and dresses, of course, but they aren't the kind of garments one associates with a slut. There are some hints, to be sure, but she's neat, clean, well dressed and groomed on the streets. What happens beneath her skirt is another thing but she raises limited suspicion from passers by as to her status.
The doll is subject to suggestion. She sees things and hear things and her simple, little mind processes them in her own unique way. She sees her acrylic nails all day and every day. Over time, she wonders what it might feel like and look like for them to be really long. Thoughts that were originally out of the question become intoxicating and one day she says to herself, "I want really long nails. I want to put my dolly state on display!"
The thought surprises her as much as it might other people. Where did this idea come from? And, why this day? There are no definite answers to this question, except to say that she has finally succumbed to the idea of very long and oh so slutty nails. This is her idea at her instigation.
She goes down to the salon and asks for a new set of nails. She's cool as a cucumber, steadily breathing, full of excited anticipation, until it is time for the man to bring out the cutters to cut down the extraordinarily new long nails. It's her move.
"Peter, what if they were an inch long?"
He demonstrates zero resistance to the idea.
"You want an inch?"
"Yes."
"Okay."
He cuts them down and to the doll's eyes they look even sluttier than she had expected. Once he has cut them he moves away to do a quick manicure for a little girl who has come in with her mother. This gives the doll time to take out her little ruler and measure them. They are more than an inch. They are even longer than she asked for. The man returns.
"Peter, I don't know. Do you think they are a bit long?"
"You want shorter?"
"A tad."
He cuts the nails to such a miniscule degree the doll can barely see any nail coming off at all. He clearly approves of the length. He clearly understands he is dealing with a doll!
It's time now for the final stage and he asks the doll if she wants clear polish as usual or color?
"Clear, please. Or, should it be color this time (to hide all that slutty white nail)?"
"No. Clear."
(Peter is a man of few words.)
"Okay."
The die is cast. It's clear. It's sluttsville all the way.
It's been a week now since that fateful day. It's impossible for the doll not to notice her claws. It's impossible for the doll to act abruptly, hastily; without showing due care. It's impossible for her to do some tasks herself and the dumdum dolly has to ask for help.
It's impossible for the doll not to be reminded a hundred times a day that's she's a doll; a slutty object ready and available for use.
It's lovely.
How fun!
ReplyDeletevery nice, as always!
ReplyDeleteSerenity: Fun, yes, thank you!
ReplyDeleteMaryann: That's very kind of you to say; thank you.