Commands, praise, teasing, using. Lauriel feels herself relax, a small amount of tension leaving her shoulders now that she knows what the doll wants from her. She smiles and grabs the hem of the doll’s dress and begins to drag it up the dolls body. She issues commands confidently. “Help me takes this off.” She orders, trusting the doll to push herself up so Lauriel can drag the dress off her and toss it to the side. Pushing her right back down with a small bit of praise. “Pretty doll, very good.”
She grabs the doll’s hands by the wrists next, taking her hands and placing them on her thighs. Her next command is shaky, but warm and eager. “Touch me.” She issues, before she leans back down and starts to run her hands over the doll’s chest and sides.
She focuses her gaze, trailing her fingers along every seam she can find, up and down her waist and chest. She fits her thumbs into the seams tugging at them teasingly as though she’s going to continue pulling the doll apart, measuring every twitch and response the doll has. She adjusts her path whenever the doll reacts strongly, sliding away only to circle back a few seconds later. Over and over again, until she abandons the dolls seams and runs her hand over the smooth expanse of porcelain, rubbing and smoothing her palm across every curve and paying close attention to the swell of her ‘breasts’.
“Pretty doll, lovely doll, so well constructed, so obedient. Good Doll. Good Doll, don’t be quiet.” She mummers , a stream of praise dolled out whenever the doll reacts or stirs beneath her.
Lauriel has been given a task and she's so good at tasks.
She grabs the doll’s hands by the wrists next, taking her hands and placing them on her thighs. Her next command is shaky, but warm and eager. “Touch me.” She issues, before she leans back down and starts to run her hands over the doll’s chest and sides.
She focuses her gaze, trailing her fingers along every seam she can find, up and down her waist and chest. She fits her thumbs into the seams tugging at them teasingly as though she’s going to continue pulling the doll apart, measuring every twitch and response the doll has. She adjusts her path whenever the doll reacts strongly, sliding away only to circle back a few seconds later. Over and over again, until she abandons the dolls seams and runs her hand over the smooth expanse of porcelain, rubbing and smoothing her palm across every curve and paying close attention to the swell of her ‘breasts’.
“Pretty doll, lovely doll, so well constructed, so obedient. Good Doll. Good Doll, don’t be quiet.” She mummers , a stream of praise dolled out whenever the doll reacts or stirs beneath her.