Dollification
A kink in which one partner is transformed into a living doll, allowing them to be controlled and played with by their “maker”, the options for dollification are endless.
1-2 days ahead of appointment.
I start a day or two days ahead of time determining the method of body hair removal. Depending on current length, arrangements are made.
I time out my meals so everything flows according to plan. I do not eat. I have never eaten. You are witnessing either magic or a cyborg.
If my nails aren’t done I do them or get them done so I don’t have to worry about them drying or feeling new/uncomfortable. They must appear like I’ve always had perfectly clean, French manicured nails.
Morning off…
I begin the mop/vacuum/sweep process. My dog has a panic attack from my Roomba. I soothe her.
I wash my sheets/doona cover/towels. Always remember to eliminate the tiny signs you could be human from your home. That’s the key. He could notice you’ve sweated before. Let’s prevent that.
I take the shower of my entire life. I call it my metamorphosis to naked mole rat. Scold off your human form.
I exfoliate my entire body.
I rub oil on myself till I’m going to slip out of his hands. The oil sprayer slips out of my hands instead. A casualty of fighting the good fight.
I rub scented lotion on myself in places I hope no one ever goes. I debate whether or not lotion inside my belly button is a good or a bad thing. I decided to Google it. Answer remains unverified.
I shave every inch of body hair I’ve ever had.
Afternoon:
I confirm Sir’s time of arrival and count back hours. Count back repeats when I decide to include realistic time frames.
I spend twenty minutes googling if deodorant can stop your palms from sweating. Before application I decide to just avoid touching him instead.
I begin 62 step makeup process which takes 1.5 hours and transforms me into my own Snapchat filter.
I begin hair styling process and decide between torture by hair ties, torture by hot iron curlers, or torture by straightener. I try to remember the last time He complimented my hair. I give up and reach for what’s already out.
I apply body glitter into places I want Him to look. Body glitter ends up everywhere. I wonder if it will get on His face. I put setting spray on top of it. I still get nervous because my makeup gets on his face all the time. I put hairspray on it.
I start drinking large amounts of water I hope to have entirely peed out by the time He arrives.
Directly before our playdate…
I determine the perfume I’m going to use through a chain of logic I pretend is actual logic. I spray it into the bathroom and then jump into it like I’m a genie in a bottle.
I put on an extremely uncomfortable multilayered outfit that I can only wear for 1.5 hours without developing a rash.
I take no less than 31 pictures of myself in said outfit and save two of them to send to people to pretend this is actually what I look like for more than 30 minutes at a time once a week.
I set the shoes out I’m going to wear. I remind myself not to put them on until the very last second as my feet sweating even for a minute will leave me walking on an ice rink.
I literally stand in front of my glass balcony where I can see Him drive in. Then, when I see His car, I run, put on my shoes, put down my phone, chew a breath mint like I’m sneaking cocaine in the bathroom, and run to the chair to sit and wait for Him to open the door. Casual. Dolls are always relaxed.
Dollification works very well in my Korrupt Lily or RRP service. You can click on the link to see some of what those playtimes can entail. https://www.lilylevine.com.au/destination/
Part 2:
I’m your f$%k toy.
You are pleased that I am all ready. Glossy. With a glittery sheen like I’m new and fresh out of the box.
And you unwrap me and stand me in front of you.
Admiring.
Your toy.
The features you now have at your disposal that you read about on the back of the cardboard.
You flip me over and bend me. Move me. You Instruct me to
Lie
Still
Waiting for you.
Not to move.
Or touch myself.
You tell me
Not to talk.
Just to lie here. Unwrapped. Waiting.
For you.
For when you enter
With your body
And your smirk.
Now
My just lying there
feels freaking difficult
It’s hard to lie still.
Impossible.
I writhe a little.
I move a little.
And I’m told to
“lie still”
So, I do…
My pussy begging for you. Now.
It’s crying for you.
But I can’t talk.
It tries to for me.
I wait for you
To spread my legs.
I wait for you
To tell me I’m wet.
I wait for you
To unbuckle your belt and
To lift me to my knees and
To lick up and down me and
To say I taste like strawberries and
To grab your toy
I wait for you
To tell me
“Ready or not my toy, it’s time for me to play”.
