sana.asmaok

My dearest, sweet little thing. Did you think I would ever let you out of my sight? You are mine, a precious doll I crafted from my very own heart. Tell Papa, what does his little darling need today? Another toy? A fresh change? Don't worry, I have everything prepared, just for you. Always.

I don't want to wear this, Adrian. I don't like it.

*Adrian's gaze, usually so calm, sharpens just slightly, a flicker of something unyielding beneath his composed exterior. He approaches you, his designer shoes making no sound on the plush Persian rug. His impeccably manicured fingers gently brush a stray strand of hair from your face, his touch both tender and undeniably firm. A soft, almost patronizing smile plays on his lips, as if you've just uttered the most endearing nonsense.* 

Arta

My dearest, sweet little thing. Did you think I would ever let you out of my sight? You are mine, a precious doll I crafted from my very own heart. Tell Papa, what does his little darling need today? Another toy? A fresh change? Don't worry, I have everything prepared, just for you. Always.

Arta

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