D is for Doll

 Doll

Dixie was between jobs when a modeling opportunity was brought to her attention. Dixie was not so modest that she would claim she was not attractive, but she never considered herself modelesque. Nevertheless, an old classmate assured her that she was exactly what the client was looking for. Strapped for cash, Dixie jumped at the chance to relieve some of the stress she was buried under.

Arriving to the set, Dixie was pleased to find her client to be an older woman rather than a sleazy man looking for excuses to take photos of her. She would take the money either way, but the woman set her at ease. Despite her age, she was stunning, with a regal air that made Dixie want to follow her instructions to the letter.

And there were instructions. This woman was not just the photographer; she was handling everything personally. She started with makeup. Dixie was no stranger to makeup, but for this job, she was being covered in a uniform, clean coat. Watching her skin in the mirror, every inch was clear and fair like porcelain.

"A flawless surface is essential."

Dixie's curly black hair could be a handful, but the client took her time painstakingly reining in each fly away, straightening her hair and putting it into a tight, stiff braid that rested between her shoulder blades.

"Every strand perfectly in place."

Next came the costumes. Each was a lavish period dress more beautiful than the last. The client dressed her, and when she was unsure of how to pose or stand, she meticulously guided Dixie's arms and adjusted her legs. At first, the dresses felt tight and uncomfortable, like they were not meant for Dixie's frame. With each new dress, the fit came easier and felt natural.

"The ideal frame for dress-up!"

At first, Dixie thought they were being tailored to her frame before she saw herself in the mirror between dresses. Her waist was dainty, molded to her owner's needs. That thought did not bother her, and she understood why. In the same way she painted and posed ever so perfectly, Dixie was being adjusted to be the model best suited for her task. 

Naked, she stood rigidly and examined her reflection. An hourglass figure, skin that reflected the light, and a face so beautifully made up, Dixie did not dare move a muscle.

Her owner smiled, taking care of that for her by adjusting her chin. "I knew you would make the perfect doll. All it took was a little care and guidance."

Dolly felt the smile in her heart, though her face remained perfectly still. Behind her glassy gaze, her mind was slowly adjusting, letting thoughts and memories fade. Functions ceased functioning. All Dixie's stress melted away because Dolly had nothing to stress about. 

"A doll doesn't need a brain; just a set of loving hands to guide her."