The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Anna and Alex called him Peter the Terrible. And Peter called them Punch and Judy and made them hit each other when they’d much prefer to kiss.

“Argh! Woman, why’d you make me cold soup? And there’s too much pepper!

“Why, Punch, the soup is cold because you came home late—out drinking with your friends again—and the pepper hides the arsenic.

“Arsenic? Ahhh! I’m going to die! Well, I’ll take you with me!

“Bam, bam, bam!

“Eeee! Help! Wife abuse!”

And it would go on in this vein until Peter was called to dinner or the arsenic kicked in. At night Nanny would tuck Anna and Alex next to each other in their place among the stuffed animals. Every morning Peter would hijack his next victim. Tucking it under his left arm he’d trudge to the dining hall in his pyjamas. He would then set the stuffed creature on his chair and sit on it.

Breakfast victims did not suffer as much as supper victims, particularly when the bean soup was served, but they were still subject to spatters of milk or juice or butter or, at the worst, raspberry jam. Nanny took care to clean the victims after every meal, when they were abandoned by their torturer in favor of a warm bath.

Peter was at his worst after Tutor left for the day. While his imagination could come up with ideas like over-peppering soup in order to hide the taste of arsenic, it was unhelpful when it was time for three-digit sums or discussing the Civil War.

No matter, for Peter took his revenge on Anna and Alex.

“Quick, woman, what’s three hundred sixty-five plus three hundred sixty-five?”

“Two years?

“Bam, bam ,bam!

“Ahhhh! Help! Help!”

It was Winter and the first snow of the year had fallen the night before. Peter was in his bath, the breakfast victim in Nanny’s arms, and all was right with the world. It was a Saturday and Tutor would not be visiting.

“I wanna go to the park!” Peter announced.

“Alright,” Nanny said amiably. Peter was stunned into silence. Then,

“I wanna go to Central Park!” he tried. There was a brief silence and he began to smile.

“Alright,” Nanny said.

Peter frowned. On the other hand, he would be going to Central Park. He decided to drown his rubber ducky rather than continue the conversation. But, once he was dressed and the limo was idling outside, he tried one last time.

“Punch and Judy come, too!” he ordered. Nanny paused in adjusting her gloves and looked at her charge. Without a word she turned and headed for the stairs to the nursery.

The drive was long and smooth. Peter napped and Nanny held Anna and Alex gently in her lap. The two puppets snuggled against each other and tried not to think about Central Park. Agah The Elephant had gone and had never come back. But there was a different nanny, then, and quite a few victims had been lost.

Nanny was half-dreaming, herself. Her eyes were closed but she could see the road. The snowplows had done their job and the white banks on either side stretched away from her and disappeared behind the trees. Ice skaters appeared, descended swiftly on the limousine and parted at the last moment to let it by. As they passed her window she could see each face clearly and each face could clearly see in, for their wooden jaws dropped open into the simulacrum of a smile at the sight of the two puppets in her lap.

“We’re here,” they said as they opened the door.

“Miss? Miss, we’re here.”

Nanny opened her eyes and started at the sight of the driver holding the door open. She smiled and blushed.

“Sorry, I must have fallen asleep,” she said, “Peter, wake up. We’re at Central Park.”

After the requisite skate around the rink and the hot chocolate from the concession stand, Peter and Nanny took a walk along the snow-covered path. Peter had a puppet in each hand, dangling them down by their wrists so that their heels dragged and made a pair of parallel lines on either side of his bootprints. When Peter looked back the sight reminded him of graphing numbers and he stopped.

“Pond,” he ordered. Nanny arched an eyebrow at his tone of voice. It automatically brought to her mind the vision of half a dozen upset and broken perfume bottles and a half-hour lecture from Missus Audrey.

“Back to the ice rink, you mean?” she hoped aloud.

“No, the pond! The pond!” Peter took off at a march, puppets held tightly and no longer touching the snow.

The nearest pond was not far. Nanny did not have time to think before Peter had reached the edge, tossed the two puppets onto the thin ice, and found a very solid broken limb.

“Judy, can you skate?

“No, Punch, I can’t.

“Can you swim?

“No! I can’t!

“Then we’re both going to die! Oh, woe is us! What a terrible fate!

“Oh no! Oh no! Whatever shall we do? Wherever shall we go?”

Bam, bam, bam! The stick cracked the ice at the edge of the pond. Peter looked marginally satisfied.

“Help! Help! Somebody save us!” Peter hit the ice with the stick again as he looked at Nanny out of the corner of his eye.

She was standing still, looking at the puppets, with her hands in her jacket pockets. She ignored her charge entirely.

“Oh! Oh! Won’t somebody save us?” With each syllable Peter banged away at the ice. Nanny let her gaze drift along the surface of the pond to the far side. A man raised his hand in greeting when she noticed him. She drew her right hand from its pocket and waved back. The man disappeared.

When Nanny returned her attention to Peter’s tantrum she saw that he had managed to make a hole in the ice. A large crack was spidering toward Anna and Alex.

“Peter, please stop.”

Peter and Nanny looked at each other, then at the puppets.

“When did you learn to throw your voice?” Nanny asked. But the boy was too shocked to answer. Anna and Alex were standing. They were shaky on their feet. Nanny decided it was because they were cold.

“Do you need some help?” Nanny asked.

“Please. We’d be ever so grateful. We can neither skate nor swim.”

Nanny unwound her scarf and tossed one end toward them. It fell short. Peter raised his stick.

“Peter, put that down and help me get Punch and Judy off the ice,” Nanny said as she took as step toward the pond.

“No!” the boy yelled as he brought down the stick. It snapped in two with the force of his blow and the ice cracked and the puppets stumbled. Peter began to stomp on the ice nearest the hole he had made. Nanny grabbed at him and caught his hat, which came off his head. She dropped it and grabbed him by the hair. As he screamed she dragged him away from the pond.

“I’ll hold him here. You push and pull each other toward shore,” she called to the puppets. They were starting to take on a blue tinge. Alex and Anna lay back on the ice and practiced pushing and pulling. They were frightened and their breath came in little puffs.

“What happens when we get to shore?” Alex whispered.

“I kiss you,” Anna replied, trying to smile.

“But what about Peter the Terrible?”

“We can run away!” They stopped for a moment to look at each other.

“How—”

“Shhh. We’re real now, so stop talking and start pushing.”

Anna wasn’t quite right about being real. Her insides still consisted of stuffing, her skin was made up of cloth and thread. But she could feel the cold, feel her lungs move air in and out, and she could feel her beloved’s hands on her, moving her closer to relative safety.

“Oh! It’s working!” she exclaimed. Then, “Wait. We could go the other way.” They paused, then she began to push Alex toward the far shore.

“Punch! Judy!” Nanny called after them. She fell silent and began to haul her charge away by the hair. He was still screaming but she was no longer listening.

The man from across the pond appeared on the path ahead of them. He was smiling and nodding.

“Peter the Terrible, we meet at last!” he exclaimed. Peter stopped shouting and stared instead. The man stepped forward and Peter tried to step back. Nanny’s strong grip on his hair prevented him. He tried to turn his head to look up at her but he couldn’t even manage that.

“It’s alright, Peter. Nanny is just temporarily… frozen, I guess you could say. I just wanted to thank you before she and I and Anna and Alex go home.”

Peter looked hopeful.

“No, no. Not your home. My home. You do remember my home, don’t you?”

Peter tried to nod, making himself wince.

“I dreamed it.”

“Yes.”

“I dreamed you.”

“Yes. I may only be after your toys but I’m guessing you’ve dreamed worse.”

Peter began to cry.

“There, there, Peter. Think of me as a warning. There may still be time for you. Perhaps.” The man laughed. His smile changed into something sinister. “Tell me my name.”

“King Arbor,” the boy whispered.

“And what am I?”

“The Great Puppet King.”

“Thank you. Yes, that sounds right. That’s what I am.”

“Please,” Peter choked out.

“Please what?”

“Please let me go!”

The man looked confused for a moment, the broke out into loud laughter.

“You didn’t even think to ask me to let Nanny go. I’m not sure I have any hope for you, now,” he sighed dramatically, still grinning. “Luckily I got what I wanted before the others did. Lucky for Nanny, as well,” his gaze lifted to meet Nanny’s vacant eyes. He gestured as though playing the piano, but his fingers were crooked in. Nanny released Peter’s hair.

“Run along now, Peter,” he said, still looking into Nanny’s eyes, “I’ve got puppets to capture and another lovely toy to play with.”

Peter ran as fast as he could.

Nanny awoke in the oddest room she had ever seen. The windows were too high, distorted at the top. The ceiling was far overhead, gilded and ornate. The furniture was oversized and awkward. She sat up and looked behind her to find an enormous door and walls covered with portraits of dolls.

She hopped off the overstuffed couch, tread barefoot on the dark plush carpet, and realized she was nude. She bit off a little scream and swung about, looking for her clothes. Her eyes fell on the curtains and she ran to the windows. She uttered a groan of disgust when she couldn’t pull them down.

“I’m afraid most things here are fixed in place,” said a voice behind her. She wrapped herself in the hem of the drape and turned to look at the speaker.

“King Arbor?” she asked. The man nodded. “How do I—”

“…know my name? Simple. I told you while you were asleep.”

“Where am I?”

“In my kingdom, in my castle, in my study.”

“There aren’t any books,” she said before she could stop herself.

“I study puppets,” came the reply.

“Nothing makes sense,” she said, trying to fight down her terror.

“That was your second non-sequitor, my dear. I feel I must tell you that jumping subjects like that tends to annoy one’s audience.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Quite alright. If your own king can’t help you develop your craft, who can?”

Nanny was torn between asking about “king” or “craft.” She decided to nod politely and remain silent.

“Now, go ahead and let the drape alone. I’ve already seen you nude. Now I want to see you dressed,” Arbor said, and clapped his hands. The big door swung open and Anna and Alex entered, each carrying two boxes.

“I’ve had my sewing puppets make you an outfit. Please,” he gestured to the boxes as they were set down on the coffee table, “Please try it on.”

Nanny blushed and didn’t let go of the curtain.

“Nanny, I’m telling, not asking,” Arbor said quietly. Nanny closed her eyes for a moment and willed everything to be different when she opened them. Everything was quite the same. Arbor scrunched his fingers in an odd little way and they danced in the air as Nanny stepped away from the wall, the curtain falling unnoticed behind her. He pale skin and dark hair looked out of place in the odd room. She was the softest thing there, the most graceful. She bent at the waist and her hands were guided to the lids of the boxes. Arbor put his hands down and Nanny straightened up.

“How—”

“…did I do that? Simple, you’re my little toy, Nanny. Now go on, open the boxes.”

Nanny opened the boxes. In the first she found pale blue shimmery silk hose, a white garter belt, and a while silk shift. In the second she found a dress that matched the hose in color and shimmer with white laces up the front and a full skirt with a flounce. In the third was a pair of shoes, blue, low-heeled. And in the fourth a white hat with a wide brim all the way around and a pair of blue-dyed ostrich feathers set in a blue silk band.

“Well? What do you think?” Arbor asked.

“It’s quite… well. I don’t know what to think. Thank you for giving me clothes. I have to admit it’s not the style I normally wear.”

“I felt it went with your name.”

Nanny froze.

“My… my name?”

“Yes, you’re not my nanny. I’d like to call you by your real name. I can’t do that, you see, until you’re wearing not-Nanny clothes.”

“I see,” she said, even though she didn’t. Arbor caught her look and sighed.

“It’s Peter the Terrible’s fault, really. He dreamed me up and I must stick with certain rules.”

“He… dreamed you up,” she said quietly.

“Yes, yes,” Arbor said and gestured at the boxes, “Let’s discuss this more once you’re dressed. Your nudity is too distracting.”

Nanny paused for a few more heartbeats. She started dressing herself when she saw Arbor’s hands twitch. The silk of the hose was the softest touch she’d ever felt. She’d never been able to afford that quality of stocking before. The color clung to her legs like a soft sheet of water, darkening where the fabric gathered itself together in the hollow of her knees and the turn of her ankles.

“No underwear?” she asked.

“You won’t need any,” Arbor said matter-of-factly. Nanny shuddered and swallowed as she donned the garter belt and clipped it to the hose. She pulled the shift over herself and again was impressed by the feel of the fabric against her skin. Most of the time she wore cotton briefs and bra. The few silk items she had did not come close in quality and feel.

She turned to the box with the dress and pulled it out from its nest of tissue. Anna helped her with it, keeping the flounce out of her way as she stepped into it, then adjusting the bit of shift that showed through and lacing it up. Nanny’s breasts appeared larger in the dresses’ constraints, and for the first time Nanny purposefully had cleavage. She bit her lip and slipped on the shoes, which fit perfectly, and then shook her dark brown hair back and donned the hat. She turned to Arbor.

“Emily, it’s a pleasure to say your name,” he said. Tears welled up in her eyes. “What’s this? Don’t you care for your costume?” Emily could say nothing. The two puppets came up beside her and put their arms around her as best they could.

“Ah, Anna and Alex. Thank you for your assistance. You may go now,” said Arbor.

Anna whispered, “Please don’t play Punch and Judy, Sire.”

“No, darling puppet, I won’t. Peter the Terrible may have imagined me but I am free, more or less, to do as I please rather than follow in his footsteps.” He turned to Emily as the puppets headed for the door, “I vowed to be a good king to my subjects. Liberate them from Peter’s grasp and set them to work. I started with Agah, and then took Millie, Baba, Truck-Truck, Sprite, Penny, Robert the horse and Robbie the pony. And now I’ve got Anna and Alex. And you.” He stepped toward her and she took a step back. Her thighs hit the outsized coffee table and she stood still until Arbor was merely a few inches from her. He took her elbow.

“Now Emily, dear,” he began as he guided her around the table to the sofa, “you might well wonder why I’d liberate you, when you are a flesh and blood woman.” Emily nodded. “The answer is that Peter the Terrible thought of you as a toy. Ergo, it was my duty to free you from his power. The thing is, his imagination saw me as an awful, horrid person. A man who would take pleasure in stealing toys from little boys and putting them to work in the fields, in the mines, and here in my castle. So I am an awful, horrid person. I do take pleasure in stealing Peter’s toys. I do put them to work. I do all those things. But who am I when his imagination isn’t looking? Little boys do not flesh out their fears down to the last mole and emotion. They don’t have enough experience. It’s taken this long for me to figure out what else I am besides a figment of his imagination,” he paused and looked at her. “What are you thinking, Emily?”

“Will you let me go?”

“No. You are my toy now. But it doesn’t have to be that bad. As your first gift I gave you your name again. Well, I suppose you could say your first gift is that you never have to be Peter’s Nanny again. So, now you’ve got three gifts, if you want to look at it that way: no Peter, a new costume, and your name.” They were silent a moment then, “Say thank you.”

“Thank you,” she said automatically.

“Now, ask me anything you like.”

“Will you please let me go?”

Arbor sighed and patted her hand. “Darling, I can’t. Peter imagines I keep everything for myself. I am a selfish bastard. So be it. Let me take your mind off this, it seems to be so difficult for you.” He clapped his hands the wall to their left slid away. A troupe of stuffed animals and puppets were arranged on a stage in what was ostensibly the next room. Arbor stood and moved the couch so it faced them.

“Begin the play!” he called when he was seated. He took Emily’s hand and held it loosely on his thigh. She watched the play without really seeing it but Arbor was nearly entranced with it, laughing and crying when the action called for it. His dark eyes were tender.

At supper they dined across from each other while Anna and Alex served the food. The table was taller than it ought to be and they were obliged to sit on of a pile of cushions atop their chairs. Everything was far too large. Cups had to be held with two hands, Emily could barely manage the fork and knife, and the puppets had to use a step stool to reach the table top. Even the portions of food were overly large. Emily wasn’t able to finish more than a third of her steak and mashed potatoes, however delicious they were.

“It’s his fault,” Arbor said when Emily knocked over her wine glass. The red liquid flowed over the white linen, away from her. Her lip quivered as if she were going to cry again.

“It’s his fault,” Arbor repeated, growing angry, “Everything’s too large for a child. His imagination wanted everything to be too large even for adults. It’s our punishment, I suppose.”

“Have you thought of ordering new furniture?” Emily asked.

“No one can deliver here. I am capable of going into his world and capable of bringing back his toys, but there is no street address for the castle.”

“Then I am not really free from Peter. It’s as if we’re living in his imagination. It’s even worse than simply being his Nanny.”

“No, darling, no,” Arbor sought to soothe her, “It’s a real place. It’s independent of Peter. And when Peter dies we will still exist. It’s just… a different place. It’s not New York state, it’s not Peter’s head… it’s something else.”

“What is it, then?”

“I’m not sure,” he admitted quietly.

They finished their meal in silence and Arbor rose and walked to her end to take her hand. Emily hopped off the chair full of cushions. Her dress fluffed up and Arbor smiled.

“I’m so looking forward to this evening’s entertainment,” he said.

“Another play?”

“No, a dance.”

“Who will dance for us?”

“You will dance for me.”

“I don’t know how to dance.”

“Yes you do. But it doesn’t matter. Tonight I’ll work the strings.”

“What strings?”

In answer Arbor raised his hands and crooked his fingers again. A small twitch and her left leg was raised in a high step and her two hands met together in a clap over her head.

“You are a toy, after all,” he chided gently, “It should have been obvious what kind of toy you are.” He looked at her as she held her position. Tears came to her eyes and she blinked furiously.

“I’m not a toy,” she said as evenly as she could. She stepped toward him on her left foot and paused at mid step with her right.

“Yes you are, Emily. You are quite the toy.”

“I don’t want to be,” she said.

“It’s not up to you,” he said quietly, “And it’s not up to me. But we are what he made us to be and I follow through on what I am. I will take pleasure in my toy. I want you to take pleasure in being one.”

“I—I don’t think I can.”

“We’ll give it some time, dear. We’ll give it time.” He lowered his fingers and she fell forward into his arms.

“It’s… you’re… you’re going to have to have a third hand for my emotional s-s-strings if you want that to h-h-h-happen,” she managed as she withdrew from him and wiped away tears. Arbor smiled in answer.

“Show time’s at eight, Emily. I’ll have Anna show you to your room. Please be punctual.”

It was show time. The wall between the play-room and the study was closed and the play-room had nothing but the stage and a king’s throne before it. Anna had helped Emily prepare and they had talked about how odd everything was, how disconcerting. And Emily was happy to learn that Anna’s name wasn’t really Judy and that the two puppets actually loved each other.

“We even make love, now!” Anna had exclaimed, “I couldn’t have hoped for better. I’m so happy to be here. To be free of Peter the Terrible.” Emily had been happy for her then and had even, for a moment, forgotten her own predicament but now, as she stood behind the curtain and peeped out to make sure King Arbor was really there, the fears fluttered back into her stomach and she felt ill.

Arbor was indeed on his throne, a red velvet and gold thing that seemed to be the only piece of furniture properly sized. His hands rested on the throne’s arms and his fingers tapped impatiently. When the music began his hands lifted and Emily traipsed onto the stage, smiling.

It was a ballet, which she truly did not know how to do, but Arbor was right, it didn’t matter what she was capable of, the invisible strings were what controlled her. Pirouettes, long leaps from one side to the other, even her smile was the result of Arbor’s hand movements. The outward signs were of a prima ballerina dancing for the love of her craft and her audience.

Emily’s sleep had been fitful, despite the comfortable oversized bed. She dreamed of her parents, her little dog, her apartment. In her dreams everything was still, silent, the people frozen in the act of simple life events: cooking, reading, napping. She hugged them all. When she awoke she stayed in bed and counted the egg and darts along the ceiling’s edges.

Anna brought her breakfast.

“The puppets in the kitchen didn’t know what to make you for breakfast. King Arbor usually starts with an egg, some toast, and coffee. Is that what girls eat, too? We don’t know anything about people.”

Emily looked at the platter. It was the same as Arbor’s meal, carried in pink plates and a tea cup.

“What you brought is fine,” she took a sip of coffee, “Men and women eat the same things. Though there is personal preference. For example, I like bagels more than I like toast. What do puppets eat when they come to life?”

“I haven’t eaten anything since we came here. I guess we don’t need to eat.”

“But I see you’re breathing.”

“It seems to be a side-effect of talking. I poked myself with a sewing needle when I picked up your dress and I didn’t bleed.”

“I’m really confused here. It’s part fantasy and part reality and the two come together in ways that don’t make sense. I mean, you should either be all real or all make-believe.”

“Alex and I, we knew each other, we knew you and Peter. We knew we were real. We just couldn’t move. We couldn’t tell you our real names or make Peter stop being horrible to us.”

“That must have been torture.”

“It is only now that we can move and can compare it to how we were then that I’m sad about the way things used to be. It was wasteful,” she took a deep breath as though to calm herself, then said, “But so far it’s been great here. The puppets and stuffed animals are all so nice, and Alex is as wonderful as I always knew he would be. And King Arbor, well, he’s such a gentleman. Like what a king ought to be. And he hasn’t hurt you.”

“Yet,” Emily said under her breath.

“You don’t think he will, do you?”

“I don’t know. He can make me do things just by moving his hands! It’s crazy! It’s driving me crazy, too!”

“It doesn’t seem that odd to me.”

“That’s because you’re a puppet! For puppets that’s the normal way to move around. But humans, we are used to making our own decisions about what we do.”

“Peter made you do a lot of things. Things that didn’t seem enjoyable to you.”

“That’s different. Someone was paying me to do it, it didn’t involve sex, and I could decide to quit at any time. And there’s that moment between someone asking you to do something and you deciding to do as you’re asked. That’s autonomy, or free will, or something like that.”

“Can I have autonomy now that I’m, well, kind of real?”

“I don’t know. It seems like it. I don’t see Arbor crooking his fingers at you.”

Anna nodded and was quiet for a moment.

“Alex and I make love without anyone telling us to. We just want to.”

“That’s free will. You do as you please rather than as someone else pleases.”

“It’s a wonderful feeling.”

“Then you understand why Arbor’s power over me scares me.”

Anna nodded vaguely then said, “But how terrible can that power be if he never hurts you with it? As a puppet, I think it would be wonderful to be controlled by someone who made me do wonderful things, like kiss Alex! I’d trust Arbor to control me. And he does. He did in yesterday’s play. Nothing bad happened to me. I’m still me.”

“I don’t trust Arbor like you do. He’s not interested in you as a… body or a… romantic thing.”

Anna sighed, “You’re right, Emily. And that does make it different. I wouldn’t want to be with anyone other than Alex. I’d be hurt if Arbor did something like that to me.”

Emily slid off the bed and headed to her closet, where her single outfit was hung carefully.

“Anna, can you keep a secret?”

“I don’t know. Can puppets keep secrets? I’ve never tried to before.”

“Peter never confided in you?”

“No, BearBear was his confidant. He snuggled with him at night, remember?”

“Ah, yes. I do. BearBear would probably be the only bad stuffed animal of the lot. I hope Arbor never steals him.”

“Yes, but about your secret. Now I want to know what it is!”

Emily smiled at the puppet’s enthusiasm.

“I just wanted to tell you not to be surprised if I was gone one day.”

“You mean, you want to escape.”

“Yes. If you can help me, I mean, try to think of a way. At the moment I’m at a loss.”

Anna nodded and walked over to Emily, giving her a hug.

“Alex and I might think of something. We’ll try to think of a way. I promise.”

“And promise you won’t tell anyone else, besides Alex.”

“I promise.”

There wasn’t much to see and do in the castle. Peter had imagined only the few rooms Emily had already seen, aside from King Arbor’s chambers. The grand entry was the largest—roomy enough for a football field with a ceiling so high she could barely make out the details. The room had been lost in shadow last night as she climbed the stairs to bed, but this morning the great hall was filled with light pouring in from windows much like those in an old church: tall, narrow things with arched and pointed tops, filled with stained glass depicting every stuffed animal Peter had owned. Across from the quadruple-door entry the room terminated in a concave wall and a bronze statue of Peter the Terrible, easily as tall as a small building, standing serene and horrible. His lips were curled in something halfway between a smile and a sneer, his hands on his hips and his feet apart in a mocking stance. Emily shuddered and ran toward the doors. As hard as she pushed or pulled she couldn’t open them.

“Darling, there you are,” she heard Arbor say. She turned to see him walking toward her.

“Good morning, Arbor.”

“Dearest, you must call me King Arbor. Or Sire or My Lord or somesuch. It wouldn’t do for a king’s subjects to treat him without deference.”

“Of course, Sire. My apologies.”

“There, that wasn’t so bad, was it?” He smiled and took her by the elbow, opening one of the doors for her. They walked through together into the sunlight. The stairs leading up to the entry were made up of large blocks of granite. She didn’t see how she could possibly get down them without climbing gear. Beyond the stairs was a large gravel drive and, beyond that, a moat with a drawn bridge. She stared and sighed.

“Where are the fields and mines?” she asked.

“See that line of trees in the distance? The fields lie on the other side of them, then there’s Stuffville and the mines lie beyond.”

“And beyond that?”

“The road through Stuffville takes you out of my realm and into Peter’s. It’s the route I take when I steal his toys,” he turned from the view to look at her, “Emily, I’m answering honestly even though I know you’re thinking of leaving me. But I don’t let my toys go. You’re here to stay. And don’t think of swimming. Peter imagined piranhas and crocodiles and they are always hungry.” He guided her to the left and it was then that Emily saw a set of stairs she could actually step down. “Why don’t we walk the grounds.”

“I’d like that,” she said, feeling a little faint.

“ ’I’d like that, Sire,’ " he said gently.

“I’d like that, Sire,” she said.

“I would like another dance this evening. You’re not too tired or sore from last night’s entertainment, are you?” asked Arbor over supper.

“No, Sire. I feel fine. But I don’t feel like dancing,” Emily replied.

“When Peter wanted to play Punch and Judy, did he ask Anna and Alex if they felt like it?”

“No, Sire.”

“And did I ask you if you felt like dancing?”

“No, Sire.”

“Then what’s the correct response?”

“As you like, Sire.”

King Arbor nodded.

“A toy does not object to its owner’s manipulations, does it? I can’t make it any clearer to you, Emily. Even when I ask you what you think about it I’m still playing with you. In the end you have no choice but to do as I wish.”

“Yes, Sire.”

“That being said, I do wish you’d learn to trust me. Why would I wish to hurt my favorite toy? Don’t answer that; I’m being rhetorical in an effort to make you understand that your powerlessness will not lead to pain. And the only distress it’s caused you so far is by way of your refusal to accept your role. A role you’ve been playing the whole time you were with Peter. Am I so much worse than he is?”

“But I went home at night to my own life! My dog and my own company,” Emily burst out. “Here there’s no home to retreat to. There’s no choice to quit being your toy. It’s completely different! Sire!” Her eyes met his. Arbor held her gaze, looking serious and a bit put-out. Then he took a deep breath.

“I have that third hand you mentioned,” he said, still looking into her eyes. Emily looked confused for a moment.

“Was that a non-sequitor, Sire?” she managed, dropping her gaze to her plate.

“Not at all, it’s a solution to your troubles, Emily. The ability to make you enjoy your life with me. I’ve debated using it. I want to play with you with as little manipulation as possible. I want you to be mine of your own will, not simply Peter’s.”

They finished their meal in silence.

That evening’s dance was slow and melancholic. Whereas the previous evening she had worn a smile, this time Arbor allowed her control over her own expression. While her body moved to his concept of the music, her face was hollow, resigned. Her eyes were often closed.

Arbor never let her fall. Never let her trip or stumble. Never made her lewd or lack grace. As she paid attention to the way her body swung on the invisible strings she began to feel as if she were flying. The world was soft and dark behind her closed lids. And the music continued for so long that she nearly drifted off to sleep.

When the music came to a close and Arbor made her curtsey her eyes flickered open. She realized her mouth had been gently open for some time now. She swallowed and caught her footing as the Puppet King relaxed his hands. He applauded and nodded, smiling. She shook her head in sleepy confusion and exited stage left. Anna was waiting for her and escorted her to bed.

Months passed for Emily in this fashion: breakfast in bed, a walk around the castle garden with King Arbor, time to herself as the King attended to matters of state, after-lunch faux tea party with the castle’s puppets and stuffed animals, yet more time to herself, supper with the King, even more time to herself, and, finally, the evening’s dance. Life was quieter without Peter.

“Emily, my darling, I’m afraid I won’t be able to entertain you the next few days,” began Arbor as they sat down to supper one evening.

“Why not, my King?” asked Emily.

“I will be in New York state to liberate a few more toys. My spies tell me Evie and Edie—you remember, the stuffed bunnies with the pink fur—are starting to fall apart entirely. Is there anything you want from New York state?”

Emily was quiet, her hands resting in her lap as they tended to these days. Then,

“Chocolate would be nice. And some underwear. And if you could, my dog, Beano. And books! I spend more time alone than I know what to do with. Thank you for asking, Sire.”

“Are you very lonely here?”

“I must lack a certain capacity that real dolls have, Sire.”

“I was trying to let you have time to adjust to your new situation, Emily. I’ll be more attentive in the future,” Arbor said in a gentle tone. Emily was at once pleased and worried by his promise.

“If it’s possible, Sire, I would like to accompany you as far as Stuffville,” she said.

“I’m afraid it’s not. You’ll stay on the castle grounds while I’m gone. When I return I’ll be happy to give you a tour of Stuffville myself,” he replied. Emily nodded, only slightly disappointed that he refused her request.

“I have something to ask of you,” he continued, “While I’m away it would please me if you practiced dancing to a new song. I would enjoy watching your own interpretation upon my return.”

“I couldn’t possible dance as well as you make me, Sire,” she protested.

“That hardly matters,” Arbor replied with a flick of his hand.

“Then I’ll be honored to do as you ask, my Lord,” she said, retreating to a formal tone.

Over the next few days Emily could be found onstage dancing to a new song. Classical, melancholic and relatively short, it seemed to her she should be able to come up with a dance for it. But try as she might she left the stage at the end of the day defeated. Nothing she could think of compared to how beautiful King Arbor’s ideas were. She cried herself to sleep at night and woke with sore feet and a sore back and the strong desire to try again.

When King Arbor returned she was in her room and would not come out when he asked after her. Anna begged but Emily would not get out of bed. She heard his footsteps and hid under the covers.

“Emily, what’s wrong?” he asked.

“I can’t dance for you,” she said, her voice muffled.

“Come out of there so I can hear you.”

Emily peeked her head out from below her blankets.

“I can’t dance for you, my King” she repeated, tears rolling down her cheeks.

“Why not?”

“Because you’ll win, Sire.”

There was a brief silence as she watched him cross the floor to her bed and sit beside her. He reached in to extract her hand and hold it in his own.

“Darling, if you know that then you know I’ve already won.”

“Yes.”

“Then you must ask me.”

“Please,” Emily took a deep breath, “P-please, King Arbor, please make me dance for you tonight.”

After the dance Emily’s body didn’t hurt, she didn’t cry, she didn’t even head straight off to bed. Instead, she paced in the wings, hoping King Arbor would come for her. When he didn’t she sent Anna out to find him.

“He’s in the study. He wants you to go to him.”

Emily walked quickly.

“There you are, Emily,” Arbor said when she opened the door, “Come see your gifts.”

A dog barked and ran up to her, jumping excitedly.

“Beano! Oh!” Emily cried as she knelt to pick up her little pet, “Oh I can’t believe how much I’ve missed you.” She carried him back to King Arbor. She knelt at his feet and said, “Thank you, Sire.”

“My pleasure, darling. It’s nice to see you smile. And here are the rest of your gifts.” He gestured to a pile of packages wrapped in brown paper and tied with up with string. Emily couldn’t bear to put Beano down long enough to unwrap them. Instead she started crying, hugging her little dog close to her.

“Here, now. Why are you crying?” King Arbor asked, looking alarmed.

“I… I’m just like Beano, aren’t I? Oh God, I’m just like Beano. I’m your dog! Your pet! And these,” she gestured at the presents, “these are just the same as the little bone treats I’d get for him!” She wept and gasped out unintelligible sounds when she paused for breath. King Arbor said nothing but reached to stroke her hair slowly and gently. She did not resist or even seem to notice.

“Do you… do you love me like I love Beano?” she finally asked when she’d calmed down. They’d been sitting silently for a while, the three of them, Arbor still petting Emily as her breathing slowed and returned to normal.

“I love you more than you love Beano,” Arbor replied. Emily glanced up at him for the first time since she’d walked in to the study, her eyes red and bright, her cheeks high with color. She did not smile but she reached a hand up to touch Arbor’s cheek, trailing her fingertips down to his chin before he caught hers in his own hand and brought those same fingertips up to kiss.

“How is it possible?” she whispered as he turned her hand to kiss the inside of her wrist.

“That I love you, my pet? At first I loved your beauty, then your strength and desire to keep hold of yourself even when you found yourself under my control. And tonight I fell in love again when you decided to submit.”

“I had no choice. You made me love the dance, love being made to dance.”

“I have not used that last resort, my dear Emily. I have not forced your emotions at all. You fell in love with it all by yourself,” he whispered as he kissed her hand again. She closed her eyes and held her breath. His lips nuzzled the underside of her wrist and she bit down to hide a groan.

“And now I really am your toy,” she whispered.

“Yes, Emily, you really are. My favorite toy. The toy I want to have by my side every day. The toy I want to have in my chambers. The puppet who only dances for me.”

He pulled gently on her wrist and elbow and she let go of Beano as she rose, still kneeling, to meet his lips with hers.

“Will you... I mean... in bed...” she stammered when their kiss broke and she had a chance to breathe. He nodded and she had little time to react before they kissed again. He stroked her arms gently with his fingertips, up and down, giving her goosebumps. She had her hands on each of his knees, pressing into them. Her eyes were closed. When he brought his hands up to cradle the back of her head and her neck she moaned and leaned in toward him, opening her mouth wider to welcome his lips and tongue. She let her hands drift up his thighs, savoring the last moment before he would control her again.

Arbor broke off the kiss and crooked his fingers. Emily stood and began to unlace her dress with a maddeningly erotic slowness, deliberateness, that she would not have had the patience for had she been in control of herself. Instead of fighting it she let her head loll back, mouth slightly open, exposing her throat and chest even further as her hands came up to fondle her breasts. She groaned, both from the sensation and from knowing he was making her do this. It was at once better and worse than the dancing. She knew what she liked, how to touch herself to please herself, but this way she knew her every move would please him. And it was important, as his pet, to please. She understood that now, even if that knowledge made her uncomfortable.

Arbor stood and placed his hands on her breasts. She felt his control fall away from her and she leaned into his touch. He chuckled softly as he bent his head to nibble at the side of her throat.

“I had fantasized about finally taking you. About the day you’d finally want to be mine. And I had such trouble deciding whether to spend all my time caressing you or keeping my hands free to control you,” he smiled gently to himself, his lips against her skin, “There will be time to do both, in any combination. But tonight will be like the dancing. Tonight you’ll be the perfect toy.” He pulled away from her, sliding his hands up along her delicate neck and plunging his thumbs into her mouth, the palms of his hands cupping her chin. She was too shocked to do anything but stand there, mouth agape and full. He slid one thumb out and down, pulling her lower lip askew for a moment, then the other one, out and to the side, sweeping a thin coat of her own saliva over her cheek. She was blushing furiously and she started to talk once her mouth was free.

“I—”

“Shhh,” he interrupted. He crooked his fingers and she froze, her eyes suddenly downcast demurely. “The perfect toy,” he sighed as he seated himself again on the couch. Emily felt her hands, as calm now as they were shaking a moment ago, continue the slow process of removing her dress. Through her Arbor placed her hat on the pile of gifts, arranged the shoes under the coffee table, and let the dress and shift fall to the floor to reveal Emily in stockings and garter and nothing else.

He took a long moment to look at her, the first time he’d seen her nude since he’d first abducted her, an eager smile on his lips. However dignified he tried to be in her presence, to be the perfect master, there was a childish glee in his control of her, and that glee was finally finding its expression.

Another flick of his fingers and she dropped to her knees before him. A rather mechanical voice came from her mouth.

“I want to please you, master,” she said. Inside, Emily was shocked to hear herself speak, and to say something she would never have dreamed of saying. She began to panic, thinking perhaps it had been a mistake to submit to him, even if he did have the power to make her do anything, even change her mind. She felt the wool of his trousers as her fingers slid up along his thighs to rest near his crotch. Her mouth opened slightly and she licked her lips. Her eyes still downcast she saw little but the edge of the couch and his knees.

Arbor moved his fingers and her eyes raised themselves slowly, suggestively, lingering on his obvious buldge before travelling up to meet his own.

“And I want you to please me,” he answered. His fingers moved again and Emily’s eyes moved back down to his fly, watched her hands unbutton him, beyond her control. She knew what he’d make her do tonight and she swallowed in anticipation, at once distressed by the idea of being forced to take him in her mouth and excited by being controlled. The fingers of her left hand freed his member from its confines while her right hand drifted back to press and massage her right breast, pinching and rolling the nipple.

A moan escaped her lips as she moved forward on her knees to bring her mouth to his cock. Again, Arbor forced her to move far more slowly than she would have otherwise, her hand gently encircling the base of his shaft and slowly tightening, her lips a small “o” resting gently on the head. She felt her tongue move forward, stiffen slightly, and push itself against him. The flesh was warm, soft, tasteless.

As her head bobbed and her mouth drew him in and let him out again, a sense of calm came over her even as she felt the tender skin between her legs heat, swell, and moisten. Being under Arbor’s control now was much like being under his control while dancing. She knew she’d please him, touch all the right spots, use her tongue however he liked. She did not fear disappointing him.

And finally she felt herself enter the same soft reality she’d touched while dancing. In her mind her eyes closed even as Arbor made her look up at his face while swirling her tongue over the head of his cock. She felt her body relax even as it was building up a sexual excitement she hadn’t felt in a long time. She lost herself in the repetitive movement of the act, in the sensation of his cock in her mouth, pushing at her throat, and the feel of it in her hand.

It seemed both an eon and a moment until Arbor came and she swallowed automatically, not spilling a drop, and cleaned his cock gently before returning it to his trousers. The fear was there, somewhere at the back of her mind, but hidden behind the heart-pounding ecstacy of having been used.

“Good girl, Emily,” he patted her head, “good puppet.” She closed her eyes and shivered. “And now it is late. Time for bed, Emily.” Arbor clapped his hands and Anna entered, holding a blue silk robe. Emily blushed but rose to take the robe from the puppet and put it on. She could have sworn that Anna’s button eyes winked at her.

“Tonight you’ll sleep in my chambers. Anna will take care of your outfit for you. And she’ll feed Beano, as well.” He presented his arm and Emily took it gratefully, not trusting herself to think much farther than the next step of her bare foot.

King Arbor’s chambers were as oversized as the rest of the castle and consisted of an interconnected series of rooms that made no sense to Emily’s fuzzy brain. The only thing she recognized was the oversized canopy bed. There was room enough in the mahagony four-poster for five people. At the sight of it Emily’s heart fluttered. Arbor kept hold of her hand, kept it folded over his arm, as they advanced to the foot of it, where there was an overstuffed bench couch with a glass and brass case over it. Emily’s eyes moved from the inviting white down comforter to the odd construction in front of her.

“Your bed, Emily. A gorgeous case for storing my favorite toy.”

Emily gasped, eyes wide.

“You can’t mean for me to sleep there,” she protested weakly. She tried to pull away but he held her firmly.

“You will sleep there. Where else would a puppet sleep?”

“What about my bed? Can’t you just let me go back to my bed?”

“Darling, you’ve given yourself over to me now, haven’t you? It’s time for you to leave the illusion of personhood behind. I am the only person in the kingdom.” Arbor’s face was stern and unyielding.

“But... but, what about toys like Peter’s BearBear? The ones who sleep in bed with their owners?”

“You and I both know BearBear only sleeps with Peter when Peter wants him. As much as I love and adore you I am too used to sleeping alone to tolerate another body in my bed. You will sleep in this case unless I need you. Besides, it will help you.”

“How could being alone in a glass case help me?”

“In the case you will be in a sort of stasis, quite close to what any toy feels in Peter’s room. Time will be meaningless even though you will be aware. It will relieve the boredom you’ve confessed to feeling.”

“But those books. And Beano. I’d much rather spend my time reading than lying in a case.” Emily’s voice was wobbly and fear made her cry.

“But you will look so beautiful in the case. I want to be able to set my eyes on you at will. You will sleep there.”

With that Arbor lifted the lid and crooked his fingers. Against her will Emily sat on the couch, turned herself to the side, and lay back as she lifted her legs up onto the couch. As soon as she was prone her fear and anger faded and she was left with the sense that all was right with the world and Arbor would surely take her out to play soon. Her tears stopped and her eyes closed. Arbor kissed her on the lips once before closing the case. He watched her for a long while before going to bed, himself.

In the morning Arbor took his breakfast in bed as usual. Alex brought in his tray and Anna brought up an extra tray for Emily as well as her costume, should Arbor decide to take her from her case.

“She won’t be needing food any longer,” Arbor said, dismissing the extra tray with a wave of his hand.

“Sire, don’t you think that’s taking things too far? How can she possibly survive without eating?”

“Trust me, Anna, no other toy needs to eat here, she does not, either.”

Anna’s puppet face looked troubled.

“My King, I have to ask... is it really right to keep Emily in there, in that glass case? You’ve liberated Alex and I and you don’t make us sleep in cases or on shelves or anything. It just makes it seem rather unfair.”

Arbor looked at Anna steadily as he buttered his toast. As he put down the knife he sighed.

“Really, Anna, it’s for her own good. She needs to understand, here,” he touched his temple, “just what she is. Her mind is fighting us—her heart and mine—every step of the way. I know what she wants. She wants to belong to me entirely. But her head gets in the way. It insists that the relationship of master and puppet is wrong. The more I can prove otherwise, without actually manipulating her mind and emotions, the more permanent and complete her acceptance of her new role will be. Does this makes sense to you?”

Anna nodded and said, “It is different to be made to something rather than changed to something. I don’t pretend to understand you entirely, Sire, but I do see that you need her to be convinced that she is a toy.”

“Next you’ll ask me if she really does need to be a toy,” he smiled.

“Well, yes, I would ask you that if I didn’t already think you were right,” she said, turning to go.

“You think I’m right?”

Anna stopped and turned to look at her king.

“You think you aren’t, Sire?”

“She’s being more difficult than I thought, to be honest. Sometimes I doubt myself.”

“Never let your subjects know that,” Anna said solemnly and excused herself.

Arbor sat up straighter and peered over the enormous bed to catch a glimpse of Emily. All he could see was the tip of her nose. He crawled out from under the covers and lay belly-down on top of the bed, head toward Emily, so he could see her better. He let his eyes roam unchecked over her face and form. The blue silk robe hung softly over her, revealing every line and curve. Her chest moved slightly with her shallow breathing. He felt he could watch her forever.

“Just one more lesson, Emily. One more and your mind will accept what your heart and body already know. You are mine.”

Emily’s eyes opened when Arbor lifted the lid of the case.

“How do you feel, darling?” he asked tenderly.

“Refreshed,” she admitted, blushing. “I didn’t want you to be right. I wanted to hate the case.”

“I know, Emily. And that was to be expected. I’m glad you’ve changed your mind.” He offered his hand and she took it, raising herself out of the case. He held her to him and she leaned gratefully against him, remembering the arousal she had felt last night. She raised her head, searching for a kiss. It was brief, too brief for her, before he pulled away and, holding her hand, led her to her costume.

“As much as I’d like to spend time alone with you, darling, we’ve got an appointment to keep. Dress and meet me at the castle doors. We’re going to town today.”

“You’re finally going to take me sight-seeing,” she teased.

“Well, more like I’m finally going to make you a sight to see,” he replied, smiling. Emily gave him a questioning look and her hands started to shake as she pulled on her hose.

“Today is the official Royal Proclamation of Puppet Emily, Personal Toy of King Arbor.”

Emily lost her balance and sat heavily on the floor, one stocking half-on and her breasts and thighs spilling out of her robe.

“This is too much,” she moaned. Arbor made no move to help her, not even with the crook of his fingers.

“Why would you possibly need to have a proclamation about me and my... my... toyness. My puppethood. Who need know but us? Can’t we keep it private?”

“It isn’t private now, Emily. The whole castle knows you’ve submitted by now and rumors are winding their way through the kingdom as we speak. It’s best to make the proclamation now, so everyone knows precisely your role here. They’re thinking, ‘Will she be our Queen?’ and ‘Will our King bring more humans to us?’ and a dozen other difficult questions that only foment distress and fear if they aren’t addressed immediately. I am not the sort of king to let his subjects wonder and worry. We will have the proclamation, the presentation, you will smile, you will dance, and you will profess your position in my court.”

“And that position is ‘Puppet Emily, Personal Toy of King Arbor,’” Emily said wearily.

“Yes.”

“And will I be Queen?”

“No. You can never be Queen. I’m not in a hurry to find one but when it’s time I suppose I’ll have to put an ad in The New York Times or some such. The Queen cannot be a puppet or a toy. She must be my equal.”

“Then I love a man who can never love me,” she whispered as she moved to a kneeling position, stretching the half-clad leg out and pulling the stocking up the rest of the way.

“I wouldn’t put it like that,” Arbor began.

“It doesn’t matter how you put it,” she replied dully, “it’s the truth. I am only a toy. There’s my case,” she nodded in its direction, “here’s my costume, the only one I’ve got. And here’s my master, the man who pulls my strings,” she nodded at Abor. “I never believed in fate until now.” She reached for the other stocking and deftly pulled it up. “Next I’ll be unable to dress myself without you crooking your fingers at me.”

“Now don’t be petulant,” Arbor said.

“I’m not, Sire, I’m not. I’m simply resigning myself to my fate.”

“You could resign yourself with a smile and a word of thanks,” he said.

“If you expected that then you don’t truly understand people,” she said.

“You are not a person,” he reminded her, quickly and almost involuntarily.

“Yes, Sire,” she replied.

As Arbor was leaving the room Anna entered and knelt to help Emily with her shoes.

“Alex and I have found a way for you to escape. But it has to be today, when you’re in town.”

“How?” Emily asked in a whisper.

“One of the cowboy dolls said he’d help. He’s got a girlfriend who can make a fuss at one end of the park. He’ll help you get onto the road if you can make it down the platform to him. He’ll be next to the oak tree, the one the proclamations get nailed to. It’s big enough that if you step behind it they can’t see you from the dais. From there he’ll take you to a nearby house and then, tonight, help you onto the road.”

“I can’t believe it. I can’t believe I can actually...” Emily stared blankly at the closet in front of her.

“There’ll only be one chance, Emily. When you hear a girl start screaming about the coal miners getting her dress all dirty that’s when you’ve got to go.” Anna waited for a response, when Emily didn’t reply she said, “Emily? Did you hear what I said?”

Emily shook herself and turned back to the puppet. “Yes, when the girl screams about her dirty dress I’ve got to get to the cowboy behind the oak.” Anna nodded and hugged her friend.

“I’ll be sad to see you go. But if this is what you really want...”

“The last time I was in a vehicle I had a dream about ice-skating puppets. Wooden ones with stiff jaws,” Emily volunteered at one point. The rest of the trip was silent. Emily looked out at the landscape with interest, desperate to see new sights even as she was preoccupied with the coming proclamation and possible escape. A footman—Emily couldn’t tell what sort of stuffed animal it used to be, its velveteen was so worn and its ears tattered—stood on the runner outside, holding onto the carriage with one hand and in the other a rolled up bit of parchment sealed with wax and King Arbor’s crest, what looked like Raggedy Ann leaning against a rocking horse.

The parchment was the first thing to be handed off to the town crier when the carriage stopped at the stone fountain. By the time Arbor stepped out, dressed more formally than Emily had ever seen him in a white ermine cloak and black military costume, a small crowd of toys had begun to form, more pouring out of shops and homes every moment. He turned and held out a hand to Emily, who was suddenly feeling a bit shy. Her face was red but her large hat hid her blush as she kept her head down.

“Come now, Emily. It’s one thing to lower your eyes to me, but there’s every reason to hold your head up here. You should be proud that you’re mine,” Arbor said as he took her by the elbow and led her to a small platform that had been raised at one end of the fountain.

It looked onto the southern half of the town square. Ribbons decorated the trees and the grass looked fresh and bright. Mamma bears and their children had picnics on red checker blankets. Old loner cowboy dolls and their prairie girl companions leaned against trees and kept one painted eye on events while flirting. One of them looked at her and winked when he caught her eye. He was leaning against the oak tree. Coal-covered stuffed animals ringed the outskirts of the lawn, cradling each other or wrestling or simply enjoying the break from mining.

Emily raised her head obediently and looked at them all when she was properly installed to the left of the center of the dais. Arbor stood in the middle and the town crier stood to his right. When the Agah the elephant had finished his trumpet call the crier broke the seal on the parchment, unrolled it, and began to read.

“Hear ye, hear ye, of the royal proclamation which King Arbor has writ and by which the kingdom shall abide. Hereby be it known that Emily, once a human in New York, is now the property of King Arbor and that all in the kingdom shall refer to her as Puppet Emily, Personal Toy of King Arbor, or simply Puppet Emily. Puppet Emily, Personal Toy of King Arbor, shall be installed in the castle permanently until such time as King Arbor sees fit to amend this proclamation. Puppet Emily is not and shall not be Queen of the land, having served a human in New York and now serving King Arbor. All who hear and understand say ‘Aye.’”

“Aye!” roared the crowd of toys.

“The royal proclamation concerning Puppet Emily, Personal Toy of King Arbor, has been read aloud to all subjects attending. Hereby the proclamation is law unless or until amended. King Arbor will give a speech now.”

The crier bowed to Arbor and made his way down the stairs to nail the proclamation to the old oak, which sported several nails from previous proclamations. The crowd was applauding and a few of the older toys seemed to be whistling lewdly at Emily. Her face had grown even hotter during the reading and it took all her will not to bow her head meekly.

“Loyal subjects, I’ve gathered you here today to introduce to you a toy who has undoubtedly caused the greatest stir since I managed to steal Peter the Terrible’s favorite sock puppet,” he paused as the crowd laughed. “Emily was Peter’s Nanny. His contempt for her and concept of her as just another posession gave me the ability to liberate her as I’ve liberated all of you from Peter or another tormentor. However, just as you are all still toys, Emily is still a toy. While you have all been assigned work in various areas, I’ve decided to keep Emily for myself. At the next harvest festival you will all be invited to watch me make her dance.” The crowd applauded and cheered and Arbor’s fingers twitched, making Emily curtsey.

“I’d like to give you a little preview,” he said as he made Emily rise from her curtsey and mince toward him. Emily’s eyes were wide, her breath coming in short panicked gasps. “Please don’t do this to me, Sire,” she whispered. He ignored her and made her turn to face the crowd again.

“Hello, my name is Emily and I’m pleased to be King Arbor’s Puppet! I particularly enjoy the evening dances, when he controls me completely. I’m dedicated to serving him as best a puppet can and I hope you accept me as a fellow toy.” She curtsied again and the crowd applauded, shouting her name over and over again. Arbor made her mince back to her spot on the dais and smile proudly out at the toys.

“Make her dance!” a hobby horse yelled and the rest of the animals and dolls joined in. Arbor held up his hands to placate the crowd and, when they had quieted somewhat, he said, “One small dance for you, then. Once small dance.” He lowered his hands and twiched his fingers. Emily did a little tap-dance shuffle, hands clasped behind her back. Her cheeks were red and tears gathered in her eyes, but the smile pasted across her face was broad and unwavering. When Arbor stopped her she was breathing hard, not with the exertion of the dance, but the exertion of resisting.

The crowd roared its approval and, as the sound died away and Arbor opened his mouth to speak, a terrible screetching noise came from the right. A high-pitched screaming that caused everyone to turn and stare, including the king. Emily forced herself to look away and toward the oak tree. The cowboy beckoned with a small gesture. Emily took one step toward him before stopping herself. She slowly shook her head and the cowboy shrugged and disappeared. Tears fell slowly down her cheeks but at the same time she gave a small, almost resigned, smile. When attention was refocused on the king and herself she curtsied again of her own will. Arbor bowed to the crowd, took her by the arm and turned her to the steps. They descended quickly and entered the carriage as Agah blew a trumpet sound through his trunk again.

“That went well,” Arbor observed. Emily nodded absentmindedly.

“What are you thinking?” he asked.

“That I love belonging to you even more than I knew, Sire,” she replied in a steady voice. Arbor leaned forward across the carriage to kiss her passionately on the lips. She opened her mouth obediently, pliantly, the passive receiver of all he had to offer.

They barely made it to Arbor’s bedroom before both were naked. The heat between them was palpable and, as much as Emily tried to play the passive puppet, when Arbor’s fingers were too busy touching her to control her, she kept as busy as he did, her hands roaming across his skin, thighs parting to let his leg slide between them. Arbor finally allowed his desire to posess her completely step foward and rule him. His embrace was not tender but urgent and her response was just as earnest, almost frantic.

He lifted her, her legs encircling him, and carried her to the bed. He leaned foward, letting her weight onto the bed and his weight onto her, pressing her down. She moaned and made her body relax, accept him atop her. He propped himself up on his elbows and looked down at her face. Her half-lidded eyes and flushed complexion, her parted and moist lips, her stillness. He shifted his hips, the head of his cock searching for the entrance. When it slipped between the wet folds of her sex she gave a small cry and closed her eyes. He pushed his way into her in one slow, strong, thrust and held himself still, relishing the feel of her tightness around him.

He moved his hips back, withdrew entirely, and stood, shifting his feet a little farther apart on the floor. Emily mewled in frustration and wriggled, thrusting her needy sex at him. He crooked his fingers and she lifted her legs, placed her feet on the edge of the bed, wide apart, exposing herself to his eye. Inside she was just as frustrated, just as needy, but Arbor saw a silent passive doll, his puppet, positioned precisely as he wished and unable to move until he let her. It made him even harder and he drove himself into her with such strength that she would have been forced further onto the bed if he had not held her hips and pulled her to meet him.

She wasn’t sure if he made her orgasm with his control over her or with his cock, but it was an orgasm that rolled through her slowly, forcefully, completely. His hold over her hadn’t slipped, it was a silent orgasm. But he felt it ripple around him, tightening her hold on him as he slid in and out. It pushed him over the brink into his own orgasm. With one final thrust he held himself in her, groaning, fingers digging into her flesh.

Emily didn’t move, revelling in her stillness and the afterglow of her orgasm. Her mind and body passive, relaxed, still. Her submission complete and perfect.