The Dolls House II – A Wise Choice

A sequel to “The Dolls House I – Introducing Katie” written for standalone enjoyment, without the necessity of having read the original story. After the proprietor of The Dolls House, Miss Leonora Dart, recounted the tale of Katie’s transformation from a scruffy student to a pristine doll, Katie herself picks up the story, overlapping with Miss Dart’s recollection from her alternate perspective, then moving forward. While serving the patrons at the establishment, Katie meets wealthy couple Mr and Mrs Wise, and she has her first opportunity to witness the transformation of someone else…

The Recap

For me, Katie, the previous two days had been a rollercoaster of emotions. It had started when the enigmatic woman, Leonora Dart, approached me while I was minding my own business in the market square. I was enjoying a coffee – an increasingly rare treat, given the perilous state of my student finances – when she sat down, uninvited, at my table.

Dressed in a figure-hugging white designer skirt suit with a severe flattop haircut, Miss Dart was a disconcerting blend of sexy secretary and hard-nosed businesswoman. With me wearing a floral minidress, denim jacket, and my bountiful cascade of hair that stretched to my bottom, we presented an unsettling contrast to passersby.

‘Sweetie,’ she began, her voice a gentle purr, ‘your hair is simply magnificent. I have not seen anything quite so glorious in years.’

It was not unusual for my hair to draw remarks from strangers. Usually, people complimented my hair, but I also received suggestions that I was selfish for having such long hair and should cut it, a suggestion that always confused me. But the way Leonora Dart expressed it made me feel all squidgy inside. While I pretended to continue reading, I found myself blushing furiously.

Undaunted by my silence, she pressed me further and eventually engaged me in conversation. I found myself sharing my woes as a poor student. I weighed the need to take on poorly paid part-time jobs to complete my degree against the loss of essential study time when stacking shelves or serving drinks.

Despite loving my long hair, I found myself agreeing with her. It did feel like a burden at times. And, although I had never liked short hair on anyone, let alone myself, I was intrigued by her marine haircut, as it did not detract from her femininity in the least. When, surprisingly, she took my hand and encouraged me to explore it with my fingers, I expected it to be harsh and prickly. As it turned out, it was surprisingly soft on the crown, and her skin was smooth and cool on the back and sides. I blushed again, realising that I was enjoying the sensation a little too much!

Returning to my financial woes, she handed me her business card and said she could help. ‘The Doll’s House’, I read, raising an eyebrow to elicit an explanation, but she remained tight-lipped, simply saying to get in touch if I wished to learn more.

After she left, I thought about all we had discussed. A quick search on the internet revealed nothing about her organisation. After careful consideration, I discarded her business card, wary of the peculiar woman’s motives. Then, suspending my concerns for a moment, I retrieved her details and sent her a text message expressing my interest.

= = =

That evening, I visited Miss Leonora Dart at The Dolls House, and, following her careful explanation, I signed a contract for extremely well-paid employment as a waitress at her select establishment. After that, she took me to a salon within the premises where a stern woman called Ursula prepared me for service, while Miss Dart directed proceedings. I had no say in the process, as she reminded me that the contract I had signed gave them free rein to do what was necessary.

I was dazed and confused as Ursula chopped off my exceptionally long hair into a severe bowlcut. Following that, she shaved off my eyebrows and applied heavy makeup, including pencilled thin and arched replacement brows. Strangely, I felt turned on by the whole experience. Whether it was the loss of control or the actions they were taking, I was unsure. My excitement became even more apparent when they dressed me in sexy long boots and an even sexier latex dress. It was so close-fitting that, at the front, it was pointedly obvious that the stimulating attire had aroused prominent parts of my anatomy!

As I studied myself in the mirror, I could no longer see the student who had sipped coffee in the market square earlier that day. All I observed was a delicate porcelain doll or, as Miss Dart explained, an exquisite sculpture. Either way, quite contrary to what I might have expected, my appearance did not displease me.

It had unsettled me when I learnt that the large mirror that I had faced during my transformation was one-way glass. On the other side, a full restaurant of The Dolls House clientele had watched my conversion. I considered complaining to Miss Dart, even throwing a tantrum. But then the respectful adulation of the audience settled on me. So, when they pressed substantial gratuities in my hand, I decided to let it go.

Waiting on the tables for the rest of the evening passed in a pleasant daze. The club members were utterly delightful in their admiration of my appearance. It may have been because Miss Dart worked the room, playing the role of benevolent chaperone to perfection, but never did I once feel intimidated by anyone there.

During our breaks, I got on well with my colleagues, pristine dolls, all of us with identical haircuts, makeup, and outfits. And despite a rollercoaster of a day, I left The Dolls House feeling lighter in hair, wealthier in pocket, and, most surprisingly, believing that I truly belonged.

= = =

I managed to get a considerable amount of studying completed over the next couple of days, supported by new textbooks that I could now afford to buy. Nevertheless, my mind never drifted far from thoughts of The Dolls House. If I needed a more tangible reminder, then I only had to glance at my reflection or touch my smooth nape, and they were things I did often.

Leonora Dart, the owner, was insistent that none of her dolls work for more than three nights a week. That stipulation worked well for me as a student. However, during the day of my next shift, I was thrumming with excited anticipation. So, I curtailed my studying promptly, arriving at The Dolls House earlier than necessary.

Despite barely a shadow showing on my skin after such a brief interval, I asked Ursula to shave the back and sides of my head. It felt beautifully refreshed, and her action did give me that surprising and intense thrill that I had experienced on the previous occasion.

Once Ursula had completed my makeup, I fetched the uniform from my locker in the associates lounge, which Miss Dart forbade us from calling a staffroom. I squeezed myself into my sexy latex minidress and slipped on my thigh-length boots. Checking my appearance in the mirror, I was pleased that my dress showed no creases. Then, looking down, I confirmed that my more obvious assets were looking suitably perky, giving a little giggle as I made a minor tweak. Feeling Miss Dart’s eyes upon me, I turned around and posed a question. ‘Will I do, Miss Dart?’

‘Yes, sweetie, you’ll do very nicely,’ she said, smiling warmly, before asking me to take my place in the restaurant to greet the patrons as they arrived.

= = =

As I glided out into the corridor, I bumped into an older couple, Mr and Mrs Wise. Miss Dart explained they were two of The Dolls House‘s longest-standing members, behind the scenes for a special event. Naturally, her words intrigued me.

They were a couple in their forties, attractive for their age and extremely well-dressed. He wore a casual beige linen suit with a cream, open-necked shirt, and he was completely bald, his head a gleaming dome. By contrast, Mrs Wise wore an expensive designer little black dress. I imagined it cost more than my university tuition fees for a month! However, I felt that, given her age, it was far too short and exhibited a neckline that was too low. What also set her apart from her husband were her ample blonde locks that softly flowed away from her face into a beehive-like updo perched on her crown. It was a striking style, and, given its volume, I wondered if, when loose, it would have competed with my former length.

When Miss Dart introduced the couple, they positively beamed in my direction. ‘We were here two nights ago,’ Mrs Wise said, ‘and witnessed your magnificent transformation, Katie.’

I was surprised by her gushing praise. ‘Oh… er… thank you, Mrs Wise,’ I stuttered.

‘They own Wise Motors, the car showroom on the ring road, Katie,’ Miss Dart casually explained. That caught me by surprise, as it was a huge place, suggesting they were very wealthy. They even tried to persuade me, a poor student, to buy a car. But even with a promised discount, I told them it would be a long time before I could afford to run a vehicle of my own. Despite that, I slipped the business card they proffered in the top of one of my boots, my latex dress having no pockets.

Ursula beckoned Mr and Mrs Wise forwards, towards the door of the studio. They obligingly followed.

‘It’s Mrs Wise’s birthday, and his wife’s gift to him is for Ursula to transform her into a doll,’ Miss Dart explained evenly. ‘It is a service we like to offer our discerning clientele,’ she added, as if it were the most normal thing in the world.

I was astonished, eyeing Mrs Wise’s massive updo. ‘That… that is… all coming off?’ I stuttered disbelievingly.

‘Yes, Katie, a bowl cut, just like yours,’ she clarified as they entered the studio, with Mr Wise rubbing his hands together expectantly.

I looked down to the floor, deep in thought, absently rubbing my shaved neck. Then I looked directly at Miss Dart and, unsure why, I asked if I could watch Mrs Wise’s transformation.

‘Of course you can watch, sweetie. Everyone in the restaurant will be watching her once she sits in that chair. The one you occupied just two days ago,’ she confirmed.

‘Gosh!’ I managed, before gliding out to the restaurant.

Wise Moves

I went around the tables in the restaurant, along with my colleagues, checking that everyone had drinks and menus.

Once everyone was satisfied, the light behind the glass wall brightened in the studio, illuminating the barber’s chair I had sat in two nights earlier. By contrast, on that evening, I stood to attention at the back of the restaurant, observing the interior of the studio. From inside the studio, the people preparing for the event could only see a mirror. However, unlike when I had been in there, they were all aware they had a nearby audience.

Mr Wise sat at a bistro table placed for his benefit at the edge of the studio, giving him a ringside view of the barber’s chair. He was sipping a glass of champagne while an ice bucket rested on a small stand next to him, chilling his opened bottle.

Miss Dart was chatting quietly to Ursula and looked expectantly towards the studio’s door, waiting for it to open. They made a striking pair. Leonora Dart wore her customary pristine white skirt suit, and her flattop haircut was freshly trimmed, and Ursula, dressed in her short white dress, had her hair scraped into a bun.

The door swung open, and waltzing through was Mrs Wise, but looking quite different from when I had previously encountered her. She had replaced the designer gown with a sexy underwear ensemble that included a clinging black slip that barely covered her bottom. The task of concealing her rear fell to her dazzling blonde hair. Released from the updo, her hair now trailed loose down her back, glinting with a healthy shine under the studio’s lights. It fell well below the hem of her flimsy slip, ending in a sharp line as if she had just had it professionally trimmed for the occasion.

She posed languidly in front of the mirror, doing slow twirls to show herself from every angle, running her fingers through her hair as she did so. Mrs Wise’s eyes were nearly popping out of his head, clearly not expecting his wife to look so provocative for the assembled audience when she made her appearance.

Everyone in the restaurant, including me, was equally astonished. We rewarded her sexy performance with polite applause, despite her not being able to hear in the soundproof studio. Even so, Mrs Wise, clearly familiar with such events, gave her adoring, but invisible, fans a silent curtsey before shimmying towards the barber’s chair.

‘Ladies and gentlemen, Mrs Pamela Wise,’ Miss Dart announced, before informing the patrons what was in store for Mrs Wise to celebrate her husband’s birthday.

The Review

While Miss Dart spoke, I took a moment to look around at the pristine décor and the elegant fittings of The Dolls House. Studying the wealthy clientele that sat at tastefully laid tables, I noted that each had an uninterrupted view of the studio. I reflected on the bizarre turn of events that had led me to The Dolls House when, two days earlier, I had no idea that such places even existed.

The Dolls House was Miss Dart’s sanctuary that, with Ursula’s support, was a symbol of their imagination and ambition. I was unsure whether to see it as an exclusive restaurant or a private members’ club. However, Miss Dart clearly saw it as a living gallery, a testament to her uncompromising vision of beauty.

However, until that evening, once all the wealthy clients had settled at their tables, drinks in hand, I had no idea that one of them would be in line for the process of conversion to a doll. Feeling unaccountably apprehensive, I watched expectantly.

Wise Preparations

Despite her age, Mrs Wise looked incredibly provocative and stimulating in her skimpy underwear as she languidly stretched out in Ursula’s barber’s chair. Her expression said she knew the effect she would be having on the audience, including her husband, and that she was lapping up the attention.

Ursula stood behind her, gently brushing her hair and arranging it to fall on each side of her face, allowing the ends to gather in her lap. With a comb, she then began sectioning off the top half of her hair, fashioning a ponytail that plumed from her crown, while the rest of her hair was still loose and framed her attractive face.

‘You are a privileged audience here today,’ Miss Dart began, casting her eyes over the invisible audience beyond the one-way mirror. ‘For the first time in public, Pamela is displaying her lovely long hair in its full glory, unconstrained by her usual updo. Only Matthew, her husband, has had that privilege before now,’ she added. He half rose from his table off to one side and gave a polite little bow of acknowledgement. ‘Given the weight and abundance of her tresses, Pamela wears it at home as you see it now with half of it held back.’ She paused, lifting the ponytail Ursula had just formed, ‘But that is all about to change.’

With nimble fingers, Ursula took the ponytail from her colleague and swiftly fashioned it into a braid. It may have represented only half of her hair, but it was still remarkably thick. Then the most extraordinary thing happened.

Ursula picked up a large pair of glinting scissors, offering them to Mr Wise. He smiled, put down his champagne flute, and stepped forward. He took the scissors, smiled at his wife, pecked her on the cheek, and then pulled the ponytail taut. In the mirror they exchanged a loving look, and she gave him an almost imperceptible nod, leaning forward, pulling her hair taut against her husband’s grip.

Then, with undisguised glee, Matthew Wise began sawing through his wife’s thick braid.

The Cut

Ursula stood to one side, observing Mr Wise with an air of professional scrutiny. She did not seem disappointed with his enthusiasm, although I noticed a flinch on each occasion that he cut a little awkwardly.

Pamela Wise forced a smile in the substantial chrome and white leather vintage-style salon chair as her husband subjected her to his amateur efforts.

With a final flourish, the braid came away from Mrs Wise’s head, and Mr Wise held it up triumphantly, bowing towards the audience he could not see, who universally were applauding him. He returned the scissors to Ursula and went back to his bistro table, coiled his wife’s braid upon it, and took a sip of champagne.

Miss Dart played with the tiny stump of a ponytail that remained on Mrs Wise’s crown, the rest of her abundant locks still framing her face. But not for long.

I watched Ursula step forward, and, as she had with me, she held her large, red hairclippers in her hand.

‘N… no…’ Pamela Wise whimpered softly in the chair. Despite her being there voluntarily, her reaction seemed genuine. If it was only theatre, then she was a wonderful actress. Either way, her husband was, quite literally, on the edge of his seat with anticipation.

I watched Miss Dart lean into Pamela. ‘Ursula has the hands of an artist, my dear, so you are in excellent hands,’ she explained. ‘Just relax.’

Pamela Wise merely gulped.

‘Now, Ursula,’ Miss Dart continued, her voice clear and authoritative. ‘Let us begin the unveiling. We need a clean slate here, a pure foundation.’

Pamela Wise’s eyes widened, knowing the meaning of those words from all the times she had seen Ursula cut the hair of others. Even so, she jumped at the insistent loud whine that suddenly filled the studio.

Despite her knowledge, Mrs Wise flinched as the blade of the clippers approached the hair that hung down the right side of her face. Ursula carefully guided the blade into the hair above the right ear. The heavy mass of her hair, her defining feature for so long, began to tumble like a waterfall. It floated over the skin of her bare shoulders and slinked over her provocative silky underwear. Her breath visibly hitched as she looked straight ahead towards the audience, although she could only see herself in the one-way mirror.

Ursula followed the line she had established around to the back of Mrs Wise’s head, stripping her neck of its long-established covering. Successive passes had created a continuous flow of silken tresses, gliding into her lap.

‘Excellent, Ursula, excellent,’ Miss Dart declared with genuine praise, her arms crossed, a small, satisfied smile playing on her lips. ‘See how you have exposed her elegant neck? Bared her delicate nape?’

By contrast, Mr Wise was maintaining a stiff upper lip, biting it periodically, as he struggled to maintain control while he observed the unwrapping of his unusual birthday present. His wife whimpered a little, accepting the enormity of what she was sacrificing for her husband.

‘We are revealing, not diminishing, my dear,’ Miss Dart reassured her. ‘Just trust the process.’

Miss Dart gave an almost imperceptible nod, but her eyes betrayed her conviction.

‘This is not about taking something away, Pamela,’ Miss Dart went on, choosing words like those she had used to reassure me. ‘It is about revealing the exquisite beauty hidden for so many years. We see it like chiselling a fine sculpture from raw marble.’

Miss Wise blinked, looking a tad nervous as Ursula moved to her left side. Miss Dart leaned in, playing with the shortened hair. ‘You’re doing wonderfully, my dear,’ she said.

During the brief pause in the proceedings, I topped up the glasses of the patrons, sensing the electricity from the growing anticipation in the crowd.

‘Now, Ursula,’ Miss Dart commanded, stepping closer to Pamela, her voice firm. ‘The haircut must be brutal and uncompromising. We need to create a perfect frame for that beautiful face. There must be no softness in the face’s appearance, no hesitation in carving the frame.’

I was certain that Ursula was fully aware of what Miss Dart required, but her words certainly added to the drama of their performance.

Although Ursula’s final objective might be the same as my haircut, I realised she was taking a different path to achieving it. Mrs Wise’s crown still displayed the stump of her ponytail, but Ursula had worked with focused intensity to remove all her remaining long hair. The hairclippers had created a perfectly smooth, almost velvety canvas on the back and sides of Pamela’s head.

Miss Dart’s fingers gently fondled the fine pelt, and then, suddenly, released the short ponytail. The raggedy bob that limply hung down, immediately covered the clippered hair. But not for long.

The Frame

‘Now the frame must be sharpened, Ursula, the crown fashioned into a glossy smooth cap,’ Leonora Dart pressed eagerly. ‘A perfectly stark bowlcut. One that emphasises harsh structure and rigidity over any semblance of a gentle, flowing style.’

Skilfully manipulating comb and scissors, Ursula carved a perfect cap of glossy hair. It perched symmetrically on Mrs Wise’s crown, shining with a pristine, almost ceramic-like quality.

‘While the top of Pamela’s hair now looks immaculate, the smooth velvet covering the vast areas below is still far too long for accomplishing our task,’ Miss Dart declared gleefully. ‘The back and sides, Ursula, must be shaved down to the bone,’ she pressed. ‘Lather it up, my dear, copiously with foam, and use your sharp razor to eliminate every trace of hair. I want to see that skin gleam.’

Even with past knowledge, I saw Mrs Wise quiver visibly in the chair. Miss Dart placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. ‘Don’t worry, my dear. It will look exquisite.’

Ursula enthusiastically lathered the still-dark stubble on Mrs Wise’s head. Brandishing her razor, the blade glinting under the lights, she scraped away at the lower half of her skull. The sound was precise and definitive, leaving bare skin glowing pink for a brief period before taking on the pristine whiteness of skin that has never glimpsed the sun. Gleaming under the salon lights, it was stark and arresting.

‘You see, her ears, a lifetime hidden under the heavy curtain of her hair, are now exposed,’ Miss Dart highlighted. ‘Their delicate form standing out against the sea of bare skin around them.’

The Fringe

‘And now her fringe, Ursula,’ Leonora Dart urged, the tangible excitement in her voice building with each element of the transformation. ‘Very high on her forehead, please. We need to expose her features, my dear. To let her expression shine, unburdened by shadows.’

Ursula leant in with her scissors and precisely cut a blunt fringe high above Mrs Wise’s eyebrows.

‘Perfect, but for the final touches,’ Miss Dart announced, a flourish in her voice. ‘To truly frame those provocative eyes, we must enhance the curve of those eyebrows. So, Ursula, firstly shave her brows clean.’

Pamela’s breath visibly hitched once again.

Ursula dabbed each eyebrow with lather and expertly whisked them away with her sharp razor, leaving only bare skin. It looked as though they had never been there, giving Pamela Wise an almost alien appearance.

‘Now, my dear, do not move. Ursula will draw a new line, thin and arching,’ Miss Dart explained, pausing while the artist worked her magic. Using a delicate pencil, she drew on fine, elegant arches that truly altered the landscape of her face. ‘Marvellous. I do so love that permanent, slightly surprised, wide-eyed look. She looks captivating and almost innocent. Is that not true, Mr Wise?’

The remark drew attention to the husband, clearly entranced by his wife’s drastic transformation. He rearranged the creases of his linen trousers under the bistro table, suggesting the material around his waist had suddenly become much tighter. His wife stole a glance in his direction, smirking conspiratorially at his mild discomfort.

‘Now give her the longest, fullest lashes,’ Miss Dart breathed. ‘Add that shimmering eyeshadow, a vibrant, glittering blue, to her lids. I want her eyes to look arresting, huge, and round, like those of a precious doll.’

The wealthy business couple had stunned me by continuing with the complete transformation. I had assumed they might have stopped with the haircut, given that alone was drastic for a wealthy woman about town.

But Ursula worked with deft strokes, applying the colourful shadow, extending the lashes until they fanned out like delicate butterflies. She rouged the cheeks to a glowing rose blush. ‘And the lips,’ Miss Dart sighed, ‘a bold, provocative red. A full and luscious bow.’

As Ursula finished and stepped back, there was a collective gasp from the thoroughly absorbed audience in the restaurant. She had completely transformed Pamela Wise’s appearance. The brutal bowl cut looked stark with its shaved sides and the harsh fringe. The framed her huge eyes, the surprised brows, and the full red lips. It was no longer Mrs Wise, the wealthy partner in a motor showroom, standing before us. Her conversion complete, she was a pristine, exquisite porcelain doll, immaculately crafted for her husband’s birthday.

‘The canvas is prepared,’ Miss Dart announced, her voice gentle but firm. ‘Now, my dear, it needs to be framed.’

The Attire

Unlike my framing that took place in front of the mirror, Ursula led Mrs Wise out of the studio so she could change into an appropriate outfit to accompany her transformed appearance.

Miss Dart went over to Mr Wise, who stood, bowing his head, his characteristic sign of appreciation. They chatted quietly, their voices unheard, as they waited for his wife’s return.

A low murmur from the audience resonated around the restaurant, accompanied by beaming smiles after what they had witnessed. As I topped up glasses, the conversations centred on what outfit Mrs Wise would choose to wrap herself in for her husband’s birthday. I gathered that no one expected her to be wearing a latex minidress, the signature attire of myself and the other dolls.

Gentle applause came from the studio where Miss Dart and Mr Wise were clapping as his wife made a grand entrance. The red leather corset cinched her waist and left her shoulders bare. The red lace skirt complemented it beautifully, as did the red boots, while the chunky gold jewellery provided a scintillating final addition.

‘The complete shedding of her old identity,’ Miss Dart announced. ‘A rebirth!’

Mrs Pamela Wise, with an imperious smile, was breathtaking as she strutted around the studio, completely owning the space. The outfit hugged her every curve, a second skin of glossy red. The tautness of the corset lifted her breasts, sculpting her body beautifully. It was not only her husband’s jaw that had dropped in stunned appreciation. Everyone in the restaurant was standing and applauding.

It had been her rebirth that evening, for sure, although it was hard to imagine her strutting around her car showroom looking like that. And, although it would be politically incorrect to consider, lazing over the bonnet of one of her prestige motors, ideally red, would undoubtedly pave the way to additional sales.

Mrs Wise eventually sashayed up to her husband, and the applause quietened. He took her hand and lightly kissed the back of it before gracing her with a characteristic bow of appreciation.

‘Happy birthday, darling,’ she breathed huskily.

‘Thank you, sweetheart. Framed to perfection, you are undoubtedly a living sculpture,’ he murmured, bowing once more before releasing her hand.

Holding each other’s hand, they faced the mirror together. Mrs Wise curtsied grandly three times while Mr Wise bowed to their appreciative, if invisible, applauding audience.

‘Come, my dears,’ Leonora Dart invited. ‘It is time for you to spend time alone.’

The Suite

As the couple disappeared from the studio, the applause faded and the gentle hum of conversation resumed. My colleagues and I filled glasses and brought out the first courses of their meals.

Miss Dart had escorted Mr and Mrs Wise to a private suite, allowing them to enjoy their own company… and we did not see the couple again that evening.

The Offer

The rest of the evening passed quickly as we catered for the needs of the patrons of The Dolls House, overseen by a diligent Miss Dart. Amazingly, the gratuities I received equalled those from two days earlier when Ursula had transformed me. The evidence suggested that the members were always generous to those who had served them whenever they had an enjoyable evening.

Once the clients had settled down with the after-dinner drinks, Miss Dart sidled up to me. ‘How did you find watching your first transformation, Katie?’ she enquired.

‘It was amazing, Miss Dart,’ I gushed. ‘Thank you for allowing me to watch.’

‘My pleasure, sweetie. I am so glad you enjoyed it.’ Miss Dart beamed. ‘Occasionally, Ursula values assistance in the studio with the transformations. She has specifically asked if you might be interested should the opportunity arise.’

‘Gosh!’ I wondered if I should ask about the nature of the assisting tasks. Would I appear on the live streams? Would she entrust me with the hairclippers? But then I decided it did not matter. ‘Absolutely, Miss Dart, and please thank Ursula.’

‘Excellent,’ Miss Dart beamed. ‘It would appear you have made quite an impact on Ursula, which is a rare quality for anyone to possess.’

The End of Another Day

In just two days, I had elevated myself from being a student with little spare cash to a wealthier student with a very unusual part-time job. But it was more than a job. Refined and polished, Miss Leonora Dart had transformed me into a living work of art that resided in The Dolls House.

Miss Dart’s vision and expectations were uncompromising. But the salary and benefits were more than generous, as was the delightful way she looked after us, her precious dolls. It was a fair exchange, I believed, for the unparalleled beauty and exclusivity we brought to her establishment.

Once all the patrons had departed, I turned to my employer, although she felt like more than that to me. ‘Thank you, Miss Dart… for everything.’

She smiled, a knowing, indulgent smile. ‘It is all part of growing in confidence, sweetie. As I always say, embrace your new self. You are beautiful, appreciated, and free.’

I was bubbling with excitement when I left The Dolls House that evening. I was already looking forward to my next shift.

To be continued