Porcelain Doll Aesthetic Novels & Stories

'That young man obviously doesn't know anything. To appraise porcelain, one might have to rely on the 'look, listen, compare, and feel' technique. One could listen to the porcelain by tapping the porcelain lightly to distinguish its body. It was deemed unprofessional to stroke the surface like Daryl had done. However, Kingston narrowed his eyes slightly. Darryl's action might seem random or on a whim, but it looked like he had paid great attention to the detail. 'Where have I seen such a unique method of identification?'

“This one’s from you and Daddy Mercer?” Kade sits beside me on the couch, watching her. “Yeah, open it.” She rips the paper carefully, she's not like most kids who would destroy the wrapping paper in the process. When she finally pulls off the wrapping, she gasps, eyes going huge. A porcelain doll, dressed in an elegant Victorian gown, her face painted delicately, her curls perfect. Harlow stares at it, completely still, before looking up at us, her lip trembling slightly. “She’s so pretty,” she whispers.

Now, standing in this elevator, facing Damien’s cold stare, a rage I’d never felt before burned in my chest. He walked toward us slowly. Each step was a claim of ownership. "A perfect piece of porcelain," his voice was a low hiss. "Such a shame it breaks so easily." He stopped in front of me. He reached out to touch my face. "But it's still my porcelain to break."

I want to savor it. I reach beside me and pull him closer—my doll, my perfect boy. He’s lifelike, soft silicone skin, dark hair, full lips parted just enough. I spent months choosing him: broad shoulders, tight abs, that gorgeous ass I can’t get enough of. I position him between my legs, facing me, his molded cock resting against my inner thigh like he’s already hard for me.

It generally only took a moment of careful contemplation before the face began to speak to her, and then the paintbrush would begin to dance in her hand, and before she knew it, there was a jovial smiling face looking up at her. After each layer of flesh-toned paint, the doll would need to be fired. Since the kiln was located elsewhere on the property, Serendipity relied heavily on Maevis to take away her sweet friends and bring them back unharmed in a timely fashion. She had eventually come accustom to taking leave from one companion for a spell only to be reunited with her once more time and again, finding solace in another equally precious individual as she waited, until at last the paint

"All that beauty wrapped up like a gift I'm not allowed to touch." He steps in close, his fingers finding a strand of my hair. He drags it slowly over my shoulder, the movement intimate and calculated. My breath catches but I don't move away from him either. His mouth dips toward my ear, his voice dropping to a rasp. "You know what I like about dolls?" His breath ghosts over my skin. "They always break in the prettiest ways, and I want to see how fast I can ruin you." Heat coils low in my stomach. I glance at Silas and he flashes me a lazy wink and gives my ass a firm squeeze.

It was different. ‘She's like a doll,’ even Zinnia noticed. Her beauty was too fairytale-like to be real. It was like a character from a novel, a character from a cartoon or some kind of perfectly painted portrait or a well-made doll. She was astonishing to look at. And she seemed to like purple shades of colours. Let's say the purple version of Apple. "Heavens me, she's beautiful," I gushed out. Khloe giggled and when I looked at her, she was beaming with pride. Her daughter could be kidnapped and sold for zillions.

Step outside your tent whenever my Alphas are ready,’ Doll purred to us. Xander and I exchanged a look and bolted for the exit. We were both very eager to see our girl. The guys all chuckled because they knew that only Doll could make us so eager. We were not ashamed of that fact at all. Our jaws literally dropped when we looked at her. She was wearing tight black leather pants that fit her like a glove with golden gladiator sandals. Her tunic was red like ours but fitted to accentuate her delicious curves. The front dropped down into a V-neck which showed a modest hint of cleavage that begged for our attention. The intricate stitching was the same as ours. A braided golden belt accented tho

Calla's POV: The room had once been sterile—cold marble floors, white curtains, and an unnervingly clinical row of dolls with identical porcelain faces staring blankly from a shelf. But now? It looked like something out of a fairytale. I stood barefoot on a Persian rug I had hauled in from the east wing, hands on my hips, paint smudged on my cheeks as I stared at my masterpiece. There were now murky green walls, splashed with muted gold vines. Floating shelves held odd little ceramic foxes, thrifted fairytale books, and a crystal orb I picked up at an antique store on my way home