Chapter 8
Everly
When I wake up the next morning, the echoes of last night’s events are still playing in my mind. But that's not what makes me so alert. When I listen, Xavier’s home is alive with the sound of footsteps, voices hushed but urgent. I toss off the covers, my anxiety already spiking as I wander into the hallway. Even on the lower floor, the house is a whirlwind of activity.
I catch Winter as she hurries past, her platinum bob swinging. "What's going on?" I ask, my voice rising over the din.
She glances at me, her expression softening despite the hectic pace. "Xavier has a gathering tonight. It’s a private dinner party." She pauses, evaluating me. "You don’t need to do much, just be there. Your outfit is ready in the living room. Come on, let's go."
The revelation hits me hard, but before I can react, she's gone, melding into the swarm of dolls rushing to prepare. My mind races, each step heavy with dread as I make my way upstairs and to the living room.
There, spread out neatly, are the outfits for the night. My breath hitches as I pick up mine. The fabric is silk, smooth, and cool against my skin. But there's so little of it—the dress is black, with cutouts that leave the curve of my shoulders bare and a neckline that plunges low. It's also mostly sheer, which explains the lacy lingerie set lying beside it.
Xavier chose this, knowing how it will make me feel. I can almost hear his voice, imagine him selecting it with care.
Looking up, I notice Winter, who is examining her own outfit with a critical eye.
"Need help?" she asks. When I hesitate, she steps over. "Let me show you," she says, her hands deft as she smooths the fabric. "The key is to wear it like you own it," she advises, her voice holding an unexpected warmth.
The solidarity I feel with her is sudden and strong, bridging the gap between us. As we help each other, the other dolls begin to assemble, their own outfits equally revealing. Seeing them, I realize I’m not alone in this, though it offers little comfort. The thought sends a wave of determination through me—I can get through this.
I have the whole day to psych myself up.
Before I know it, it's time to get dressed, and I've hardly seen Xavier at all. The dressing room buzzes with a strange sort of energy. Gowns of silk and lace are draped across every surface, a chaotic tableau of expensive fabric. I watch Winter apply eyeshadow. Sable scowls at her reflection, tugging at a leather bodice. Lila, nearly naked, preens before a full-length mirror.
"You look like you’re about to be sacrificed," Lila says to me, her tone light but sharp as she turns to survey my face. "Don’t worry, they'll need you as the centerpiece. But those brows? You can do better."
She strides over, taking the brush from my hand. Her touch is surprisingly gentle as she shapes my brows and applies liner. I close my eyes and feel her breath on my face. It smells sweet, and for some reason, the thought makes my cheeks grow hot. When I take a peek, I'm mesmerized by her skill, the way she transforms my face into something more dramatic.
She steps back, studying her work with a satisfied smirk. "Better."
Winter studies me, her head tilted. "Better, sure. But your lips need more color."
She dabs a deep plum stain on me, giving my lips a sensual fullness I have never seen before. Sable adds a touch of highlighter to my cheekbones, the light catching my skin in a way that makes me blush. Again, I feel like a doll being dressed, my self-consciousness almost unbearable.
We stand together before the wide mirror, four reflections side by side, as we take a final look at ourselves. The black silk of my dress hugs every curve, the sheer panels revealing glimpses of the lacy lingerie beneath. The neckline dips between my breasts, and the cutouts frame my shoulders. My honey-blonde waves cascade over my back, and the plum stain on my lips makes them look fuller, more inviting.
Lila poses next to me in what can barely be called clothing—strips of red silk that crisscross her body, leaving more skin exposed than covered. Diamond studs in her nipples glint through the gossamer-thin fabric, and the hem skims the tops of her thighs. Her black curls tumble wild and free, matching the untamed look in her emerald eyes.
Winter stands tall and elegant in white, her platinum bob sleek against her neck. Her dress clings to her willowy frame, the fabric gathering at strategic points to emphasize her slim waist and long legs. The ice-blue of her eyes matches the crystal droplets dangling from her ears.
Sable's outfit is all leather and attitude—a deep purple corset that highlights her athletic build, paired with fitted black pants that showcase her toned legs. Her red hair falls in waves down her back, the color bold against the dark leather.
"Well, aren't we just the prettiest set of dolls," Lila purrs, running her hands down her sides. "Xavier outdid himself with these choices."
I catch my reflection again, hardly recognizing myself. The woman in the mirror looks dangerous, seductive—everything I'm not supposed to be.
"Stop overthinking it," Winter says, adjusting my hair as she reads my mind. "You look perfect."
Sable snorts, tugging at her corset again. "Perfect for what exactly?"
The other dolls join me in ignoring Sable, who doesn't seem to mind, then we head off together, exiting the room. When we get upstairs, the dining room is transformed, the table set with fine china and crystal. The guests arrive in waves, each more perplexing than the last. Xavier stands at the head of the table, leading the conversations with a confidence that is both captivating and intimidating.
As everyone takes their seats, I notice the dynamics unfolding. Some guests have brought along their own submissive women, some obvious in their roles, others more subtle. I can sense the silent dance of power, each movement, each word laced with undercurrents I'm only beginning to understand.
I take my place beside Xavier at the head of the table, close enough that I feel the warmth radiating from his side. The other dolls settle in around us, a picture of beauty and danger. I try to keep my hands still in my lap. Despite the low din, the tension in the room tightens with each guest who enters.
Xavier pushes back his chair, the legs scraping softly against the wood floor, and stands. The room quiets as he raises a hand, a movement that draws all eyes to him.
"Welcome, everyone," his voice booms, smooth and rich. "I’m delighted you could join me for this evening. Please, enjoy the food and make yourselves at home."
A buzz rises as he sits, conversations breaking out around the table. Lila leans toward a man to her right, her laugh like a bell. Sable engages in a heated debate with somebody across from her, her hands gesturing. Winter remains still beside me and Xavier, silent, her eyes watching. I try to ignore her gaze.
My eyes wander around the room, taking it all in. Some of the other women with the guests are dressed in ways that make my skin crawl. Several of them are in what amount to wisps of fabric. One is wearing nothing but a few carefully placed strands of jewels. They look pleased—they smile proudly at their men, their heads hung in a way that seems like reverence. The display is both stimulating and unnerving.
"Lost in thought?"
The voice cuts through the murmur, drawing me back. It’s Xavier, his green eyes studying me.
But before I can answer, someone else chimes in.
"So, little doll, why are you here?"
One of the guests, a tall, angular woman with a smirk, raises an eyebrow. Her tone is light, too light, with an undercurrent of malice.
My pulse picks up as I meet her gaze. The room seems to narrow, conversations tapering off. Xavier's hand tightens on his napkin, but I press on.
"I'm here because I want to be," I say firmly, my voice steady.
The woman raises an eyebrow, lips curling into a smirk. "You don't seem so sure." Her eyes drift over me, then to Xavier, before circling back.
I sit taller, squaring my shoulders. "I said I want to be here. That's all that matters." My voice rises enough to carry.
The woman's smirk falters for a moment. "Bold little thing, aren't you?" she says. Her voice drips with amusement. "Not many would speak so freely here."
I hold her gaze, determined not to back down. "I know how to express myself clearly."
The table falls silent, and I feel a hand brush against mine under the table. Xavier doesn't look at me, but his touch is firm, a warm pressure that steadies my nerves.
"So, Xavier," one of the other guests says. "How did you find her?"
"She came to me," Xavier replies. "She wanted in."
Laughter circles the table, and one of the men leans back in his chair, arms crossed. "Bold indeed. You're as intriguing as the others," he comments, his eyes lingering on me.
A woman opposite me raises her glass, her eyes never leaving mine. "To boldness, then."
The others echo her toast, and glasses rise. I lift mine, my hand steady as I sip the wine. It's rich, the flavor sharp against my tongue.
But the first woman who spoke isn't convinced.
"Wanting to be here. Are you sure that's enough to fully embrace what we're about?" She tilts her head. "Perhaps a private demonstration could change your mind, make you need to be here."
"I don't share my dolls," Xavier’s voice cuts in sharply. His tone sends a ripple through the table, and several guests shift in their seats uncomfortably.
The woman opens her mouth to retort when Xavier angles toward me, his hand squeezing mine under the table once more. There's approval in his eyes, reassurance in his touch.
The room begins to stir again, the tension slowly diffusing as the other guests renew their conversations, their laughter a little more forced.
The woman smirks lazily, clearly enjoying the discomfort she caused. But before she can push further, Lila turns her attention on her, a slow smile spreading across her face.
"Speaking of boldness," Lila begins, her voice filled with a playful venom, "it's curious how some people don't know when they're out of their depth." Her emerald eyes lock onto the woman's, sending a silent challenge. "Perhaps some need a reminder that their place at this table isn't guaranteed."
The room shifts, conversations slowing again. The woman's pale skin flushes, her cheeks blooming pink, and she fidgets with her glass.
Winter leans forward, her voice cutting like a blade. "It's always best to approach new faces with grace rather than malice."
Winter doesn't look away from the woman, ensuring her message is received. The impact is immediate. The woman lowers her eyes, her smirk faltering.
Lila tilts her head, her curls shifting with the movement. "After all, you never know who might end up teaching you a lesson."
I feel a surge of gratitude. They draw the attention away from me, sending a clear message to the room. Their quick defense lifts a weight from me, and I straighten, feeling a new sense of belonging. The dinner continues, the underlying tension slowly untangling as the conversation flows once more.
The rest of the dinner goes surprisingly well. I find myself actually enjoying the conversations, laughing at jokes, even offering my own opinions. I completely forget about the scandalous outfit clinging to my skin, the sheer panels revealing far more than I’d ever dared show before. It's like a switch flipped—I'm not the nervous charity worker anymore. I'm… confident.
The guests depart one by one, their goodbyes polite, their departures leaving a lightness in the room. The heavy feeling that hung in the air before dissipates, leaving behind a comfortable silence. I feel a strange sense of accomplishment. I did it. I navigated the bizarre, intimidating world of Xavier's dinner party and not only survived but thrived.
Xavier pats my back as he passes. It's a simple gesture, but it carries weight. A silent approval, maybe. Lila winks, Sable offers a curt nod—even Sable seems impressed. Winter smiles, a rare, almost genuine smile that crinkles the corners of her eyes. They all seem genuinely pleased.
The room feels lighter, the shadows retreating as the last guest exits. I feel good, almost exhilarated. The evening exceeded my expectations. It was… surprisingly fun.
Standing there, the quiet hum of the house settling around me, a smile plays on my lips.
I wonder what the next outfit will look like.