He isn’t tall, strong or powerful. He’s kind of weak, to tell the truth, and short too, but he has this mythical power over me. A power that’s stronger than anything around me.

He’s the only one who can keep my attention for a long time; nothing keeps me amused like him. Besides, all the other things around me are uninteresting and boring when he’s around.

When we first met, I knew that there was something between us, some kind of bond stronger then friendship, maybe even stronger than love. Something that will probably connect us until death, or even, into the afterlife.

Even though our love is a secret, sometimes, it’s hard to hide what I feel. I often feel these urges to kiss him and touch him in front of the others. These are the worst times of the day.

But, the bliss that I feel while with him, when we are all alone can’t be compared. I quench my thirst on those lips that are so tender and slip my hands through that small but lascivious body of his. But, in the very end, I’m the one who melts in his dirty little hands that know exactly where to touch me.

It’s strange to think that he’s the one who is in control; I’m the one who's taller and stronger, in more ways than one. But, I wouldn’t know how to act and claim my position in the relationship, like he did when all this began.

I can remember clearly the events of that night as if they had happened yesterday. I remember getting out of the bed carefully, in the middle of the night to drink a glass of water and go to the bathroom. I didn’t want to wake up any of the guys, in theory, no.

At the kitchen, I listened to some steps coming from the staircase. My “silent” operation had failed. I turned to the door to see him just standing there with his hair in a bit of a mess, wearing his rosy PJs and socks. He was leaning on the doorframe, arms crossed in front of his chest. The moonlight coming from the window was the only source of light in the room.

Before I could think clearly, we were already kissing, first fast, then slow. More and more he pressed me against the refrigerator door, deepening the kiss while taking control.

I didn’t offer resistance. I didn’t want to. I wanted it as much as him, or maybe even more.

Then, everything happened faster than my mind could register, and we were already in the main room lying down on the couch, him on top of me, our clothes gone.

It was hard to control the moans and sighs at first, but we both did, like we had done this a hundred times before. In fact, everything was so perfect in the beginning, it was weird, but neither of us never had done this, well, at least I never have.

But, the most important thing is that from that moment on, I was his.

And now, I’m his doll. I’m a humble servant of those pouty lips and chestnut eyes. I’m a slave to that dark brown hair, small body and Brittish accent. And, I couldn’t ask for anything else in the whole wide world.

Having him close to fulfill my heart and soul in all possible ways is all I want. I don't need control because I simply love being a doll with such a wonderful owner.