This is my story Surrender, once called simply Doll. It's about a rich aristocrat who is dead set on finding special people to serve as his dolls at home. When he finds a girl who is wonderful, but who can also resist him, he is stunned and intrigued. He's quite the sick man, making people into living dolls, and if she can resist his control…he might have to use other tactics.




"Sir, are you sure about this?" the man called, hurrying after his charge into the woods. Master Vincent, a man of early twenties, was pushing on ahead into the overgrowth, completely unaware that his servant, Erik, was trying to catch up to him. Vincent's black hair was becoming messy, despite being in a ponytail, and he himself was becoming dirty from the branches slapping his clothes.

"Of course! I may be an aristocrat, Erik, but I'm not going to be snotty and go all the way down to the village just to get a stupid glass of water that I can get at the creek!" Vincent replied with a smile.

Erik sighed, running after his charge, his own blond hair becoming ruffled. They came upon a small clearing only minutes later, with a pristine creek in the middle. Vincent knelt down on the grass and took out the small cup he had grabbed from their carriage, dipping it into the water and sipping.

"Sir, that's probably not a good idea…"

Vincent looked back at him. "Erik, I'm fine. This water is not going to make me sick." He stood up and stretched. "But it sure is pretty out here. Almost as pretty as the garden at home."

Erik nodded. "You haven't spent much time in there as of late…" he commented.

Vincent shook his head. "Well, Roseline can't walk in there, you know. She's just too delicate. And besides, I wanted to get to know her." Here, he sighed. "But she's just like all of the others. They don't have anything that interests me."

Erik glanced at his master, and opened his mouth to speak, but saw something moving in the woods on the other side of the creek. He grabbed his master's arm and pulled him back into the trees while Vincent began to protest. "Erik, let go –"

Erik hissed at him. "Something's moving," he whispered, and Vincent looked past the tree branches to the creek, waiting for this apparition beyond the leaves to appear. Stepping out of the undergrowth was a girl of sixteen winters carrying a large bucket. Despite her cheap attire (which appalled Vincent, who hadn't seen a pauper's clothes before), she was beautiful, with sparkling eyes like the sky and dark brown hair that hung in a loose braid down her back.

Vincent looked up at Erik and smiled. Erik inwardly groaned, but Vincent grabbed his arm and pulled his ear down to Vincent's mouth. "What on earth is she wearing?" he hissed. "It looks like something that was dipped in mud and dried!"

Erik shook his head. "My lord, that is what commoners wear." Vincent looked back at the girl, who was oblivious to their discussion in her task of gathering water. He looked back to his servant.

"They wear stuff like that?" he asked. Erik nodded silently, and turned his sight back to the girl as she stood with her large bucket and began her hard trip back to the small village below. Vincent looked at Erik with a small smile. "I want her."

Erik blanched. "Sir, are you…sure? The child is a pauper, and has no sort of education. She probably can't read or write. She probably has no table manners either."

Vincent began his walk back to the carriage. "All those things don't really matter when you're just supposed to sit all day by the window."


He flashed his servant a smirk. "After all…dolls don't do anything else."