Re: A Doll's House (PoW: Angelina Tarrant x Madeleine Citronelle)
Posted: Sun Mar 30, 2025 3:04 pm
Madeleine's mind was like a cow without a pasture. Every time she settled on a thought, her focus was already drifting somewhere else.
How do we want to dress her, tomorrow? Lace would be lovely cinched around her waist—a bow for the waist, ribbon for the neck. Just until we finish the collar of course—
And then she'd remember the feeling of her kitten's tongue between her legs while rope ripped into her ankles and wrists, and she had no choice but to—
"A date you say? Oh, kitten."
—And back to the present, where Madeleine was carrying Angelina bridal-style across her kitchen towards an elevator, despite the dagger-like pain in her back that told her you're not going to bear this load a whole lot longer. A bolt of irritation flashed through her; she would need to expand her weekly allotment for the gym.
But—focus, dearie. She wants a date. Exciting, no? It made her heart skip a beat, made her smile. But what did a date entail?
So much—changes to the calendar, plans for gifts and where and what and how will we surprise her? Exhausting, huge thoughts that she didn't want to carry until tomorrow. But a date also entailed being seen.
...She'd gone much too long without talking, she realized. They arrived at black wrought-iron gate of the elevator. Madeleine gingerly bent her knees and let Angelina stand in front of her. As they rose, she draped her arms over her shoulders, kissing the back of her neck, and then the crown of her head.
"You know, Ange. In our business, it can be smart to appear single. You know, all those men in the audience. If they can imagine, crazily, they have a chance—they can become so delightfully dedicated..."
There were other considerations, too, which Madeleine did not mention. It was ... difficult to express, but Angelina simply did not fit the brand. The rebellious clothes, the unsophisticated diction. The table manners.
"Anyway, my week's full next week regardless. Perhaps a conversation for...after our weekend? After we've had some time to rest and. Enjoy each other."
How do we want to dress her, tomorrow? Lace would be lovely cinched around her waist—a bow for the waist, ribbon for the neck. Just until we finish the collar of course—
And then she'd remember the feeling of her kitten's tongue between her legs while rope ripped into her ankles and wrists, and she had no choice but to—
"A date you say? Oh, kitten."
—And back to the present, where Madeleine was carrying Angelina bridal-style across her kitchen towards an elevator, despite the dagger-like pain in her back that told her you're not going to bear this load a whole lot longer. A bolt of irritation flashed through her; she would need to expand her weekly allotment for the gym.
But—focus, dearie. She wants a date. Exciting, no? It made her heart skip a beat, made her smile. But what did a date entail?
So much—changes to the calendar, plans for gifts and where and what and how will we surprise her? Exhausting, huge thoughts that she didn't want to carry until tomorrow. But a date also entailed being seen.
...She'd gone much too long without talking, she realized. They arrived at black wrought-iron gate of the elevator. Madeleine gingerly bent her knees and let Angelina stand in front of her. As they rose, she draped her arms over her shoulders, kissing the back of her neck, and then the crown of her head.
"You know, Ange. In our business, it can be smart to appear single. You know, all those men in the audience. If they can imagine, crazily, they have a chance—they can become so delightfully dedicated..."
There were other considerations, too, which Madeleine did not mention. It was ... difficult to express, but Angelina simply did not fit the brand. The rebellious clothes, the unsophisticated diction. The table manners.
"Anyway, my week's full next week regardless. Perhaps a conversation for...after our weekend? After we've had some time to rest and. Enjoy each other."