Welcome to the temple of a sanctified bunny doll where it explores itself and what it adores. This temple is not open to the youth, minors may not interact with the sacrificial doll.
Upon the altar, you are gazing upon the body of Xerxes/Stitches or whatever name the sacrifice prefers on that day. It is a twenty-year-old doll, who identifies as a nonbinary - riddled with xenogenders.
Below is more information about the bunny, please take your time to read it all over.
Book I.I - Addressing the Doll
The doll goes by It/They/He alongside neopronouns, do not fear asking it what they are. It is a polyamorous vincian; it loves men.
Do not address it as female, though feminine terms are fine.
It will block those who bring it displeasure.
Book I.II - Pleasing the Doll
♡ The doll likes and is exploring
Asphyxiation, Biting, Blindfolding, Blood play, Bondage, Breeding, Cannibalism, CNC (Intoxication, Kidnapping), Cockwarming, Cock and Ball Torture, Creampie, Cucking, Cunnilingus, Dehumanization, Divine Kink, Exhibitionism, Financial Domination, Free Use, Group sex, Hands, Hosiery, Impact play, Knife play, Knight Kink, Marking, Medical play, Pet play, Praise (especially with divine praise), Objectification, Omorashi, Oral, Sounding, Sugaring, Teratophilia, Voyeurism, Worship (of the doll and cock)
♡ It likes being called
Bunny/Bunny Boy, Pretty Boy, Pet, Angel, Brat, (Your) Lord, Kitten/Kitty, Little Fox, Prince, His Majesty, Squire
Lay upon the angel's altar as it carves you open. Let your prone flesh unzip for your angel as it's just so curious to see how you work within. It'll glide a blade up your torso, prying the flesh and pinning it down on the table. You're a butterfly, you just needed your angel's help breaking free from your cocoon. You're such a good vessel for your angel. They'll enjoy exploring the things your flesh hides from them.
I'm bound up in my sleep, gagged as to keep me from screaming when I awake from the way I shift around in the trunk of a spirit's vehicle. I slide side to side in pure darkness — hidden just out of view of the humans around us. The ride is long and terrifying as my poltergeist knows I'm petrified of things I cannot see.
But soon, I'm freed from my cage.
The restraints are tight and push into the my skin as I'm lifted up and tightens with each movement. I jump when the trunk is slammed and while I'm dragged across the ground to somewhere shivering cold; stones gather up in my sleeping gown, tangling in the lace and slipping into the slippers hastily thrown on my feet. It's the haunting ground of my ghost: its location hidden from me. I feel the feeling of stairs pushing into my back as it pulls me up them, whispering gentle affirmations to me.
« Just a little further, my angel, you'll enjoy it. »
« Does it hurt ? I'm sorry, but you'll need to endure it for just a bit longer. »
Until I hear the relieving
« Here we go, this is good. »
But I'm not freed from my restraints, only loosened enough to encourage me to struggle and fight against them. I have to free myself without my darling poltergeist's help and, when I am free, they're gone. Off to haunt.
Banging. Hurried footsteps. Whispers. Laughter. All leading me through the abandoned building my ghost chooses to call their "spot". Through the moonlight I have to guide myself around, following their clues. My flesh trembles. From their frigid location and the ways they play at my fears, calling for me from unseen locations. Their voice is my solace - my lantern shining in the darkness.
« Angel~ I'm right here. »
I run into an empty room, looking around for their visage. Nothing.
« What a stupid little bunny. Over here, angel. »
Room after room until I'm lost before the final room has a shape in the darkness, bright eyes staring at me with a hunger. A hunger that terrifies me. Like the prey animal I am, I turn tail and run from them — the sound of footsteps and my quick, wispy breaths filling the once dead air around us. My footsteps are accompanied by their own, outpacing me easily. Before a scream can escape my maw, it's covered, and my throat feels pressure from the hand of my poltergeist. They lay me on the ground, digging their claws into my cheeks, and begin to haunt my flesh. Flesh that's rightfully theirs.
Sometimes, the sacrificial doll wonders if there's beings out there who will one day take care of it as it deserves. It's been used to caretake and appease others yet that is not what it was made for; it was created to be submissive and small for another being and to take control when it chooses to.
When does it deserve to be meek and needy, to be showered in gifts and love by its beloved followers.
here we have a classic example of a submissive speaking in their native tongue. this particular phrase translates roughly to "that was really hot, please keep talking to me like that"
I want to kneel between somebody’s legs and go completely dumb for them, letting their hands in my hair and their soft, sweet words guide my every movement.
If a doll could be just whisked away and taken care of,,
I would love to wait patiently at the door or in a case for my owner — whether that be a creature living or from beyond. Perhaps they would have dressed me up as their precious, ravenous bunny and I would thump around their home, annoyed that they'd ever leave me alone.
All one craves is to be spoiled,, to have the little humanity one has left stripped away so that one may forever be a beloved doll.
Oh, sweet sweet doll, let me fill so much more than just your fragile mind. Let me fill your body to the brim until I control every move you make. Give yourself up to my possession. That’s how it’s supposed to be. A doll is meant to be pliable, and Angel, I promise I will take such good care of you.
-Your darling ghost
Would one be believed if it said it was at a loss for words ? One spent many days stunned and scrambling at anything to respond with; but its head is filled with nothing with air and the desire to become fully possessed by you, My darling Ghost.
Somehow, you know just the right words to make a doll feel so lifeless.
As a ghost, dolls like you always make me feel some type of way. Like, please let me fill up your empty vessel with my essence. It's just meant to be that way.
This is quite a devilish message, and I shouldn't have opened it so late at night. My fragile, pure mind was filled with such terribly haunting thoughts, and I found myself possessed by your words.
Oh, darling ghost, why must you haunt me from so far away ?
Is it so wrong for a doll to desire a spirit to haunt its flesh? My fragile body was made to be possessed, to lose control of myself completely and give that power up to my poltergeist.
Oh, my spirit, does my vessel entice you?
Please, take it as your own and make us one.
