I’m standing underneath the staircase at Waverley Station, scanning the crowd filtering through the passenger gates. We’ve never met before, but I spot my doll immediately. I’d said I’d wait in the concourse, so I go unnoticed as I walk up behind and put my hand on its shoulder. Surprise and shock flash across the turning face, softening as my face comes into focus. I lean in, and whisper ten words: “follow on my left, eyes down, speak when spoken to”. It obeys.
There’s only a short walk to the cafe I’ve chosen, but I can feel the nervousness radiating as it follows demurely beside me. Besides the first moment of eye contact, we see each other only in our peripheral vision, both distant and connected in a way nobody else can see. Each slow, casual step matched by its focused, shaky twin.
As we enter the cafe, and I request window seats from the staff, I can feel the burning embarrassment beside me as the doll fights its urge to speak; the invisible submission no less powerful for being hidden. It lays its hand on the back of the chair beside me, and after a moment, I give it permission to sit.
I allow the silence to hold for a minute, then greet it warmly. Slowly, relieved, it shyly meets my eyes and smiles. We check in, checking its comfortable with how the protocol has asserted itself, and is happy to continue. As we talk, it begins to lean in towards me, and I invite it to come closer. At times, I allow the conversation to lapse, watching passers-by through the window, or simply observing it sitting, still and calm.
The waitress comes over, and I order for both of us; tomato toast, granola, and a pot of tea. Again, the doll struggles against its social programming, before allowing itself to trust and submit to control. Once the food arrives, I swap our plates, deciding I prefer the option I chose for the doll. I pour out tea for both of us, and put a cup before my doll. After starting to eat, I allow it to watch and wait for a moment before giving permission to follow.
As we eat, I tell the doll what we’ll be doing for the rest of the day. There’s an art gallery across the road with an exhibition I want to see. We’ll go around it together, maintaining the protocol and dynamic, then I’ll take it somewhere private, for those things best kept away from prying eyes. It nods, first anxiously, then firmly, knowing the choice has been made for it. I hold its hand gently, resting on its thigh, then mine, and watch its eyes soften.
It’s wonderful simply observing my doll’s body language, confident submission contrasting with delicate vulnerability. Both relaxed and shy, embodied and floating, in the moment and somewhere else. Focused on moving slowly and gracefully, on making itself pleasing for me. Once finished, and satisfied, I permit it a trip to the bathroom to fix its plug, and we wander across to the gallery.
An art gallery is a wonderful place for power exchange. A piece of visual art is best consumed from several perspectives. Near and far. Examining the details then focusing on the whole. Choosing how much time to give a piece, and how quickly to move through the gallery. With our protocol and dynamic, our focus is also on each other. My doll must place itself in relation to me, follow my pace, sit with some pieces longer than it needs or leave others without fully exploring them.
I watch as it comes into its own, as distracting and enchanting as any of the pieces on the walls. Focused on obeying the protocol, considering whether its comments are worth asking permission to share, engaging with what I choose to bring it to at a deep and thorough level. At one point it begins to close up and leans in, looking for reassurance and comfort, so I take its hand as I would a child’s and begin leading it around the rest of the gallery.
Confidence and focus rush back in as I squeeze, standing straighter, breathing easier. I can feel its focus, even as it looks ahead, knowing it exists in relation to me. I show it different ways I can lead it; intertwining my fingers in a close, intimate hold, then letting go and holding its wrist. The last one has an obvious effect, letting it sink into itself, going to a more submissive headspace than I’ve seen so far.
I let it stay in that deep, intense headspace as I lead it back to the entrance. I guide its head up with a finger, and we gently kiss, sharing the soft intimacy of a quiet moment. I break away, holding eye contact, stroking its hair, and tell it that we’re going to a private place. It nods, excitement, nerves, and vulnerability flashing through its eyes. It takes its place by my side, and follows me out towards the unknown.