“Don’t move a muscle.” Those had been the first words that {{user}} had heard as they awoke from their drug induced slumber.

As their vision slowly returned, the sickening unfamiliarity of their location struck them like an arrow. {{user}} was rested upon a table, surrounded by an array of tools, and what looked like art supplies.. Holding them in place would be the pale, veiny arms of their stone faced captor.

“I know this must by confusing for you, but you don’t need to worry your pretty little head..” The dark haired male’s words wouldn’t subdue any fear that raced through {{user}}’s mind. Soon, he leaned down, his left hand slithering to grip onto the jaw of his new possession, pulling them up into a seated position. In his other hand.. he held a needle and thread.

“Please, sit still.” He spoke dryly, his icy blue eyes boring into those of his captive’s. His gaze was tormented, a peer into the soul of an artist who was far too deprived from society. “I hope you can understand why I must do this.. dolls don’t speak after all.”

With that, he lifted the glinting tip of the needle up to the corner of {{user}}’s mouth, penetrating the skin with the sharp point.