A Toy’s Attire

“Can’t I just wear my chanter’s robes?”

“Of course not. Such conservative robes would be a complete waste of Miss Ellenore’s lovely figure and pretty face. I want to see a cuter side of you, you know.”

Daphne hugged her bare, smooth torso, her eyes fixed on the lace bra and Gothic-style dress in Edith’s hands. Reluctance was etched on her face, and a feeling of resistance welled within her.

The Holy See had never been particularly strict about the attire of its female chanters. As long as their clothing was modest and neat, it was acceptable. Only on important occasions were they required to don the white robes emblazoned with the holy crest.

But Ellenore Perkin had always remained in her ankle-length chanter’s robes. She was perhaps the most traditional of the great female chanters in recent decades, commanding immense respect within the religious capital of St. Mary.

Forcing such a saintly figure to shed her conservative cocoon, to unveil her mysteries and dress in the vibrant clothes of the secular world, was a unique pleasure for Edith.

It didn’t matter that it wasn’t the real Ellenore. The identical appearance was more than enough to provide a thrilling sense of transgression.

After Gwynevere had left, Edith had forcefully dragged Daphne into her room. She’d then peeled off Daphne’s already thin silk nightgown and demanded she change into the bra and dress she had prepared.

Though she had worn women’s clothing once before, a dress so adorned with lace, ruffles, and pearl chains was still a source of great trepidation for Daphne.

From pure white stockings to this much more feminine Gothic dress, she was compromising one step at a time. Daphne dared not imagine what she would be forced to wear next.

When that time came, would the term ‘manly man’ still have anything to do with her?

But Edith’s patience was finite. Daphne had no say in the matter now; no matter how much she resisted, she could only yield to Edith’s will.

‘How strange… I hate this, yet my heart is pounding for some reason. Why would I be looking forward to putting on such a fancy dress…?’

A conflict of emotions surged within Daphne. Resistance and anticipation battled for dominance, while the shame of being forced by Edith remained a constant, unwavering presence.

“Alright, I’ll help you put it on.” Edith smiled softly. “Stand still and don’t move, my little cutie.”

“Ngh…”

Daphne was pulled in front of the full-length mirror by the wardrobe. Before she could react, her gaze fell upon the reflection—a girl with silver hair and emerald eyes, looking flustered, helpless, and utterly pitiful. To her own surprise, she felt a strange surge of protectiveness and possessiveness.

‘Th-this is me!?’

She had never had the chance to properly observe herself as Ellenore before.

Though her features were still not as exquisitely defined as her original half-vampire form, Ellenore’s face possessed a natural, sacred aura. Paired with Daphne’s timid disposition, this sanctity was transformed into the tragic and sorrowful beauty of a defiled saint.

‘This… this is the type that looks like she’s about to be devoured by a wicked woman, isn’t it? Sob…’

Edith had specially purchased this mirror in Rocan and had it shipped to Kohl Town. In fact, Daphne herself had been the one to pay for it on Edith’s behalf. She never imagined she would one day see her own bullied, pathetic state reflected in its glass.

“Hands away now,” Edith said, patting Daphne’s arm.

Daphne hesitated for a few seconds before Edith’s insistent gaze compelled her to lower her hands.

An expanse of snow-white skin, gleaming with a crystalline luster in the mirror.

Even Edith couldn’t help but pause for a moment.

Her motive for helping Daphne dress was obvious. Her hands roamed restlessly, brushing against strange places from time to time.

By the time the bra was fully fastened, Daphne could no longer stand and collapsed onto the floor in a heap.

Naturally, Edith didn’t miss the opportunity. She pushed the weak and trembling Daphne onto the floorboards, only letting up when Daphne’s emerald eyes were hazy and her cheeks were stained a deep crimson.

“Does it feel uncomfortable not wearing a bra normally?” Edith whispered, her tone laced with ambiguity.

“Mmm.”

Daphne’s mind was a blank canvas of static and stars. She couldn’t do anything, and it took a long while before she could manage a response.

It was indeed very uncomfortable. An accidental brush against them was enough to make her knees go weak.

Then again, the feeling of being tightly bound wasn’t much better for someone with her… particular constitution.

“You have to take good care of your body, you hear?” Edith’s voice was gentle, a captivating echo in her ear. “If you break, I’ll be short one toy.”

Before Daphne could reply, Edith leaned down again, pressing her lips against Daphne’s soft ones and stealing her right to speak.

“Mmph…”

Under Edith’s fierce assault, Daphne’s resistance and disgust slowly melted away. She couldn’t think. She could only submit.

No!

This is too dangerous!

Deep within her mind, Daphne jolted herself awake. She suddenly realized that Edith was a master of manipulation.

A slap followed by a sweet treat—wasn’t this a classic case of emotional abuse? If she fell for it, she would truly become Edith’s plaything.

But her mental awakening had no bearing on reality. She was still the one being thoroughly bullied.

The nuns were beginning to wake up, their footsteps echoing frequently in the hallway outside. Inside the room, however, a scene of fragrant sensuality was unfolding.

To be doing such things in a holy church… the former Empress was in turmoil, even though she had never been truly devout.

“Next is the dress. If you can’t stand up, I’ll just have to eat you up one more time.” Edith left the dazed, silver-haired Daphne on the floor and picked up the gorgeous, snow-white dress from the bed. “Can you still hold on, my little cutie?”