Do you not understand? Even now, do you not understand? Jade’s idol is a distant concern in a moment like this. Here and now, she is capable of imbuing herself in the moment, drinking it all in through Dolly’s perceptions. What she sees, how she hears, what she feels. Because it is all translated through Dolly’s experience via the memory circuit sleeve, she doesn’t have to worry about having to translate the raw data from Dolly’s eyes into something comprehensible. Her bride’s brain does that all on her own.

Dolly’s a little nervous. She feels somewhat out of place; the nervous energy she’s keeping tamped down is translated through the sleeve, too. She’s inserted herself into a situation decisively, but now all she has to do is to stay out of Ksharta Talonna’s way while she works. She can’t grab a data pad and check the local news networks casually, or even strike up a casual conversation with the chefs; she can’t recede back into the background and curl up in a blanket with a hot beverage by her side.

“Take a seat, Dolly,” Jade instructs. Dolly looks around, then approaches one of the nearest two-person table-and-chair sets, close to the kitchen and easily removable for events in the hall. “You don’t have to drag it over,” she adds, as Dolly picks it up. “Go ahead and sit down… and then help Angela Victoria Miera Antonius to her knees.”

Running her fingers through Angela Victoria Miera Antonius’s hair is a power play in more than one way. It shows casual familiarity, and more than that, it’s treating Angela Victoria Miera Antonius like a kitten, just like Ksharta Talonna. But it’s also making Dolly happy, even as Angela Victoria Miera Antonius flushes. Her fingers linger as she traces the curls, round and round. Her heartrate increases, and a purr threatens to rumble out of her throat.

“Even her.” Jade sits on the table, feet in Dolly’s lap, kneading slowly. “I give you even her. Don’t you like my present, my bride?”

[i]”I do,” Dolly says out loud, and drags her nails lightly up the back of Angela’s head, sending a shiver down the giantess’s spine.[/i]

“She’s all yours,” Jade says, with feigned casualness. “Because you’ve been a very good girl, Dolly.” She cups Dolly’s jaw, rubs her thumb along that soft, beautiful face. Full. Rounded. Like the moon. Rich, lush, feminine— hers. Her Dolly.

Flawless.

“…you could pull her top open and no one here could stop you,” she adds, and feels the blood rushing to Dolly’s cheek, and imagines the warmth under her hand. “Because you represent [i]me.[/i] What if I wanted her shown off, hmm?”

She won’t. But she wants Dolly to imagine it. The shared embarrassment, the rush of power, the [i]noises[/i] that Angela would make.

“What if I want [i]you[/i] shown off?”

[i]Angela makes a muffled whine as Dolly’s fingers tug her head back, expose her collared neck, as Dolly looks away and tries to hide half her face behind her hand. “You wouldn’t,” she hisses. “Not… here!”[/i]

“Only because the thought only mildly entertains me,” Jade says, tail swishing in delight at seeing her Dolly like this. “That is all. If that were to change… if I were to order you to expose my slaves’ boundless beauty… would you~?”

[i]Dolly’s nod into her own hand is tiny. Blood thumps through her ears. Angela’s head is resting against her thigh, tugged in close— when did she…? Every breath, she’s hyperaware of her own top, of her own shape, and of Jade’s fingers and palm against her jaw. Her goddess’s faint smirk is inscrutable.[/i]

“But what I want instead from you, my flower, my delight…” Jade rests her thumb on Dolly’s lower lip and exerts phantom pressure, and Dolly opens her mouth helplessly. “Is to give Angela Victoria Miera Antonius kisses. On her head. In front of everyone. Because she’s being such a good girl. Just like you. Just like my Dolly. Be sure to squish her cheeks, remind her how full they are~”

[i]And Dolly doesn’t even think of saying no.[/i]