The thing about dolls, as opposed to other girls, is that if you have a series of dolls which are into you, you don't have a harem, you have a collection. All sitting so still and pretty for you, and all behaving themselves so very well.
You can take them down off their shelves and gently turn them over, taking them apart piece by piece and cleaning out their joints, brushing their hair aside, retouching their pretty features with a delicate hand and brush. Feel their cool porcelain under your fingers, brush against their sculpted neck. Leave soft kisses on their pretty little foreheads. You can position them at tea parties and watch them be ever so polite as you enjoy their company, and if they ever get out of line, you just don't play with them for a few days. A doll with a good owner is often desperate for her attention, and though they might step out of line once or twice, learning that doing so gets them ignored is usually enough to make them behave.
If a doll is very very good, as a treat, it may sit at the feet of it's owner's bed. Dolls don't need much sleep, of course, but they often appreciate being in the same room as one above them who is resting. It communicates trust in their obedience. The doll will not move for the full time its owner sleeps. And in the morning, when she has awoken, the doll will be there to obediently welcome her into the new day.
If a doll cracks, or becomes comely, it is taken to the workshop. The cracked part is pried apart by carefully gloved hands until it snaps completely, then a new part is fitted and soldered in place until the replacement becomes completely invisible and the doll is unbroken porcelain once again. Most dolls prefer to be sedated for this process. There are some who are well enough behaved so this is unnecessary, and they remain awake, though most occasionally whimper.
Not all of the dolls started as dolls. Many came in the form of living, breathing girls, or occasionally a girl who said she was a boy, only with a certain dulled light in their eyes and a certain stiffness in the way they walk. They are, of course, invited in and served the first hot meal many of them have had in months. They are given warm beds and waited on by the doll-servants, showered until the grease and grime of their travel has been washed from their soul as well as their skin. They are usually shy and respectful, keeping their eyes on the ground and speaking in soft voices as to not raise the ire of anyone. It is clear they are hungry, but they do not ask for seconds. They are served them anyways, and their protestations that they are imposing are ignored. If asked, they say they do not know why they came to the castle, only that they do, and that it would feel wrong to leave. By the time they wake up from their first rest the first patches of porcelain have begin to spread. They almost never mind. If they do, they usually are too polite to request help. If they do, they are always too polite to accept "There's nothing to be done," without question. After a week or two, they will sit quietly with the other dolls on the shelf, or quietly tend to the grounds. They are quiet and empty and happy, and they have learned to wind each other's clockwork springs.
