And ready or not, I had made my choice. “Slave Margaret, are you you ready to begin?”“Yes, Master Paul.” She assumed a subservient position, ...n her feet, but head down, arms behind her back, fingers laced. I walked slowly around her, eyes studying her, seeking out every mark or mole on her smooth skin. I wanted to know her, each curve, each depression, everything that might offer myself a clue to how to push and use her. I walked behind her, and reached out to unzip he dress and unclinch it.. I look like a nightmare. Her dark brown hair looked black and practically stood on end, the effect of wallowing in her grief all day, and even though she had restrained most of her tears, her eyes looked puffy and red. She rubbed her hands over her face, running her fingers through her hair before adjusting her twisted pajama top. Shower. Breakfast. Hair. Make-up. Shower. Breakfast. Hair. Make-up. Repeating the mantra in her mind, Violet made her way into the shower after brushing her teeth. More

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