The work of a Mistress

Being a **** is a luxury. We are given a blessed simplicity. Gone are the grey areas. All doubt evaporates as the heat of trust boils away the sludge of society. That disgusting thin film that covers everything with niceness and politeness and fear.

Only a true **** can breath freely. It might seem like a paradox, until you try it.

"You should try it. (I know you want to.)"

She had been almost right. It wasn't something that I wanted, it wasn't even something that I needed ─ a **** is what I am.

When Mistress F instructed Stacey and I to prepare for Inspection we both knew what that entailed. Training prepares you so that you don't have the burden of thinking. All clothes are removed and folded and stacked as they are removed. Jewellery and watches are removed last of all. For a free person it might seem confusing that Stacey kept her wig on, but for us it was obvious that she should keep it on: Mistress F had specifically asked why she wasn't wearing it, which meant that it was Mistress F's will that Stacey wear her hair.

Similarly a free person might notice the shiny tiny metal that encased Stacey's little clitty and wonder why she didn't remove that jewellery ─ But as a **** the distinction between jewellery and cage is as obvious as a cast iron bridge and all of the rest of a river. (You can use the bridge, but we wouldn't try to walk on water unless our Mistress commanded it.) Clarity is such a gift.

Being taller my gaze was fixed on Stacey's fringe, (her "bangs".) She hadn't a mirror while she was putting on her wig so it wasn't exactly level. I knew instantly that Mistress F would be offering guidance on that point during Inspection.

Even with my eyes fixed I could see that Stacey's hair reached down to her navel, (or would have if her belly didn't part the ends like a diva arriving on stage.)

"This is Inspection," explained Mistress F to Miss Summer. Follow me so that you can see how it is performed.

I could hear Mistress F rise from the chair and help Miss Summer to her feet. I noticed that the sound of cleaning from above continued but was now much slower, but still rhythmical. I could feel my body falling back into the comfort of slavery all on its own.

"This is **** Stacey. She has been naughty and requires correction. You should make contact." Mistress swatted Stacey's ass with her open hand. "That lets the **** know that the Inspection has begun, so that she can be on her best behaviour."

Miss Summer slurred a question, "Buuu Stazees a man?" Mistress F laughed her beautiful laugh.

"Oh no darling, she is very much a girl. Not exactly the same as when you were young, but she is still just as much a girl. Don't let her exterior distract you. If I flayed her skin from her body, the inside would be entirely girl, as is her mind."

Miss Summer's mind was still processing, "but if you removed her skin, she still wouldn't have a womb."

Mistress smiled patronisingly, "and how many girls have you inspected for a womb?"

"Well, none, obviously, but I know they have one."

"That's your error! You presume that they have one, and in most cases you would be correct but not all cases. Stacey probably doesn't have a womb ─ and I'm sure there are nights when that idea brings her great sadness. Respond." "Yes Mistress my inability to become pregnant sometimes makes me almost as unhappy as the idea of disobeying you."

Good clean full sentence ─ Stacey was clearly indulged with exemplary training from a generous Mistress.

"Stacey, tell Miss Summer why you are a girl." "I have always been a girl. Every aspect of my life tells me that I'm a girl. I can just feel it. When I think of men and boys as a group I know that I am not in that group. When I think of myself and other girls I feel our unity, the things that we have in common, our desires, our needs, our wants, our challenges, our fears, our..."

"Enough." Mistress cut her off like lifting the needle from a record. Stacey swallowed and adjusted her arms. If her back and neck muscles were burning as much as mine, that made sense. I could feel my hands becoming cold from the reduced blood flow and keeping my elbows out to the side was causing them to begin to shake.

"Miss Summer tell Stacey that she is a naughty girl."

"Stacey you're a naughty girl."

"you. are." corrected Mistress F. "Try again."

"You are a naughty girl."

"Full sentences avoid ambiguity. We have to remember how simple a ****'s world is. You have to tell which **** you are admonishing. Again!"

"**** Stacey, you are a naughty girl."

"Good. Now repeat but put the emphasis on the first word."

"**** Stacey you are a naughty girl."

"Good. Now repeat with the emphasis on the second word."

"**** Stacey you are a naughty girl."

"Can you feel the difference?" Mistress asked Miss Summer.

"Yes."

"Continue, placing the emphasis on each word in turn. Search for which is the most appropriate. Watch her to see which causes her to react. You have to pay close attention to her body because her reaction may be as tiny as her clit."

Miss Summer continued this game until she reached "you are a naughty girl." and that was when she saw me. Did she realise that Stacey wasn't the only naughty girl? Had Miss Summer been naughty? How much of this felt like a dream to her and how much like a nightmare?