Jane smiled with satisfaction on viewing her arrogant elder daughter bring tears from Bella as her hand brought a rosy warmth to the exquisitely formed feminine shape which lay submissively across the haughty girl’s lap; the hormone treatment was working better than she or any of her feminist friends could have imagined.Bella was of an acceptable age now; Jane would soon be inviting some prominent middle-aged males to the circle; Bella would be shortly be used to entertain them, she intended selling her to the highest bidder when the time came.Now Bella had come of age she was no longer simply dressed in pink frilly dresses; though she was still paraded on a Sunday in such attire the girls, with Jane’s full approval, would often show off Bella’s feminine beauty with more slutty outfits. Her hair had grown long and soft and was oft tied in a pony-tail now; she was adorned with black stockings and stilettos, a tight short skirt which accentuated her now perfect round bottom, tight. If I break any rules, I tell him, I always tell him. I’m woken by a snap. No…a click. The door closing. I sit up in position, abandoning my blanket and sitting straight up, my feet beneath me, knees in front, then spread, my hands on the floor, and tits pushed out. Looking down at the floor. I’m getting wet… I can hear him moving, I mustn’t feet, not until I am signaled to do so. He doesn’t speak either, he usually uses body language, or signals to communicate with me. He speaks now and then, particularly if I’m really good – or really bad…I can’t look at him either, not his eyes. I’m not worthy. I will look at him if he asks me to, but not unless that happens. I watch his feet approach me, and stop infront of me briefly, his eyes burning into me. He then picked up my bowls and washes them, before returning to put the blanket in the washing machine. My nipples harden, and goose-pimples cover my body from the…cold? Anticipation? But I do not moan, I do not shiver, I do not dare look.
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