Submissionette 01: Slaves & Novices

When Mirabella tried to say another word, Olive put a finger on her lips and shushed her. "Not a one more until the morning. You must rest, girl. Simply because I was hard on you does not mean I don't think you deserve... And, because I was hard on you—well, you can thank proper me in the morning."

Olive pulled Mirabella's ruined dress from under her body, folded it and laid it on the floor beside the bed. Next, she helped Mirabella onto her side and under the covers.

Mirabella had started today lying in bed, wrapped in linens, worrying about the outcome of her first submission. Having survived that submission, she was ending it similarly, with the lone exception that what she was worrying about was something she couldn't identify, yet that was far more frightening than any submission could ever be.

Thus, even when Olive left, Mirabella couldn't get the image of Blackmoth out of her head. He remained ever present. It was as if he'd penetrated some part of her and implanted himself there, and his voice echoed round her skull: "We shall kill the king, we shall kill the king, we shall kill the king..."

As she fell asleep, of two things she were certain. In the morning, she would be proclaimed a Submissionette. And at no time would she tell anyone about what Blackmoth had told her. The path was branching. She had made her choice.