The Contest

It was quite clear, now that she mentioned it. I smiled at the thought. Cunning scheme. My thoughts had dwelled on the possibility that Magdalene was not at all the submissive character that she had claimed to be but rather a shrewd dominatrix and that the contest was a test to find a slave rather than a Master. But I now understood that she liked to switch; the sight of Peter and Matthew provided ample proof of her dominating side whereas her testimony that she had yearned to take Mary's place was an indication of her submissive side. Magdalene continued her narrative:

"By now, I think you can all agree that I have managed to appoint not one, but three winners; all of you have been offered and, I hope, accepted your respective positions in the 'household'. Peter and Matthew have proved adorable slaves – quite attentive to my every desire."

She looked at me and raised an eyebrow.

"So, what will it be?"

I was apparently the only one that still had not formally accepted a position.

There was no doubt in my mind. My voice was stern – commanding:

"So, what will it be, MASTER!"

Magdalene bowed and lowered her voice.

"So, what will it be, Master?"

Although she tried to disguise it, I could see that she was smiling. I had found heaven.

We all lived happily ever after.

*

Certification: No subs or Doms or ostriches were hurt – uhm, that is, seriously injured – in the process of making this story, nor was any glass shattered when the song Waltzing Isabelle was sang.