Tiny Coercive Ch. 03

With her head spinning in a dizzying state of joy, she covered her eyes with both hands choking down the tears and then spreading her arms soared like a bird, curtsied again, unseen in the dark, bowing nearly to the floor, in deference to her new status: Olivia, servant wife.

She rose, slowly lowering her wings and mentally landed. Raising her wings again she flew very slowly to the landing, into the moonlight created by a full moon in the night sky. She was startled for a moment, catching her profile in a floor length mirror and lowered her wings. Her breasts, rare the madam had said and fascinated the master as he fondled them. Her behind much too large she's always thought, the madam and the master almost mesmerised groping and fondling it, though also the center of pain she was slowly trying to love.

She faced the mirror assuming the stance demanded. She had always been told her face was pretty, now her entire body was beautiful, very beautiful. She smiled at herself and felt her `rare' breasts, careful not to hide the nipples; she held her `waspy waist' and caressed her `curvaceous hips' and then fingered the thigh creases catching a few curls. She stroked her shapely thighs, 'thick sculptured' the madam had said; a subject of ridicule in the village because of the way she walked. No one laughed at her now; she was appreciated and loved for her beauty like only the prince of her dreams had done in the past.

The moon light flooding through a hallway window illuminated the landing and some steps with a misty glow; casting weird shadows off the banister and spindles the way only `her' moon knew how. Any other time such a setting would have been a ghostly nightmare but tonight, a good omen, a fairytale setting celebrating her wedded status. Her feet kissed each step at a dreamy slow pace, befitting the beautiful new lady of the house. Before every kiss, as her knee flexed to the limit, and an opposite tiny foot, toed for the tread; her groin stretched wide, revisiting the tenderness in her vagina; a satisfying reminder of its flesh and blood cause, her badge of honor.

Reaching the dark foyer; she felt her way to and through that long hallway, so scary three weeks ago, when she bashfully avoided her madam's rolling cheeks; into the moonlit kitchen, home to an indoor pump and servants' bells and where licking sex became indelibly tongued into her memory.

Then at last her safe haven, the pitch-dark pantry, where she'd been coerced naked, caned and groped, that first terrifying day; but now, reborn in a new life and just married, she cuddled up in the arms of her mentor-lover, cooing and warmly kissing her Sandra, her now sister-servant-wife.

The End

Reavan