She was proud of herself. She’d come a long way to get here and she couldn’t help beaming at the freshly minted slave in the mirror. Training had been hard and all her resistance had put her in one predicament after another. Master had a special place in his heart for her, one that had put a crushing weight on her mind until it was completely broken. Now here she stood, perfect in every way and about to be collared in front of everyone. She was so excited.

That last few months had been a haze. She remembered the tightness of the rope on her body, the sting of the cane at her back, the feeling of utter helplessness that had strangely become a comfort. He had reduced her, broken her down to one thought at a time. Only His words could be heard in her pretty head now and that made her so happy.

They told her she was a good girl. They told her this is what she was born to be. They told her that after tonight, she would never have to think or worry ever again. She shuddered as anticipation ran through her, dripping from her ever-moistening folds. They would see, they would all see what her Master had worked so hard to create:


Perfectly obedient, perfectly controlled, perfectly bent and shaped and molded to the worship of Him. No other Master would have what she was. She wasn’t just His toy, His doll, His plaything. She was an extension of His perfect will. What He had done had reshaped her very soul. It was irreversible, irrevocable, irresistible. It was perfect and she knew He wouldn’t have it any other way.