The visit came to an end, and Mistress Emily left without a word ofgoodbye to the little maid. The next day, Petronella was summoned to thebasement and at last the gag and the earplugs were removed. She was alsodirected to connect herself to the breast fluid machine, and was pleasedto feel herself growing. Her breasts weren't as large as they had beenbefore her infraction, but they jiggled nicely and it was comforting toknow she was no longer in disgrace.Two weeks later, the maid was called into the drawing room, where she wasconfronted once again by the two ladies."Mistress Emily has some questions for you," was all that was offered byway of an explanation. The questioning began."Were you once known as Lord Mandrake?"Petronella winced. "... yes, Ma'am." Then you remember me?"Petronella kept her gaze on the tips of her boots. "Yes Ma'am." Lord Mandrake was a Dominant."Petronella said nothing."Well?" Mistress Emily demanded.Petronella floundered. "Yes, Ma'am." So how is it that you are. Younger, it must be said because everything counts and nothing does. Lovely and perfect regardless.The tent lies ahead, reaching into the sky, circusy and colourful, striped, slanted, big. The edges turned up slightly, bulging down and arcing up, water collected in the distended material, water balloons sighing with envy. She glances back at me, catching my gaze for a second. Something glistens in her eye slightly, from the rain probably; but maybe not. My breath catches slightly in my throat. Not the rain.The bench she leads me to is covered by the tent, but only barely. Wind shifts and rain blows in sideways and up and down and we sit there. Staring at each other. Saying little. She makes this expression. As hard to describe as she is. For what adjectives run together to make a person like her. It's sad, hangdog, heartbreaking. I have no idea why. Or what it means. Or what I should do. All I want to do is kiss her. Instead I smile at her, laugh, coward that I am.Her normal face is.
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