I was unsure of whether to step into it and pull it up, like a pairof pants, or to pull it down over my head like a shirt. I didn't want todo anything...wrong, for fear that it wouldn't work. I decided to step intoit, since it was a one-shoulder gown, and I wasn't sure I'd be able tosqueeze the whole thing down past both shoulders without tearing it.The fabric felt incredible against my legs, like nothing I'd ever wornbefore. The robes I'd worn when my parents forced me to join the churchchoir. He never commanded her to do anything, never raised his voice. It felt like she was being taken and led along a journey. A journey she knew she wanted to undertake but didn't know how. It was just two weeks ago that she finally took the box and disposed of it. Her 'bitch' toys as he called them. The black collar with the diamond shaped stud. The pink and red tails that she had made her make out of thin silk, the belt she would wear around her waist whenever he dressed her up as a doggy bitch to. More

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