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Morning Routine at the Mansion of My Misstress

My eyes open with the gentle humming of my small alarm clock. I quickly shut it off so as not to disturb anyone else in the room. Its 4:30am, well before light creeps into the day and the room is now pitch black. Very quietly I rise up on my hands and knees and crawl off of the small doggy bed on the floor next to the big bed. It‘s embroidered with my name “Heather” in pink because it’s my bed and I’m the pet of my Mistress.

I’m silent when I move because I have done this so many times before. On all fours I make my way to the master bathroom and gently close the door behind me. I then stand up and turn the light on. The refection in the mirror still gives me goosebumps each morning. Staring back at me is a soft and feminine woman. Not necessarily gorgeous but definitely considered pretty by most and with a look that screams “I want to please.” Very long and meticulously maintained wavy brunette hair and eyebrows that are expertly trimmed adorn this image. I am just over five feet seven inches tall and I now weigh in at an astonishing 134 lbs with a substantial portion of that weight distributed to my rounded hips and D cup breasts. A far cry from what seems like a past life.

I begin my morning routine as I always do by removing the night time outfit that I slept in so that it can be hand washed later on with all of the other delicates. Last night it was a hot pink charmeuse fly-away babydoll with lace trimmed cups and a bow in between them along with a matching pair of string bikini panties. I almost always get the privilege of sleeping in something soft like satin or silk or a delicate lace. Only when Mistress is punishing me or has plans that require a specific wardrobe does it change. I then turn the shower on very hot and shave what little hair may be on my body. I am naturally very hairless and my cock, or clitty as Mistress calls it is very small with a length of only about three inches when fully aroused. This is one of the main reasons that I am in this position now, living the way that I do. I could never have been considered a real man. Feeling humiliated about it from my early teen years cemented my submissive nature.

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