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Reply To: Michelle Bubble’s Exit Interview

Michelle Bubbles

I tremble ever so slightly as he silently gets up, hearing his heavy steps even while he doesn’t say anything. His much bigger, taller presence in my space, of corse I don’t dare step back or protest, I am well trained. He grabs and lifts slightly the hem of my dress, gently but making sure his thick, muscular arm gets in my field of view. And he tells me I messed up, and how stupid I am.


It wasn’t a question, so I stay silent as he walks back to the chair, unmoving. My breath just a little bit quicker, but I am used to this. 9 times out of 10, they find an excuse to punish and belittle us. This is just par for the course. His next line about the preferences of each dominant… and the way he delivers it… oh, of course. He meant HIS favorite outfit.


I give a soft little whimper and I stiffen when he delivers the punishment, even at level 1 it is always so horrible. Not because it is painful, in truth, it is not even THAt painful. Not even the higher levels. No, the most horrible thing about the belt’s punishment has always been its invasiveness, how it violates your most private place, owning it, reminding you even an object has more control over your life than you, and whoever controls that controls you. Plus, the way the pain, even if it’s more a discomfort at this level, is absolutely and totally inescapable, unexpected, and sudden… I shiver with relief once it’s over, even at this low setting, while he explains what he meant, and orders me to go get changed into my skimpiest academy uniform. In hindsight… I would have still come here like this, if I had thought of that before. Well, for once I did not know his favorite was school girls, so I would have still been punished in the bunny outfit. Second, well, I have no doubt that if I did show up in my skimpiest schoolgirl outfit his comment would have been ‘oh, so that’s your favorite outfit?’ or some other bullshit like that. And then I would have had to parade around in that every time I am ordered to use my favorite outfit.


Of course, my experienced face only shows confusion and remorse at having misinterpreted his orders, while I drop into a hurried curtsey.


“Y-yes Sir, I’m sorry Sir, I’ll be back right away!”


I stutter, before hurrying out of the room, heels clicking away on the hard floor.


10 minutes later, I come back into the room, and perform yet another subservient curtsey for him, now blushing a bit harder with much more skin exposed, my breasts in fact basically completely exposed as I wear only a transparent white lace bra with holes, even, over them.



“I’m ready Sir, so sorry to keep you waiting Sir!”


((OOC: The outfit is like the one in the photo, but without the black bra))


My name is Michelle Bubbles and I do what I am told

"How may I serve you today, Master? Send me a message with your orders and I will obey!"

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