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I put on my slippers and robe to go downstairs. I saw my mother finishing up for dinner. I had some soup and a tall glass of milk. The soup made my tummy feel all warm inside. After dinner, I learned a few minor things about my mannerisms. Later that evening, I mastered everything so far. I was beginning to learn how to sew, when my mother told me it was bedtime. I went upstairs and brushed my teeth. My mother brushed my hair some more that evening before I went to bed. She tucked me in, and I was surprisingly tired, considering the nap. She sat down next to me and talked to me sweetly. "I am so proud of you, dearie. You performed excellent at your new status. I have no doubts that you will become my beautiful daughter. I will wake you up early for church tomorrow. You will look your best, tomorrow, in your pretty new dress. After church, we'll go for a walk in the park. How about that?" I smiled to her. She kissed me on the forehead and left the room. I fell. “Try to wake up, Honey,” she heard her frightened voice, husky as it broke the silence.Was she still asleep and dreaming or the tragic victim of some form of paralysis which had taken to her limbs during sleep? She tried to shake the remaining sleep from her mind and assess her situation. Could she shout for help? Or perhaps, if she put all her efforts into moving, she might reach her phone.A palm slid up her leg and made her flesh quiver and jump. She gasped, thrashing her head to try to see who the palm belonged to. She could see nothing in the pitch dark, could only feel that hand stroking higher and higher on her thigh. She groaned, suddenly aware of the rest of her body, still aroused, no, more aroused, aching. She was acutely aware of the slick wetness that coated her pussy and painted her thighs.Then she was wrenched by the terror that she was not alone, and she struggled against what could only be bonds. She was tied to the bed and blindfolded, she realised, and she was.
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