The chiseled chin and patrician's nose held no disdain for the girl, as they remained set, poised. The beautiful woman quietly watched from the interior of her home as the girl worked in the small rose garden in front of her home. Focusing on the delicate hands hard at work tugging weeds, the way her girl's eyes flashed in the early morning sunlight, the glint of energy that seemed to crackle in the fiery mane, all caught her attention as she stared.
Young and lovely, her slave had come to her needing little training. She was a gift from a male friend. The girl had been everything she had dreamed of and more. Sometimes, she would see her friend and thank him profusely for the gift. Now, as she watched the way her deft fingers tended the garden, she smiled again to herself, as always grateful. Patience marked the work her girl did for her.
Dressed in a candy apple red turtleneck with a loose fitting black jumper thrown over her, she knelt in the soft dirt. The skirt of the black jumper was cut to the specifications of her Mistress, short and innocent yet decent for out of doors use. The fiery red hair, kept long and straight also per her Mistress' wishes, was tugged into a ponytail, giving the illusion of youth to a greater degree. Actually, she was 24, but with a ponytail and the right clothes, the illusion was well kept and she looked much younger. It was how her Mistress wished her to appear.
As her Mistress watched, unknown to the busy garden slave, the girl brushed a loose tendril of hair out of her face and smudged a dark smirch on her nose. It was precious and only added to the youthful look. With dirt still clinging to her fingertips, she reached for the sleeve of one arm and pushed it up to cool off a bit. Horror filled her face as she realized she'd left black stains on the ring at the end of the sleeve. Looking up, she noticed too late she was being observed. The expression on the woman's face watching out the window had changed from gentle pleasantry to fierce disappointment.
Rising as if she heard a mental call, the girl quickly gathered the few tools and carried them to the side shed. Knowing it would be foolish to add insult to injury and forget another detail. After replacing the tools, she entered the side of the house so she would not track in mud. She left her shoes by the door and another dressier pair of black patent leather replaced them. The flounce of her red ruffled socks seemed to have lost its bounce, reflecting in some odd way the change in circumstance. Quickly, she scampered to the room where she knew Mistress would be waiting.
Dropping to all fours at the threshold to the door, she crawled silently to her Owner's feet. Pressing a demure kiss to the naked top of her foot, she did not even dare to lift her eyes. Instead, her dark eyes kept drifting to the sleeve of her shirt and she shuddered. In a moment of haste, she had likely ruined something Mistress had given her. She trembled in shame.
"The thing is, you know better, girl," the voice echoed quietly in her ear. It seemed as if Mistress spoke to her through a tunnel of self-control, almost too steely in her resolve not to sound angry. Mistress reached down and cupped her chin with a grip that caused her to wince. The once cute smudge of dirt that tipped her nose now angered her. It was further evidence of her lack of attention. With a nail, she scraped the offensive dirt off and offered the nail to her girl to clean. As the girl sucked the dirt and cleaned her Mistress again she heard her speak. "You're filthy. When you're suitably clean, return to me. And don't bother with clothing." Her finality to her voice dismissed the girl.
