**Part 2: Earning Her Place**
** Section 1: The Truth Will Out**
There had been thirteen of them to start.
Thirteen hopefuls, kneeling in Zelena's atrium--bare, trembling, eyes lowered. All genders. All ages. All desperate to belong. Zelena had paced before them in heels that echoed like gunshots, wearing a white bodysuit and nothing else.
Her voice had been velvet and fire.
"Not one of you deserves me. But one of you will earn me. One of you will prove that you were born to be beneath me. Let's see who it is."
Delilah had been trembling. She'd been the one with the professional past. The one who thought she could handle it. But the moment Zelena looked at her, really looked, she had known she was ruined. She'd felt her knees weaken. Her pride melt.
Zelena had noticed her immediately-- that poem, those eyes... And now Her eyes were drawn to Delilah, not because she stood out, but because she tried not to. A soft, round woman with wide, pale shoulders and curves that hadn't been shaped for display, but carried like a history. Her skin looked touchable in that deeply intimate way--sensitive, creamy, easily marked. Her face was heartbreakingly sweet: big earnest eyes, a dusting of freckles, large soft lips made for trembling. Soft round breasts made for squeezing, and... more intense attention. And when she smiled--nervous, hopeful, trying not to look too eager--it was warm in a way that made something primal stir in Zelena. Not lust. Something purer. Hunger. The kind of hunger that comes from seeing someone who wants to be undone. Who wants to be Owned and Controlled. She looked like the kind of woman who had always been told she was too much. And now, here she was--begging silently to be broken down and used completely. Her big, deeply brown eyes, like a doe's, begged Zelena for it.
There had been tasks. Tests of obedience. Hours of edging. Mouths on boots. Throats sore from chanting "I serve." There was a week where she slept on the floor beside the toilet, hoping to be chosen just to clean it after Zelena used it.
And the final trial--
There were only three of them left, and now, two of them would be dismissed.
It was a day of complete silence, total service and devotion. Zelena had walked past her dutifully licking Her bathroom floor three times now without a glance. But then, finally, on the fourth pass, she had stopped. Turned. Pressed the sole of her shoe to Delilah's mouth.
"Supplicant Delilah; tell me your truth." She said cooly. She then pressed the ball of her foot onto her forehead, and gave her no more than that.
Delilah let her heart burst open.
"My truth is that I love and worship the holy ground you walk on, goddess. You are everything and I want to be your nothing, or your anything that you need. Or want. Or will make you smile or laugh. I need your dominance; and your pain, and your holy presence above me and I would do anything- give anything to serve you- to be yours. Because you are perfect and because I choose you to give myself to you wholly and completely. I worship you hard, and have never loved anything more than being allowed to do that and I would give anything to continue for the rest of my life. I will do my very best for you every moment that I may yet live." She trembled, tears were just behind her eyes.
Zelena's outer smile was a small fraction of the one growing inside her. She inhaled and then said, loudly, sharply "You're the one." Sighs and gasps rose from around the courtyard.
"I saw you worshipping the dirty boot I left by your sleeping spot last night with your tongue- getting into every seam and groove, and sucking all the dirt off the soles while your clit leaked on your thighs and you thought no one was looking. That's not just devotion. That's truth. What you told me just now- that is truth."
She had cried. She had wept. And Goddess' collar had come down on her neck like a crown...
And now here she was, in Zelena's bathroom. Cleaning and beaming with joy and excitement.
Delilah scrubbed gently with her cloth, moving in slow circles, polishing the porcelain as if it were gold. Her breath was shallow. Her face glowed.
She was ashamed--of how much she loved this, how wet it made her, how desperately she longed for this. But she was also proud. Because this was service. And it took strength to serve this way. To give up everything and become who she really was.
Her fingers gripped the base of the toilet and she rested her forehead against the lid, clit throbbing. Her thighs were damp again.
The shame wasn't weakness. The need wasn't perversion. It was her truth.
She wanted to serve, to kneel, to lick and kiss and clean and belong. She wanted to exist beneath Zelena, and she wanted Zelena to know it. To see it in her every movement. To use her because she could. Because Delilah wanted to be used to her fullest.
That want didn't make her less. It made her more.
She smiled softly as she kissed the base of the toilet one last time.
"Thank you, Goddess. Thank you for letting me be yours."
Once the toilet was gleaming and her mouth still tingled from where it had kissed porcelain, Delilah rose into motion. Her body had already memorized the flow of the routine--each movement a part of the greater liturgy of her life. Service was no longer a set of chores. It was identity. And she had much to do before Goddess returned from her weight training session
βΈ»
** Section 2: Worship After the Workout and Before the Date**
"You'd better be ready for me, Delilah." Her voice called out from the foyer- soft- husky- powerful. And then she emerged around the corner.
Goddess Zelena stands like something out of a vision--tall, lithe, and unmistakably powerful. Her body is carved from strength and intention: toned arms, sculpted abs, thighs that flex in coiled promise with every step. Golden hair cascades down her back in long, effortless waves, still a little damp at the ends from her workout. Every strand catches the light like sunlight spun into silk. Her skin glows, dewy from sweat and so smooth it might as well be velvet stretched over divinity. Her cheekbones are high and elegant, her lips curved in the faint, knowing smile of someone who is not just admired--but worshipped.
She wears a pink gym set--designer, of course. The kind that hugs in all the right places. The sports bra clings tight across her chest, darkened slightly with sweat between the valley of her breasts. Her matching high-waisted shorts stretch snug over her hips, each curve made more radiant by the glistening sheen of exertion. The color is bright, soft, teasing. It makes her look like temptation incarnate after a long run: flushed, musky, radiant.
She smelled like sex and power--and Delilah knew she was about to be used.
And then she spoke. Her voice low, sultry--almost purring. Each syllable is silk wrapped in steel. A command disguised as a lullaby.
"You made a choice, Delilah--a beautiful, brave choice. To kneel. To offer yourself. To place your heart, your body, your devotion in the hands of someone stronger. Me. And you love that feeling, don't you, pet?" She was soft- contemplative. "You make that choice every night when you clip yourself to my bed. You make that choice every time you whiner and obey me instead of walking out the door." She smiled- knowing and amused.
"The quiet peace of knowing your place, the way your breath deepens when you're beneath me. Because when you serve a goddess, you don't lose yourself--you become exactly who you were meant to be." She looked at Delilah suddenly, intensely. "Isn't that so, Delilah- do not lie to me."
