Growing up, I always believed my mother was the most beautiful lady I had ever seen. Her blonde hair and stunning blue eyes; her shapely tanned legs and her long polished nails gave me my first thought of what a pretty woman should look like. As I grew, my sister, K, became my new idol of beauty, following in looks close to our mothers with long blonde hair and lovely darkened limbs and strong feminine polished fingertips.

Interesting how what I witnessed and felt as a little girl still resides deep within me today. As I sit here, clicking away at my computer I suddenly feel more feminine than I had moments earlier, simply because the little music each fingernail makes as I stroke the keys reinforces my femininity and reminds me that I am a girl to be looked upon, enjoyed for aesthetics in combination of brains. When I pause in reflection, lightly brushing my locks from my back over my bare shoulder I can not help but tingle, knowing the submissive length of my soft tendrils brings pleasure to Master and often creates sweet compliments from men who bump into me on the street.

There was a very long period of my life where, although I always believed I was pretty I never thought I had what truly equated to beauty for many reasons. I was born with deep red locks and extremely pale flesh. I was not at all graceful and I have always carried with me an air of childlike playfulness.

Interestingly though, as I embrace the slave in me, I find a gracefulness deep within and a strong desire to bring beauty not only to me but all around me. I find now, I take time to ensure my eyelids are slightly painted, my lips are speckled with colour and my hair coiffed, regardless of what activity I am partaking in. Being a slave is more than just serving my Master, I am an extension of who he is. I want to appear lovely not only to him but to all and in doing so show my continued dedication and affection for my Master, for myself.

So slowly, ever so slowly, I am evolving. I once was a mere caterpillar but soon I will be a butterfly.

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