Author's Note

Girl's POV

Grooming: 12

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I had enjoyed the excursion, with Handler. It had been such a great adventure; just to go to the Cafe, alone; then being given a treat, and to share it with my younger sister means the world to me.

Of course, I need to see the outside. To walk the streets, to breathe the fresh outdoors air and see people. Even the once not in my class, or of my personal kinks. I can not limit myself, to who shares my fetishes.

What a poor life, that would have been.

Would that even be a life? One worth living? I would have missed out, on so many things. Maybe even forced, into abandoning and forsaking my own family and kin.

Now I had returned to what is currently my home; here at the Dungeon.

I had changed into my dungeon outfit; once I had arrived, into my room. A top, panties.

A girl is entering the room, she is apparently my Groom.

“Greetings, Miss; I am Groom!” she is addressing me, as she is entering the small room.

“Greetings, Groom!” I respond.

“One small detail, I would like for you to try!” she points out.

Before I have the time to respond, she is inserting my pacifier into my mouth. I feel the clear rubber slipping in, between my lips.

She is extending the index-finger of her right hand, pressing the button; thus activating it, before she is twisting the handle and promptly removes it.

“A pacifier?” I ponder; “Mhmm!” I mumble through tightly sealed lips.

The silicon formed after my lips, pressing and bonding; before I had even realized it, thus leaving me mute.

She presents a mirror before me, letting me see; showing my metallic bloody red lips, in the designed excited little smile. It is glossy, as if polished up for the effect.

“In a sense, it looks as if she had painted my lips with liquid latex; or as if I had been a doll, they had never bothered to separate the lips on?” I ponder, as I am observing the reflection.

“Wait..” she exclaims; “something is missing!” she concludes.

She is offering me the gloves I use to wear.

Without a thought, I accept them, right and left. Slipping the hand in; puling it all the way up, only to afford the gloves few tentative tugs: once, twice and thrice. As I am repeating the process; putting on the second, left glove to achieve the harmonious symmetry.

“There, much better!” she proclaims.

“Just one small detail; in order to complete the ensemble, and appearance!” she pushes forth, as she is presenting me with a pair of full-length stockings.

“Toe-stockings!” I am musing; “But why not?” I consider; “I have the impression; she wants to doll me up to look as beautiful, as she could possibly manage?” I realize.

Of course Groom knows, just how much I love and enjoy wearing my stockings. Just a small detail; these are not the original stockings, but a pair of identically looking once.

I accept the right stocking; slipping my foot right down, pulling the foot all the way down: affording it a few tentative tugs: once, twice and thrice. Expecting the imminent transformation, but is served a very different change in turn.

Without the expected transformation; I am still accepting the left glove, repeating the process nonetheless. With both stockings on; I am standing on the floor, almost like a doll.

“How is that?” Handler inquires, almost as if she had been expecting an answer.

“I feel; as if you had just made me, into a Ballerina!” I ponder.

“Stunning!” she exclaims; “Beautiful!” she then adds.

“Does she have a pair of ballerina-slips, for me to wear?” I ponder.

“Why do I have the impression; you would like to practice, dancing like a Ballerina?” she inquires.

I nod, vigorously. I certainly do agree, wholeheartedly; to this idea, she just offered me. At least, it is how I am perceiving what she had just told me. Maybe I am wrong, but I am still hoping she would let me try it; just for this once, as she had just made me feel the beauty.

“Then you will need your beauty-sleep!” she points out; “I will help you prepare!” she explains.

“Oh, yes; please, I want this!” I ponder; once more nodding vigorously, in ascent.

“If you slip these on, now; and I will see to the rest of the uniform, in time for practice!” she promises.

I accept the slippers; slipping them on, right and left. Once the slippers are on, she is lacing them up for me. Of course, while I am wearing the slippers; my feet are stubbornly maintaining the posture, required for a proper Ballerina. I am standing on the very tips of my toes.

“There; off to bed, please!” she urges me, and I follow her instructions to a T.

Tip-toeing all the way back to my bed, then mounting the gurney. The slippers are quite comfortable for me to wear; considering the posture they enforces upon me and my feet. It is the Dungeon’s design, and I do not question it. I do not dare chancing to lose the promised activity.

While I am still actively feeling the presence and pressure of the metallic bloody red silicon slippers now; just as I am feeling the lacing all the way up to my knees, I doubt the slippers themselves are going to be felt for much longer. Let alone, by tomorrow, as I wake up for the promised practice for a Ballerina’s show.

The fit of the slippers are surprisingly tight and strict, but without any uncomfortable pressure on my skin. Though it is between my toes as well, something I am currently quite acutely aware of.

“I have feet!” I realize.

“Now, if you just lie down, and relax!” Groom offers.

With that, I am slipping in under my quilt. While my thoughts are still playing tag in my head, I still manage to relax.

“I will see you, by tomorrow!” she points out, promising a day of excitement to remember.

She is producing a tube, introducing it to my belly button. It is, as if air had slipped out of me, as I find myself relaxing and soon falling into a deep slumber. I close my eyes, and are fast asleep.

The measured time is slipping out, as I am sleeping. At the appointed six hours, I am slowly waking up. I am still wearing the slippers. Just as I am wearing my customary panties and top. I am also wearing the stockings and gloves. As if nothing had happened.

I am folding the quilt to the side, slipping my right hand out from under the quilt. Slipping my feet out, before I am turning towards the side of the bed. As I am sitting in the bed, I slip down, only to stand on my own too feet. The tips of my toes, to be exact.

Lifting the right hand up to my face, only to feel the effect of the inserted pacifier. My lips sealed, feeling as if they had merely been painted onto the face of a doll. Even if there is a hint of the silicon protruding to show its contours.

“Wait?” I ponder, heart raising momentarily, as I am struggling with the unexpected experience.

The door slides up, and Groom enters my room.

“Good morning, my dear Ballerina!” she exclaims.

“Good morning, Groom!” I ponder; reminded of, how I could not speak.

In sudden, and temporary embarrassment, I turn around, folding the quilt into order. I turn back, towards Groom; as I had made my bed, thus regained a measure of dignity.

“I will need you to dress up, for the occasion!” she points out, and I nod in response.

“Of course!” I ponder.

“Here, slip into this!” she offers; as she is producing the one-piece suit, for me to wear.

I eagerly accept the suit, soon finding the correct entrance into the suit. The back had been unzipped.
Once I had found the entrance, I step right into the suit; right and left, in order.

“Turn around, please!” she offers.

As I comply, she is zipping up the suit for me. I feel the suit tightening up, as she is zipping it up for me. Only it is much tighter, than I had been expecting; based on the appearance of the unzipped suit. It is, as if a tight corset had been included into the design, of the suit. As if she had been lacing me up, as she was zipping the suit for me.

“The classical tu-tu, paired with the strict slippers; is the only correct uniform, for a Ballerina!” she explains.

“Oh, but of course!” I ponder, on the given revelation.

“This will capture the essence of your beauty, and the grace with which you perform the moves!” she points out.

“She really means business!” I realize, as her explanations slowly sink in.

She is literally turning me into a classical Ballerina; not just letting me play pretend, imagining I could have been an actual Ballerina in my dreams and fantasies.

Maybe I had been a bit more of the Tom-boy than I had realized; now as she is turning me into more of the sissy girly girl than I had thought, I dared or felt comfortable with before.

With the obvious approval of my Groom, I am finding me comfortable with what I am doing. She is merely riding the wave of my potential here. She is the extension of the Hive and Dungeon; just as my Mistress, Assistant and Handler are.

I am guided through the maze of my wishes, dreams and desires; as they help me to avoid my fears and misconceptions. I owe them, greatly.

“I will take you, to the scene, shortly; where I can oversee your practice and train as a true Ballerina!” she is promising me.

“There, that is how I pictured the Ballerina’s Instructor!” I consider; as I am hearing the shift, in the tone of her voice.

While her body had not changed in the least; her posture had changed, making her stricter in appearance. As a Groom, she had been easy-going, now she is strict to a T.

“While I can accept her easy manner, as my Groom; I could not accept her as my Ballerina Instructor, unless she is this strict!” I realize.

Maybe she had given me the time; to adjust, and come to terms with the change she is applying to the dynamics. I do not know, but I am certainly enjoying and appreciating it.

“It is time, for me to take you to the scene; so that you can become a proper Ballerina, just as you deserve and desire!” she prompts, with a curt nod towards the door.

I notice the door being open. She walks out the door, with me half a step behind and a step to her left. The door slides shut behind us; as she is leading me, to the promised experience of a lifetime.