She was a shy girl, socially backward, browbeaten by her family, she scurried about, mouse-like, not knowing what she wanted, not knowing how to get it. She wasn’t any good at school, and didn’t know what she wanted to do. Her family found her a job shelving books at the local library, and that suited her fine. It was quiet, and she blended in to the furniture quite well. Then, one day, he came along, the man who astonished her by seeming to know exactly what she needed, and didn’t cause her any anxiety or stress by asking her opinion about how to get it. Modesty was her name, but people called her Mouse. She called him Sir, and was left breathless by his demands, her face burning with humiliation, her bottom burning with pain, her insides burning with heat as he led her to her natural place as a submissive sex slave, his submissive, his toy, his mouse, his pet. For Modesty, it was the fulfillment of a dream she had never had. There were no more decisions to make, only obedience to learn, and the wild thrill of becoming a creature of sexual heat, hunger and desire.
