She started crying more as I smacked her a few times across the face and told her to stay quiet or she would be punished. “You gonna cooperate bitch...” I ask in an almost nice tone and she quickly shakes her head yes as I remove the bag. I smile down at her as I pull out a pair of heavy duty scissors and begin to cut her clothing away as she sobs. “Why are you doing this?” She cries lowly, which gains a hard and loud smack from me. “You just stay quiet and you don't get hurt.” My voice thick. Looking in the mirror I smoothed down the t-shirt and skirt like I hadseen the girls at Wimbledon do. Turning side on in the mirror so Icould see my silhouette, the outline of MY breast shape (enhanced nicelyby a couple of mum's socks that I had found in the bathroom, scrunchedneatly into balls) and the way the skirt hung off my ass. I looked atmyself straight on and hardly recognised myself. The smile on my face, I couldn't remember the last time my face had lit up so fully and Ismiled so. More

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