Cleansing

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There she was, her knees curled to her chest, her bottom covered in blood that dripped down the curve of her thighs. It was falling to the floor in droplets, little spatters of the deep fluid coating the polished wood. He looked down at her, grinning while baring his canines, and pressed the tip of his shoe to the blood on her ass.

"You'll need to clean them now," he growled, a deep sound that cut through the overbearing silence. She shivered, nodded, and her ringlets covered her face, a more comfortable position when she was feeling particularly small, little. He nudged at her bottom in light kicks, making the flesh on her body jiggle and bounce. Still, she did not move; so he crouched down beside her, put his hand on her upper arm, and whispered in her ear. "Let's get this little girl cleaned up."

Few things were as calming or comforting as the sensation of warm water running over the cuts and scrapes. Daddy kisses made all of the boo-boos better, even when his kisses were vicious bites more painful than the cut itself. He picked her up, not caring about the blood getting on his suit pants, and brought her to the tub, turning the water on. It was tempting to drop her in and continue the sweet torture, but he held back silently, breathing heavily against her neck as he waited for the tub to fill halfway. She knew; he was such a good Daddy because he held back, because he knew when to let her be his little girl and not his little prey. They were sometimes one in the same, but right now, she needed his hands on her, cleansing her of her disgusting misdirection.

He lowered her body into the water gently and picked up their favorite cup: it had a little lip that made it easy to pour the water in the proper place. She was slumping in the bottom of the tub, still not saying anything. He placed a hand on her back, letting her feel him. "It is alright now, little one. It is going to be alright." Her sighing response received his fingers running through her hair, pulling it out of her face so that he could get a good look at her. "Daddy's here."

The tub was almost filled now, so he filled the cup completely to the brim and waited. "Tilt your head back for me," he commanded, and she did, whispering a small, Yes, Daddy. He took off his suit jacket, rolled his shirt sleeves up, and squeezed some shampoo into his hands before lathering it into her hair; she melted beneath his hands.

Finally, the water was pouring over her body, heat stinging the cuts but relaxing the knots and tension. Always pain but always comfort; comfort in the pain.

In Response to Someone's Post

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A person on Fetlife posted about kicking out their slave from their home. They questioned if they did anything wrong, and where to go from here at this point in their life. Something to remember about ownership is to know what's yours better than they know themselves. How else will you keep them on their toes, keep them ready and at attention to serve? Their mind needs to be stimulated as a slave and also as an individual, as a human being (even if you treat them otherwise at times). So here is my response.
slaves are meant to be slaves. If her job was to be a service-oriented slave, and that is it, then her slave mindset needs to be stimulated. What did she need as your slave? Did you know her well enough to say? If you did not know her well enough to know what she needed as a slave, and as your slave, then she should not have been living with you. 
Something I've learned about slaves is that they need to be used, thoroughly and often. What that use is, however, is up to you. Of course, this isn't a steadfast rule, but this is what I've learned with my girls and boys. If you do not surprise or stimulate their mind or give them tasks beyond the mundane cooking and cleaning, they will talk back, become complacent. Find a strange or odd chore to give them - like going to the store and only buying green foods (an example). Or say you're needing a knife for something, yeah? Don't tell her what for. Just tell her to find the sharpest knife in the store. These are just a few examples of what you can do to keep up the pace. 
Now, if within a month and a half, she was already talking back, she certainly was not the slave for you. As I said, slaves are slaves. If her identity was that of a slave, she should uphold that title. If she was a submissive, I am more understanding. But as everyone else has said before me, I cannot pass any judgment without knowing the depth of the situation, from both sides. You need to find out what you did wrong, if you did anything wrong or out of line, and improve. Look into yourself.
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