Even my hair seemed to have feeling all the way through to theends of the curls Mistress placed there with a curling iron. Asshe formed each section o... curls, the iron burned hot on myscalp. It tugged relentlessly as she wound the strands of hairaround it, bringing it tight to my head. Mistress knew I likedthe feeling of the iron, so she twisted it slowly and forcefullyon each curl, dwelling on the process and solidifying thepowerlessness of my transition.As she finished with the curling iron,. .”“Bill,” Dad said, “I know because you’ve confessed to me ... other women...”“Dad, none of them is, or ever has a chance of being, Vicki.”“You haven’t...” Mom started.“NO way, Mom. I’ve repented. That isn’t what this is.”Mom looked relieved. Dad didn’t look surprised. “Prayers answered,” he said.“But why Vicki, son?” Mom asked me.“Why Dad, Mom?” I countered.“I know. Affairs of the heart,” she stated.“Heart’s certainly in it. But Mom, she’s just so utterly, inconceivably perfect.”“And she KNOWS. More

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