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Being a Brave Girl, Part Two

When he took the first picture of me presenting, I couldn’t look at him. 

“Come on, kitten,” Sir coaxed. “Look at the camera. Smile.”

Nervously, I turned my head and straightened my posture. But I couldn’t figure out how to hold my face. In the picture, I look anxious, unsure, like I’m trying hard to please but I’m not quite sure how. Still, he was proud of me.

He set the phone down and grabbed me by the hair, pulling me over a nearby chair so I was kneeling with my face buried in the seat. 

“Wait here, girl. I’ll be back to use you in a minute.”

The door closed behind him. I was so excited I could barely keep still.

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Those are grass imprints on my thighs and calves.

And, yes, my toes are dirty.

Because that’s what happens when you take a little girl to the park.

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So, I got a little brave and sent this picture from the other day to a pretty girl.

And I’m coping with my exhibitionist rush by posting it here too before I come down from it and blush and hide for days.