Sometimes she was given a name, often an obscene word, girl never cared what she was called, all girl dared hope for was to be awarded a slave name, a...word, any word, just having a name would recognise her existence.Girl rose to her feet, her transition graceful as only practise and supple strength allows. A pause, girl bowed her head to the box, paused, stood once more erect, then turned and stepping light as a ballerina she crossed to the bathroom, each step so measured that the ritual was. It's OK. Ssh."Heather twisted her head back and forth between Suzanne's breasts. Suzanne stroked her hair, gentling Heather the way she would a child."It's OK, Heather. Ssh. Nothing happened."When Heather turned her tear-streaked face up, without thinking Suzanne kissed her lightly on the lips. A little voice told her this was a very bad idea, but Suzanne ignored it."It's OK, sweetie, really."She kissed Heather again. Heather snuggled."Let's go get some coffee, sweetie, OK? I just need to make. More

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