[Week 2.6]

Luna checked the time. Quarter to three, plenty of time to make it across campus and to the house on Northside and change before ballet. It was a pleasant late September afternoon, sunny but not too hot, and Luna found herself reflecting.

They’d only been doing ballet class for just about one and a half weeks, but Luna could see, could feel the difference. It felt so right. To let go, to obey, to move when she was asked to move. To know she would fit in if she just opened her heart to instruction.

The morning gym classes felt like they’d had an effect too. Luna was never particularly unfit, the conditions of being an early transition trans person just didn’t particularly lend themselves to caring a lot for a body you hated.

The personal trainer had called it being “skinny fat”–she wasn’t overweight but she wasn’t remotely fit either.

She wasn’t seeing a large set of physical changes yet, but she definitely felt fitter. She was more limber; the movements in ballet came easier to her; she felt good in her body.

So when Miriam told them to kneel, she kneeled. Torso straight down, weight slightly back so she could lever her knees forward, with the slightest lean forward to get her toes out from under her at the end. A single smooth motion.

And when her legs were supposed to be spread, she did so with confidence, secure in the knowledge that those controlling her saw her insecurities, her traumas, and instead of expecting less from her, they helped her become more. It was a stark contrast to her experience in the more accepting engineering clubs. There, she’d been welcomed, but still treated as an other. There, she’d been a curiosity, a fragile thing made of glass, that thing that hung around and needed to be treated with kid gloves.

Here she was expected to have different needs, but just as much expected to grow and surpass them.

When she finally walked into the ballet room, Claire and Becca were both already there, chatting in the corner. The sun shone in through the northern window, and everything seemed to sparkle. It was almost time, so Luna gave them a quick wave and went directly to her spot. Starting this week they were expected to kneel in the waiting position before Miriam came in. Claire had already gotten punished for it, and Becca as well when she’d been caught rubbing her nose right as their pledge master entered. That one had lead to a silent exchange of giggles between her and Perse.

Luna’s breathing hitched as Miriam walked in, dressed somehow both in perfectly acceptable daily clothes–jeans, crop top, leather jacket–and still radiating effortless dominance. Luna felt herself flush, and she couldn’t imagine that Miriam didn’t notice.

It was hard to call it a crush—she felt the same way when she knelt for Jacqueline during her mental wellness checkup. If she was crushing, she was crushing on everyone.

That actually sounded kind of true.

Before she could get into her head about that question, Allyson walked in behind Miriam–she was always so incredibly graceful–and with her she carried a tray of mugs and two large carafes.

Miriam clapped twice and drew their attention. “As you might have noticed, something is different today. We’ll be continuing our work on walking and kneeling, but this time while carrying things.”

She surveyed the group. “But first, Persephone three with the cane, your back still isn’t straight.”

Perse didn’t flinch. She just nodded and rose up–much more gracefully than last week–then stepped into punishment position. As her feet stepped apart and her hands went up behind her head, Luna felt a strange sort of pride in her. Perse hated the cane, hated punishment. None of it showed on her face anymore, except in the subtlest details. They’d all gotten so much better at accepting it.

When Miriam grabbed her standard ballet class cane, Perse inhaled just a fraction, then forcibly relaxed herself. The first strike on her thigh resulted in just the slightest exhale. A moment of tension, then relaxation.

Miriam waited for her to settle, then applied strike number two. Then three.

“Good girl,” Miriam whispered. She stepped up behind Perse and pulled her in with an arm over her collar bone. Perse didn’t break her position, but relaxed enough to let the pledge master move her. Miriam gave Perse a firm brush on her head, then that specific squeeze of the shoulder that she reserved only for her. The future servant relaxed, and sank back into the waiting position.

“Alright,” Miriam gifted her attention back to the rest of them, “we’re going to review first. We’ve been doing these for a week so I’ll be harsh with corrections. Attention.”

They rose from their knees, into the same passive stance that the servants assisting Miriam used around the house. Feet shoulder width apart, hands clasped in front, back straight, and eyes forward.

“Second variation.”

Hands from front to behind, arms clasped together in a box shape. Move disturbing no other part of the body, don’t let the hands flare out too much.

No one got any corrections. Luna’s relief mixed with pride.

“Kneel.”

They moved again. Luna heard the snap and sharp exhale of Becca getting a tap.

“Lean back more. You’re wobbling at the bottom.”

“Yes miss.” Becca’s voice had grown stronger, more confident in the last week, and Luna could feel her pride even across Perse between them.

“Present.”

They spread their legs into the second variation of kneeling. Palms shifted from down to up. Just the slightest extra stretch to make them point out instead of in. Luna thought thoughts of openness. That was one thing they’d learned–their emotions would reflect in the subtlest details of their body, so they needed to feel the positions just as much as they needed to execute them.

“Attention.”

The maneuver from wide kneel to standing was always a little harder for her, but she tipped herself back, got the toes under her, and only wobbled the tiniest bit before making it back to standing.

Miriam gave her a look, but not a correction. She resolved to do better.

“Alright everyone, Allyson is going to demonstrate walking with a mug now. The rules for this are simple: If you spill any water, you’ll get caned. Small spills get one strike. Large spills get three. If you drop the mug, it’s 5 plus my endless disappointment.” The last bit sounded like a joke, but Luna promised herself she’d avoid it at all costs.

She threw a subtle glance at her fellow servants. Persephone looked interested, Becca anxious, and Claire’s expression was unreadable.

“For now,” Miriam continued, “I’ll let Allyson demonstrate.”

The servant picked up a mug from the tray–now kept on a small side table. “The trick to this: you’re trying to keep the motion of the mug constant, even as your body walks forward.

She walked to the end of the room. Luna saw the slight balance towards her toes, so she could keep her vertical height constant. Then the slight back and forth movement of her arms, so the mug kept moving smoothly even as Allyson’s torso carried the typical swaying motion of a normal human gait.

Her mug was filled all the way to the top, but the water didn’t even shake.

Luna was in awe.

Allyson put the mug down on the tray. She picked up a set of slightly less full mugs, maybe half an inch from the brim, and began handing them out to the pledges.

“Keep them at about chest height,” Miriam explained, “then do the glide-walk to keep yourself and the drink level. Move the drink back and forth opposite to the sway of your walk. Copy Allyson’s motion. Start small.”

They began, and did it with varying levels of success. Luna found herself struggling with the forward motion and, after a tentative step forward, earned herself a strike from the cane by Miriam. As the cane swished she realized she hadn’t been allowed to put down the water.

The pain cut a line into her thigh, and Luna did her very best to push against it–to stop the pain and stop her reactions. She mostly succeeded, and the water swayed but didn’t spill.

Becca made the same mistake as Luna, and a silent Miriam walked over to her to deliver the one strike. Becca flinched, and in the process spilled quite a bit of water. Her lower lips quivered, the rising confidence gone.

“Wait, little mouse,” Miriam’s voice was smooth, “you’re going to get your three strikes, but I’m going to give you a moment to get ready.” The minder placed her left hand on Becca’s shoulder, and the sub’s tension receded a little. “This isn’t just to hurt you, it’s because you have to learn to control yourself through pain—just as much as you need to learn to carry water. Sometimes you’ll want to show reactions, sometimes you’ll want to be perfectly passive.”

Becca closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Allyson walked up behind her and placed a single hand on her other shoulder. The moral support steadied Becca’s body even further. The cane hit Becca’s outer thigh once, twice, thrice, and then it was done. No further water had spilled.

Allyson grabbed the carafe, and filled the cup back up.

Miriam looked over at Claire. “You haven’t moved yet.”

Claire shook her head. “This isn’t fair. It’s dumb.”

Miriam’s expression hardened, and Luna had to fight back her instinct to cower. Straight back, good posture. “Could you tell me when I promised to be fair to you?” Miriam asked. Becca flinched at the aggressive tone, despite it being directed very much at Claire.

Luna glanced over and saw Perse poorly repress an eye roll. Luna agreed–Allyson had just demonstrated that this was doable–but Claire always needed to be stubborn.

Claire, however, had more to say. “It’s such a ridiculous thing to request!”

“It’s not too much, it’s incredibly doable, and it’s an expectation.”

Claire challenged Miriam. “If it’s so easy why don’t you do it?”

Miriam continued to stare down Claire as she wordlessly handed Allyson her cane, then stuck her hand out behind her and blindly accepted a mug. It was the completely full one that Allyson had demonstrated with.

Even just the motion from ‘arm backwards towards Allyson’ to ‘cup held in front at chest height’ was visual poetry. When the cup reached the correct position, Miriam shifted somehow, and the endlessly energetic, relentlessly forceful taskmaster disappeared. What remained was something that would have fit in perfectly between Allyson and Isabelle–a emotionally centered, self controlled, dutiful Delta Sigma servant.

Miriam proceeded to walk the mug full of water across the room like it was the most natural thing in the world. The glide incorporated everything they’d learned about walking—everything Allyson had demonstrated—without a twitch out of place.

Luna realized she’d dropped her posture in awe, and quickly pulled her shoulders back again.

Miriam finished her walk, handed back the coffee cup in a way that somehow acknowledged Allyson as a peer instead of an underling.

She accepted back her cane. The mask flowed off of her body like water, and pledge master Miriam was back.

“Now, Claire, I think you owe me something.” Miriam’s posture was firm, but not angry.

Claire’s fist clenched but to Luna’s surprise she lowered her head. “Yes miss,” she forced out.

“You’re going to receive 10 with the cane, at full power. Pull down your pants. They’re going to be on your ass-cheeks.”

Claire’s face went red, but she meekly turned and pulled down the shorts to her knees. Persephone and Becca were just like Luna, frozen, breaths held. The entire world paused, as Miriam once again wrangled the girl that Luna had watched, day after day for almost two weeks now, drag her feet at every opportunity.

“All the way off, you’re not going to avoid doing the position correctly because your shorts are in the way.”

“Yes miss.” Claire pulled the shorts off all the way, neatly folded them and assumed the punishment position. She still showed nothing in her expression, just a mechanical obedience.

The cane struck with a loud thwap. On the first strike, Claire gave a barely visible flinch. On the third, a loud exhale.

Luna glanced at Becca. They’d all felt the cane. They knew what it could do at full strength. She couldn’t believe Claire hadn’t screamed yet, much less not made any noise at all.

Miriam seemed completely unimpressed. She continued, line by line, until the sixth strike finally elicited a small gasp from Claire. On the 8th strike, Miriam swung upwards and connected with the sensitive skin between Claire’s butt and thigh, and Claire finally shrieked.

That was the only noise she made though. The 9th and 10th strike connected–left welts just like the others–but Claire had regained her control. The smallest trickle of tears went down Claire’s cheek, but she held herself together.

With the punishment done, Miriam stepped up to Claire, whispered the command for relaxation, and drew her into her arms. The tension flowed out of Claire’s body, and she let herself conform to Miriam. Miriam seemed to soften as well, and the dom moved them both to the wall by the window. She turned a little and pushed Claire into the window, and Luna realized she was using her own body to give the servant a moment of privacy. Claire became a puddle of submission in her arms.

The world seemed to still again as Miriam radiated calm. If this is what being a minder meant, if this is what ‘minding’ was, then Luna could see how Miriam had earned that title, and how Riga, Diana, and Arie were going to need to work just as hard as them to become so skilled.

Luna felt the slightest tinge of envy as well, at the way their bodies fit together, at the tender little whispers that Miriam sank into Claire’s ears, at the comfort and care and relief that Claire got to feel in Miriam’s arms. She reminded herself that Claire was family too, that Miriam gave her her own brand of personal attention, and let the feelings go. It wasn’t her place to be jealous of a fellow servant.

Miriam’s arms remained around Claire, but she pitched her next words so all of them could hear.

“We expect hard things from you. We do not promise fairness. We do promise understanding, compassion, protection. That is, if anything, a higher bar to reach than fairness. And yes, the others in your class are being pushed extremely hard to meet that bar as well.”

She paused for a moment, stroking the girl in her arms.

“They’re not carrying cups, but believe me, they’re not relaxing either.”

She let Claire go a few moments later, and they resumed their lesson. It was hard going, but by the end of the lesson Luna could carry a few ounces more water across the room without spilling it. Once or twice she’d even managed to avoid disturbing it at all!

When ballet was over Luna had about an hour before her scheduling session with Neha. Allyson interrupted her as she went downstairs. The servant was carrying a package.

“Hey Luna! I’m running a little late today, please deliver this to the main house. Just ring the doorbell, the door person will know what to do with it.”

Luna nodded her head in a curt bow. “Yes miss.”

The box was heavy and rattled a bit when she accepted it. It was about a foot and a half wide, maybe a foot long and 6 inches thick. It wasn’t the worst to handle as long as she used both hands. It was made of old, cherry brown wood, and had a locked brass latch at the front.

It wasn’t the first time a sister had used them for petty tasks. Running errands, weeding the yard, cleaning the house—they were the only parts of this experience that felt normal.

She grabbed her shoes from the front room and put on her jacket.

When she opened the door she froze. The plants in the yard were the wrong color. The rose bushes were purple instead of red, as if seen through a blue mist. The daisies had turned green and blue instead of white, there was a strange bluish shimmer across the path. The box in her hand rattled.

A sharp pain between her eyes interrupted her thoughts. It was like staring into an MC Esher painting, and her brain didn’t like it.

The pain got worse, and Luna stared at the ground to try to avoid it. There was more on the ground. Characters she couldn’t quite make out but that she knew meant something flashed across the walkway, cut into the flag stones. The pain got worse.

She closed her eyes, and stumbled to the stairs that connected the Northside house to the street.

Autopilot took over as she walked across campus. Her brain still reeled from what she’d seen, and a few times she stumbled over her feet.

She reached the south east corner of campus and approached the Delta Sigma sorority house.

The headache returned with a vengeance. The whole house seemed surrounded by a blue cloud. The strange pavestones that surrounded the house, the ones she had never paid attention to before, seemed to shoot a blue circle into the air.

For a moment Luna’s mind cleared, and she felt a stab of panic. Had she had a stroke? Ingested a psychedelic without noticing? Was she growing ill? She’d had moments where the world appeared bluer… was it progressing?

She sat down on the side of the road, just outside the Delta Sigma property, and freaked out. She looked over at the house, and swore she saw a bleeding face staring out of a third story window. The blue haze made it hard to tell.

If she told the minders she’d surely be kicked out. She was already trans she couldn’t be mentally ill too.

Then, amidst her panic, everything suddenly disappeared. The street, the house, everthing looked normal.

She spent five minutes convincing herself it was all just a temporary tick, the kind of brief psychotic break that comes from a stressful two weeks in a new sorority. A sister walked out of the house to approach her, she pulled herself to her feet.

“Hi, sorry! I was just resting for a moment. I tripped on my way over here.” It wasn’t technically a lie, and Luna hoped the imposingly tall girl with a perfect afro that was now ten feet away would buy it. “Uhh, miss.” The posture made it obvious she was a minder.

“You’re one of the newbies, right?”

Luna nodded too quickly, and tried to shrink in on herself. “Yes miss. Sorry miss. Yes miss.”

She smiled, ever so slightly. “I prefer mx, actually.”

“Oh, no, I’m sorry mx.” Luna fell to her knees and bowed her head to the ground. She’d messed up. It didn’t matter that they were in public. “My deepest apologies mx.”

The minder shook their head. “Good thought, but not appropriate. You haven’t learned how to do this yet. Get up, and for now, just, why are you here?”

Luna held up the box from where her torso had covered it. She tried to present it even as she stood up as gracefully as she could. She was too rattled—the gesture was rocky, she almost stumbled again, she should have held the box to her chest until she was on her feet.

The minder didn’t comment on her posture. “This? They asked you to deliver this?” they asked instead.

Luna cringed again, then quickly tried to correct her posture. “Yes, mx.”

An emotion flashed across their face, but Luna didn’t know them well enough to catch it.

“Alright,” the minder said. “Please hand it to me, then head back to wherever you came from.”

Luna bowed her head one more time, then handed over the box with both hands.

“Thank you, mx.” It seemed proper.

The minder just shook their head and turned back to the house. Luna took one look after them—everything looked perfectly normal now. Luna walked back to Northside.

The Northside house looked completely regular as well, and Luna’s theory that it was just a temporary break seemed to gain some credence.

Hopefully this was the end of that.

Luna took a deep breath, tried to gather herself, and knocked on the door.

Allyson opened it. The servant led her back into the house, wincing just slightly with every step. The senior pulled her into a sideways hug and inspected her. “Are— are you alright?”

Luna nodded, a little too quickly. “Yes! Yes, I’m… fine. I just got a little space-y on the way miss. Sorry for taking too long miss.”

Allyson shook her head and bit her lip. “That’s… Alright, if you’re fine, I guess.” She took a step away, then froze. “If anything weird happens, let me know.”

Luna nodded quickly, then fled to her living room to free them both of the awkward moment.