Page 3 of Stripping Little Seraphina
Chapter One
Seraphina
Two weeks into Rawhide Ranch and I almost had a rhythm. Morning meditation, breakfast in the kitchen while trying whatever foods were on the breakfast bar, my hours as a service submissive—polishing boots, fetching coffee, making sure the spaces gleamed and order reigned. Service work soothed me in ways nothing else ever had. The repetition, the rules, the way people here appreciated the smallest effort—it steadied me, almost like shelving books back at the library. Only here, every “thank you, pet” or approving nod gave me a sense of belonging I’d never had before. Working in the library here was my favorite. Miss Amelia didn’t need help often, but I always asked just in case. She seemed to know how much I liked it there. Even when there wasn’t anything to do, she would ask me to dust the books. Her kind smile always made me feel special even though I knew she made up things for me to do.
After breakfast was harder. It meant going to my class, logging into my assigned training tasks with the mysterious Mistress V.
Mistress V, who had yet to meet me in person. Mistress V, whose emails came clipped and cold, riddled with vagueassignments and no feedback. Mistress V, who made me feel like I was shouting into a void every time I submitted my work. Mistress V who could have been anybody here and I wouldn’t know. She hadn’t filled out her profile on the website, called, texted, or reached out for anything. When I submitted things, she’d usually reply with an “okay” or something noninvasive. I often wondered what was the point of this if I was struggling more now than I had been before I’d gotten here.
The others in my cohort boasted about long sessions, playful scoldings, even thoughtful notes from their mentors. I got silence, or worse—a one-line dismissal that left me second-guessing everything. By the end of week two, the weight of it pressed so hard on my chest I thought I might fold in half.
Maybe I don’t deserve to be here.
The thought gnawed at me while I wiped down a line of leather benches that afternoon, my rag moving in automatic circles. Everyone else seemed to flourish. Me? I was just… here. Taking up space. Failing at connection, failing at being brave enough to demand what I needed.
When I got back to my suite, the assignment sheet blinked in my inbox, untouched. “Reflect on your deepest insecurity and draft a scene of letting it go.”
Easy for her to say. She wasn’t the one drowning in them. I couldn’t take it anymore. It was time to do something meaningful with how I felt. My stomach roiled as I forced myself down the quiet hallway toward the office of Master E, the course’s head instructor, the next day. My feet dragged, but some stubborn, hidden corner of me refused to let me run away.
He looked up when I knocked, his presence filling the space with calm authority. Tall, low cut hair, his sharp brown eyes softened as soon as they landed on me. Even though I was lesbian, I could still appreciate a nice-looking man. A fair skinned black man with a very neatly trimmed beard, a deepscowl lacing his forehead and eyebrows, I could tell that his no-nonsense attitude wasn’t going to receive the information I was about to tell him lightly. Master E expressed to us daily how he was working to build trust with us so we could discuss anything that we needed to with him. I guess it was paying off since I was here.
“Seraphina,” he said warmly. “Come in. Sit.”
I perched on the edge of the leather chair, hands twisting in my lap. My throat felt dry, my words brittle as they played in my head.Don’t make trouble. Don’t be a burden. Just endure.
But I couldn’t. Not this time. This was supposed to be a safe place and right now, it didn’t feel safe at all.
“I… I think I need to switch mentors,” I said, barely more than a whisper. My cheeks burned instantly. “Mistress V… she hasn’t—she doesn’t… I don’t know if I’m doing anything right. She barely responds. And when she does it feels like I’m… nothing. Or like I’m bothering her. I don’t want to be that task at the bottom of someone’s to do list.”
The silence after that was deafening. My chest ached. I wanted to swallow the words back, apologize for wasting his time. Scurry back the way I'd come and climb back into bed. Stuffy in my arms, and my fluffy blanket soothing my face.
Master E steepled his fingers, studying me. “That must have been difficult to admit.”
I blinked hard. “I don’t like asking for things. I don’t like disappointing people. And if she’s ignoring me maybe that means I wasn’t good enough in the first place. Maybe I’m not supposed to be here.” My voice cracked on the last word. Shame flared hot and quick, tears threatening, humiliation thick in my throat. I sniffed back the emotion and focused on his sandwich instead. Bagel with maybe jalapeno cream cheese and sausage. Apple slices and caramel were next to it. Coffee was in a canister with steam waving in the air.
Too much time seemed to pass before he spoke and the voice inside grew louder. This class was titledSubmission 101, notHow to be a needy crybaby.I felt like it was more about how to fail at being a submissive because that’s exactly what I was doing.
He leaned forward, his gaze steady. “Seraphina, look at me.”
I forced my eyes up.
“You are not a burden. You are not undeserving. Sometimes, things don’t align the way we hope. That’s not a reflection of your worth. That’s a reflection of the pairing. Do you understand?”
I swallowed, nodded weakly. “Kind of.”
“I’ll look into this,” he promised. “In the meantime, don’t retreat into silence. You came here to grow, didn’t you? Growth only happens when you risk showing your needs.”
My breath trembled out of me. Maybe he was right. Maybe. But the ache in my chest didn’t ease. I still felt like the problem. Like the weak link. Like the invisible girl sitting at her family’s dinner table, praying someone would see her. Master E’s words were supposed to help, but instead they landed like pebbles against a boulder of doubt.Growth only happens when you risk showing your needs.What if my needs were wrong? What if they were childish, embarrassing, laughable?
I don’t think that I was asking for much by asking to be seen, but maybe it was my burden to bear. Anxiety began choking me, but when I looked up to Master E, the hold loosened and air found my lungs again. I nodded because it was the polite thing to do, not because I believed it. I wanted to but I couldn’t.
“Good girl,” he said softly, and the words sparked something dangerous inside me—something equal parts yearning and shame. I wanted to curl into that praise, wrap it around myself like a fluffy blanket. Instead, I shifted in the chair, digging my nails into my palm until the sting kept me upright.
“You’ll hear from me soon,” he continued. “And Seraphina? Don’t disappear into yourself while you wait. Stay present. Stay open. I’ll make it right.”
I managed a brittle smile. “Yes, Sir.”
The walk back to my quarters felt like wading through wet sand. Every step heavier than the last. The Ranch was beautiful in the evening—lanterns flickering to life, laughter spilling from the play areas, couples and pairs strolling hand-in-hand or leash-in-hand across the grounds. I wanted to sink into that warmth, to believe I belonged in it.
