[There’s no stopping the initial flinch at the touch, on guard for any attempts to move around to her front or encourage her to turn her face, but when those don’t come… she relaxes back into it. Now there is nothing to snag the comb in but an occasional tangle, and… it does feel nice. When her master’s men had styled her hair for exhibition days they had brushed and combed it, but not gently. That had been harsh, utilitarian movements, combing in hot wax to make elaborate hairdos for prospective buyers to find pleasing, not for preparing before bed or taking care of her mane.
She almost forgets for a little while that she has only one eye and that she is in the house of a man who claimed to love her. Her eye drifts near close again, and this time…]
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She almost forgets for a little while that she has only one eye and that she is in the house of a man who claimed to love her. Her eye drifts near close again, and this time…]
… if you want to.