The Real Mother Goose

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“Peep!” The voice shook the room and the startled girl looked up as Mother came in. “Do you know where your sheep are now?”

“No, Mother.” The girl looked up from her position, kneeling on the floor, her blue eyes wide. “I penned them before I left, I swear it.” Mother Goose came toward her, the high heels of her soft boots clicking on the floor. She squatted down before Peep, whose hands were bound behind her to her feet with pink satin sashes.

“You are a pretty little one.” Mother lifted the girl’s chin and studied her face, her gaze moving over the girl’s body, the pink and white corset drawn tight, her blonde curls spilling over her shoulders, partially hiding Peep’s rosy little nipples. “Sometimes I think you’re just playing dumb.”

“No, Mother,” Peep implored, shaking her head. “I penned them. I promise you.”

“Is that so?” Mother stood. Peep looked up Mother’s long legs, encased in black fishnet stockings and garters, the dark triangle between her legs exposed, as it always was, for easy access.

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