Little did slave know that instead of having flower petals for the guests to throw out into the aisle, Mistress provided them with tiny stones. Those ...iny stones were now digging into the knees and palms of slave as he crawled behind his Mistress back down the aisle, but it was all worth it. It was very painful but slave was now owned and the property of his Goddess and could not be happier.Mistress reached the door and opened it. slave followed wearing his white bridal lingerie, collar, leash,. .and...”I held her, letting her cry onto my shoulder. Her tears were hot and wet, soaking through my torn shirt. The pain from my wounds faded as my power repaired the damage. All the grief and fear poured out of the nun. She was incoherent for a few minutes, her cries transforming into a keening wail.I understood this grief. Nuns were often close with their monks. She maybe grieving a lover as well as a partner. And I understood grief. I didn't rush her. I let her cry until she was ready to. I developed a system, imperfect of course, but it guides me as I consider my legal responsibilities.Just as attorneys shop for sympathetic judges, I look for intelligent, experienced professionals to make up my ad hoc advisory teams. I have one such volunteer committee in San Francisco, a second one in L A.Each team includes a social worker experienced in childhood trauma. A police officer who works with family dynamics. And someone in the judicial system. In San Francisco it’s a prosecutor.. It was tricky to judge it. The idea was to get justenough lubrication so that the trowel would float over the surface,filling any imperfections.I worked with long sweeping strokes, making sure it was as smooth as Icould get it. It didn?t take too long. When I was done, John and Debbiegave me a clap.I grinned and bowed then we all stood looking at it, arms folded.?Nice work,? said John.?Thanks.??I didn?t realise you were a master decorator.?I shrugged. ?Neither did I.?He chuckled as though I.