Friday, January 20, 2017

Nature vs. Nurture January 2017

In the comments of my Q&A post, Iain Quicksilver asked this question in the comments:  "Does this mean my crossdreaming is an implanted fetish, or could it be she was merely drawing out something already in myself?"

This brings up the long-standing question of Nature vs. Nurture.  I'm pretty sure most are familiar with this topic and anyone that has taken an Intro to Psychology course probably spent at least a week studying it at some point in time.

There are loads of case studies that provide support for either side and always a load of case studies that provide support to the contrary.  With that in mind, unless they discover a gene that is "responsible" for every minute variation and quirk in every human, I have to believe that we are a factor of both nature and nurture.

Things that we experience as trauma during our formative years does have the ability to affect how we will see the world for the rest of our lives.  Whether or not we are genetically predisposed to those events I cannot say.

It is my belief that childhood events are powerful but in most cases, it requires more than a singular occurrence to cause a fractured sense of self or a complete redefining of our self-image.  This is the great separator when differentiating between cases of abuse.  e.g. A child that is punished harshly once is disciplined.  A child that regularly treated consistently harshly without merit is abused.  In the former case, ideally the child creates an immediate negative association and learns to avoid that in the future.  In the latter, the child likely develops a state of helplessness and confusion, where they feel like they have no control over the outcome of situations.

The original comments that preceded the question:

"When I was small, my aunt set me up for crossdreaming by telling me I looked like a girl in a beret and then, when I didn't want to wear one, talking my father into making me wear it. Later she caught me masturbating and said she would tell my father. Not long after (I was probably about three at the time), my father and I were taking a walk, and as we rounded a corner, he stopped and said "I understand you've been playing with yourself down there. Better stop, or you'll turn into a girl." I was instantly filled with desire but disguised it as embarrassment. I'm sure my aunt advised him to say that, knowing full well what effect it would have on me. I am her creature."

I have only basic knowledge of the concept of crossdreaming, but from what I gather in its most simple definition, it is the state getting aroused at the idea of being the opposite gender (or adopting a mindset of the opposite gender).

There is a lot that can be drawn from the quoted blurb above.  What I could see happening through such events has the greatest impact on views of the genders.
The aunt, who is a woman, is powerful, in control, intelligent, capable of manipulating men/boys, and inflicting pain both directly and indirectly.
The father, who is a man, is easily influenced and while physically imposing, seems much less threatening as his role is to act as her instrument.  
Couple in a notion that masturbating, e.g. something done for pleasure to oneself, will inevitably lead to becoming female also creates a strange association.
I'm sure there is a lot more to this story, but that is what I would draw from what was written.

I could be wrong here, but it seems like a strong crucible for developing a timid/submissive male, confident/secure female type of a split... although as a genetic male, that sort of existence would likely result in painful/shameful crashes every time the mindset returns back to male. 

With that in mind and returning to the original question, evidence points towards nurture.  Whether or not something exists genetically making that more susceptible to happening, I cannot be sure, but I definitely wouldn't ignore t he possibility.

Thursday, January 19, 2017

Q & A?

Just looking for some ideas to write about in between fiction.

If anyone has any questions for me, requests, or ideas, please feel free to leave a comment, use the contact form on the blog, or my email in my blogger profile, I'm always willing to consider requests for things to talk about.

Yes, this is me feeling starved for more contact/interaction :)

Emotional Relativism

In my younger days I never really understood just how things fit together in my life.  I always had a roof over my head, food on the table, and clothes on my back.

By the time I became "emotionally stable" in a sustainable sense most of my friends saw me as wise beyond my years as I was nearly always able to empathize and give advice on how to handle what life threw at them.  Being told that I'm wise has always felt a little bit silly.  Most of what I told them was simply looking at the bigger picture and obeying rules of common sense.

Around the age of 17 I still kept much of my pain buried deep within.  My friends all knew I was hurting.  If I let slip in what way or how close I was to checking out of this world they would grow worried.  A lot of them were afraid that they would be unable to return any advice to me... so they kept their distance.  Others tried their best and I loved them for it.  Someone caring about me meant more to me than someone having a magical answer to give me.  There was no magical answer.  Care was enough.

Around then I came up with the idea of emotional relativism.  It was during a period of sobriety that after a couple of years of numbing myself into feeling nothing I found myself craving to feel everything... good or bad.  This often meant facing my demons and since I was frequently the center of our social circle, these demons were sometimes on display.

Most people didn't think they could empathize with whatever I was feeling.  If a kid was white and his parent's weren't divorced and had never been abused, it was tough for them to understand being an orphan, abused, and the victim of bullying and racism.  By this time I had discovered something.  I'm not sure why it felt so ground-breaking at the time and I'm still not sure why more people haven't figured it out in their adult lives.

The primary principle of emotional relativism is that feelings aren't unique.  In most cases I believe that "the best feeling you've ever had" is probably the best feeling you've ever had.  While time and experiences may change what triggered said feeling, I don't believe our emotional spectrum really deviates much from that... we merely over-write our association with the memory.  Think along the lines of something that made you feel like you could take on the world... that you were walking on air... that the world smelled of wonderful flowers and full of hope.  I believe most people experience this dozens of times over their lifetime... the causes come and go but the feeling remains the same.

Similarly, I believe the "worst feeling you've ever had" works in a similar way.  This is the one that always hung people up with trying to relate to me when I was in a bad place.  "The world hurts and it will never get better."  I think everyone has felt this momentary pain at some point, whether it was the death of their pet as a child or watching a loved one as the life fades from their eyes.  The only difference between me and them was that this feeling wasn't momentary.  The loss of hope made it linger far too long... the "it will never get better" part became the harder burden to bear.  That being said, I would never claim that the depth of my sadness at a given moment was ever more painful than someone else's sadness during their worst feeling.  I simply had experienced more... my worst had been over-written more often than theirs by that age.

I think this is why I get so frustrated with politics, society, and the like.  People want to believe themselves to be special and unique in a way that they really aren't.  When I encounter someone of this nature and am able to reach an amicable discussion I am arrogant enough to boldly claim that I know exactly what makes them happy.  It goes a little something like this:  You are happy when you love and are loved.  You are happy when your present needs are met and you can plan for the future.  You are happy when you have hopes and dreams that you seek out and feel like they are attainable.  You are happy when your life feels fulfilled and meaningful.

Their response is often along the lines of "Well, duh, doesn't that make everyone happy?"  They put the ball on the tee and beg me to swing.  I usually give them a few seconds to put it together.  We aren't all that different from anyone else.  While the details may change, the deepest needs of our heart aren't unique at all.

The same can be said about our fears, our anger, our frustrations, and the like.  What I feel when I am angry is the same as what you feel when you are angry... but the details of what causes it may be different.

I always felt the world would be a better place if we could all see how similar we are to everyone else... but most people like to focus on the differences.  It's quite a shame to miss out on everything beautiful about people by getting hung up on minor details.

I will return to the topic of this post before I deviate beyond that.  I don't know why but I have never permitted myself to be okay with my own place in emotional relativism.  In my quest to be stronger I always cited others that were in a worse position than me in order to justify that I'm not feeling "as bad as humanly possible."  I had a friend that spent a few years on and off being homeless.  Under-educated single mother, siblings, living out of a car each time they would get evicted, often following a medical emergency.  I had a friend that grew up in Central America in a country run by an unstable military regime.  At 11 he threw a rock at a tank that had rolled into his town and was thrown in prison.  For several years he was beaten, tortured, and starved before being released and moving to the USA.  I had a friend whose mother went insane and for years she would whip them with coat hangers that she heated up on the stove until they were glowing red hot.  How could I justify feeling as bad as I did when I didn't have it "that bad."  I regularly beat myself up over that in an effort to be stronger.  I never allowed my emotions to be relative.

It is in this that I truly feel the extent of my damage.  I cannot forgive myself.  I cannot accept myself.  I cannot allow myself to be measured by reasonable standards.  As I write this I realize just how fucking unhealthy it is to feel this way but I have somehow managed to find a delicate balance in all of it.  The downside is that there are times that I feel my entire life is built up around continuing to exist... as if that is the best there is for me.  The odd thing is that this isn't depression talking... it's the inner-voice of my heart that continues to lead me down this path and I don't know why.

Wednesday, January 18, 2017

Fiction: fs01 - Part 63

Author’s Note: This takes place about an hour after Part 62. It was originally intended to be part of 62 but both ended up running long.


At dinner, Mistress and Brittany talk about all sorts of things while I lurk in the background. Movies, books, television, music, fashion, shopping, vacations, and a lot of things that you hear new friends talk about while they get to know each other. They really have a lot in common.

After desert they return to the living room. The continuous wine keeps things loose and flowing.

“Have you ever had your foot tongued?”
“What the hell is that?”
“Like, a foot massage given with a tongue.”
“No. What’s it like?”
“Can I see you first and then decide?”
“Of course.”

Mistress snaps her fingers. I lie down with my head next to her feet and inch my body across the floor. I gently remove the slipper from her foot.
“With hands.”

I grasp her foot softly in my hands and begin with my normal massage technique, working my thumbs around the nerve zones. Carefully I raise my head and press my tongue at the top of her sole, where the toes meet the foot. I press more firmly and work my tongue in a massaging motion as my thumbs work her arch. I hear Mistress’s hand grip the armrest of the couch as she slouches back and moans.

I slide my tongue around, dragging it up each toe from base to tip. My hands move to the heel and outer edge. Mistress moans again as the sound of ruffled fabric finds my ears. My heart smiles knowing I give her pleasure. I’m a tad disappointed that in this position I can’t see her. Normally I do this while she lays in bed. Mistress’s breathing increases as she lets out a long sigh with a few pulsed cries in between.

“No fucking way.” I’m not sure what sort of expression Brittany has on right now.

I glide across the arch, swirling in gentle moving circles and spirals. The sound of friction continues with a fervor. Mistress begins to thrash and groan as I work my tongue back up her foot. I close my mouth over her pinkie toe. I suck and flick my tongue over its pad. She rubs furiously, undeterred by the presence of her guest. Her breaths heave in and out as as pulsed cry of pleasure signals me that she’s done. She pulls her foot from my grasp and wiggles it a few times. I return the slipper to her foot and plant a kiss.

I return to my knees in front of her.
“Yes, Mistress.”
“You let your thoughts drift there, didn’t you?”

I hang my head in shame. I feel her hands take hold of each of my nipples. I nod vigorously. Too late. She digs in her nails and gives them a firm pinch and twist. I let out a whimpering cry before she releases.
“So disappointing. I’m trying to show off your talents to our guest and you can’t stay focused.”
“I’m sorry, Mistress.”
“Oh, you will be sorry, pet.”

Mistress sits back up in the couch.
“Are you ready, Brit?”

I glance up and watch as her face turns bright red and her mouth opens and closes like a goldfish. She raises her hands and contorts her fingers.
“Umm, maybe? Like, wow. Am I allowed to rub one out too? That’s okay, right?”

Mistress laughs a very hearty laugh.
“Would you prefer a toy?”

Her face lights up another shade as she ruffles her fingers through her hair.
“Aaaaagh. No. I mean yes. I mean no. I mean… yes, yes… definitely yes.”
“First time with an audience?”

Brittany places her palms over her eyes.
“Yes. Be Zen. I’m in my happy place. Be Zen. I’m in my happy place.”
“Would it be easier if I left the room?”
“Yes, definitely yes. Yes. Definitely.”
“But what if I want to watch?”
“God, Cass!”

Brittany presses her hands over her face and rocks forward at the waist. She quickly sits upright.
“Well just look at the time. This will definitely have to wait until next time.”
“You don’t have a car here.”
“Yeah, but you don’t know that!”
“Too much too soon?”

Brittany’s hands return to her face and she nods slowly. She slowly removes them but looks a bit flustered.
“Aren’t you… like… shy at all?”

Mistress laughs
“You do remember that I had you take pictures of me with an over-sized strap on on the verge of ravaging my pet?”

Brittany closes her eyes tightly and grits her teeth.
“Those turned out lovely, by the way. I could definitely hire you as a photographer if you decide you wish to start working.”

Mistress’s ability to change the subject and build someone up is astounding.

“Why don’t we head on down to the dungeon?”

Brittany nods slowly, her energetic self on break for the time being. All humor leaves my body as well. I know exactly what awaits me down those stairs.

I follow them to the stairs as Mistress gives her the mini-tour along the way. As Mistress takes the first step I hear her speak quietly.

“If you want to really fuck with him, now is the best time.”
“Why now?”
“In about five minutes he’s going to be screaming for his life.”

Brittany laughs so hard that she has to hold her sides. This does nothing to reduce my elevated pulse rate or rising temperature. Anticipation… is the worst. Mistress pours salt in the wound with her choice of conversation.

“Let’s see. He has 20 coming from this morning for attitude towards his uniform. 30 for disrespecting you and another 15 for losing focus. How many do you think he deserves for breaking your heart?”
“Is 1000 okay?”
“I’m pretty sure that many would kill him and your arm would fall off in the process.”
“Umm… I don’t really know how this works.”
“Why don’t we say, 20 per day until you’re no longer mad at him?”
“Sounds good to me, but I can stay mad a long time.”
“Oh, Brit, I love you.”
“When you say love…”
“As a person, yes. Don’t worry, little one. I’m not going to try to seduce you. However, if you come to me...”
“Umm… so 20. Got it. Awkward pause.”
“Did you really just say awkward pause out loud?”
“Uh, no. I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

I’m so lost in their interplay that I barely notice that we’re in the dungeon and Mistress is prepping the shackles. I lower my head and step over to the mark, raising my arms and positioning them so that Mistress can close and lock the shackles around my wrists. She repeats with the leg irons that are threaded through the bolted ring to the floor. Lastly, she lifts the back of my dress and secures it to the ring on my belt. I begin to perspire and my body trembles as I watch her casually pace over to the wall plate. The motor whirs, raising my arms above my head until I’m balancing on my toes.

“I totally am getting a girl crush on you, Cass. You’re like a superhero. A high-tech torture room. It’s like you’re a sadistic batman… batgirl… chick. Newsflash, I talk a lot when I’m a little uncomfortable. In case you were wondering. I’m not sure if you’ve noticed that by now but I’m sure you’ve noticed that by now.”

Mistress has me positioned in such a way that I can see what devices are being taken off the wall. I watch as she removes a 1” leather strap with a wooden handle. She hands it to Brittany.

“Go to town.”
“So I just like… hit him?”
“This isn’t your first time.”
“Well that time was birthday spankings right? This is like punishment.”
“Sort of. I like to think it more as clearing his conscience. He knows that he deserves them. He broke the rules and committed the wrongs. He’ll feel guilty unless we purge that guilt from him.”
“You sold me. So last time I had a paddle. With this one do I like...”
“Did you play tennis ever?”
“Try hitting him with a forehand.”

I hear her footsteps on the floor. I hear the air being displaced with a whir. The leather bites into my skin with a hard smack. I cry out and my body shakes against the metal bonds.
“Oh, shit.”

Step, tap, whir, smack. I scream and the chains rattle as I lose my balance and sway back and forth until I regain my footing. Step, tap, whir, smack. I cry and sob as the skin on my rear catches fire.
“Let’s see how two-handed goes.”

Step, tap, whir, SMASH. The breath shoots out of me with a yelp as I stagger under the stinging and throbbing pain.
“How do I stop feeling guilty?”
“There are multiple ways. You can whip faster, grow accustomed to it...”
“What do you use?”
“I learned to love it. His suffering turns me on… and the power… the power is just heavenly.”
“Interesting. Yes, the dark side is stronger.”
“See the swinging boy in front of you. He has disrespected you multiple times today and deserves to be punished. You are a beautiful Goddess who holds the power to judge what is right and wrong, cast down your sentence upon this insolent boy that dares to defy the Goddess.”

Step, tap, whir, SMASH. I cry a gargled yelp as my body shudders against the chains.
“Is it normal to be turned on by this?”
“Are you asking my permission?”
“Does this make you wet?”
“Of course. I’m almost angry that he has so many left to go that it will be forever until I can let him down and have him pleasure me. Are you wet?”
“So how many is that, 6?”

Mistress laughs as another crack of the strap strikes my bottom. I find myself leaning forward in my chains, attempting to inch away to no avail. Tears stream down my cheeks as I wail and cry out on each impact.

The strikes finally stop and I slump down, finally able to catch my breath.

“How do you feel?”
“I feel awesome.”

The way she shifts her pitch as she speaks would seem cute if I wasn’t in agony over my throbbing skin.

I just want to keep going. Kapow, kapow. Watching his back arch and his head fly back...”
It’s addictive, isn’t it?”

I watch as Mistress creeps closer to Brittany.
The feelings… are addictive… seductive… sensual...”

Brittany’s face turns bright red as Mistress drags her finger across her cheek.
Something something… personal space… something something.”

Mistress laughs again and removes her hand. I crack a hint of a smile from my exhausted face. Mistress is quite masterful at teasing when she wants to be.

Brittany hands Mistress the strap. She returns it to the wall and selects ‘the strap.’ The lesson teacher. The instrument of my training. I begin to whimper as she twirls it and taps it on her hand.

That one is like way longer and wider than the one I was using. Are you a size queen?”

Mistress laughs again.
You’ll have to work your way up to this one. It takes a certain level of proficiency or it can be a bit dangerous.”

Mistress vanishes from my view as she works her way around. I let out a small cry and grip the chains with my fingers. I feel her hand slide across my tender buttocks.
I’m impressed. The color of the marks and the swelling, I think you’ve found your calling.”

Brittany pumps her fist in the air.
Hooray me.”

Her hand leaves my skin. I take a deep breath and hold it. I can’t relax, I can only brace.

SMASH. A long bellowing cry leaves my mouth as my lungs expel all of the stored air. My body begins to slump as the second blow lands, causing me to recoil, thrash, and flex in vain.

Holy shit.”
My pet knows I never fuck around when it comes to what, pet?”

I sob out the words in small fragments.
Disrespect, Mistress.”
That’s right, pet. Disrespect.”

SMASH. I cry and shake, the metal digs into my wrists as I collapse forward, my feet unable to support me. I feel her hand on my belt, pulling me back to my toes. My preemptive whimper becomes as howl with the next blow.

See, Brit? I’ll bet you can almost forgive him for his earlier indiscretion.”
Almost. I still think you should keep going.”

SMASH. Under repeated blows I lose count as my voice grows hoarse and my muscle throb from the strain. Before long I find myself drifting in and out due to exhaustion.

My eyes focus as Mistress snaps her fingers in front of my face repeatedly. A straw enters my mouth and I take a sip of water. It feels so good as I can trace its path as it slides down the inside of my chest and into my stomach.

Take more.”

I slurp up another gulp.
Thank you, Mistress.”

As feeling returns my wrists are rubbed raw from the shackles. My legs can barely support me at all. My back, neck, and arms ache from the strain. My buttocks throbs and pulses as my lungs heave for air.

We’re going to carry the rest over to tomorrow, pet, but you know what that means.”
You add 10, Mistress.”

She returns to the wall and lowers the shackles. I collapse into a pile on the floor. I feel her touch as she cradles my head in her lap.
I’m so sorry, Mistress.”
I know you are, pet. Aren’t you forgetting someone?”
I’m so sorry, Miss Brittany.”
Hrm, do we need to add some more?”

I sob gently into her lap. I breathe deeply as her perfume fills my nose… the familiar scent makes me feel safe.
Do you always do that with him?”
This is what is called aftercare. It’s an important ritual that solidifies the bonds between a Mistress and her sub and helps to drive home the lessons you hope that he will learn. Dominique doesn’t believe in it. I tend to save it for when I’ve really hurt him.”

I think I get it. Just because you are a sadist and like to hurt him, that doesn’t mean you don’t love him and care about his well being.”
And tomorrow, he will accept his punishment willingly, I will hurt him badly, and we’ll do this again.”
How long do you let him recover for?”
Until he can stand.”
Do you take it easy on him after that?”
Of course not. Why go to all the trouble to break his spirit if you aren’t going to push him farther?”
Wait, what?”

Is there anything you would like to do or see? Your blush says yes.”
Ugh, you can’t put me on the spot like that.”
Well… a couple of things… god… why is this so hard?”
Relax. I doubt you can name anything that we don’t already do regularly.”

I hear Brittany sigh from across the room.
Well… I kinda… want to see what pegging is like. And I also read something about milking and that got me curious.”

I let out a small groan.
That’s my girl.”
Mistress pets the fur on my collar. I rise slowly and my sobs begin anew.

Why is he crying again?”
Aha, it’s because you picked his least favorite activity in the world. Just look at how docile and obedient he is after a good beating.”

I keep my head down as I walk gingerly to the horse and climb on.
Brit, would you be a doll and lock his wrists and ankles down.”
If he’s so obedient why does he need locks?”
Hrm. I thought that maybe you could tell me. I suspect some kind of trauma. It’s stronger than his desire to please me. We use the locks to keep him from unconsciously disappointing me.”
Well, we did shove things up there before but nothing that would have probably… oh shit. I totally forgot. The day that Courtney got dumped.”

I continue sobbing as she fastens my wrists and ankles to the horse.

Yeah. Now I remember. My friend Courtney got dumped by her boyfriend after he had been cheating on her and we got drunk at my house after school. When fur sissy arrived she just went off on him. She started slapping his face, kicked him in the balls, just brutalized him. After that she handcuffed him, crammed a ball of my socks into his mouth and pulled a pair of pantyhose over his head. She was mad when he could still see so then she added a pillow case… and another pillow case… and then pulled a plastic bag over his head. I made her poke a hole in it so he wouldn’t die. She cut off his pants and underwear with a pair of scissors and duct taped his ankles to the dresser. Chloe and I had no fucking clue what she was going to do, she just went crazy.”

I begin to weep as the memories of that day return in full force.

I’m guessing something ended up inside of him?”
Oh, shit yeah. She went and got the icy hot from my stepdad’s bathroom and lubed up the handle of a hairbrush. She started jamming that brush up his butt. He was screaming and trashing so she sat on his back while she did it. Once she got tired of it she just left it in him and then took a handful of icy hot and rubbed it all over his cock and balls. The bag kept making these crinkling noises as he screamed and gasped for air. It was really fucked up.”
Did she untie him after that?”
No. She drunk dialed her boyfriend and when he hung up she pulled the brush out, lubed it up again and kept going. She was so pissed that every time he stopped screaming she just kept putting more icy hot on his junk and stuff. This was over like six hours. God, we were so mean. I remember we made him walk home with a garbage bag with holes cut in it instead of pants.”

I continue weeping quietly on the horse. I figure that story gave enough time for Mistress to harness up.
You’re in for a little treat, Brit. This is a two-fer.”
So after hearing that story you’re still going to do it?”
Of course. My pet knows how much I like it and now he knows that you want to see it. This is completely consensual. Right, pet?”
Yes, Mistress.” I sniffle.

I feel the lubed silicon work its way between my thighs. My sobbing begins on instinct. I whisper my anal mantra quietly.
Please don’t do this please don’t do this please don’t do this.”

Yeah. Totally consensual. Got it.”

She violates me. My head tilts back and I let out a long cry. I hear Mistress exhale aggressively through her nose as she pumps her hips and lets out a gasp of pleasure with every thrust. I try to relax as my body shakes and quivers, unable to control itself.

Slap, slap, slap, the sound of her hips against mine echoes through the dungeon. The tears flow from my eyes as I make continuous gurgling noises against the sobs. Mistress picks up her pace and begins to pound, crying out with each thrust. I feel her hands tighten around my waist. Her juices run onto my thighs.

I whimper and cry as I feel the warm fluid ooze into the tube of my belt.
There’s… the… milk...” Mistress finds enough breath to speak each word between breaths.

I notice Brittany to the side of me, watching in awe as the fluid dribbles into the floor.
You’re still going?”
Until… I… cum...”
That’s really fucking hot.”
So… hot… It’s… the best.”

Mistress’s pleasure calls and the sound of flesh on flesh completely drown out my feeble cries. The pain and throbbing begins to build as she jackhammers inside of me. The spikes dig into my wrists as I fight against the locks. I flail my arms and legs, hoping this will all be over.
I… love… fucking… you… pet.”

She slams up against me once… twice… three times. Her moans sputter as I feel her juices soak the backs of my legs. I feel Mistress slowly withdraw. My rear tingles and throbs. I hear her breaths slowly stabilize behind me.

Umm… Cass… is it okay if I borrow another massager?”
Of course dear… unless you’d rather have a go at him.”
Oh shit. Noway noway noway. Too much, too soon. Let me fantasize about it a few times first.”

I feel the locks release and I slide off the horse in a heap on the floor. I gather my bearings and crawl towards Mistress’s feet. I lower my head and plant a kiss, first the right foot, then the left.

So how does milking work?”
It’s quite simple really. You massage the prostate and it just comes out.”
Is it like an orgasm?”
I’ve heard about people having an orgasm that way but I doubt my pet has one. If he took any pleasure in it I’d have to find another way to milk him.”
So you love that he hates it?”
Why did you buy handcuffs when you were in high school?”
To restrain his hands.”
To restrain his hands isn’t the answer?”
Do you think he would have tried to fight you off without them?”
So what’s the real reason?”
To make him feel powerless and uncomfortable.”
Didn’t that turn you on? Make you feel naughty? Exhilarated?”
Well, yes.”

Mistress laughs.
I think you understand it perfectly.”
So if he loved it, you wouldn’t peg him?”
I won’t say never, but probably not nearly as often as I do. The fact that he hates it makes it all the more special to me that he accepts it willingly.”
Now that is deep… but I get that completely. I felt the same way back then.”

What’s it like with that thing on?”

I look up and watch Mistress stroke the strap on.
It depends who I’m using it on. With my pet this is my tool of violation. It belittles him and empowers me. It reduces him to a hole that I use to get off. When I use it on a woman… it’s a tool of mutual pleasure. I want her to cum and the harder I try, the better it feels for me, too. It really is quite amazing.”

Brittany ruffles her hair with her fingers and begins sputtering words at a rapid pace.
“Just friends. I’m not a lesbian. It’s okay to flirt. Personal space. Just friends.”

Mistress chuckles.
“My dear, I have to say that today has been the most fun I have had in a very long time. You are wonderful and I’m glad that you are my friend.”
Brittany smiles and blushes.
“I’m really glad I met you, Cass. Really. Thank you.”

“So now what? Do you want me to give you a ride home? Is there anything you’d like to try?”

Brittany smiles sheepishly. I watch as she draws a circle on the floor with her toe.
“Well… there is something I’d like to try. If it’s okay with you. I actually did it to him once before but I’m not sure he knew what was going on.”
“As long as his chastity belt stays on and it doesn’t permanently injure him, sure… but… you have to let me watch.”
“Oh fuck. There’s always a catch. Well, when I did this Chloe and Courtney were in the room, so I guess I could try to channel my rebellious 17-year old self and say fuck it.”

I watch as Brittany scans the room.

“I need some way to hog tie him, a gag that forces him to breathe out of his nose, and a blindfold.”

Mistress hands her a few things from the table.
“Whaaaaat? They actually make a hog-tie? We had to use a couple of pairs of pantyhose and we duct taped his mouth shut and over his eyes. I feel so low-tech.”
“Duct tape over his eyes? Wouldn’t that take his eyebrows off when you removed it?”
“Ha, no. Only half of his eyebrows… give or take… a few patches.”

Mistress laughs heartily.
“Also… do you have something soft to lay on? Or head to a different room?”

Mistress motions to me and I fetch the bearskin rug from the laundry room and lay it out on the floor. With the gag and blindfold in place, I find myself hog-tied and completely helpless. I stay intently focused, worried about what is to come.

“Do you want me to leave my panties on?”
“It’s up to you.”
“Well, I actually think it feels better with them on, and I’m totally not just saying that.”

Mistress laughs again.

I feel a hand lift my head firmly by the harness. A leg across my back, then another. I inhale through my nose and detect a very strong, very close scent of unfamiliar sex. A moment later, pressure against the earmuffs on my harness. Intense pressure. The legs pull in on my back and head, the pressure on the sides of my head must be thighs. My nose presses firmly against some moist silky fabric. A downward tug on my head presses my nostrils closed. No air.

I begin to tug and struggle with my head. The grip holds firm. I shake and spam my face violently against the wetness and silk. A series of low moans resound from above my head. I pull. I shake. Can’t breathe. The pressure relaxes and I gasp for air through my nose, her scent fills me completely.

I barely catch my breath when the pressure resumes, burying my face into her. The series of shakes and spasms, fighting against her grip continues. She pulls me in, I wiggle my head from side to side. Her moans become a pulse of cries. Air. I gasp for air as the releases her grip. Two breaths, another tug.

Help me. Someone. I struggle, the more I struggle the harder she pulls, the deeper she moans, the harder she grinds her sex into my face. She begins to pulsate with her tugs and leg flexes in a rhythm, forcing my face in again and again. My nose absorbs her scent and wetness as I gasp for air and struggle to free myself when I cannot breathe. She cries out and bucks her hips repeatedly. Her legs tighten a final time. Her juices coat my face.

She releases me from her grip. My chest heaves for air. The scent of her sex lingers in my nostrils. As Brittany’s breathing slows, the sound of Mistress panting fills my ears. I can hear the sound of friction, the lube on the strap on. She must be masturbating with it.
“That… was… so… hot.”

A few moments later Mistress lets out a small cry as she cums. I feel Brittany move away. I slump my face down into the fur rug. I am exhausted… in every way imaginable.

“I’m impressed. I would file that under an ‘advanced technique.’”
“How did you just cum?”

Mistress laughs.
“This style of strap-on goes inside of me on the other end. When you apply force against it, the back end pushes on my g-spot. I believe the inventor deserves some sort of prize. Well, that and your orgasm was just so hot and the way my little pet struggled all helpless like that.”
“I had to ask.”

“Do you mind spending the night tonight? I really don’t feel like driving. I just want to relax in the bath. I have a couple of guest rooms… unless you’d like to share my bed with me.”
“Just friends… personal space… not a lesbian.”
“Oh, dear, you’re almost as much fun to tease as my pet. Separate rooms, just friends. I can lend you a toy.”
“That’d be fine.”

I make a small grunting noise as I rattle my wrists and ankles. The spikes are becoming painful as they dig in while in this position.
“Should we unlock him?”
“Do we have to?”
“No, we could leave him like this all night if you want to.”

I begin to whimper and pout from behind the gag.
“It almost sounds like he’s laughing, doesn’t it?”

I buck my elbows and rock my body from side to side.
“Oh, pet. So much fun to tease.”


Tuesday, January 17, 2017

Fiction: fs01 - Part 62

Author’s Note: This takes place a couple of weeks after Part 61.


I stand at attention as Mistress eats her breakfast while she scrolls through her tablet. I’m unprepared for what she brings up next.

“I’m taking you out today, pet. A new local Femdom group has formed recently and I was contacted through my blog several weeks ago to see if I would be willing to act as a guest speaker for them. It meets this afternoon and I plan on taking you to accompany me.”

My chest tightens a bit as a thousand worries immediately enter my head. The thorough cleaning and shaving yesterday makes complete sense now. Mistress slides her chair out abruptly from the table and turns to me. She parts her robe and spreads her legs and leans forward showing off her cleavage that is framed in the fur trim of her robe. I feel the chemicals in my body swing out of balance as my brain says “run” while my sex strains against the metal prison.

“I’ll bet you are freaking out inside right now and wondering why I waited until the last minute to tell you.”

I blush and look at the floor. The accuracy with which she reads me is still a bit nerve-wracking.

“My little pet, always so cute when he’s scared. I expect you to be on your very best behavior. Their impression of you will reflect upon me, and I know you want to make me proud.”

I try to respond but my “Yes, Mistress” makes no sound as my mouth is suddenly too dry to speak.

Mistress lets out a laugh as she rises from her chair. Her hands press me up against the wall as she leans in seductively. She tugs on the leather front strap causing the metal spikes to dig into the flesh on my neck. Her head leans forward and her lips meet mine. Her tongue forces its way into my mouth.

“I know how much it excites you to be put on display in front of strange women… fully exposed so that they can see the ‘real you.’” I close my eyes and contort my face a little as my cheeks flush a deep red.

“But don’t worry, I have a feeling you’ll enjoy being poked and prodded by 60 or 70 women. Although at times I know you are prone to turning into a cheap slut and you are quite the lady killer, pet. I’m sure once I inform them of your little ahem, ‘problem,’ they’ll probably lose all interest.”

She taps on the front plate of the chastity belt with her fingernail. I feel my stomach twist as she reminds me of my “condition.” My brain continues to spiral. She continues to tease me.

“Do you really think I’d be that cruel, pet?” She moves her lips close to my cheek as she drags her finger down my chest and finds a nipple to play with. I quickly nod my head before I feel myself slipping into her trap.

She shoves me away and arches her eyebrow.
“Well, if that’s how you really feel, I can’t disappoint you, now can I?”

She smiles as my spirit shrinks. The illusion of choice makes me forget that this game is unwinnable.

“I’m off to get ready. Make sure your uniform is primped and presentable.”

I watch as she departs the room with confident strides. I follow slowly, in hesitant baby steps that reflect my mood. In front of the bathroom mirror I find myself struggling to look at myself. Mistress knows that I don’t need to primp, she just enjoys the idea of me squirming. I do make sure that everything is straight and in order before departing.

Mistress descends the stairs. Her leather knee high boots reach just to the base of her black leather skirt. A red blouse that displays her cleavage is trimmed with black fur at the collar and cuffs with some black leather driving gloves. I smile as my thoughts drift to her way of dressing being conservative for a kink meeting. As she nears me the scent of her perfume fills me with lust. I do my best to hide it but Mistress has a sixth sense when it comes to detecting the strain of the chastity belt.

She smiles at me seductively before her brow wrinkles.

“Disobedient little pet. When I tell you to primp it means to fluff the fur so that it looks as big and puffy as possible. This looks like you tried to press it down. Do I need to put in a request for a version 4.1?”

I blush a bit as her hands comb their way through my collar and earmuffs. She leans in close and whispers.
“I think you’ll have a date with the strap tonight. You need a little reminder on how we do things here.”

She backs away with a sly smile. I lower my head in shame.

“Black trench coat and black fox headband.”

I scurry into the coat closet and retrieve them for her. When I return her arm is already extended. I slide her arm into the sleeve and wrap the coat around her. I straighten it out and cinch the belt snugly at her waist before gently lifting her hair out from the collar. The headband follows. I complete the ritual by kneeling and kissing her feet. First the right foot, then the left.

“Get your pink, hooded cape.”
I nod and quickly fetch it from the closet. I pull the cape over me while Mistress does the neck closure. She then turns it to my side and grabs my wrist, forcing my hand behind my back. I reach my other hand back and with a tug and a click, my hands are secured behind my back to the ring on the back of my belt. The gag and blindfold attachments follow. I feel a leash being clipped onto my collar ring. Lastly I feel her pull the hood up over my head and pull the drawstrings tight before tying them off. I can feel the fur trim from the hood pressing against my face below the blindfold.

I feel her body press against mine.
“If you really don’t want to go, pet, just say so and I’ll let you stay home.”
“I love that you’re always so agreeable.”
I hear her boots begin to click on the floor. A quick tug on the leash yields a sharp poke in the neck but I quickly match her pace, keeping enough slack to keep the spikes at bay. The same cannot be said about my wrists as the slight dig of the metal is constant unless I struggle.

Maneuvering the house happens with relative ease. Toppling headfirst into the pet carrier reminds me how much easier it is with the use of your hands and eyes. As I slide in I feel a chain connected between the O-rings on my boots before the gate closes behind me. The drive doesn’t take very long as I soon find myself stumbling blindly behind Mistress, each step causing a small splash at the moisture caused by melting snow.

We pass through a door and a few dozen steps later I find myself kneeling with the leash tied off to a ring on the wall. Mistress releases my blindfold but the edge of the hood and limited slack in the leash limit my field of vision. A quick scan with my eyes reveals that we are in the VIP section of the fetish club that Mistress brought me to last year that has been opened up during the day for the meeting.

A series of footsteps and small-talk fills the room for the next few minutes. Not long after the chairs shift on the floor and the clink of ice cubes in glasses follows. Mistress sits at the head of the table with a handful of other women. I let myself enjoy a small grin as the “60 or 70” ended up being “6 or 7.”

Mistress speaks first, addressing the group.
“Hello, and welcome to the first official meeting of the group. My name is Cassandra and I will be your mentor. I’m a small business owner and have a PHD in Psychology and I’ve been actively living this lifestyle for about seven years now. I know that most of you are familiar with my blog and I’ve met with you all one-on-one. Why don’t we go around the table and introduce ourselves. I believe all of you will find yourselves in similar positions to one another and it’s good to be able to lean on each other if you have questions or end up running into problems.”

“Hi, I’m Katelyn. I’m 26… single… umm… I’m new to all of this. I suppose I got interested in this when a friend recommended me the 101 Shades of Beige books. I realized as I read them that I think this was the type of relationship that my parents had. My dad passed away several years ago but when I asked my mom, she opened up about their lifestyle and it really made us closer. I think secretly that I’ve been trying to find a man like my father since I started dating but it wasn’t until recently that I realized why. And so… I’m here.”

There’s a small applause. From the corner of my eye I can see Katelyn blushing a little bit. They continue around the table.

“Umm… I’m Emily. I’m 23 and between relationships. I’m a bit surprised that I worked up the courage to be here today. I also got interested in this from the Shades of Beige books. I don’t have a life story to relate it to… it just really turned me on and I want to explore that side of things.”

More applause.

“Hi, I’m Sarah. I’m 34 and married. Two years ago I walked in on my husband watching Femdom porn. When I scanned his browser history I found out that this was a secret he had been keeping from me for a VERY long time. I felt deeply hurt and betrayed… like I had been deceived by him. He struggled to talk about it and I was so angry that I think I punished him. Our marriage turned cold and was heading towards divorce when a friend recommended me the Beige books. I read them all and for the first time approached things with an open mind. It’s not just whips and chains. I’m here today because I love my husband and I think this may save our marriage.”

As the applause fades out I find myself a bit overwhelmed by just how powerful ideas can be when they are accepted in mainstream media. Each woman has a bit of a story. One with a college roommate that practiced D/s. Another who found themselves curiously aroused and obsessed with Femdom after reading… the books. One who had been raped and was recommended this lifestyle as a means of healing by a “new school” therapist. The right side of the table is obstructed from view so I can only identify them by voices. As the last woman speaks I find my body jump a but, followed by a grunt as the spikes dig into my neck.

“I’m Brit, I’m 36 and divorced and just moved into town here. Back when I was in high school there was a boy I was just awful to. I bullied him, humiliated him, and even blackmailed him while I had him at my beck and call. I expected that he would hate me for it but it turns out he actually loved me. It was nice having someone I could count on like that. I married a man that was the opposite of him and after ten-plus years of unfulfilling married life we finally got divorced. I’m here because I want to understand how I can go back to feeling that way. Feeling alive and loving someone with a connection that can never be broken.”

I feel myself almost choking. I’m sure Mistress has noticed the rattling of metal. I can picture her smirk in my mind’s eye. Mistress takes the floor again.

“Thank you, everyone for introducing yourselves. Before we get into any specific topics I just wanted to tell you a bit about the life that I live on a daily basis. I never clean but my house is spotless. I haven’t had to cook or wash a dish in over five years. The laundry, yard work, snow removal and the like happens without me saying a word. My orgasms are frequent and amazing, and I’m never expected to reciprocate. My plans, my hopes, and my dreams are the focal point of our life. I’m allowed to be moody without guilt. I can at times be decadent and hedonistic and this behavior is encouraged rather than frowned upon. My husband is my submissive and he loves me like I am the world. He rarely makes mistakes or displeases me but when he does, he readily accepts my correcting him. He doesn’t spend a dime on himself. He’s never out late or busy with obnoxious friends. He respects and cherishes the friends I hold dear. He pampers me and caters to my every whim. I love him and we are happier than anyone else I know. Day after day, every day, it’s a new adventure.”

“Is that even possible?” Mistress responds with a chuckle.
“Yes, very possible. But it’s not something that happens overnight.”

She pauses to take a drink.
“As part of this process, I want all of you to envision your own fantasy life. If you could have everything your way, how would it be? If you could have him act any way you wanted, what would it be like? Don’t worry about what seems reasonable or realistic. Dream big. Relationships never stay the same, they have to change and evolve over time. It will be on you to direct that change. Fantasy acts as the gateway to reality. You have to know how you want things to be in order to get there. Could it be better? Could it be more? You will have to continually ask yourself these questions as they will tell you how to advance the relationship to the next level.”

“It sounds like you’re trying to sell something.” Mistress laughs again. I love the sound of her voice when she is having a good time.
“I suppose it does in some ways. But you’re all here looking to buy as well.”

“How long does building this kind of lifestyle take?”
“It varies from person to person. It depends heavily upon how willing your submissive is to be vulnerable. It also depends upon how quickly you can find methods of controlling them. If you are willing to take chances and make mistakes it may happen in a couple of years. For some, it will never happen. Others will find their own happy place that works for them but may fall short of what they originally fantasize about.”

“What kind of control are you talking about?”
“I believe one of my favorite Femdom bloggers said it best. ‘Controlling a sub’s desires is at the foundation of a Femdom relationship.’ In most cases, this is equal to controlling his orgasms in order to achieve his compliance but some submissives will have various fetishes that can be twisted and manipulated in a similar way.”

“Doesn’t that make you feel guilty at all?”
“Not in the slightest. What you have to remember is that if you can find the right submissive, they will seek to give up that control. They will enjoy being manipulated. With these subs you can train them and they will feel proud at their accomplishments, even if that involves a bit of conditioning. I know that my pet thrives on the idea that I am turning him into what I want the most.”

“You call him your pet? That’s so cute. Is that him over next to that pillar?”
“Yes, that is my pet. I like to show him off every now and then. He’s quite obedient and eager to please.”

“Can we meet him?”
“I suppose we’re almost out of time for today. Are there any objections?”

My hope that someone will object fizzles away. Mistress backs up her chair and approaches me. She unwraps the leash from the wall ring and pulls me to my feet. She loosens the hood of the cape, unfastens the neck, and slides it off of me, folding it over the back of her chair. I shuffle forward in the largest steps the ankle chain will allow.

As I approach the table my face burns red as I’m confronted with those expressions that cannot be faked. Genuine surprise… genuine amusement at my expense. Their laughter makes my chest sting as my dignity is forcibly torn from my body.

“Just what is that outfit?”
“This is fs’s daily uniform. Technically he is under contract to me as my maid and a maid should look the part right?”

I lower my eyes and wish my hands were free so that I could cover my face.
“I’ve never seen a maid that looks like that.”
“Why do you make him dress like that?”
“The answer to that is rather simple. It amuses me. It also turns me on a bit knowing that right now he just wants to hide and cry.”

“Do you keep him gagged all the time like that?”
“I do gag him quite often, but the majority of the time I leave his mouth free. It’s a crime to let a good tongue go to waste.”

Mistress changes gears for a moment.
“I just noticed our meeting time is over. For next week please think about your fantasy life. Also start working on a list in what you are looking for from a submissive as well as how you would represent yourself on an adult dating profile. If you have to leave, please drive safely and I hope to see you next week. If you would like to stick around for a few minutes, that is okay too.”

Brittany approaches me with a sly grin. She reaches out and flicks my nipple with her fingernail. I wince and grunt into the gag.

“Surprised to see me?”
I nod.
“I have a feeling you’ll be seeing a lot more of me from now on.”

She moves past me and talks to Mistress. Before long I find myself surrounded by these unfamiliar women. My face burns red as my eyes get misty. They poke and prod. They play with the bondage rings. They pet the fur. They pinch my nipples and cheeks. Before long I feel my dress being lifted. Comments about the bruises on my buttocks follow before the inevitable fascination with my chastity belt. I lower my eyes and let my mind slip away. I feel like a piece of meat.

I’m saved by the club owner giving us a 5-minute warning. I soon find myself wrapped up in the cape, the hood obstructing my vision as it partially conceals my face from the outside. I flop down and creep into the pet carrier while the gate closes behind me.

I wait for what feels like an eternity. Funny how patience wanes when you just want to go home and cry. Mistress’s door opens and the SUV bounces while she climbs in. To my surprise this process repeats itself.

“I’m so happy you’re free today, Brittany.”
“I’m free every day until I wait for my lawyer to let me know just how much I can work.”
“How are you liking your new place in the city?”
“It’s okay so far. It’s only a few blocks from the club. I’m going to hold off on a house until after the old house sells.”

The knot in my chest tightens a little as I zone out. Their small talk fades from my ears as the vehicles begins to move, the tires splashing puddles as we go. We arrive at the house shortly after. Mistress leads me into the house by my leash before freeing my hands inside the door.

I help her out of her coat and retrieve her robe, hat, and slippers. We perform our dressing ritual in front of Brittany. Mistress extends her arm. I slide the robe onto it and gently wrap it around her body. I cinch the belt around her waist, straighten the collar, and carefully guide her hair over the back. I place the hat on her head and kneel to tend to her boots.

“He’s so well-trained. I’m jealous. Back when he was younger he was terrible at all of this.”
“Did you teach him?”
“No, we mostly just spit in his face, hit him the balls, or tied him up, so I guess that’s on me.”

I blush heavily as I remove Mistress’s first boot and gentle slide the slipper onto her foot, planting a kiss gently upon it. I hear Mistress’s laugh as I remove the other boot. She toys with me, making me chase her foot with the second slipper before allowing me to slide it on and plant my kiss.

“That’s so fucking hot.” Mistress lets out a small giggle.
“If I had a dime for every time I heard that one. Brit, would you please pick a random number.”
“85. What am I picking?”
“The number of additional floggings with the strap that my pet will receive for tending to me before my guest.”

I let out a small groan as I hang my head in shame.

“Holy shit. Umm… make that 18.”
“Are you sure? I believe that 85 is a perfectly fair number for negligent disrespect.”
“Okay. How about 90 but split across three days. I remember how much pain he was in during the party.”
“That sounds fine. Did you hear that, pet? Our guest is kind enough to show mercy.”

I turn myself on my knees to face Brittany and lower my face to the floor.
“Thank you, Miss Brittany, for your kind consideration of my well-being.”

I quickly rise to my feet and attend to Brittany’s coat. She speaks as I slowly guide it off of her shoulders.

“Is it okay if I wear a robe, too? Also, can you make him do that thing? I just want to see what it feels like.”
“Of course. pet, make sure our guest receives the full treatment.”
I nod.
“Unfortunately the only hat like this is mine.”
“That’s fine. Actually, would you mind if I tried on one of those headbands like you wore today? I’ve never worn one. I have so many coats but I hate wearing hats. If it’s not too much to impose that is… I know that some people get a little bit weird when it comes to headwear.”
“Not a problem. The advantage of owning a fur shop is the discount. You can’t imagine the margin on some items, it’s a bit disgusting.”

In the closet I fetch a robe, slippers, and matching headband for Brittany. I return and stand at attention.

“So how do I do it? Something like this?”

She extends her arm. I slide the robe onto her and repeat the process the same as with Mistress. She giggles as I cinch up the belt. She giggles again as I remove her hair from the collar, she always was a bit ticklish. I place the headband in place and kneel to tend to her shoes. As I place each slipper on her foot I give a gentle kiss.

Her body vibrates under my lips as she shudders.

“Oh, that makes me so wet. I can’t wait to find a slave of my own. Shit. I’m sorry, Cass, I know I can have a foul mouth sometimes, that doesn’t offend you does it?”
“Just relax and be yourself. It makes me happy that we’ve barely just met in person and you are comfortable enough to act naturally. Also, I’m soaked as well.”

They both laugh together. I quickly rise, remove my cape and hang it in the closet. In the living room they sit and chat. Mistress instructs me to serve wine and I return with a bottle and two glasses on the silver serving tray.

“God, I wasted all those years married to some douche bag. I didn’t need a husband, what I really wanted was a slave.”

Mistress laughs.
“I felt the same way when I awakened. I’m surprised it took you this long to explore yourself like this?”
“Well, when I looked back upon who I was when I was younger, I always felt like shit about it. Guilty… terrible. When I saw you guys in person I saw a life where that didn’t matter… where what I wanted could be possible. Instead of being the good little girl everyone wanted me to be I could just be myself and there were people out there who would be okay with that. That made me so happy.”
“Well, my friends aren’t ordinary people in that regards, but I’ve trained them well.”

They both laugh together.

“So what are you looking for in a house here?”
“Something smaller than we had. It feels too lonely being in a huge house by myself. I’m also guessing I’ll need a ‘special room’ if I’m going into this life.”
“I’m starting to think we’re very alike. I chose this house because it was large enough to have guests but never so large that it felt lonely. It also had an unfinished basement that was perfect for allowing my to envision my ‘special room.’”

“You actually have one?”
“Of course. I call it the dungeon.” Brittany claps and ha’s.
“That’s so awesome. Can I see it sometime?”
“You can see it today if you want.”
“I would love that.”

“pet, what’s wrong with your eyes?”
I look up at Mistress. I feel like I’m made of cardboard… fragile and fake. She waves me over to her. I approach and fall to my knees. She unlocks the gag from my harness and places it on the table.

“Was today a little bit too much for you? Did you retreat to your special p lace?”
“Yes, Mistress.” I reply in a meek voice.
“Do you want to cry?”
I nod.

She puts her arms gently around my neck and pulls my face into her chest. I unleash the torrent of emotions that have built up across the day in a series of sobs and a stream of tears.

“What the hell?”
“Oh, don’t mind him. He gets like this whenever I put him on display to be inspected by strangers. He acts like he’s perfectly fine but on the inside his spirit took a beating. He’s fine after he cries it out.”
Brittany’s reply happens in a “cutesy” and sarcastic voice that stabs me in the soul.

“Oh, poor baby. Can’t handle being touched by all the big mean women. I forgot how sensitive widdle Fwancis is. Oh my god, was that like completely awful of me? I feel like that was horribly mean of me.”

Mistress laughs as I continue to cry into her chest.
“It’s fine, Brittany. You’re a natural. Don’t worry about hurting his feelings. Besides, widdle Fwancis has Mistwess to pwotect him fwom the big mean women.”

My sobs turn into small laughs as I wipe my tears with my eyes. Mistress is adorable when she’s acting cutesy. I love her so much.

“Brit, I forgot to mention it but I invited pet’s mother to visit about a week after the birthday party.”
“Was that your first time meeting Linda?”
“Yes, it was the first.”
“That bitch is a cunt with a capital K.”

Mistress laughs so hard she nearly spits out her wine.
“Any time you start feeling guilty, just remember that you were better to my pet than his mother was back in high school and that’s why my pet fell in love with you.”
“Say what now?”
“You mean you didn’t know?”
“Which part?”
“You crack me up, Brit.”
“So you’re saying, I was nicer to him than his mother?”
“And that he was in love with me?”

I watch Brittany push herself up the couch like she’s trying to avoid a pool of rising lava.
“So hold on. Just how bad was Linda?”
“Like wouldn’t take him to Disneyland bad or like locked in the closet for a week with a coat hanger up his ass feeding him cat food under the door bad?”

It’s amusing how fast Brittany talks when she gets excited and on a roll.
“The second.”

I watch Brittany mouth the words “What the fuck?” with an arched brow.
“Is it okay if I talk to him? Like… he’s allowed to respond to me right now and stuff, right?”

Mistress laughs again.
“Yes, ask him whatever you like. He’s just not allowed to speak unless spoken to.”
I blush as Mistress spells out one of our dynamics.

“So, Francis, let me get this straight. I was actually nicer to you than your mom?”
“Yes, Miss Brittany.”
“Noway. I thought I was like the monster truck version of girl bullies back then. How was I nicer?”
“You cared if I was there… you would always find me, Miss Brittany.”

I watch as she digs her fingers into her hair and shakes her hands back and forth, messing it up.
“Jeeee-sus. You really were such a little tool, Francis.”
She shakes her head from side to side a few times before composing herself and taking on a snotty, pretentious voice.
“That will be all, Francis.”

I turn my head back to Mistress and put my cheek on her lap. She pets my head.

“Now what about all that in love with me crap?”
“Isn’t it obvious? You were his first love. He loved you ever since you were children. I remember him telling you that at the party.”
“Hell no. Uh uh. I don’t believe it. Did he? I was so drunk. I remember everyone else thinking he should have made a move and it was obvious to them. Why don’t I remember this? Everything happened so fast, Aaagh.”

She ruffles her hands through her hair again.
“Francis, did you love me?”
“Yes, Miss Brittany.”
“Well thank you, FRANCIS, for making me feel like this horrible bitch for the past 15 years. God. Can you hit him for that? Can I hit him for that? I don’t care who but I think someone should hit him for that!”
“Would you like to hit him?”
“Hell yes.”
“I suppose I would permit that under my supervision.”
“Yes. I believe he deserves it.”

I blush and let out a tiny groan into Mistress’s lap.
“But to be fair, someone as beaten down as my pet is unable to picture someone actually wanting them unless you say those words directly. I’m sure he kept those feelings bottled up waiting for the magic words to open them. I think your pendant was his silent declaration.”

Brittany holds the pendant in front of her face with a smile.
“So maybe he should want to hit me? You don’t hit girls, right?”
“No, dear. I never hit girls.”

Mistress laughs.
“You have so much energy. I’m really having fun.”

Brittany smiles at Mistress and takes another chug of wine.
“I just have one request.”
“Please stop calling him Francis. I hate that name. f, fs, fur sissy, one, even gayboy is better than Francis.”
“Can do, fur sissy it is.”
“I hate the name Francis so much I had it changed.”
“Why did you change his name?”
“There was no way I was going to take on a slave’s last name, so I had his name changed instead. Both first and last.”
“What is it now?”
“That’s a secret.”
“C’mawn, you can’t leave me hanging like that. Is it Freddie? Frankie? Is it even a boy’s name?”
“Fine. I’m adding you to my list.”
“It’s a seee-kret.”

“Are you hungry?”
“pet, start making us dinner. You may have a hard boiled egg, a stick of celery, and six grapes.”
“Wait, so you control what he eats?”
“Of course. Real food is a treat and reserved for special occasions. Also, have you noticed that he’s not chubby anymore like he used to be?”
“You’re right!”

As I head towards the kitchen to start dinner I strain my ears and hear their final exchanges.

“Cass, aren’t you like… jealous at all or worried since fur sissy used to love me and I used to like him?”
“I’m not worried at all. My pet is 100% committed to me and completely obedient. If I ordered him to kiss you he would. Besides, you don’t have feelings for him anymore, do you?”
“That’s kind of screwed up, and no, he was a ghost from my past. I look to the future.”
“Also, with pet’s sexual condition, he’s not well-suited for most women.”
“Sexual condition?”
“My pet only gets aroused from...”

My face throbs red as I scurry around the corner into the kitchen. I cringe as Brittany’s voice carries through the house.

“HAHA! Seriously?! That’s so sad and pathetic! Yeah I’d say he’s broken!”

I run the water loudly trying to drown out her voice. I feel the shame sitting on my chest. Her laughs from the other room cause it to burrow its way in.