Fiction: fs01 - Part 58

Author’s Note: This takes place a bit after Arc 7. This is the start of Arc 8.

This was a tough chapter to write. I apologize in advance if it is uncomfortable for some to read.

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LVIII

I kneel in the living room next to Mistress’s chair. The anticipation keeps my nerves firing. I do my best to clear my mind and wait patiently for her return. In the month or so since our ski trip, I have sensed that Mistress is continuing to push my limits and seeking out triggers to my slavespace. It happens quite frequently now and I sense a shift in her aura when she reduces me to such a state. It frightens me.

I have to believe that an earlier version of myself probably would be terrified of her… but the current me can see her layers… and the vibrant spark that shines in her eyes when she takes me there. In those times her sex burns hot and she makes no effort to hide it… consumed with passion… endless pursuit of pleasure… at times she reminds me a little bit of Dominique.

I wring my hands together as I look down at the floor. I’m not accustomed to wearing my “boy clothes,” and I can’t remember the last time I was allowed to wear the black sweatpants and sweatshirt that Mistress keeps for occasions like these.

Her instructions were simple. Shovel the driveway and walkways. Prepare two guest rooms. Make sure the living room is spotless. Mistress didn’t give a start time so I worked as fast as I could and now I kneel and wait. Two guests will arrive later. I am to use the “public versions” of our rituals, so I assume they are not aware of our lifestyle. I am not to speak unless spoken to.

The business of my mind prevents me from relaxing. The thought dances in my head that I do not have the mental fortitude to truly be a worthy servant. I chase away the pangs of disappointment… they do not help me.

The sound of tires on concrete in the distance instinctively springs me to my feet. In the entryway Mistress enters with her long strides, the heels of her boots click against the tile. The brim of her hat hides her eyes from me. I feel my heart flutter a bit as her red lips grin in a way that I know so well. A pair of figures come through the door behind her. The sun glares in from behind. My eyes squint and adjust as the door closes with a thud.

“It’s been a while, hasn’t it, Francis?”

My throat contracts and I feel like I’m going to choke. My lip quivers as my eyes finally come into focus. The faint trace of perfume fills me with a rush of emotions.

“Mother?”

Mistress walks past me and places her hand on my shoulder. A quick glance and I see her smirk clear as day. I take a few steps forward and mother’s image burns itself into me. Time has deepened the lines on her face but her hair is the same as always and she still wears too much make-up.

She abruptly clears her throat and holds out her gloved hand. My heart sinks a little. I take her hand in mine, lean down and kiss the back of it.

“Stand up straight.”

I respond immediately, ready for her inspection. Her hands poke and prod, pinch and tug. The sleeve of her lynx fur coat grazes my cheek. She lets out a sigh. I lower my eyes, feeling my heart sink with her disappointment.

“Well, at least you still have all your hair. Couldn’t you have dressed up a little nicer for your mother?”

“I’m sorry, mother.” My voice is feeble and small.

“I would say that you’re looking well and that I’m happy to see you but I’ve always been honest with you.”

My face flushes red and my shoulders tense up.

An unfamiliar voice bursts into laughter.

“Oh my God, Linda, you are such a cunt.”

A slender brunette steps out from behind mother wearing a matching lynx coat. I would guess she is in her mid twenties.

“Francis!” she shouts as she rushes me and throws her arms around my neck.

I fidget in awkward silence as my mind hopelessly fails at remembering who this is. Her hands quickly find my chest and she shoves me away.

“Jerk!”

“Francis, how could you forget Stephanie, your step-sister from my second marriage? I think you owe her an apology.”

I keep my eyes glued to the floor as my faces continues to burn red. I turn and bow at the waist.

“I’m sorry for being so forgetful, Miss Stephanie.”

I feel a pinch on my ear lobe followed by a firm twist. I wince and grind my teeth.

“Francis, is that how I taught you to apologize when you have been rude to a lady?”

“No, ma’am.” She pinches harder and twists until I cry out.

I slowly lower myself to my knees and bow my head.

“I apologize for being rude and disrespectful, Miss Stephanie, please find it in your heart to forgive me.”

“I’ll forgive you when you make it up to me, Francis.” I nod silently. She giggles.

“So, Francis, stop being rude and help the guests with their coats and boots.”

Mistress’s voice snaps me back to reality. This is the first time she has ever called me Francis and I truly hope it is the last. I hop to my feet, bow again and make my way over toward the closet. My hands loosen the belt on Mistress’s long leather coat. Her gloved hand raises my chin. Her eyes pierce mine with an angry expression.

“How dare you be so rude to my guests.”

My hands release the belt and I move to my mother, carefully helping her out of her coat.

“Linda and Stephanie, would you like a guest robe and slippers?”

“That would be lovely,” responds mother in her overly polite tone.

“Sure.”

I take her coat and hang it in the closet. My mind spins for an instant as the rack of guest robes in various colors stares back at me.

“Stop dawdling, Francis.”

I quickly go with my impulse and retrieve a tan robe with cream-colored fur and the matching slippers for mother. As I help mother into her robe she pretends to ignore me.

“These robes are beautiful, Cassandra.”

“Thank you, they make them at my shop. Please call me, Cass, Linda.”

After I secure the robe’s belt around mother’s waist I kneel down at her feet. I reach to unzip her boot when she fidgets her foot and taps it back and forth. I want to disappear.

“Brings back some memories, doesn’t it Francis? When I would come home a bit too drunk and I would make you help me out of my boots.”

A laugh behind me, a clap, and Stephanie’s voice gasping “This is great!” make me clench my eyes shut for an instant. Mother finally stops moving her feet and permits me to remove her boot. I gently slip her foot into the matching slipper before repeating the process.

I stand slowly and approach Stephanie. She pinches my cheek.

“Lil Francis is such a momma’s boy.”

I clench my jaw tightly. Mistress’s voice appears faintly from behind me. “Tick tock.”

I stifle a reaction and quickly slide off her coat before retreating to the closet. I quickly retrieve a purple robe and slippers and hold it up while Stephanie slides herself in. I drop to my knees and cringe at the lace-up knee high boots. My fingers fumble with the laces as I undo the upper hooks and work my way down. As she removes her foot she moves her toes around in a circle before jabbing her toe into my side.

A few moments later I find myself in front of Mistress. She purses her lips and gives her eyebrows a slight arch. I nod gently and mumble.

“Yes, ma’am.” ‘I will accept my punishment,’ continues silently in my head.

She gracefully slides from the fur-trimmed leather coat. Her perfume enters my nose and I feel my sex strain against the belt. I hang it up and retrieve Mistress’s red robe, slippers, and day hat from the closet. I watch as she extends her arm. I dutifully slide the robe onto her and pull it around her body. I pull her long hair out from the collar and then cinch the belt around her waist and place her hat upon her head. In these brief seconds I lose myself in thoughts only of her. She senses the change in my demeanor and makes a triumphant sound from the back of her throat.

I quickly kneel and remove her boots one by one, gently guiding the slipper onto her feet. I pause a moment before standing. She taps her toe a few times against the tile. I place my palm to my lips and plant a kiss before touching her right foot. I kiss my hand again and touch her left foot. In a moment she has turned and gone.

“Don’t dawdle, Francis,” she repeats as she walks away in a tone imitating my mother’s.

I head out to the car and retrieve the luggage. So many bags for one night? It takes me several trips to haul them into the guest rooms. When I finish I join them in the living room. Mistress sits on the love seat while mother and Stephanie sit together on the sofa. Mistress snaps her fingers. Our eyes meet and she nods. I bow my head and head to the kitchen. I quickly inspect the silver serving tray for any fingerprints before gathering some glasses and a bottle of wine. I remove the cork and carefully carry the tray into the living room. I walk into an ongoing conversation.

“I still can’t believe that Francis actually got married. You have no idea how happy I am Cassandra although I must say that you are definitely out of his league and too good for him. I had guessed that he would either die alone or at best end up with some immigrant. Although since his father thought he would end up gay, even they are allowed to get married now.”

I can detect the smallest twitches on Mistress’s face as she follows along with mother. I carefully set the tray down on the coffee table and pour three glasses of wine. I extend the first glass to mother.

“What’s the matter with you, child? You know I don’t drink red without a meal.”

“I’m sorry, mother. My memory is awful.” I place the glass in Stephanie’s waiting hands.

I hand another glass to Mistress and stand next to her with my hands folded. I feel her hand touch my back. My skin tingles and I feel the warmth of her heart.

“So Linda, please tell me about Francis when he was younger. He doesn’t really talk about his childhood very much and I’m sure you have plenty of juicy stories.”

Mother responds with a laugh that makes me feel uncomfortable.

“Francis, if we’re going to be talking about you I’ll take a glass of wine.”

“Yes, mother.”

I quickly pass her the third glass before returning to Mistress’s side.

“Well… Cassandra… I can’t really talk about Francis unless I start out by saying I had always dreamed of having a daughter. Ever since I was a child I had wanted a daughter of my own. The ultra-sound technician even told us we were going to have a daughter. I was so excited. When I finally gave birth and the doctor announced ‘it’s a boy,’ I immediately burst into tears. It was heartbreaking.”

Mother pauses and gulps down her glass of wine. She holds the empty glass out and shakes it from side to side. I quickly retrieve the bottle and refill her glass.

“Even his name, Francis, comes from that. His father wanted to name our daughter, Francesca, after an aunt of his. It’s a nice name, but it sounded a little too… ethnic if you know what I mean. We were going to compromise with Francine or Frances. When our daughter ended up a son I just told them to name him Francis.”

I watch her take another couple gulps of wine and shakes the glass again. I provide a refill. By now mother’s face is a little flushed. She leans back and sighs.

“So that’s Francis’s first story. He was born a disappointment and that set the trend for things to come.”

“There has to be a better story than that you can tell me, Linda.”

Mother takes a deep breath and flares her nostrils a little before her eyes light up. An odd expression forms upon her face displaying a mix of humor and disgust.

“When Francis was 8 years old I caught him standing at the coat closet rubbing his face against my new mink. I stood behind him in silence just watching him as he buried his face in and let out a little coo.”

“What did you do then?”

“I slapped his ass as hard as I could, grabbed him by his hair and proceeded to shame him. I stripped him naked in the middle of the living room and whupped him with his father’s belt until his butt cheeks were red and swollen. He screamed and cried like he was being murdered, but it was for his own good. I refused to have a child that grew up to be a deviant. He kept rubbing his sore bottom so I took the belt to his hands as well. He cried and cried. I then made him stand in the corner, buck naked, until his father got home.”

Mother pauses for more wine. I have trouble reading Mistress’s expression. Stephanie’s eyes are fixated on me, a smirk on her face.

“His father was irate. He dragged Francis into the basement and his little screams could be heard all through the house. I had to close the basement door and turn the TV up just to block it out. All I really remember was hearing his father shout, ‘no son of mine will grow up to be a fag!’ I remember him saying that Francis was to stand in the corner in the basement all night. No clothes, no dinner. His father even went and checked on him every hour or so and a few times I heard the crack of that belt and more screams.”

I feel my chest tighten and my breathing turn erratic as the memories come rushing back.

“Why were you so upset that Francis was touching your fur? I think the touch of fur is heavenly.”

“I love it as well, but it was the way he was touching it. Boys are dirty and gross and I hadn’t even had that mink for three months when he did that. When I saw him doing it, I was just terrified he would end up a pervert and in prison. He was supposed to grow up to be a man, not end up like Lenny from Of Mice and Men.”

If Mistress has a deeper response to this, she keeps it hidden from view.

“Was Francis’s father always abusive like that?”

“I wouldn’t call him abusive, he just had a more traditional sense of discipline. I wasn’t the only one that felt Francis was a disappointment. Francis’s father was an athlete and wanted Francis to play sports. But Francis was short, slow, and chubby, so his father pushed him to be better. It was the boy’s fault for not rising to the occasion. Once Francis started getting cut from the teams a few years later… things took a turn for the worse.”

“How so?”

“When there weren’t any more little league games to go to, his father would just come home from work and start drinking. The smallest things started setting him off. Some nights his father would force the boy to play catch or practice football and it was only a matter of minutes before Francis would end up in tears. It’s hard on an alpha male to have a crybaby as a son and he saw it as his duty to toughen the boy up the same way his father toughened him up: with the belt.”

“Didn’t you think that might have been the wrong way to go about it?”

“I don’t know. My family growing up was all daughters and we didn’t act out like Francis did. I didn’t know the first thing about raising a boy so I left it up to my husband. I did make him soundproof the basement door after a while.”

“Did Francis become better at sports?”

“Oh, God, no. Francis turned into a coward. He began hiding from his father, often staying out until dark with that girl that lived a few streets over. When that girl moved away, Francis pretty much stayed home but still tried to hide. He wasn’t smart enough to understand the hiding just made his father even more angry.”

“Did that continue for a long time?”

“A year or two. It wasn’t long before Francis had the nerve to hide in the back corner of the living room while I was watching television. I didn’t notice him sneaking in like a little thief. When his father found him, he lost his temper with me and struck me across the face. I wasn’t going to stand for that so I called the police. Francis’s father was arrested and I filed for divorce.”

“Did you share custody?”

“No. I had sole custody. The alimony settlement wasn’t enough so I needed the child support payments in order to avoid having to work. From then on, Francis was an obedient little camper. All it would take was for me to threaten to send him to live with his father and he would be on the floor in tears, begging, ‘please mother, please mother, I’ll do anything.’ I was never really going to do it but I kept it as my trump card.”

I grit my teeth as I feel my heart ache. I fight back against the tears that I can feel building at the backs of my eyes. My body quivers silently. Mistress’s touch on my back calms me.

“Did you meet any of Francis’s girlfriends?”

Mother’s laugh is genuine and wracks me with pain. She continues to laugh and shakes her head from side to side.

“You’d never guess it, Cassandra, but Francis’s father was actually very tall, handsome, and hung like a stallion. I hung on to hope for a while but Francis stayed short, chubby, and his penis was so small.”

Stephanie’s laughter carries over mother’s voice.

“I don’t think he’s that small, Linda.” Mother again bursts into laughter.

“Be honest, Cassie.”

“He’s… average...ish… big enough...”

“Let’s just say if you saw his father that you’d wonder how Francis was his son.”

“I’ll have to take your word for it… but you’re dodging the question, tell me about Francis’s girlfriends.”

My head and heart swirl into a confused and pained state. Why did Mistress have to invite my mother?

“Before I can talk about Francis’s girlfriends, I probably have to tell a story about something that happened a bit after we divorced but before I met Steph’s father. I went out drinking with a few of my girlfriends and we got a little… too tipsy. I can’t believe we drove back from the bar but after we arrived here we decided to stay and give them time to sober up. My friend Margot hadn’t met Francis and so I woke him up and dragged him out of bed to meet my friends. Margot knew how badly I had wanted a daughter and she had a bag of her daughter’s old clothes she had planned to donate in her trunk, so she got the great idea that it would be fun to dress up Francis like a girl. Well, we were drunk enough to think it was a great idea. Francis refused until I threatened him with his father and he caved immediately. The four of us showered him with attention and Margot kept making him change into all these cute little dresses and Wanda was taking pictures.”

Mother shakes her wine glass again. I refill it, my face feels so hot I feel like I’m going to faint.

“The reason I had to tell that story first was that a couple of years later, Francis came home from school with a girl from his grade. She wanted to meet me and make sure it was okay that Francis was her boyfriend. Everyone knows it’s a mother’s job to embarrass her child, so after serving the kids kool-aid I pulled out the photo albums and before long we came to Francis’s ‘Francine’ photo shoot. The girl burst out laughing and Francis ran to his room in tears. I think I ended up giving the girl one of the photos and after the next day at school Francis begged and pleaded with me to let him stay home. The girl had showed everyone the picture and Francis became the laughing stock of his class. After that he didn’t have anything close to a girlfriend.”

Mistress lets out a small sigh and shakes her head with a smile.

“I still can’t believe that Francis ended up with a woman as attractive as you, Cassandra.”

“When did you meet Stephanie’s father?”

Mother’s eyes drift as she does when she is thinking. Mistress is able to steer things well without appearing rude to mother.

“I met my second husband when Francis was in 8^th grade. While he had a daughter from his previous marriage, he wanted nothing to do with my son. We dated for years but he would only get married if we sent Francis off to boarding school but he wanted me to pay for it. I didn’t mind that relationship as we didn’t have any dull moments. We would travel a lot and all of our dates were fresh and exciting. He was a handsome man with a well-paying job and a wonderful house and a lovely daughter.”

Mother pats Stephanie’s hand and turns to face her as she speaks.

“I have to be honest though, I could have afforded Francis’s boarding school but I got accustomed to spending my monthly payments on myself and I didn’t want to feel completely dependent upon Stephanie’s father so I was willing to wait until Francis was done with high school.”

“Did you always spend all of the money?”

“I gave Francis an allowance and I made sure that he had a roof over his head, clothes on his back, and food on the table. Francis could have gotten a job if he wanted more pocket money. I didn’t live a life of luxury by any means but if there was a new purse that I wanted, a cute pair of shoes I couldn’t pass up, or a new fur, I treated myself. Even a mother deserves to feel pretty and have a social life.”

“Did you have to continue to discipline Francis as he got older?”

“Francis was fairly well-behaved for the most part...” Mother’s voice trails off as she begins to laugh.

“How could I have forgotten that? Francis, how old were you when I walked in on you masturbating to that lingerie catalog?”

I cringe. My facial expression must look like I am dying. Stephanie continues to laugh.

“I was 14, mother.”

“That’s right, 14! I was so furious that he was defiling himself that I dragged him out of his room and tore his clothes off, took him over my lap and just wailed on him with a belt. I whupped him until his butt was purple but I was still angry because Francis barely cried.”

Mother puts her hand over her eyes, obviously embarrassed recounting the story. My stomach twists in knots.

“I was still so angry that I actually put his penis on the table and smacked it with the belt. Francis shrieked and immediately started begging. I had him hold up his hands and I smacked his palms with the belt until he couldn’t hold is hands still. That was when I taught him how to apologize to a woman. I’m sure Francis remembers exactly what he said next. Show Cassandra.”

I kneel in front of Mistress, lower my head and place my hands on my thighs.

“I’m sorry for violating the decency of this house and disrespecting you, mother.”

Mistress pats my head before pulling me closer and resting my cheek on her lap.

“Why did you hit him so badly for masturbating?”

“It was a different era. We lived in a small town. The belief was that if a boy was a chronic masturbator that he would end up a sexual deviant or rapist. I was doing my duty as his mother. Besides, that didn’t stop him.”

“What the fuck?!” blurts Stephanie.

“I’m not lying. I would ask him point blank regularly if he had played with himself. I would cup my hands on his cheeks and look directly into his eyes when I asked him. If he had, his eyes would look away and he would fess up… and then I’d get the belt. Sometimes he was a good boy and sometimes he wasn’t. Does he still have a problem with self-abuse, Cass?”

“I’m pretty certain that I cured him. Tell your mother when the last time was, Francis.”

I close my eyes.

“It was over five years ago, ma’am.”

“Can I ask how?”

“That’s my little secret.”

Some small talk follows. I close my eyes and feel Mistress’s warmth on my cheek. I am completely exhausted emotionally.

“So how many times have you been married, Linda?”

“I just got my fifth divorce, so you could say I’m between husbands right now. That’s why we’re heading to Vegas.”

“You and Stephanie have stayed close all this time?”

“Stephie is the daughter I always wanted. I spoiled her rotten.”

“Linda was always more like an older sister than a mom. We’ve been going out and having fun together since I was 17 and she convinced my dad to loosen up.”

“How well did you know Francis growing up?

“I didn’t.”

“But you’d met him before, right?”

“Once. On Christmas. What year was that? I was 16. That was the year Dad got Linda and me matching furs and he got me a car. Francis was in college, Dad and Linda had gotten married that year and he finally decided he was willing to meet Francis.”

“What was that like?”

“I can barely remember. I just remember as soon as Francis arrived by taxi, Linda made him shovel the driveway. We opened presents and I just remember Francis brought us presents but no one gave him a present. I felt kind of bad for him but no one even told me he was coming so I was surprised when he showed up. Dinner felt super awkward so Dad decided to send Francis to a motel since he was ‘ruining Christmas.’ So I met Francis for all of about three hours and I never saw him again.”

“How long did your father and Linda stay together?”

“I think they were together about eight years and married for three. My Dad really fucked that up when he had an affair.”

Mistress runs her fingers through my hair. I open my eyes and see her smiling down at me. She nods her head and I take my cue.

“Francis is going to prepare our lunch. He’s an excellent cook.”

“That he is.”

“You’ve had his cooking before, Linda?”

“Of course. When Francis was around 15 I became increasingly convinced that he would never win over a woman with charm or good looks so I domesticated him. He learned to cook, clean, do laundry and take care of the household. I figured he would need those skills if he ended up single forever or they might help him attract a wife. Well, that and Steph’s father was taking me out of town for weeks at a time. It wouldn’t have been fair to let Francis starve, so I made him learn to cook.”

Mistress lifts my cheek from her lap. I rise and go on my way to the kitchen. I lose myself in the cooking. I want it to be delicious for Mistress. After serving the food Mistress directs me to lay down in her room. I sprawl out on the bearskin rug next to the bed and close my eyes. My desire to fade away defeats the pain in my chest and I drift off.

I open my eyes and instinctively look at the clock. Several hours passed. I rise slowly and find a note from Mistress.

“pet, we went to visit the shop and then are going out tonight with the girls. Take a hot bath and I want to find you laying in my bed when I get home.”

I prepare myself a small meal that I believe Mistress would deem acceptable and follow her instructions and draw a bath. I think of nothing but the warmth of the water and my love for Mistress. She always seems to know when things have been “too much” and today was one of those days.

I’m grateful that I have the emotional tools to deal with the wounds that were inevitably ripped open by my mother’s presence. As long as I am enough for Mistress. As long as Mistress loves me. I don’t need anyone else but her.

After the bath I put on a set of fresh clothes and lie down on the bed. I find the newest catalog for her shop on the nightstand and thumb through it. So many beautiful designs. After a while I get antsy. I can’t relax when Mistress isn’t here and I don’t have chores to take care of.

The sound of the door and voices trickle faintly through the closed bedroom door. I strain my ears reciting Mistress’s instructions to be in bed when she arrives. My mother’s alcohol infused voice carries clear as day.

“That Dominique is a hoot!”

I shake my head and wonder just what kind of trouble they have been up to. I hear the doorknob rattle. I turn to face the door as Mistress glides in. She quickly slaps her hand on the switch, killing the lights. Her breathing tells me she’s a bit drunk and in her touchy feely mood.

“Take off your clothes.”

I move quickly, perching myself on the edge of the bed I remove my sweatshirt and sweatpants and fold them, setting them on the floor next to the bed. Mistress makes quite a racket traversing the dark of the room. I hear her steps stumble back and forth as she giggles to herself.

The bed recoils as Mistress dives onto it, bouncing and laughing as she crawls her way to the top. I spread myself out on the bed and shuffle closer to her. I hear a small clatter as she shuffles around. I feel the fur of her sleeve on my shoulder. She is still wearing her fox fur coat. I close my eyes and feel the touch of fur on my neck. It slowly closes around. The tug of straps and buckles, a new sensation. The lock clicks behind my neck. I feel her arm around me as she tugs her finger on the collar’s frontal ring. I feel the collar constrict and some metal points dig into my neck. She releases the ring and the spikes relax their bite.

“A new toy from Sasha.” she whispers into my ear.

Mistress pulls me closer to her and drapes the edge of her coat over me. I feel the warm skin of her breasts against my back. She pulls my waist until my thighs feel the warmth and moisture of her sex.

“pet.”

“Yes, Mistress?”

“Thank you for not ending up a serial killer.”

“What? Mistress?”

“I think your mother is the worst person I’ve ever met in my entire life… and you’ve met my family.”

She giggles and presses her face against the back of my head, planting a firm kiss.

“pet… I promise I will never allow her in this house ever again.”

“I love you, Mistress.”

“I’m sorry, pet. This was a bad idea.”

“I’m glad you met her, Mistress.”

“Why is that?”

“Because now you understand how much I love you, Mistress. I exist to make you happy and no one else. I’m the luckiest boy on the planet.”

“Will you still think that if I let you out of your chastity belt tomorrow so that I can whip your penis?”

I exhale so rapidly it’s almost a cough. Mistress giggles.

“Yes, Mistress. I will still think that.”

“Are you sure, pet?”

“Absolutely. You do what you do because you love me and understand my love for you. My mother did what she did because she didn’t love me.”

“My pet… how you drive your Mistress crazy.”

“What Mistress?”

“You make it so hard for me to want to hurt you… until I remember how much you like it.”

I feel her finger tips grab my nipple and twist. I let out a low moan as my sex strains against the belt.

“pet.”

“Yes, Mistress?”

“Will you be okay if I push you to your absolute limits?”

“I will be strong for you, Mistress.”

“How can you be sure?”

I take a slow deep breath and exhale it through my nose.

“Because, Mistress. How could I ever let down the wonderful woman that took in this short, ugly, under-endowed boy and made him the happiest man in the world?”

Mistress wraps her arms around me and squeezes me tight. I feel myself drift off with her breath on my cheek.

“pet. You’re not really that small. You’re average… ish. Big enough.”

“Does that mean you’ll let me out of my cage more often, Mistress?”

Her burst of laughter answers my question.

A cute little snore whistles through her nostril. A wide smile forms across my face. My Mistress. My Queen. My Goddess. I love you more than anything.

I feel refreshed in the morning. Mistress’s hangover makes her rise slowly. I’m afraid to leave the room until she unlocks the collar she put on me last night. I attend to her with water and aspirin. I watch her turn to her back on the bed, her breasts peeking out from the front of her open coat. She stretches and yawns. A few moments later the collar is unlocked and I’m on my way to start breakfast.

It takes a bit for the coffee to kick in. Mother and Stephanie are in the same morning boat as Mistress. I stand by in silence while they eat and make small-talk. As I clear the plates I hear mother in her more serious tone.

“You know, Cass. When I see what a well-behaved man Francis has grown up to be, I can’t help but feel pride at the wonderful job I did at raising him. It’s not easy being a single mother and I was so certain that he would never amount to anything.”

Mistress takes mother’s hand.

“I’m really glad we got to spend some time together, Linda. It was great to learn about how Francis became the man I fell in love with.”

Mother departs soon after to take a shower. Their flight leaves in a few hours. Stephanie stays at the table with Mistress.

Stephanie shakes her head as she speaks. “I can’t believe that she said that with a straight face.”

Mistress’s face beams with a grin.

“Is it okay if I keep in touch with you, Cass? I’m really interested in learning more about my former step-brother.”

“That would be wonderful, Steph. Francis has a lot of… hidden talents.”

Stephanie gets a strange look on her face and her next words are almost a whisper.

“You guys must have some kind of… unorthodox relationship going on don’t you.”

“Whatever do you mean?” Mistress is adorable when she plays coy.

“Well… it’s obvious who wears the pants.”

“And sometimes only once or twice a year.”

“What?”

“Oh, nothing. Just a little inside joke.” I avert my eyes as my cheeks flush red.

“Francis, I have something I’ve wanted to say to you ever since I met you all those years ago, but even more so now.”

“Yes, Miss Stephanie?”

“I’m so happy that I’m not you.”

My face burns as they laugh together and pound their hands on the table. Stephanie excuses herself and Mistress remains at the table, sipping coffee. With our guest out of ear shot she breaks her silence.

“By the way, pet. Your father is coming to visit next week.”

I go as white as a sheet and my body begins to quiver. Mistress turns her head toward me.

“Poor little pet, it never gets old to tease you.”

She cracks a smile and I let out a small sigh.

END ACT