Author’s note: This skips forward a few days from Part 69.
I haven’t left the house in a couple of days. I fill each day with activity but end up feeling empty. It reminds me of my life pre-Mistress. Plenty to do but living for myself has never felt fulfilling. I don’t feel like I’m slipping into depression, but I don’t feel good either. It gets harder and harder to find things to do. I don’t remember things ever seeming this… bleak. Maybe it’s because I didn’t know any better so I just kept on going. Knowing what I know now… I don’t like this.
I continue working on the song I’m learning for Mistress. I have the guitar pretty much nailed so I begin working on the vocals. The melody is easy. Memorizing the lyrics is hard… well, hard for me. I should have it mastered by the time she gets home. I hope she lets me play it for her before she takes the guitar away.
I have watched all my movies and read all of the books I bought. I have passed the last few days by having marathon sessions of Game of Thrones. I’m on season 5 now. The story is starting to feel weaker and that makes me feel sad. I don’t even try to sleep without the hat and earmuffs on anymore. There’s no point. It feels so different putting them on voluntarily… it seems sickening in a way. I haven’t written to Mistress as often. When I miss her I bury my face in her robe.
Today I try something new and hop on the computer. I stare at the desktop for several minutes before firing up a browser. My fingers hover above the keys as my chest tightens. I feel like I’m being disloyal by even considering this. I take a deep breath and my fingers begin to type into the search box: “fur femdom.” I hit enter and watch the results load. I click on the images tab.
Box after box fills with images of women in furs. My heart sinks a bit. Most of the photos are professional poses. A handful are grainy and poorly lit done by amateurs. At some point this used to “do it” for me. Now it just makes me miss the feelings even more. I miss my Mistress. I try to narrow my search, this time I enter “fur femdom sissy humiliation.” The top three hits are sponsored links for furniture stores. The content is sparse, mainly generic links to porn sites that are probably loaded with viruses. I click the images tab. A few boxes load with some of the same models in fur coats but now with grotesque looking male french maids. I wonder if I look that awful to other people. I probably do. Mistress’s view that feminization doesn’t look like women rings true even in porn.
I change the search to “fur sissy”. It returns Sissy Spacek in fur. My eyes find the line “increase your results by” and look as it crosses out either sissy or fur. I’m such a loser… I can’t even porn right. This is more depressing than arousing. The search engine recommends searching for sissy humiliation captions. I click the link. I skim through them, writing off the majority. I have no desire to suck cock. I have no desire to be cuckolded by another man. A handful of them reference chastity or being locked in a uniform. They break the surface and wake up the most basic submissive feelings within me. I miss my Mistress.
After a dozen or so captions they start to all feel the same. At least some of them have pretty women in them. The themes repeat over and over and I realize what is missing… there’s no love. I know this is the fantasy for many but it’s night and day for me. It’s enough to cause a rift between “feeling submissive” and “being in subspace.” I never doubt Mistress’s heart.
I had hoped the internet would make me feel better. Instead I just feel more alone. Without the chastity belt on I probably could have pleasured myself for a couple of minutes to some of these images. Locked up securely in steel… I don’t know what I was hoping for… feelings… that just aren’t possible. It’s very hard to pretend when you are accustomed to reality. I will try again tomorrow.
I sulk in a long shower before bed. I put on my hat and earmuffs and instantly feel my heart twitch. I pick up the phone.
I miss you so badly. I love you so much.
I just have to last a couple more weeks. I need to be strong. Sleep finds me easily tonight.
I turn off the TV after watching a particularly weak episode. As much as I wish to know what happens I’m not sure it will improve from here. I have the melody of Mistress’s song memorized along with verse one and the chorus. I will work on it twice as hard from here on out.
I try the internet again today. Just sitting down at the computer makes me feel desperate and pathetic. I try a different search engine today. It spits out the same images but in a different order. I try something new. “fur fetish sissy.” To my pleasant surprise I find some new images but mostly transvestites. I add humiliation and hit enter. A wall of pictures appears before me, seemingly ignoring the “fur” part of the search box. I’m about to close the tab when a small image catches my eye. The picture is of a man covering his face while wearing a fur-trimmed women’s jacket, a hat with a huge fur pom, and a pair of big fluffy earmuffs. I pursue the link and load the page.
I read the introductory text and scan through the images. He’s a single heterosexual submissive male. I can tell by his posture that it embarrasses him terribly to do this. It also seems like the shame is multiplied by the fact that he knows that he needs this. For the first time I feel a similar vibe to what I know. I close the browser and escape to my mind. My fingers gently tease my nipples as I imagine Mistress pulling something like that out of the garment bag and announcing she’s taking me out for the day. I feel my sex strain against the belt with an immediate chaser of guilt at desiring the submissive feelings I associate with it.
I cringe quietly. This does me no good. I close my eyes again and the salesgirl’s voice haunts me again. I feel my face burn and I just want to hide. The feeling lingers but I can’t hide from myself. I try to change my train of thought. I open the browser again and search for movie stores… DVD stores… and there aren’t many left. The majority of them would be at least two hours worth of bus ride and transfers or are unreachable out in the burbs. Only the bookstore is close. I close the browser and go lie down. I’m so tired.
I barely eat today. The energy isn't there. The desire isn't there. I stare at the wall while my thoughts drift in and out. I pick up the phone and begin to type.
I miss you so badly. I hope work is going well and that you are having fun with everyone. I am trying my best. I love you with all my heart.
I drop the phone on the bed and close my eyes. I'm startled when the phone beeps at me.
Keep hanging in there. I will be home as soon as work permits it. Do whatever you have to do to get by. Make sure you do something fun tomorrow. Call Dominique if you get too lonely. I love you, always.
I feel my heart warm up and my mind wakes from its slumber. I read the message again and again, basking in the happiness it brings me. I quickly type a reply while the feelings are still fresh.
"Thank you, Mistress.
Hearing from you makes my heart tingle. You are what I love most in this world.
-Forever yours, pet."
I press send and immediately feel a strange sense of loss. I should have waited to respond. Now I am the one that waits. I shake the thoughts from my head and re-read the message. I will go out tomorrow. I have to be strong.
As I get ready for bed I put on the hat and harness. I place Mistress's robe on one side of the bed, its collar leaned up on the pillow. I lie on my side and shuffle my pillow closer until the remnants of her perfume fill my nose. I place my hand on the sleeve and close my eyes. I doze off quickly and sleep soundly.
I wake up feeling refreshed. I hop out of bed and head straight for the bathroom and then the shower. Mistress's words have me in better spirits today, it was so good to hear from her. I wash myself thoroughly and shave as she likes me to. Today is a new day. I will do something fun today. My appetite returns and I eat a decent breakfast. With my toast I have a banana and some chocolate milk. I don't really have much of a sweet tooth but go long enough without something and it always seems to hit the spot. I pull out the phone.
"Thank you, Mistress, for the chocolate milk. Drinking it makes me feel giddy and like a (happy) kid again.
I make my way to the computer. No porn today. I search for the closest movie theater. The nearest one is about a mile from the colonel. A movie and chicken, that's fun right? I don't really know anything about the movies that are playing but I figure something light-hearted would be better for my mood as of late. I track down what appears to be a stupid raunchy comedy and reserve a ticket for the matinee showing. I check the forecast before I leave. Thank God, it's a lot warmer today than it has been the past few days with a light chance of snow. I will wear the gloves today but leave the others at home. I will remember to stop by a store and buy some that are less feminine.
I make the walk to the bus stop. It's a bit windier than they had projected and I have some second thoughts about turning back. The bus is on time. I get off at the now familiar stop and walk up a few blocks to get some chicken. Today I get it with coleslaw and mac & cheese. I'm probably going to gain weight before Mistress gets back but it's a small price to pay to enjoy food again in this limited window of opportunity.
As I leave I notice a that light but sticky snow begins to fall. On the sidewalk I stare at the bookstore across the street. I feel my chest twitch and I force my thoughts elsewhere. I'm going to a movie. I'm going to have fun. I decide to walk toward the theater rather than waiting for the next bus. My foot starts to ache a bit. I really need to get more exercise and these shoes are rubbing my foot in a strange way. I tough it out.
The movie is predictably stupid but there are a handful of moments that have me laughing. I don't usually see these types of movies. I feel good about branching out today. A bad comedy is often a better watch than a bad drama and I'm so out of the entertainment loop that this was a safer bet anyways. Across the street I spot a small shop that appears to deal in men's and women's accessories. I cross at the crosswalk and make my way inside. While the signage advertised men's and women's accessories it's mostly women's and has a boutique-like feel to it. The men's section is limited to a small case and one rack in the back corner. A handful of neckties and fashion hats, some wallets and a very small selection of leather gloves, winter hats, and scarves. I inspect a pair of the gloves. The leather is soft and smooth. The tag says they are cashmere lined. They are $99. Mistress would kill me. The hats and scarves are also cashmere and nearly as expensive. I let out a sigh and turn to leave. Something catches my eye and I realize that I really picked the wrong shop.
Across from a selection of handbags is a case and display of fur accessories. I keep them in my peripherals as I pretend to walk past them calmly. I fight the urge to look directly at them and continue moving as I pass by a middle-aged woman trying some of them on in the mirror. I quickly debate finding something as a gift for Mistress but I doubt she would like that very much. I'm sure she would appreciate the sentiment but scold me for wasting the money on something she could have made for much cheaper at her shop. I decide instead that I will get her a flower the day before she gets back. I will find the most beautiful flower in the entire shop. I leave the store with a smile and begin walking back towards the bus stop.
My mind wanders as I walk. The falling snow forms a layer on the sidewalk and parked cars. I will have to look up the closest flower shop when I get home and plan a day around that. The bookstore's awning draws my attention as it comes into view. I keep walking past it. Not today. I reach the alley and pause. A rush of anxiety crashes against my heart. I feel the urge build. I turn and walk back towards the bookstore. I fight off the craving as I near the door and keep on walking. I stop at the crosswalk. What's the matter with me? Why am I so fucked up?
I don't want to go. I need to go. I don't want to go. I need to go. Dejected, I turn and hurry to the entrance before I can change my mind. I brush the snow off of my shoulders and rack my brain to come up with a reason for being here. I find the familiar woman standing behind the counter, a smirk on her face as our eyes meet. I look away and my face rushes hot with shame.
"Hello, Mister sissy. No hat today?"
"How did you..."
"It wasn't tough to figure out. I didn't think you'd come back."
Two exchanges in five seconds and I already feel rattled to my core.
"Umm... I saw the sign saying that you buy used books and DVD's... how does that work?"
"You bring them here and we pay you money for them."
The candid response to my question makes me feel stupid. I am stupid for subjecting myself to this yet again.
"You have to be the owner of them and you need a photo ID."
"Okay. Thank you, ma'am."
The thought of selling back the books and movies I bought vanishes with the mention of an ID. I turn to leave. Her voice stops me.
"By the way, I found another book you might like."
I freeze like a deer in headlights.
"I was going to show it to you if you came back but you disappointed me today. I'm sure you remember."
I blurt out the answer automatically. As the words leave my mouth I realize that she baited me.
"You said your day feels empty if you don't see me in that hat."
"Naughty boy. If you heard me then you should have acknowledged that I was speaking to you. And what are you missing today?"
I close my eyes as my face burns hot. Why is she doing this? Why can't I get it out of my mind?
"Come back tomorrow if you want me to show it to you. I'm here from noon until eight. I expect you to be dressed properly."
"Wearing the hat?"
"Since you dressed inappropriately today, I think you can do better. Surprise me. If you surpass my expectations, I just might help you. If you let me down or don't show up, then I never want to see you here ever again."
I simply nod and head for the door as quickly as I can move without running. My chest pounds. I feel awful. I want to scream and cry. How am I this fucked up?
Outside the shop I rush for the alley. My face burns, melting the snow on contact. My stomach churns and boils. If Mistress was here she would hug me and everything would feel okay. What am I doing? Why is this so hard? It has only been a week. Only a couple of weeks left. When I have calmed myself enough to function I hurry for the bus stop.
I keep my head down on the ride home. I feel ill. The ride seems longer than usual. The snow slows the traffic. I don’t understand why, it snows all the time yet a fraction of an inch and everyone forgets how to drive. I depart the bus and rush home. I want to get away… get away from the world back to our safe little haven: the world that Mistress built just for us.
Inside the door I knurl my fists into my hair and cry out. I can feel my eyes going misty on me as I head for the coat closet. The hat sits on top of a box taunting me. I dig through the box… the bin full of items that Mistress never wears. I spread them out on the floor and group them by color. A lump forms in my throat and my face contorts in agony. Why am I doing this? I quickly return everything to the box, remove my coat. In the living room I dive onto the sofa and bury my face in a pillow.
I reread Mistress’s email. Is this lonely enough to call Dominique? I page through the numbers stored in the phone. Apparently Mistress arranged it just for the duration of this trip. It has her phone which wouldn’t be in service, Dominique, pizza, and taxi. I hesitate for a moment before I finally place the cursor over Dominique’s number and press the call button.
It rings a few times before it answers.
“What?” Her voice speaks sternly and directly. My hands start to shake.
“You have two seconds before I hang up.”
“Umm... Miss Dominique? It’s fs.”
“Hello, little one, I’ve been expecting your call. Are you ready to submit to me?”
“Miss Dominique… I was just feeling lonely and was wondering if you would talk.”
“It’s none of my concern.”
She hangs up. The phone slides from my shaking fingers into the couch. I cover my face with my hands and scream through my nose. I am truly isolated. A sudden tick in my heart points out that I am being selfish. This turns into self-disgust… self-loathing… and awareness of how ashamed I would be if Mistress saw me not making the best of things. I don’t want her to worry about me.
I turn on the stereo and grab my guitar. I play her song over and over again, singing until my voice is raw and hoarse. My hand aches. My throat aches. I make some toast for dinner. Chewing toast seems so loud in a quiet and empty house.
After dinner I start a shower. I climb in and drop to my knees, eventually ending up in the fetal position under the spray of the steamy water. Nothing seems to help with the twist of conflicting emotions. Nothing helps when my greatest desire is just to be by her side.
After the shower I dry off and get ready for bed. I feel listless. I look over at the cage sitting against the wall. I take Mistress’s robe and drape it over the bars. On my knees I crawl inside. I press my face to the edge, touching the tip of my nose to the robe and inhaling deeply. The familiar scent makes me smile; it soon shifts to a frown. I’m a poor excuse for a human.
I type an email to Mistress.
You are the light of my life. You are the center of my heart and my world. I love you more than anything. Be safe.
I put down the phone and head straight for the hat and harness. I crawl into the cage and curl up with a small pillow. This is who I am. Sleep finds me quickly.
I wake up disoriented and with a rush of adrenaline. My eyes instinctively find the bed. My heart sinks. She’s not here. I leave on the hat and harness and I pick up the phone. I reread Mistress’s last message.
I read a sentence out loud.
“Do whatever you have to do to get by.”
I don’t understand. Did she anticipate this? I imagine myself asking for her permission. Mistress, can I look for porn? Do whatever you have to do to get by. Mistress, can I buy a guitar? Do whatever you have to do to get by. I can’t help but feeling like shit… like I’m betraying her. I worry that I’m reading into this to find the answers I want. I’m not a good person.
I tear the harness of my head and throw it against the wall. Fuck this defeatist attitude. Why is this so hard for me? Why do days seem so hopeless when I have nothing to look forward to except knowing the next day will be the same? I cringe as my heart reminds me.
Mistress, should I go to the bookstore today? Do whatever you have to do to get by. This is the only variable in my life. This is the only thing I can’t control. This is the only thing where the outcome is unpredictable. This is the only thing right now that makes me feel small like how Mistress does. Do whatever you have to do to get by.
I manage to summon enough courage to consider it. What does “I think you can do better” mean? Asking myself that question is simply a lie… hoping to convince myself that my interpretation is wrong. She expects me to humiliate myself. I continue to battle with myself as I dump out the box of clothes that Mistress left for me. There’s another couple pairs of pants and some shirts. At the bottom of the box something falls out that doesn’t seem to belong with the rest of them. The shirts are all men’s large. This final piece is a sweater and it’s not for a man. I pick it up and inspect the tag. It’s a women’s XL. Definitely not for Mistress. It’s a chunky turtleneck in neon pink, a color that she never wears. I unfold it before me and a few items topple to the floor. Closer inspection reveals a pair of panties and matching socks.
My hands begin to shake. Did she already anticipate that something like this might happen? That my “needs” would overwhelm me? I pick up the phone and type a message.
I love you and hope your trip is fun. Say hello to everyone for me. I found some ‘out of place’ items at the bottom of my clothes box. Were those meant for me?
I raise the sweater close to my face. It has been doused with Mistress’s perfume. I bury my face in it and inhale. A strange rush of emotions washes through me. I read into it. This is Mistress’s way of telling me that I should accept my needs if they become a problem. I let out a small sigh. I missed my calling as a politician or a used car salesman. It’s easy to believe what we you want to believe. I speak out loud in the empty room.
“Yes, pet, this is for when you’re so distressed you can’t function and want to go out and humiliate yourself to feel okay.”
I feel like such a douche when I put it that way. I picture Mistress’s smile, the one that shows up when she exposes me to others and then watches my face for my reactions. I am okay when I suffer for her, now I crave to suffer for me? Don’t fight it, just accept it. I put on the panties, socks, and sweater along with a pair of khaki pants. The sweater is definitely cheaper material than the ones Mistress wears, it rubs roughly against my nipples and the tags itch badly. A quick glance in the mirror shows me nipping out rather gloriously. The panties are an interesting feel. It has been years since I’ve been permitted to wear underwear. They are much softer than any underwear I’ve ever owned and they squeeze my buns in an oddly humiliating way.
In the coat closet I choose the shorter of the two jackets. It fits around the chest but it is a little bit short in the waist and arms and has no collar. I zip it up and glance in the mirror. My face burns red. The sweater extends an inch below the jacket and peek out from the ends of the sleeves. The collar of the turtleneck is in plain sight. I picture Mistress giggling at me and my sex strains against the belt.
I picture her reaction as I dig through the box of accessories. I pick up the black hat that I wore last week.
“Oh, pet, you know that black isn’t your color. You know how I feel about ‘wishful thinking,’ try again.”
I put that in the “no” pile and keep sifting. My hands instinctively choose another hat. It’s identical the black one in style, brand, and material… but it’s neon pink. It matches the sweater perfectly. I feel my blood pressure rise as my hands shake a little. I picture her words again.
“Yes, pet. You might have thought that was one of mine, but I bought that one with you in mind. It should go well with your new sweater. Don’t forget to accessorize. I got you the full set.”
When I sorted the box before I remember a matching set. I frown a little bit as I dig it out piece by piece. A pair of mittens with fur at the cuffs. A pair of earmuffs that seemed oddly out of place in Mistress’s wardrobe. A long scarf with fur pom poms on it. It’s so long I have to wrap it around my neck three times. I put them on and look in the mirror. I cringe. I look awful. I picture Mistress again, giggling at the realization of what she is putting me through.
I picture the woman from the bookstore and I feel dizzy as my face burns. I’m going to the bookstore. I’m not going to wear these on the bus. I find a small crush-able tote, something I can cram into my pocket and place the items inside as I take them off. It isn’t quite noon. I’ll stop for lunch along the way. I feel like I’ve been abusing the colonel but I remember passing by a small Japanese restaurant along the way. It looked fairly inexpensive.
I walk slowly to the bus stop. Today is much colder than yesterday. I curse myself for again forgetting to buy a hat and gloves. Mistress’s voice pops into my head.
“Why would you waste my hard-earned money on gloves and a hat when I already got you some very nice ones?”
My stomach churns. Maybe I shouldn’t eat. Thankfully the bus is relatively empty. A few young adults in headphones that look half asleep sprawled in their seats. I exit the bus at the closest stop to the restaurant and walk there. It’s a quaint little dive, the kind of place I used to eat at in college. The menu is small but the photos make my mouth water. I order a hot & spicy chicken with steamed cabbage and gyoza. It always amazes me how fast they can prepare the food. The flavors meld in my mouth. When was the last time I had rice? Lunch leaves me with a tiny food baby. So much more satisfying than my diet of a few saltines and whatever scraps Mistress throws my way. I linger in the entryway out of the cold until the next bus is scheduled to arrive.
As the bus pulls up I feel myself shaking. Nerves. Anticipation. It’s often worse than the experience. I feel a tug at my heart. For some reason I don’t think it will be that way today. I exit the bus and cross the street on the near side of the bookstore. I pause at the alley and check the time. 12:07. My chest heaves with every breath. The turtleneck feels like it’s strangling me. I want to run. Why do I do this to myself. Her voice rings through me like the angel and devil on opposing shoulders in an old cartoon.
“I chose you because you weren’t a coward, pet.”
I remove the items from the bag and put them on. It’s an instant improvement against the cold air. I feel like I’m going to vomit. I crush up the tote bag and shove it in my pocket. I attempt to walk calmly as I enter the store. I feel like I could start on fire. The life fades from my eyes as I approach the register.
“Welcome back, sissy. You’re earlier than I expected.”
I stand silently, quivering, my eyes looking at the floor.
“I’m sure you must have a coat that goes better with your outfit. Tsk tsk.”
I unzip my jacket, exposing the neon pink turtleneck.
“Is it quite enough. Hmm. It’s obvious you put in some effort, but is it enough? If no, I’ll have to take your photo and add you to our ‘wall of shame’ over there.”
She points to a large poster above the counter with the words ‘BANNED FROM PREMISES” stenciled on it. A series of photos fill up the poster. I would guess they were probably caught shoplifting. She speaks again and snaps me back to Earth.
“If you were me, would you accept this? I mean it’s obvious you put in a little effort, but really now, I’m sure you must have a cute skirt or dress that better suits you… and those shoes.”
I picture my maid’s dress and immediately frown.
“So tell me, sissy. Is this the best you could do?” I shake my head.
“No, ma’am. I’m sorry. It’s just that I have to ride the bus and...”
“Did I ask for you to make excuses?”
“No, ma’am. I’m sorry.”
She stands there in silence, eyeing me up and down. I tremble and fidget.
“Place your hands on the counter.”
I step closer and comply with her orders. She responds by placing a pair of cable ties on the counter.
“The choice is yours, sissy. Either I take your picture and ban you from the store or the cable ties.”
My mouth feels dry and I can barely speak.
“The cable ties, please, Ma’am.”
She smirks and turns back the cuffs on the mittens. Moments later she zips them snugly around my wrists before hiding them under the fur as she flips them forward again.
“You must really need this.”
I close my eyes.
“Kirsten. Can you watch register for a few? I have a customer that needs my expertise.”
Another woman appears from the back.
“That’s funny Dawn, you have an expertise? What could you possibly… oh.”
She covers her mouth with her hand and chokes back a laugh with a fake cough.
Dawn takes my by the hand and leads me down the rows of books. We stop under a sign that says “Erotic.”
“I asked around and did a little research and I found a book that would be perfect for you. It’s about a naughty boy with a nasty little masturbation problem who gets corrected by his tutor that has been hired to school him. It’s called ‘The English Governess.’”
The way that she implies this story was personalized for me crushes my spirit and I fall down a shame spiral. I simply nod and keep my head down.
“Am I right that the sissy has problems with self control?”
I nod again and close my eyes. My knees tremble with feelings of defeat. I have to fight myself to keep from crying.
She leads me back to the counter by the hand. Kirsten rings me up. She remains silent but I can tell that she is amused. Thankfully she stays out of it.
“I’m going to take my 15. Is that okay?”
“Already? You’ve only been here for like 20 minutes.”
“Fine, but don’t blame me in a couple of hours when you start getting cranky.”
Dawn takes my hand again and leads me into the back to the break room. We are the only ones there. I stand, silently. She takes a step back and eyes me up and down. My phone beeps in my pocket.
“Is that your phone?”
I extract the phone from my pocket.
“It’s a message.”
“From my Mis… my wife.”
“From your Mistress? Read it out loud.”
I know you are probably struggling. Do whatever you need to do to feel okay until I get back. I love you and trust you.
She bursts into laughter.
“You really do have a Mistress. Oh shit. I thought you were lying about it. Give me the phone.”
I hesitate. She extends her hand forcefully. I hand it to her. She presses a button and begins to type, reading it out loud as she goes.
I am an employee at a local bookstore. Your slave has betrayed your trust and dishonored your name by repeatedly coming into our store and harassing me in a way that makes me uncomfortable. I really think that he needs to be taught some manners and should be punished harshly. I would like to meet you when you return so that we can discuss recompense for the emotional distress that he has subjected me to. It feels so dirty the way he has used me to act out his sissy humiliation fantasy and he has made me an unwelcome participant in his perverted little game.
My heart races with terror. She hands the phone back to me. My hands shake so badly I nearly drop it. I begin to sob.
“Aww, poor sissy. Why are you so sad? What’s she going to do, whip you and lock you in a cage?”
I nod as the tears run down my cheeks.
I continue nodding. She claps her hands together.
“That’s great. I never actually met someone who actually did that stuff for real. You keep coming in midday, what do you do as a job?”
I hesitate a moment.
“I’m a maid.” She claps her hands again.
“A maid? Like at a hotel?”
“Does she make you wear a pretty little dress?”
I nod again. She howls with laughter.
“I think I would pay to see that.” I her her phone beep.
“It’s been 15 minutes already? My break is over, you’re going to have to leave.”
“Did I really get you in trouble with that email?”
“You said you took the bus, right?”
“Did you wear that outfit all the way here?”
“No, ma’am. I kept most of it in a bag and put it on near here.”
“I’ll tell your Mistress that I was just playing a joke on one condition. You have to wear that outfit until you get home.”
I cringe and whimper.
“Does the sissy have a bad attitude? I may just have to tell your Mistress that you were twice as bad as I said you were.”
I cover my face with my hands.
“You’ll wear it.”
“I’m going to ask her when I see her. I know you wouldn’t lie to her so I expect you to follow my instructions, got it?”
“Oh, and keep your coat unzipped the whole way too.”
She escorts me from the employee area out to the storefront. I exit the store as quickly as I can. I see Dawn and Kirsten gossiping and laughing through the window. My anxiety quickly doubles as I get stuck in my own head. Is it more conspicuous to walk quickly or to walk casually? What should I do if someone approaches me?
I hurry to the bus stop and hide myself as best I can behind a large pole for a street lamp. The bus takes forever to arrive. My hope to go unnoticed vanishes as I fiddle with my wallet attempting to get out my bus pass. The mittens make this no easy task. I block out the whispers and find a seat in the back and hunch forward, hiding myself as best I can. I feel like I’m going to die. My phone beeps again. I take it from my pocket and read it.
Expect to have a long talk about this when I return.
I let out a quiet whimper, hoping no one hears it over the roar of the engine. I exit at my stop and run back to the house. Inside I toss the book aside and crumple on the floor and cry. I don’t know how long I lie there. Eventually I settle down. I retrieve the phone and type an email.
I don’t know what’s going on. I’m not okay. I’m sorry. I didn’t want you to worry about me. I’m not okay.
I love you. I miss you.
I hobble to my feet and discard my clothes as I walk through the entryway. Eventually I’m wearing nothing except for the panties and my chastity belt. I pick up the book and hump my way up the stairs and into the bedroom. I collapse on the bearskin rug and begin to read. I want to feel anything except acknowledging my own existence.
I immediately immerse myself within the fiction. Even though the protagonist is wantonly abused I can’t help but feel a bit envious that he had someone that cared about him at that stage in his life. I read the entire book in a single sitting. I finish it with a warmer feeling inside. I don’t know if I liked it or not, I can merely say that it spoke to me on some level. I wonder if Mistress would want to read it.
My stomach growls loudly and I twist my body in discomfort. I haven’t really moved for hours. I stretch before getting up to put on some clothes. I don’t feel like cooking so I make due with an apple, a granola bar, and some carrots. The food tastes like nothing. I don’t even feel like eating, it just seems like I should. After dinner I find the phone and type a message.
I’m a mess inside. I don’t know what to do. I love you.
I’m tired. So very tired. Tonight I sleep on the floor. Maybe it will be better in the morning.