I wake up feeling wrecked. My eyes hurt and my head throbs. I'm dehydrated and starving. The light hurts. I feel almost hung over but that makes some sense, yesterday's events had me feeling almost drunk and spiraling out of control. I have to wonder if my my body is actually building up an addiction to certain brain chemicals.
I pick up the phone and check my email. Mistress wrote me.
If you start going out of control I want you to call Dominique and do whatever she tells you.
The message hurts a bit. Why do we read into text when we have no reason to do so? Maybe it's that insecurity makes us look for what isn't there as much as what is. I type a reply.
I will do that if it starts to happen again. I love you always.
I stumble down the stairs to get water. I seek out sugar and salt to get my body going. I find a gatorade in the fridge. I will have to remember to thank Mistress for this. A funny movie moment pops into my head: It's got what plants crave. It's got electrolytes. I find some fruit and cook an egg on the stove. I wolf it down.
As I eat I replay yesterday's events in my head. What the hell was I thinking? Oh yeah, I wasn't... just driven by emotional cravings and desperately chasing feelings that weren't readily available. Even from thousands of miles away Mistress understands what is going on inside of me. I take her words to heart. I know it is only a matter of time before I will be forced to lean on Dominique. I prepare myself for the inevitability. It is a better outcome than another public venture.
Today I focus on chores. I dust, vacuum, do laundry, and scrub down every surface I can think of. I usually break it up and do a little bit each day. This takes me most of the day. By the end I'm exhausted. I cook myself a small steak with stir fried broccoli in a teriyaki sauce that I make from scratch. Just knowing that Mistress understands has put my heart at ease for today. After dinner I practice her song. I will have the vocals down by the time she returns.
Tonight I fall asleep easily. No hat, no harness,no robe. I climb into bed and a sound sleep finds me within a few minutes.
I wake up feeling okay but not quite okay. Do you ever feel like you did a whole lot but hardly anything? That was yesterday. I look back at Mistress's emails. She wanted me to do something fun. A realization strikes me in the chest with the subtlety of a 2x4. Was my life before Mistress actually fun? Does anything I do without her now really constitute fun? I easily shed all of these hobbies to be with her. They were just killing time. I may have enjoyed them but I have to believe that true fun is something that reaches your soul.
I enjoy that feeling every day I am with her with nearly everything I do. Every rite and ritual we have is part of my fun... it stirs something deep within me that makes me feel fulfilled and my heart beat in a lively way. My wonderful Mistress. I will do my best but I know that you are all that ever really matters to me.
I turn on the TV and finish off some more episodes. I also check out the first episode of Billions. I remember Mistress talking about it with someone after reading about it on a blog. It intrigues me. I make the best of my day. I order a pizza for dinner. I practice her song, I almost have it nailed. Another day or two should do it.
That night the ache sets in again. I want to tear my hair out. I can only last two days? How did I become so weak? I write to Mistress.
Thank you so much for the words of comfort. They help to keep me going. I don't know how much time I have before I will start to slip again. I will call Miss Dominique before it gets too bad. I love you. I hope you are smiling today.
I retrieve the hat and harness and put them on. I know that I will need them to sleep. I doze off.
I can’t tell exactly what this is. Mild neurosis? Uncontrolled cravings? I hold the phone in my hands like wishing will bring a new message. It feels so wrong. I want her to have a productive and fun vacation without worrying about me but I long to hear from her.
After breakfast I practice her song. Over and over again I repeat it… for hours. It’s a four-minute long song. I must be averaging at least 13 or 14 plays per hour. I finally stop after snapping a string. I’m glad I bought extras… but this sucks the wind out of my sails and I just can’t bring myself to restring it.
I turn everything off and fall onto my back on the sofa. I lay motionless, staring at the ceiling as I watch the shadows slowly creep across the floor as the light from the windows begins to wane. I make a bowl of soup for dinner and slowly nurse it, dipping a piece of bread in to make things more interesting.
I can’t remember the last time I had a really good friend… or if I’ve ever really had one. Acquaintances… lots of acquaintances… very few friends. There is no one important enough to me to track down, nor do I believe that I impacted their life enough for that to be welcome. I want my mind to go away.
Minutes later I find myself loading youtube on the computer. I kill time by finding posted clips of concerts from 15 years ago. A couple of them I remember being at. One of them in particular was a magical night… that was ruined when the woman I invited told me she wasn’t interested in being anything more than acquaintances. She didn’t even say friends… she just said it was fine for me to keep calling and if she had nothing else to do she would consider hanging out. I remember wishing that night that I still knew Brittany. Sometimes it’s better to be stepped on than left all alone.
The plan to numb my mind backfires spectacularly. I open a search box. “Femdom experiences.” The results are mostly forums and blogs. Blogs… Mistress has a blog. I find the search box again. “Mistress Cassandra blog.” Nothing relevant. “Mistress Cassandra femdom blog.” Nothing relevant. Would she use an alias? Probably. I remember the bouncer outside the club addressing her as Ms. C. I type again. “Ms. C femdom blog fur slave.” A string of forum posts come up from fur fetish, femdom, forced feminization, and chastity blogs. I click the link to the forum and give it a read.
“Ms. C just posted her slave’s new outfit, check it out.” I watch the image load and my maid’s dress on a mannequin appears before my eyes. I click the link. My jaw drops as the page loads.
“Ms. C’s Fur Dungeon.” The subscript reads “Musings of a bisexual dominant Fur Queen.” The top banner is a picture of her in her siren outfit and a large coat. She has a strap-on harness on and wears a mask that covers the upper part of her face. It’s definitely Mistress.
I halt before I read any farther. Is this okay? Is this invading her privacy? Am I supposed to read this or not? Either way I will tell her about it. This piques my curiosity to the max and I can’t resist reading at least this one post. It’s titled “Sissy Maid Dress 2.0.”
“I was very excited to see this prototype of the evolved sissy maid dress. This one looks even more awful than the original and is designed to be even more uncomfortable. I can’t wait to lock him inside of it. I have to admit that I’m a bit dishonest with people when they ask why I dress my slave like this. I frequently explain to them that it amuses me, it’s fitting of his status, it’s so cute, and that sort of thing. In reality I really just love the look of anguish on his face when I’m securing him inside of it. It really gets my juices flowing. I love putting him on display to others, especially people he doesn’t know. The spectators are always so shocked and surprised that they blurt out a genuine reaction, often without a filter. When this happens I just watch (what is left of) my slave’s ego get completely crushed and his suffering is exquisitely delicious. It takes all of my self-control just to avoid consuming what is left of him and ravaging him on the spot. I honestly don’t think I’ll permit him to wear boy clothes for the rest of his life.
I take a deep breath as my entire body shudders. This is Mistress. The thoughts behind her dominance. This feels wrong to be reading but then again, she’s so strict normally that I doubt I would even have time to worry about what’s going on in her head when it takes all of my effort simply to continue pleasing her. Also, there are a few things I’d rather not know. I don’t want to know how infatuated she was with Tristan. I don’t want to know how serious she was about the other women she has been with either. I can’t see myself being any happier learning more than I should know. I can’t see her being happier with me knowing all of this either.
I battle with myself for several minutes before I grudgingly click the show newest post link. I will read the title. If it doesn’t seem relevant I will leave. The title loads before the body. “Time Away.” Its post date is two days before she left for Europe.
I take a deep breath and scroll down, scanning the text with my eyes.
“To my readers,
I will be going out of the country for three and a half weeks starting later this week so I won’t be able to respond to comments or be making any new posts until after I return. I hope you all stay well during that time.
I am a bit worried about my pet. All of my friends that usually serve as his chaperone will be accompanying me on the trip. The only one left is another Domina friend that has refused to look after him unless I agree to her conditions, which of course, I rejected. We did negotiate but the best I could get from her was to agree to no permanent damage and that it could start at any time while I am gone.
I have reluctantly decided to let him face this separation on his own… as a man. I am giving him access to money, a phone, the internet, and (public) transportation for the first time in five years. I am afraid that he will struggle with this abrupt change. I am responsible for this… I have denied him so much. I think he may have forgotten how to want things that don’t relate to me. I also worry that he has become dependent upon the brain chemicals that go along with his subspace that I keep him constantly immersed in. My greatest fear is that this abrupt change will cause him to sub drop and spiral into confusion and despair or worse.
I do truly hope that he is able to manage this on his own. I hope he knows that it’s okay for him to need what he will probably miss. I hope he knows that I love him and want him to be safe.
I have instructed him to call my friend if he finds himself so lost that it’s painful for him to function. I trust her to the extent that she will honor our agreement. I know it will be unpleasant for him but I am uncertain about which will be worse: his suffering at being alone or his suffering at her hands.
In any case I hope that he will be okay. I’m sure I will worry about it over the duration of the trip. I don’t want him to feel like he has to be a certain way or I’ll be disappointed in him. The situation I left him in is unfair.
A few of my other friends asked me if I am worried that he will enjoy being free again more than our lifestyle. The truth is, no. I honestly believe with what has happened to him in the past that our daily life makes him thrive and be what he feels is the best version of himself.
I sit back and allow myself to process. I find a sense of peace with all of this but in a strange way. It is okay for me to have a meltdown and to need more than what I am capable of creating on my own. I feel a huge amount of burden lift itself from my shoulders. I should never underestimate Mistress. She understands me deeply… a system of lifestyle and moving parts... cycles of cause and effect… where my psyche fits in all of this… and how she controls it all.
I don’t need to be strong for her or maintain a facade. I just need to be myself and try the best that I can. I shut down the computer and return to the living room. I set the guitar on the coffee table and carefully restring it, set the intonation, and plug it back in. I play through her song one more time… and nail it perfectly. This is me. When I do something for her I can be perfect. I set the guitar down, place my head in my hands, and weep.
When the tears run dry I retreat to the bedroom and lay down. I snuggle up against her robe and immerse myself in her smell. I love you, Mistress. I don’t sleep, I merely exist. I have no concept of time. I am just here, feeling as close as I can to her in her absence.
I glance over at the clock. 8:30pm. I pick up the phone and type Mistress a message.
I love you. I am going to call Miss Dominique now. I will be okay. Please have fun on your trip.
I fiddle through the numbers and press call. Dominique’s voice is direct and non-nonsense.
“Are you ready to submit to me?”
“Yes, Miss Dominique. I am ready.”
“I will be there in 40 minutes. Be ready. You know how I hate to be made to wait.”
“Yes, Miss Dominique.”
I put together an overnight bag with some clothes and some toiletries. I put on my shoes and coat and wait by the front door. It isn’t long before the headlights of her large SUV shine through the windows. I exit the house, lock the door, and make my way through the night air to what I hope is the one who will save me from myself.