Wednesday, February 8, 2017

Fiction: fs01 - Part 73

Author’s Note:


Day 13 part 2
I nod in and out as I feel two sets of hands lift me off the floor. My body is on fire. I hang limp, unable to raise the strength to resist in any way. The light flickers through my eyelashes as we move. My eyes detect the traces of the different floor patterns throughout the house. I end up on a massage table in an unfamiliar room, the padded face rest allows me to lie comfortably… well as comfortably as possible.

Sammy and Gordon’s voices echo around me.
“She really fucked him up.”
“Yeah, this looks really bad.”

A straw enters my mouth and I take a drink. Some form of sugar-sweetened beverage, probably gatorade. I feel a warm sponge against my back. I cry out as the water enters the wounds, making them sting and throb. This continues for some time, slowly working its way down to my legs. Ointment follows. While it stings at first I feel the surface pain slowly fade away. I feel the sensation of tape on my skin, most likely holding down gauze or something of that nature.

I cringe and whimper as the ice packs find their way to my skin. My neck, wrists, feet, buttocks, thighs, and back.

“Take these.”
A pair of pills are forced into my mouth and another bit of drink.

“You need to eat.”

A small slice of orange finds its way in. I suck on it until it turns to mush and I let the pulp drop to the floor. A large blanket finds its way over me. It helps a little but the ice still makes everything feel uncomfortable.

With everything in place I can finally relax a little, if that’s what you want to call it. My head clears up a little as the throbbing pains become a bit more manageable. What have I done? Shame creeps in at the feeling that I have betrayed Mistress. I begin to cry. I hate myself. Gordon breaks the silence. I’m a bit surprised as this is the first time I’ve really ever heard him speak.

“What were you thinking, man?”
I choke through the tears.
“I don’t know.”
"She’s messed you up before but it was never this bad. She said you had an easy out, you just had to submit to her. Didn’t you take it?”
“No. It wasn’t easy.”
“I respect you, but man, that’s just nuts.”
“I’m sorry.”
“For what?”
“I’m weak.”

He puts his hand on the back of my head, one of the few spots that doesn’t hurt. We sit in silence after that. Occasionally another drink or slice of orange finds my mouth. I make no effort to move. After a while the blanket is removed and the ice packs taken away. This gives me some idea to the passage of time as icing isn’t supposed to exceed 30 minutes. The blanket returns.

“Get some sleep. Someone will be in to check on you.”
“Thank you.”

The lights go off and I hear the door close. I cry until I can’t. Sleep soon finds me. I stir awake with another ice treatment and a few more pills and a fresh drink. I guess that about four hours must have passed since the ice was removed. I don’t feel as fevered as before. After a while the ice is removed again and I return to the silence of an empty room in the dark.

I fall asleep quickly after the change. I don’t sleep as soundly. My dreams haunt me with visions of Dominique and Mistress and feelings of fear and regret. The next time I wake comes with the smell of food. My stomach growls.

“Can you get up?”

I try to rise but my muscles just won’t listen. I groan under the strain.

I hear a long sigh. Another dose of pills and drink. Small spoon fulls of soup follow. A dozen bites or so quiets my stomach.
“Thank you.”

“Do you want to go to the hospital?”
“No. I just need some more rest.”
“Suit yourself, man.”

Another icing begins. The cobwebs in my mind start to fade, probably due to actually getting sleep. My heart aches. After the ice I don’t fall asleep. I spend the time moving what I can. My arms are fine except my hands and wrists hurt when I move them. My neck is okay moving in most directions except back. I can bend my knees, but everything else throbs and stings with even the slightest attempt.

What do I tell Mistress?

I obsess over the near future and distract myself from my current predicament. Being alone in the dark can be peaceful. It can also be dreadful. Right now feels like a mix of the two. What happened earlier today feels surreal. This past week doesn’t seem quite real.

At some point Sammy and Gordon return.

“Can you move yet?”

I test my joints again, painstakingly shifting to my side.

“You probably shouldn’t try to sit down for about a week.”

I nod. Gordon hands me fresh pills and a beverage. I gulp it down. Sammy sets a try down on the table with a sandwich and a Dr. Pepper. I thank them and eat. The soda hits the spot… one of those “I can’t remember the last time...” moments.

“Do you want anything? An iPad? TV?”
“Could I have my phone?”
“Yeah. Make sure you get some rest. Tomorrow is going to suck.”

A few minutes later I have my phone. There’s a message from Mistress.

“Be safe, pet.

-Love, Mistress.”

I write back to her while my eyes fight back tears.

“I’m sorry, Mistress. I don’t know what I’ve done.

-Love, pet.”

I pick up a bottle of water that was left for me and take a long drink. I breathe in deep and exhale slowly. I ease myself off the table and let out a cry as my foot contacts the ground. Each step fires bursts of pain through my body. I hobble over to the light switch and turn it off. Moving quickly or slowly doesn’t seem to matter. I make my way back to the table in the dark. I slide into my stomach, pull the blanket over me and close my eyes.

Day 14.
I wake to the sound of the door and smell of food. Does feeling “less terrible” count as refreshed? Gordon hands me some fresh pills and a drink while Sammy sets down a tray with toast, bacon, and orange juice. My eyes widen at the sight of the bacon. I had been avoiding it with my “one bad meal, two good ones” diet plan but it’s been so long.

“Thank you.”

I start in on the food. I take a bite of the crisp strip of pork and let it melt in my mouth for a minute, savoring its flavor.

“I don’t know how you do it, man.”
“Do what?”
“Eat like you do. Scraps. Crap. So weird.”
“Is it really that strange?”
“Doesn’t Dominique ever limit what you eat?”
“Hell no.”
“I guess I just don’t really think about it.”
“Man, you really live this shit for real, don’t you?”
“I guess so.”

I mull over his words while I finish my food. I guess it might seem odd to others. Mistress must exert a bit more control than most. I know part of it is to keep my weight in check. I’m guessing the other part is that it amuses her and I have no problem with that. I finish my breakfast quickly.

“So how do you want to do this?”

Sammy sets a box down on the edge of the table and opens it.

“We’re supposed to help you get dressed. I’m sure you aren’t a fan of it and we aren’t really either, but better you than me, right?”

Gordon laughs. I haven’t seen him this animated before. He seems a lot happier than the last time I really spent time here, back when Mistress had her accident. Sammy steps in.

“I’m guessing you won’t be able to sit or stand. We can help with some of it, but it might get a little bit weird if you want us to do too much.”

He hands me a pair of panties from the box. I shift myself on the table in an attempt to sit. I let out a cry and wince with pain.

“Told you, man. Lie on your stomach.”

I shift back to my original position. He guides them over my feet and up to my knees.

“All you from here, bro.”

I tug them up. The pressure on my bruised and battered rear is unwelcome. Stockings follow, he helps get them within my reach and I’m able to get them the rest of the way. The last undergarment is a petticoat. I’m not really sure how these work. We find a way to get it up around my waist, the layers of ruffles feel silly and awkward.

“You’re really going to hate this next part. Sit or stand?”

I slide off of the table as they support my arms and ease myself onto my feet. I cringe and teeter as my poor feet cry out in agony. I must have deep tissue bruising going on. Gordon helps me balance as Sammy slides a traditional black French Maid’s uniform over my arms and upper body. I feel the material catch on the scabs on my back and shoulders. He zips it up the back, buckles the collar, and locks it in place. A cap and apron follow. For the last piece Sammy hands me a pair of fluffy white fur earmuffs. I cringe as my chest tightens.

“She insisted man. She said it makes her laugh when she sees you.”

I place them on my head.

“You’re going to hate this.”

The finishing touch is a pair of high heeled pumps with locking ankle straps.

“She specifically ordered them a size too small. I’m sorry, man.”

I slide my foot into the first, letting out a whimper as the shoe pinches and presses against my swollen foot. Sammy buckles and locks it while Gordon helps hold me up. Getting into the second shoe is agony. I bite down on my napkin to stifle the scream as both feet are now encased in shiny patent prisons of agony.

They lead me to the room that Dominique is in. I would call it the living room but she has so many rooms that I’m not even sure. It is the large room with couches and a TV near the dungeon stairs. I’ve spent time in here before. She sits on the couch watching TV, relaxing in her robe that is so similar to Mistress’s.

I walk with slow, deliberate steps, wincing with every shift of weight and pinch of the shoes. Upon reaching her field of view she shuts off the TV.

“Present yourself for inspection, slave.”

I stand still with my head down and hands folded in front of me. Dominique slowly paces around me. The scent of her perfume fills my nose. My body unconsciously stiffens in terror. She pets the fur on my earmuff and grins.

“Does the slave like his new uniform?”

Her hand strikes me hard across the backside. I let out a scream. The pain continues to pulse and throb long after impact.
“Yes, what?”
“Yes, Mistress.”
“Kneel and kiss my feet.”

I nod and gingerly make my way to my knees, wincing with every motion. I bend myself low and place my lips upon her slipper and kiss. I repeat this with her other foot. I look up and find her face grinning down at me. I don’t think that I would call it a smile… smiles feel friendly. Dominique motions with her hand to rise. I struggle to my feet, whimpering with the throbbing pains.

“Rule number one. No speaking unless spoken to. Rule number two. I will probably hit you if I feel like it. Any questions?”
“No, Mistress.”
“Good. Now be a good slave and stand at attention and be ready to attend to my needs.”

Dominique sits back on the couch and turns back on the TV. Her watching habits are a bit ADHD, flipping channels quickly, switching at every commercial break. I stand at attention, using all of my willpower to tune out the ache of my feet and legs. She picks up her phone and types a message. A few moments later Sammy arrives with a tray containing a glass of juice. He passes it to me. I hold it in place and serve as Dominique’s table while she nurses it slowly and continues her mish mash of three-minute segments of television programming.

When she finishes her juice she instructs me to deposit the tray at the table near the door. I painstakingly make my way across the room and do as instructed, slowly returning to her side. A while later she picks up her phone and makes a call.

“Sammy, do we get the EuroSports channel? I want to watch soccer.”

She nods and parlays for a few moments.
“Okay. Order it and bring me my lunch. Make up a plate for the new slave, too.”

Dominique shuffles through the channels impatiently. A while later Sammy arrives and presents me a tray. The main plate is for Dominique. I assume the smaller covered plate is for me. He takes the remote and switches the channel over to soccer.

"Finally. It's about time."

She sits back and takes a bite of her burger while munching on chips and carrot sticks and dip. She shouts at the screen during a few plays. The pain in my feet is the only thing keeping my arms from feeling tired. She takes the plate from my tray and holds it in her hand.

"Go ahead and eat, slave."
"Thank you, Mistress."

I remove the cover from my plate and find the identical meal only grouped closer together. I eat my burger and savor its taste, taking it down in small bites, chewing every bite to its fullest. Dominique finishes her food and places her plate back on the tray. I hurry and complete my final bites as well. She turns the TV off and tosses the remote across the couch.

"I forgot how much I hate soccer. There's something about games that end in ties that doesn't sit well with me."

I let a grin slip across my lips as I finish my food and carry the tray over to the table by the door. The grin quickly converts to a grimace as the shoes continue yesterday's punishment.

"I'm already bored. Come here, slave."

I present myself in front of her.

"I release you from your service."
"I'm sorry, Mistress?"
"You're not my sub anymore. Got it? But I wouldn't mind if you continued calling me Mistress. I like the sound of it a lot better than the 'Miss Dominique' you usually squawk at me with."
"Thank you, Mistress."
"Don't thank me. I don't know how Cass does it. I thought this would be a lot more fun but I've realized it's more work than I care to do if I wan to make it fun."

She picks up her phone and types a bit. Not long after Sammy and Gordon arrive with my normal clothes. They assist me with changing and soon I find myself upon my stomach on the far side of the L-shaped couch.

"Do you have a dream, little one?"
"A dream, Mistress?"
"Yes, like, the American dream... a 2-story in suburbia, 1.7 kids, snorting blow off of hooker tits while on business trips."

I let out a small laugh at her humor.
"I'm living my dream, Mistress. All I ever wanted was to love and be loved."

I have trouble reading her expression. She pauses for a while before responding.
"You are wise, little one. That would be a very fulfilling way to live."

She pauses again, pursing her lips.
"I've never loved anyone. The concept doesn't even make sense to me. On some level I'm envious of those who can love but on another level I'm grateful for a life without attachments. I spent too many years bound to the whims of others to ever want to feel that again."
"Don't you love Sammy or Gordon?"

Dominique laughs.
"No. I consider them to be good friends but there aren't feelings beyond that."
"But they serve you, right?"
"Damn right they do. I let them live here rent free and pay for all their shit. The least they can do is take care of some chores and cater to my impulses. When I met Sammy he was homeless and pan-handling for cash. When I passed by he didn't approach me. When I asked him he said that I was too beautiful. That amused me so I bought him lunch and took him home with me. He's been here ever since. You already know Gordon's story. My life is a lot more fun with them than without them. I believe they feel the same way. There's no jealousy, just fun."

"You're amazing, Mistress."

I'm surprised to see her react with a slight blush.
"What makes you say that, little one?"
"You are honestly terrifying but you have a big heart."

She lets out a laugh and switches to a macho voice, pointing to her arms.
"These veins have ice water running through them."

It's funny that she puts up this much of a front. I have to wonder why she forced me to submit only to release me a day later. It's a surprise that I mattered to her.

"Can I ask you a question, Mistress?"
"Sure, little one."
"Was it really that important to break me?"
"Of course. You have no idea how much damage you did to my ego when I had you here the first time. You've seen me in action before so you know what I'm talking about. And here comes this pathetic little nothing of a man that I beat to a pulp and he never once begged for mercy or made empty promises. I swore to myself I would get my revenge one day. Now that I have, I can put that to rest."

I close my eyes and process her response. I feel warm inside and a little bit special.

"So what have you been up to these past couple of weeks, little one?"
"I watched a lot of TV shows and movies."
"What did you watch?"
"Game of Thrones. I got midway through season 5."
"It started to suck then, didn't it?"
"Yes, Mistress, it definitely got weaker."
"That's a kind way of putting it. What else did you do?"
"I bought some books and read them. I ate a lot of chicken."
"You and that chicken. It's so cute that something so small can bring you joy."

"I tried to look at porn."

Dominique busts out laughing. I blush a little, but it's not too bad.

"Ah, yes, Cass told me about your 'little problem.' I've often wondered if there is a point to porn when you're locked in a chastity belt."
"It was... how do I put it... wholly unfulfilling. Oh, I also found Mistress's blog."
"What did you think of it? It's a pretty good read."
"I only read two posts. One older one that was enlightening. The other was the most recent one. It was that post that convinced me that it was okay to call you."
"Cass pretty much can see the future when it comes to you. I know I made things difficult but after bailing you out a number of times I wasn't going to go through with it unless I could break you. Do you regret it?"

My mind twists and turns with her question.

"I honestly don't know... yet. My feet say 'yes, regret it.' I have a feeling that my mind won't know until later."
"Fair enough. You had to have done something more fun than all of that."
"Well... I bought a guitar."
"I didn't know you played."
"I used to. I sold my guitars when I moved in with Mistress."
"Plural. Guitars. I'm surprised you were able to give it up that easily."
"They were what I did when I had no one to love. Once I found that I didn't need them anymore."
"Remind me to show you the music room tomorrow. You might find it enjoyable."

We continue to small-talk. I had forgotten how it felt to truly socialize with someone else. To share my unfiltered thoughts and feelings... feels nice.

"Do you want to play some Zbox? We can four-player something."
"What is a Zbox?"
"For shame. How can you be a male under 50 and not know that question. It's the newest gen gaming system."
"I used to have a playstation."
"What did you like to play?"
"Final Fantasy."
"Nerd alert. You can watch. Feel free to hop in if you want to."

She presses some buttons on her phone. It isn't long before Sammy and Gordon appear. Sammy raises his fists above his head.
"I won yesterday, I get first choice. Immortal Combat, bitches!"
"You're going down, dude."

I watch from my vantage point on the couch with a bit of envy. This type of camaraderie is something I'm not used to being around. I wonder for a moment if my life would have been different with a group of close friends like these.

I don’t follow the screen. Instead I watch faces. The smiles… the trash talk… the exhilaration of triumph… and the anguish of defeat. This little group has managed to find a bond. I feel a touch of envy. I’m not sure if those feelings ring true or if they are simply a substitute filling in for the absence of Mistress.

Gordon wins today’s match-ups. I’m not surprised that Dominique is a sore loser. Watching her trade controllers back and forth claiming equipment failure makes me smile. We follow it up with pizza and a movie.

I spend one more night on the massage table, my backside is still too sore to lie on. Walking is still painful. I’m sure the few hours I spent in the shoes today didn’t help the healing process. I type Mistress an email before bed… it’s a different feeling not feeling bad in the evening.

“Dear Mistress,

Today was a good day. I hope yours was as well.

Love, pet.”

I sleep soundly tonight for the first time in days.



  1. I understand that fs would do all for his love, but Dominique isn't, so I don't get it why he voluntered to get beaten? Is he addicted?

    1. Thank you, t22.

      Last summer I was in contact a great deal with a sub with a background in psychology. One of the things we discussed is the chance that an individual could be addicted to the brain chemicals released during submission.

      fs definitely behaves like an addict but I do not believe he is aware of it so his questionable decision-making and inability to cope with subspace cravings are the focus of this arc.

      Cassandra's blog and repeated messages serve as his "suggestion" that going to Dominique is the better choice than ending up spiraling out of control and repeating more bookstore type situations.

  2. I must say that of all the characters you've created, Dominique confuses me the most. I just do not understand her motivations or her lifestyle at home with Sammy and Gordon. Her need to break fs by nearly beating him to death followed by the friendliness toward him that she displays just doesn't make any sense to me. Is there someone in your life that displayed these seemingly contradictory traits to the extremes that Dominique has? I guess I'm asking just where in your mind this character came from, if you'd care to explain.

    1. Thank you, Lady Grey.

      I know that you aren't a fan of spoilers or author's notes but I will probably have to explain this a little bit for it to come together... I apologize in advance.

      I have known a few people with traits similar to Dominique, all of which endured pretty severe psychological trauma in their youth (e.g. being homeless/runaway, or the case of the political prisoner that I wrote about in my post on emotional relativism). I also borrowed some traits from some interesting fictitious villains I have encountered over the years. I originally created Dominique as a villain but I also wanted her to have depth behind the sadism. That being said, I also wanted her to have a bit of a terror factor like Clarice/Karl.

      While she has the desire to inflict intense suffering to the willing, she has a soft spot for those who suffer without choice. She hates being bored and doesn't care if being entertained involves straying outside the boundaries. Live in the moment, do what is fun, chase pleasure, don't think, don't feel, just do.

      When things do force her to feel it affects her deeply and she acts in order to "fix" the problem feelings within herself.

      Once I got rolling with her character I kind of settled for this awkward balance... I wanted her to be absolutely frightening, and from my experiences, the scariest people are the ones that seem wholly unpredictable. Giving her the "quirk" of being the one that notices that fs is emotionally collapsing upon himself and finding some way to ease his emotional suffering does make her rather odd and difficult to hate.

      I hope this makes some sense. Basically, she's crazy and you aren't sure if she's going to push or pull... or if the motive is pure or evil, but as a whole, Cass is her friend because the end result often ends up with more good than bad.

    2. No apologies necessary, fur, and thank you for the explanation. I agree that Dominique is certifiably crazy and extremely dangerous to be around. Her total lack of concern for any sane limits to her punishments would make her someone to be wary of, and in real life I can't imagine subjecting a sub to her unpredictable moods (which is why I'd never allow my husband to be alone at the hands of Clarice). Would you say that Cass had any idea of what she would do to fs in this instance? Would she have willingly put him through that? Her messages to fs which recommended seeing Dominique seem to imply that she was party to the outcome. That also confuses me. Was she fully aware - in your mind - of what Dominique would do to fur?

    3. Thank you, Lady Grey.

      I will try to answer the best I can without spoilers as a lot of what you have asked will be revealed later.

      The most I can say now is that Cass is worried more about fs's emotional state than physical. After the bookstore message she became fearful of worse possible outcomes than Dominique, eg getting arrested or falling into a highly depressed state. The Tristan situation and prison experiment has given Cass reasons to trust Dominique in regards to the big picture even if the individual actions are something she is afraid of. I hope this will clear up in 74 and 75.