Fiction: fs01 - Part 74

Author’s Note:  I added Day 23 about 5 minutes after originally posting this.

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LXXIV

Day 15.

Today I find myself able to move a bit more. My feet still throb badly with any pressure but the pain of my rear is down quite a bit. Well, it only hurts a lot to try to sit rather than being unbearable. Today Sammy and Gordon show up with a wheel chair with several cushions stacked up on the seat. I sit gingerly but this should give my feet more time to heal without making things worse. Based upon its markings I believe this is the same wheel chair I used after my first visit with Dominique.

I eat breakfast with the crew. I find it easier to speak casually. Things feel different with friends. It feels different to feel like I have friends. I don’t know exactly what I feel… I just know it isn’t bad.

After breakfast we check out the music room. As the lights go on my jaw drops. It feels almost like a small club venue… and recording studio… and collection room. There are full amp setups, a drum set, a PA, and hundreds of guitars hanging on the wall and littered around the room.

Dominique places her hand on my chin and closes my mouth for me.

“One day I decided I wanted to learn how to play so I went and bought a guitar and started on lessons. After a while someone mentioned that collecting rare guitars would be a good investment.”

She starts pointing out some instruments mounted in glass cases on the wall.

“That Telecaster over there I paid $5,200 for. Now it’s worth about $35,000. That Les Paul ran me $12,500. Now it’s going for… Sammy, what’s that one going for now?”

“About $160k.”

“Ah. I make a point to buy up the standard fare each year as well as a few custom shop models. You never know what is going to get hot, although I don’t really intend to sell any unless I have to. Do you see anything you’d like to try?”

I look up at her with surprise.

“Umm… probably about half the room. Is that a ‘61 Reissue SG?”

“Yes. I believe it’s a ‘98 or so. Would you like to play it?”

I nod.

“I used to have an SG Special. It played okay but I had to...”

“Replace the bridge pickup?” She laughs a little.

“Yeah.”

Sammy fetches the guitar and brings it to me. It’s in pristine condition, the wood grains beautifully show through the cherry finish. Gordon starts pushing my wheelchair.

“Which amp, man?”

“The Marshall if that’s okay.”

He powers up the amp and hands me a cable and a pick. Dominique heads over to the drum kit. Sammy picks up a bass. Gordon grabs a Les Paul and plugs in to another amp across the room. He lets an E ring out while the rest of us tune to match him. I hear Dominique’s coming through the PA.

“What do you want to play, little one?”

“Do you know any Goddess’ Nectar?”

“I’m familiar with the first album.”

I hear her speak faintly into her phone. The blip of the bluetooth pairing comes through the speakers. Within moments the album’s first track plays over the speakers and we jam along. I’m rusty and it shows. I don’t care though, this is fun. We badly play through the first half of the album or so before stopping. Gordon walks over and helps put away the guitar.

“Dude, fs, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you smile like that. Usually you look like someone just kicked you in the gut.”

I can’t help but smile.

Next up is some Zbox. I don’t partake again today. I’m content simply to watch. I lose myself in my thoughts, trying to figure out the great difference between now and last week. While I’m still sore and feeling a little helpless, there’s no D/s to speak of. I don’t know these people all that well but I feel a connection right now that goes beyond that of just casual acquaintances. It makes me wonder.

Dominique has Chinese food delivered for dinner. She orders way too much food but all of it tastes so good. We chat around the dinner table. I’m feeling more comfortable hopping into the conversations now. Time really flies.

Tonight I’m given an actual room to sleep in. It’s large, but then again, all of the rooms in her house are large. The bed feels nice as I sprawl in any direction I please. It’s surprising how tired your back gets being trapped in a chair all day.

I type an email to Mistress before I sleep.

“Mistress,

I had fun today. I hope you are having fun, too.

Love, pet.”

Day 22.

I wake up in the large bed and stretch. The bruising has faded quite a bit but it can still hurt if it receives pressure in just the right way. The last few days were a blur. Once I was okay to walk Sammy showed up with a pair of super spongy soled running shoes in my size. Apparently Dominique sent him to get them. Each day it has been something new. One day we went to the zoo because she wanted to see monkeys. Another day to the movie theater to watch a movie that Sammy had been looking forward to. It was some action schlock but I didn’t complain. It was fun to make fun of it with the others after it was over.

The next day was an all you can eat buffet. It was amusing watching the three of them try to outdo one another only to feel ill in the end. I’m honestly surprised at Dominique’s poor eating habits. She must be blessed with good genes to pack it in like that and stay thin. Nothing is ever planned… it’s all just an impulse. “Hey, let’s do _____.” It is hectic but I can’t say it isn’t fun.

Yesterday the UPS man arrived with a delivery. Gordon ordered the new Final Fantasy game for Zbox and tried to convince me to play. I was content to watch, smiling while they shouted at the characters.

Today at breakfast Sammy is hobbling a bit and sinks slowly into his chair.

“Are you okay?” Gordon answers.

“He’ll be fine, it was his turn.”

Dominique blows a kiss at Sammy. He shakes his head and looks at his food. I feel like I’m starting to understand the dynamic around here a little bit better. I also understand the source of proficiency for Sammy and Gordon when it comes to nursing wounds and patching things back together. A grin forms across my face.

“Jealous, little one? I could have always taken a second go at you if you would have preferred. We can do it later if you wish.”

I choke on my food for a second.

“No thank you, Mistress.”

I have to wonder what is in store for today.

We spend the day shopping. A dozen stops or so. A book for Gordon. Headphones for Sammy. A handful of specialty shops where Dominique buys God knows what. The last stop is at World of Guitars. Sammy and Gordon immediately flock their way in and find instruments and start jamming. I actually look around the store today. Last time I was there on a specific hunt. Here I just take in the views and the sounds.

My eyes make their way upwards and I twist my neck. This strangely angled overhang makes viewing the instruments hanging a bit awkward and it gets worse the farther up you go. Up in the corner I spot a vision of my past. My dream guitar. The one I drooled over in my youth but could never afford. Its flamed top and dark blue burst finish mesmerizes me. Dominique’s voice startles me.

“Good eye, little one. I don’t think that finish has been available in at least ten years. I had the Lava Burst version but traded it in. SG’s just don’t value up in the same way that Les Pauls do.”

She quickly flags down a salesman. It’s the same man that sold me my starter pack a couple of weeks ago.

“Is that one new old stock?”

“Yeah. Apparently it got stashed in its case in our storage and we dug it up a couple of months ago. It’s probably around an‘04 or so.”

“$3250 is a little bit steep on that, don’t you think? I’ll give you $2600 for it. That’s $100 more than when they were new.”

“Let me ask my manager.”

He disappears into the back.

“I thought you said they don’t value up?”

“They don’t. This one is meant to be played.”

He returns a moment later.

“He said we could do $2750 and will throw in a setup with that.”

“Done. What gauge strings do you use, little one?”

“Umm, 10’s, Miss Dominique.”

“Set it up with 10’s. I’ll take a set of strap locks with it as well. Can you toss them on during the setup?”

“Sure.”

“Save the original buttons as well.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

The salesman’s eyes light up. He must work on commission. He tells us it will be about a half an hour before it’s ready. We head to the colonel for lunch as it’s just a short drive down the road. I specifically avoid looking over at the bookstore but part of my heart twitches as we arrive and when we leave. On the drive back to the store I fidget a bit as I ask her a question.

“Miss Dominique, why did you buy that guitar?”

“Don’t be dense, little one. I bought it for you.”

My surprise is immediately countered by a sick feeling in my gut.

“I don’t want to sound ungrateful but why did you buy it for me?”

“White guilt.” She laughs loudly.

“What?”

“You’ll understand when your Mistress returns.”

I merely nod. Conflicting emotions swell over me.

“Miss Dominique.”

“Yes, little one?”

“I don’t think I’m allowed to have things of my own.”

“Well then we’ll keep it at my place. You can play it whenever you come over on one condition.”

“Yes?”

“Call me Mistress when Cassandra isn’t around. I know that I released you, but I liked hearing you say it.”

“Yes, Mistress. Thank you.”

Back at Dominique’s home we play more music and I get to jam on the new guitar. I love it but her words haunt me.

That night I email Mistress before bed.

“Dear Mistress,

I can’t wait to see you soon. I love you.

-pet”

Day 23.

I wake up this morning feeling a little bit out of sorts. After breakfast I will be returning home. Mistress returns tomorrow and I suppose this is meant to make sure that the house is in order. I cleaned thoroughly before calling Dominique so it should be a relaxing day.

Breakfast is lively as usual. I feel a bit sad that I will be leaving this behind. After breakfast I take a shower, tidy up the room, and get ready to leave. My brain swirls around in a confusing way. The events of the past three weeks have taken me up and down in ways I couldn’t have imagined.

Before we leave the front door I bow my head and thank everyone for taking care of me. Sammy gives me a handshake and a bro hug. Gordon uses a fist bump. Dominique stands with her arms crossed and a smile on her face. I kneel and kiss her boots. First the right foot then the left. As I look up she puts her gloved hand on my cheek and starts with a caress before digging in the talon she wears on her finger and cackling.

They drop me off near the front door and with a wave, they are gone. I unlock the front door and walk in. Immediately a tear forms in my eye. I’m not sure why, I’m sure it won’t be the last time I see them. I put away my clothes and get to work dusting, vacuuming, and hunting for any other spots that might be deemed as untidy. I clean out the fridge a bit. I had forgotten how many perishable items Mistress had left for me. Many of them have gone bad. I feel guilty for letting this happen. I ate out too much.

When everything is satisfactory I look at the clock. It’s early afternoon. I take a seat on the sofa when the real guilt hits me. I burst into tears and cry until I can’t.

I stand up in a daze, not truly feeling alive anymore. I strip naked and pack up all of my man clothes into the box that Mistress presented them to me in. I find my uniform, holding it in my hands in front of me I scan it over. This is the real me. I carefully dress myself from head to toe, adjusting and locking things in place as I go. I don’t know where the keys are and I don’t care.

I curl up on the rug on the floor and hug Mistress’s robe tight, inhaling the scent of her perfume I feel everything else fade away and I return to myself. I let out a small sigh and a sniffle follows. I have betrayed Mistress. I doze off.

END ACT

Struggles yet again

I've been trying to keep up with writing but over the past week or so my depression has returned and it's managing to make life feel rather crappy.  I plan to keep on trucking but if I go silent for a little bit it's because of that.

Fiction: fs01 - Part 73

Author’s Note:

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LXXIII

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.

“No.”

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?”

“Yeah.”

“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.”

“Thanks.”

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?”

“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?”

“Yes.”

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.

END ACT

Expanding on Humiliation

In the past I wrote that I believe that subs who crave humiliation do so because it "safely" exploits upon their deep fears and insecurities in a controlled way.  That is, it proves their fears to be true without the pain of rejection.  e.g. with SPH, a sub has the insecurity/worry that their penis is too small.  When they are humiliated about it, their fear becomes reality but it isn't something so bad that they will be discarded.  This can actually be a bit peaceful on some level, even if the feelings themselves are shameful since it avoids the worst case scenario, she leaves you for someone else because of it.

While working on fs01 I started thinking about a certain notion, namely, why is it that I keep introducing new characters every arc?  The best answer I could come up with is related to this topic.

When it comes to humiliation, a logical view is that at some point being humiliated in the same way repeatedly should eventually "get old."  Once that emotional pain is driven home enough times, their beliefs should adjust and accept things.  If they truly believe it is the way that they are, there is no reason to be embarrassed anymore, right? 

For some reason that doesn't seem to happen that way.  For example, if a Domme makes her sub wear pink panties every day and calls him a sissy.  Under that theory, there should be a time where it feels completely natural to him to exist in this state, so if she were to tell someone in his presence that he wears pretty pink panties, that shouldn't humiliate him much... but in most cases it still does.

I have two ideas in regard to this.  The first is that in D/s couples where humiliation plays a large part of their dynamics, the Domme usually enjoys keeping the sub in a state of self-consciousness.  Something you will find that is fairly common among Dommes that enjoy mind-fucking is that they often take a good deal of enjoyment in making a sub squirm due to emotional discomfort.  Through this method, the sub is never truly permitted "comfort" from accepting their new truth: while they see it as true, it is also associated with shame. 


The other idea flows from a bit of a different place, namely, the male ego.  While humiliation has the power to crush the male ego, the ego never really dies... it only goes away for a little while.  In this case the psyche continues to rebuild itself even after being broken down repeatedly and continues to battle against accepting the new "truth."  It loses the battle every time but always rises to fight another day... only to be humiliated and crushed in its next defeat. 

I'm not sure if either of these are wholly accurate, but they seem reasonable. 

Dream Bondage Device - Permanent ______

It's been a while since I wrote about one of these.  I'm hoping to get some of the fantasy juices flowing as I wasn't super happy with how chapter 72 was portrayed and I'm struggling to finish 73 as a result.

If you expose yourself to enough sci-fi and fantasy type media your brain can easily get twisted and turned about by ideas that others present in some way.  These are often done in disturbing ways that end up affecting you on some deep level, even if you weren't aware of it at the time or sure of why.  A theme that I have been exposed to and that has come to haunt my dreams are things that involve permanence. 

Science fiction or magic-based ideas are where ideas of unbreakable substances, permanent treatments or curses, and the like show up with relative frequency.  While these things might not exist in reality, these genres allow for the creation of new methods and devices that could completely change the landscape of a D/s environment.

The first time I dreamed of something like this it was the result of a comic book character from when I was young.  This character wore a mask/hood to conceal their identity and at some point had some permanent adhesive dumped upon his head, permanently bonding the hood to his head.  In the comic, this character was eventually driven mad by this outcome and ended up dying ~25 years later, without ever having found a way to remove it.  This forced him to live in hiding, unable to be near anywhere civilized and to complicate it even more, the mask had no mouth hole, which forced all food to be taken intravenously. 

Needless to say, for someone with a strong connection to the humiliation of forced feminization, this is a rather dubious vehicle.  Having a humiliating uniform bonded to your body so that it could never be removed... forced to humiliate yourself or to go out of your way to cover yourself to go out for even the simplest of errands... just seems really evil... especially if someone did that to you on purpose.  As actual clothing gets dirty, the reality of this would probably be quite awful, but the dreams never covered more than a couple of days... more the knowledge that it was there for good was enough to break a sub's spirit.

Another notable dream device I had was a combination of things from both a couple of sci-fi movies as well as some novels and comics... or so I believe.  You can't really be sure when things just happen to show up in your subconscious.  I can pick out various bits and pieces and link them to specific events in movies or stories but they seem to have come together all on their own. 

If you could picture a material that is mold-able like clay.  Circuits/electronics could be placed within and then the finished piece could be easily custom shaped to fit a person, e.g. collar, wrist cuffs, ankle cuffs, belt etc.  Once they are in place they could be treated with a chemical mist or something like that, causing them to harden into an unbreakable substance.  This would allow for extremely sleek fitting permanent restraints that could never be removed. 

In the dream they allowed the wearer's location and vitals to be tracked and also had electromagnetic plates that would allow attachments or bonding to each other, surfaces etc. that could be activated by remote control.  In this dream it was a future Femdom city so of course there were wall plates that allowed for male slaves to be locked to the wall without the need for chains, tethers, etc.  Their hands could also be locked to their waist, collar, or to each other (front or back) with the touch of a button. 

Yeah... my brain can be kind of wacky sometimes.

Why submission fails

Recently I have been in contact with a handful of people that are of the "I have Femdom fantasies but they all fail when we try them in real life."

The reasons are always the same sorts of things.  "I like being in control."  "I just can't let go."  "It has to go my way or I'm not interested."  This never really makes sense to me if someone would have a fantasy then actually block the fantasy from happening when given the opportunity... that just seems counter-productive in a lot of ways.

These answers are, however, indicative of deeper issues that plague a very large percentage of men that associate themselves with being a submissive. This works on a handful of levels, each indicative of an underlying problem.

For many, truly letting go of the ego and allowing oneself to be vulnerable is the biggest issue.  This is scary.  You do have to actually give up control.  You can be hurt.  They see you for who you really are.  This in itself is something that people are rarely willing to do.  This is one of the key points that I argue whenever people call subs weak or cowardly.  Being vulnerable takes a hell of a lot of strength and courage.  If it was easy, more people would do it.

The bigger, underlying theme is that very few people have ever spent the time or effort required to understand just what makes someone else ticks... what would make them happy... what is their dream.  It is far too easy to be blind and selfish than it is to pay attention, understand, and give proper value to someone else and their feelings and ideas. 

If you truly focus upon her desires, then it is easy to give up control. 

When I come across people who say things like the phrases above I no longer try to educate them on how things can work... I just let it go and hope they stay out of it.