Author’s
Note: This takes place a bit after Arc 7. This is the start of Arc
8.
This
was a tough chapter to write. I apologize in advance if it is
uncomfortable for some to read.
--------------------
LVIII
I
kneel in the living room next to Mistress’s chair. The
anticipation keeps my nerves firing. I do my best to clear my mind
and wait patiently for her return. In the month or so since our ski
trip, I have sensed that Mistress is continuing to push my limits and
seeking out triggers to my slavespace. It happens quite frequently
now and I sense a shift in her aura when she reduces me to such a
state. It frightens me.
I
have to believe that an earlier version of myself probably would be
terrified of her… but the current me can see her layers… and the
vibrant spark that shines in her eyes when she takes me there. In
those times her sex burns hot and she makes no effort to hide it…
consumed with passion… endless pursuit of pleasure… at times she
reminds me a little bit of Dominique.
I
wring my hands together as I look down at the floor. I’m not
accustomed to wearing my “boy clothes,” and I can’t remember
the last time I was allowed to wear the black sweatpants and
sweatshirt that Mistress keeps for occasions like these.
Her
instructions were simple. Shovel the driveway and walkways. Prepare
two guest rooms. Make sure the living room is spotless. Mistress
didn’t give a start time so I worked as fast as I could and now I
kneel and wait. Two guests will arrive later. I am to use the
“public versions” of our rituals, so I assume they are not aware
of our lifestyle. I am not to speak unless spoken to.
The
business of my mind prevents me from relaxing. The thought dances in
my head that I do not have the mental fortitude to truly be a worthy
servant. I chase away the pangs of disappointment… they do not
help me.
The
sound of tires on concrete in the distance instinctively springs me
to my feet. In the entryway Mistress enters with her long strides,
the heels of her boots click against the tile. The brim of her hat
hides her eyes from me. I feel my heart flutter a bit as her red
lips grin in a way that I know so well. A pair of figures come
through the door behind her. The sun glares in from behind. My eyes
squint and adjust as the door closes with a thud.
“It’s
been a while, hasn’t it, Francis?”
My
throat contracts and I feel like I’m going to choke. My lip
quivers as my eyes finally come into focus. The faint trace of
perfume fills me with a rush of emotions.
“Mother?”
Mistress
walks past me and places her hand on my shoulder. A quick glance and
I see her smirk clear as day. I take a few steps forward and
mother’s image burns itself into me. Time has deepened the lines
on her face but her hair is the same as always and she still wears
too much make-up.
She
abruptly clears her throat and holds out her gloved hand. My heart
sinks a little. I take her hand in mine, lean down and kiss the back
of it.
“Stand
up straight.”
I
respond immediately, ready for her inspection. Her hands poke and
prod, pinch and tug. The sleeve of her lynx fur coat grazes my
cheek. She lets out a sigh. I lower my eyes, feeling my heart sink
with her disappointment.
“Well,
at least you still have all your hair. Couldn’t you have dressed
up a little nicer for your mother?”
“I’m
sorry, mother.” My voice is feeble and small.
“I
would say that you’re looking well and that I’m happy to see you
but I’ve always been honest with you.”
My
face flushes red and my shoulders tense up.
An
unfamiliar voice bursts into laughter.
“Oh
my God, Linda, you are such a cunt.”
A
slender brunette steps out from behind mother wearing a matching lynx
coat. I would guess she is in her mid twenties.
“Francis!”
she shouts as she rushes me and throws her arms around my neck.
I
fidget in awkward silence as my mind hopelessly fails at remembering
who this is. Her hands quickly find my chest and she shoves me away.
“Jerk!”
“Francis,
how could you forget Stephanie, your step-sister from my second
marriage? I think you owe her an apology.”
I
keep my eyes glued to the floor as my faces continues to burn red. I
turn and bow at the waist.
“I’m
sorry for being so forgetful, Miss Stephanie.”
I
feel a pinch on my ear lobe followed by a firm twist. I wince and
grind my teeth.
“Francis,
is that how I taught you to apologize when you have been rude to a
lady?”
“No,
ma’am.” She pinches harder and twists until I cry out.
I
slowly lower myself to my knees and bow my head.
“I
apologize for being rude and disrespectful, Miss Stephanie, please
find it in your heart to forgive me.”
“I’ll
forgive you when you make it up to me, Francis.” I nod silently.
She giggles.
“So,
Francis, stop being rude and
help the guests with their coats and boots.”
Mistress’s voice snaps me back to reality. This is the first time
she has ever called me Francis and I truly hope it is the last. I
hop to my feet, bow again and make my way over toward the closet. My
hands loosen the belt on Mistress’s long leather coat. Her gloved
hand raises my chin. Her eyes pierce mine with an angry expression.
“How
dare you be so rude to my guests.”
My hands release the belt and I move to my mother, carefully helping
her out of her coat.
“Linda
and Stephanie, would you like a guest robe and slippers?”
“That
would be lovely,” responds mother in her overly polite tone.
“Sure.”
I take her coat and hang it in the closet. My mind spins for an
instant as the rack of guest robes in various colors stares back at
me.
“Stop
dawdling, Francis.”
I quickly go with my impulse and retrieve a tan robe with
cream-colored fur and the matching slippers for mother. As I help
mother into her robe she pretends to ignore me.
“These
robes are beautiful, Cassandra.”
“Thank
you, they make them at my shop. Please call me, Cass, Linda.”
After I secure the robe’s belt around mother’s waist I kneel down
at her feet. I reach to unzip her boot when she fidgets her foot and
taps it back and forth. I want to disappear.
“Brings
back some memories, doesn’t it Francis? When I would come home a
bit too drunk and I would make you help me out of my boots.”
A laugh behind me, a clap, and Stephanie’s voice gasping “This is
great!” make me clench my eyes shut for an instant. Mother finally
stops moving her feet and permits me to remove her boot. I gently
slip her foot into the matching slipper before repeating the process.
I stand slowly and approach Stephanie. She pinches my cheek.
“Lil
Francis is such a momma’s boy.”
I clench my jaw tightly. Mistress’s voice appears faintly from
behind me. “Tick tock.”
I stifle a reaction and quickly slide off her coat before retreating
to the closet. I quickly retrieve a purple robe and slippers and
hold it up while Stephanie slides herself in. I drop to my knees and
cringe at the lace-up knee high boots. My fingers fumble with the
laces as I undo the upper hooks and work my way down. As she removes
her foot she moves her toes around in a circle before jabbing her toe
into my side.
A few moments later I find myself in front of Mistress. She purses
her lips and gives her eyebrows a slight arch. I nod gently and
mumble.
“Yes,
ma’am.” ‘I will accept my punishment,’ continues silently in
my head.
She gracefully slides from the fur-trimmed leather coat. Her perfume
enters my nose and I feel my sex strain against the belt. I hang it
up and retrieve Mistress’s red robe, slippers, and day hat from the
closet. I watch as she extends her arm. I dutifully slide the robe
onto her and pull it around her body. I pull her long hair out from
the collar and then cinch the belt around her waist and place her hat
upon her head. In these brief seconds I lose myself in thoughts only
of her. She senses the change in my demeanor and makes a triumphant
sound from the back of her throat.
I quickly kneel and remove her boots one by one, gently guiding the
slipper onto her feet. I pause a moment before standing. She taps
her toe a few times against the tile. I place my palm to my lips and
plant a kiss before touching her right foot. I kiss my hand again
and touch her left foot. In a moment she has turned and gone.
“Don’t
dawdle, Francis,” she repeats as she walks away in a tone imitating
my mother’s.
I head out to the car and retrieve the luggage. So many bags for one
night? It takes me several trips to haul them into the guest rooms.
When I finish I join them in the living room. Mistress sits on the
love seat while mother and Stephanie sit together on the sofa.
Mistress snaps her fingers. Our eyes meet and she nods. I bow my
head and head to the kitchen. I quickly inspect the silver serving
tray for any fingerprints before gathering some glasses and a bottle
of wine. I remove the cork and carefully carry the tray into the
living room. I walk into an ongoing conversation.
“I
still can’t believe that Francis actually got married. You have no
idea how happy I am Cassandra although I must say that you are
definitely out of his league and too good for him. I had guessed
that he would either die alone or at best end up with some immigrant.
Although since his father thought he would end up gay, even they are
allowed to get married now.”
I can detect the smallest twitches on Mistress’s face as she
follows along with mother. I carefully set the tray down on the
coffee table and pour three glasses of wine. I extend the first
glass to mother.
“What’s
the matter with you, child? You know I don’t drink red without a
meal.”
“I’m
sorry, mother. My memory is awful.” I place the glass in
Stephanie’s waiting hands.
I hand another glass to Mistress and stand next to her with my hands
folded. I feel her hand touch my back. My skin tingles and I feel
the warmth of her heart.
“So
Linda, please tell me about Francis when he was younger. He doesn’t
really talk about his childhood very much and I’m sure you have
plenty of juicy stories.”
Mother responds with a laugh that makes me feel uncomfortable.
“Francis,
if we’re going to be talking about you I’ll take a glass of
wine.”
“Yes,
mother.”
I quickly pass her the third glass before returning to Mistress’s
side.
“Well…
Cassandra… I can’t really talk about Francis unless I start out
by saying I had always dreamed of having a daughter. Ever since I
was a child I had wanted a daughter of my own. The ultra-sound
technician even told us we were going to have a daughter. I was so
excited. When I finally gave birth and the doctor announced ‘it’s
a boy,’ I immediately burst into tears. It was heartbreaking.”
Mother pauses and gulps down her glass of wine. She holds the empty
glass out and shakes it from side to side. I quickly retrieve the
bottle and refill her glass.
“Even his name, Francis, comes
from that. His father wanted to name our daughter, Francesca, after
an aunt of his. It’s a nice name, but it sounded a little too…
ethnic if you know what I mean. We were going to compromise with
Francine or Frances. When our daughter ended up a son I just told
them to name him Francis.”
I watch her take another couple gulps of wine and shakes the glass
again. I provide a refill. By now mother’s face is a little
flushed. She leans back and sighs.
“So
that’s Francis’s first story. He was born a disappointment and
that set the trend for things to come.”
“There
has to be a better story than that you can tell me, Linda.”
Mother takes a deep breath and flares her nostrils a little before
her eyes light up. An odd expression forms upon her face displaying
a mix of humor and disgust.
“When
Francis was 8 years old I caught him standing at the coat closet
rubbing his face against my new mink. I stood behind him in silence
just watching him as he buried his face in and let out a little coo.”
“What
did you do then?”
“I
slapped his ass as hard as I could, grabbed him by his hair and
proceeded to shame him. I stripped him naked in the middle of the
living room and whupped him with his father’s belt until his butt
cheeks were red and swollen. He screamed and cried like he was being
murdered, but it was for his own good. I refused to have a child
that grew up to be a deviant. He kept rubbing his sore bottom so I
took the belt to his hands as well. He cried and cried. I then made
him stand in the corner, buck naked, until his father got home.”
Mother pauses for more wine. I have trouble reading Mistress’s
expression. Stephanie’s eyes are fixated on me, a smirk on her
face.
“His
father was irate. He dragged Francis into the basement and his
little screams could be heard all through the house. I had to close
the basement door and turn the TV up just to block it out. All I
really remember was hearing his father shout, ‘no son of mine will
grow up to be a fag!’ I remember him saying that Francis was to
stand in the corner in the basement all night. No clothes, no
dinner. His father even went and checked on him every hour or so and
a few times I heard the crack of that belt and more screams.”
I feel my chest tighten and my breathing turn erratic as the memories
come rushing back.
“Why
were you so upset that Francis was touching your fur? I think the
touch of fur is heavenly.”
“I
love it as well, but it was the way he was touching it. Boys are
dirty and gross and I hadn’t even had that mink for three months
when he did that. When I saw him doing it, I was just terrified he
would end up a pervert and in prison. He was supposed to grow up to
be a man, not end up like Lenny from Of Mice and Men.”
If Mistress has a deeper response to this, she keeps it hidden from
view.
“Was
Francis’s father always abusive like that?”
“I
wouldn’t call him abusive, he just had a more traditional sense of
discipline. I wasn’t the only one that felt Francis was a
disappointment. Francis’s father was an athlete and wanted Francis
to play sports. But Francis was short, slow, and chubby, so his
father pushed him to be better. It was the boy’s fault for not
rising to the occasion. Once Francis started getting cut from the
teams a few years later… things took a turn for the worse.”
“How
so?”
“When
there weren’t any more little league games to go to, his father
would just come home from work and start drinking. The smallest
things started setting him off. Some nights his father would force
the boy to play catch or practice football and it was only a matter
of minutes before Francis would end up in tears. It’s hard on an
alpha male to have a crybaby as a son and he saw it as his duty to
toughen the boy up the same way his father toughened him up: with the
belt.”
“Didn’t
you think that might have been the wrong way to go about it?”
“I
don’t know. My family growing up was all daughters and we didn’t
act out like Francis did. I didn’t know the first thing about
raising a boy so I left it up to my husband. I did make him
soundproof the basement door after a while.”
“Did
Francis become better at sports?”
“Oh,
God, no. Francis turned into a coward. He began hiding from his
father, often staying out until dark with that girl that lived a few
streets over. When that girl moved away, Francis pretty much stayed
home but still tried to hide. He wasn’t smart enough to understand
the hiding just made his father even more angry.”
“Did
that continue for a long time?”
“A
year or two. It wasn’t long before Francis had the nerve to hide
in the back corner of the living room while I was watching
television. I didn’t notice him sneaking in like a little thief.
When his father found him, he lost his temper with me and struck me
across the face. I wasn’t going to stand for that so I called the
police. Francis’s father was arrested and I filed for divorce.”
“Did
you share custody?”
“No.
I had sole custody. The alimony settlement wasn’t enough so I
needed the child support payments in order to avoid having to work.
From then on, Francis was an obedient little camper. All it would
take was for me to threaten to send him to live with his father and
he would be on the floor in tears, begging, ‘please mother, please
mother, I’ll do anything.’ I was never really going to do it but
I kept it as my trump card.”
I grit my teeth as I feel my heart ache. I fight back against the
tears that I can feel building at the backs of my eyes. My body
quivers silently. Mistress’s touch on my back calms me.
“Did
you meet any of Francis’s girlfriends?”
Mother’s laugh is genuine and wracks me with pain. She continues
to laugh and shakes her head from side to side.
“You’d
never guess it, Cassandra, but Francis’s father was actually very
tall, handsome, and hung like a stallion. I hung on to hope for a
while but Francis stayed short, chubby, and his penis was so small.”
Stephanie’s laughter carries over mother’s voice.
“I
don’t think he’s that small, Linda.” Mother again bursts into
laughter.
“Be
honest, Cassie.”
“He’s…
average...ish… big enough...”
“Let’s
just say if you saw his father that you’d wonder how Francis was
his son.”
“I’ll
have to take your word for it… but you’re dodging the question,
tell me about Francis’s girlfriends.”
My head and heart swirl into a confused and pained state. Why did
Mistress have to invite my mother?
“Before
I can talk about Francis’s girlfriends, I probably have to tell a
story about something that happened a bit after we divorced but
before I met Steph’s father. I went out drinking with a few of my
girlfriends and we got a little… too tipsy. I can’t believe we
drove back from the bar but after we arrived here we decided to stay
and give them time to sober up. My friend Margot hadn’t met
Francis and so I woke him up and dragged him out of bed to meet my
friends. Margot knew how badly I had wanted a daughter and she had a
bag of her daughter’s old clothes she had planned to donate in her
trunk, so she got the great idea that it would be fun to dress up
Francis like a girl. Well, we were drunk enough to think it was a
great idea. Francis refused until I threatened him with his father
and he caved immediately. The four of us showered him with attention
and Margot kept making him change into all these cute little dresses
and Wanda was taking pictures.”
Mother shakes her wine glass again. I refill it, my face feels so
hot I feel like I’m going to faint.
“The
reason I had to tell that story first was that a couple of years
later, Francis came home from school with a girl from his grade. She
wanted to meet me and make sure it was okay that Francis was her
boyfriend. Everyone knows it’s a mother’s job to embarrass her
child, so after serving the kids kool-aid I pulled out the photo
albums and before long we came to Francis’s ‘Francine’ photo
shoot. The girl burst out laughing and Francis ran to his room in
tears. I think I ended up giving the girl one of the photos and
after the next day at school Francis begged and pleaded with me to
let him stay home. The girl had showed everyone the picture and
Francis became the laughing stock of his class. After that he didn’t
have anything close to a girlfriend.”
Mistress lets out a small sigh and shakes her head with a smile.
“I
still can’t believe that Francis ended up with a woman as
attractive as you, Cassandra.”
“When
did you meet Stephanie’s father?”
Mother’s eyes drift as she does when she is thinking. Mistress is
able to steer things well without appearing rude to mother.
“I
met my second husband when Francis was in 8th
grade. While he had a daughter from his previous marriage, he wanted
nothing to do with my son. We dated for years but he would only get
married if we sent Francis off to boarding school but he wanted me to
pay for it. I didn’t mind that relationship as we didn’t have
any dull moments. We would travel a lot and all of our dates were
fresh and exciting. He was a handsome man with a well-paying job and
a wonderful house and a lovely daughter.”
Mother pats Stephanie’s hand and turns to face her as she speaks.
“I
have to be honest though, I could have afforded Francis’s boarding
school but I got accustomed to spending my monthly payments on myself
and I didn’t want to feel completely dependent upon Stephanie’s
father so I was willing to wait until Francis was done with high
school.”
“Did
you always spend all of the money?”
“I
gave Francis an allowance and I made sure that he had a roof over his
head, clothes on his back, and food on the table. Francis could have
gotten a job if he wanted more pocket money. I didn’t live a life
of luxury by any means but if there was a new purse that I wanted, a
cute pair of shoes I couldn’t pass up, or a new fur, I treated
myself. Even a mother deserves to feel pretty and have a social
life.”
“Did
you have to continue to discipline Francis as he got older?”
“Francis
was fairly well-behaved for the most part...” Mother’s voice
trails off as she begins to laugh.
“How
could I have forgotten that? Francis, how old were you when I walked
in on you masturbating to that lingerie catalog?”
I cringe. My facial expression must look like I am dying. Stephanie
continues to laugh.
“I
was 14, mother.”
“That’s
right, 14! I was so furious that he was defiling himself that I
dragged him out of his room and tore his clothes off, took him over
my lap and just wailed on him with a belt. I whupped him until his
butt was purple but I was still angry because Francis barely cried.”
Mother puts her hand over her eyes, obviously embarrassed recounting
the story. My stomach twists in knots.
“I
was still so angry that I actually put his penis on the table and
smacked it with the belt. Francis shrieked and immediately started
begging. I had him hold up his hands and I smacked his palms with
the belt until he couldn’t hold is hands still. That was when I
taught him how to apologize to a woman. I’m sure Francis
remembers exactly what he said next. Show Cassandra.”
I kneel in front of Mistress, lower my head and place my hands on my
thighs.
“I’m
sorry for violating the decency of this house and disrespecting you,
mother.”
Mistress pats my head before pulling me closer and resting my cheek
on her lap.
“Why
did you hit him so badly for masturbating?”
“It
was a different era. We lived in a small town. The belief was that
if a boy was a chronic masturbator that he would end up a sexual
deviant or rapist. I was doing my duty as his mother. Besides, that
didn’t stop him.”
“What
the fuck?!” blurts Stephanie.
“I’m
not lying. I would ask him point blank regularly if he had played
with himself. I would cup my hands on his cheeks and look directly
into his eyes when I asked him. If he had, his eyes would look away
and he would fess up… and then I’d get the belt. Sometimes he
was a good boy and sometimes he wasn’t. Does he still have a
problem with self-abuse, Cass?”
“I’m
pretty certain that I cured him. Tell your mother when the last time
was, Francis.”
I close my eyes.
“It
was over five years ago, ma’am.”
“Can
I ask how?”
“That’s
my little secret.”
Some small talk follows. I close my eyes and feel Mistress’s
warmth on my cheek. I am completely exhausted emotionally.
“So
how many times have you been married, Linda?”
“I
just got my fifth divorce, so you could say I’m between husbands
right now. That’s why we’re heading to Vegas.”
“You
and Stephanie have stayed close all this time?”
“Stephie
is the daughter I always wanted. I spoiled her rotten.”
“Linda
was always more like an older sister than a mom. We’ve been going
out and having fun together since I was 17 and she convinced my dad
to loosen up.”
“How
well did you know Francis growing up?
“I
didn’t.”
“But
you’d met him before, right?”
“Once.
On Christmas. What year was that? I was 16. That was the year Dad
got Linda and me matching furs and he got me a car. Francis was in
college, Dad and Linda had gotten married that year and he finally
decided he was willing to meet Francis.”
“What
was that like?”
“I
can barely remember. I just remember as soon as Francis arrived by
taxi, Linda made him shovel the driveway. We opened presents and I
just remember Francis brought us presents but no one gave him a
present. I felt kind of bad for him but no one even told me he was
coming so I was surprised when he showed up. Dinner felt super
awkward so Dad decided to send Francis to a motel since he was
‘ruining Christmas.’ So I met Francis for all of about three
hours and I never saw him again.”
“How
long did your father and Linda stay together?”
“I
think they were together about eight years and married for three. My
Dad really fucked that up when he had an affair.”
Mistress runs her fingers through my hair. I open my eyes and see
her smiling down at me. She nods her head and I take my cue.
“Francis
is going to prepare our lunch. He’s an excellent cook.”
“That
he is.”
“You’ve
had his cooking before, Linda?”
“Of
course. When Francis was around 15 I became increasingly convinced
that he would never win over a woman with charm or good looks so I
domesticated him. He learned to cook, clean, do laundry and take
care of the household. I figured he would need those skills if he
ended up single forever or they might help him attract a wife. Well,
that and Steph’s father was taking me out of town for weeks at a
time. It wouldn’t have been fair to let Francis starve, so I made
him learn to cook.”
Mistress lifts my cheek from her lap. I rise and go on my way to the
kitchen. I lose myself in the cooking. I want it to be delicious
for Mistress. After serving the food Mistress directs me to lay down
in her room. I sprawl out on the bearskin rug next to the bed and
close my eyes. My desire to fade away defeats the pain in my chest
and I drift off.
I open my eyes and instinctively look at the clock. Several hours
passed. I rise slowly and find a note from Mistress.
“pet,
we went to visit the shop and then are going out tonight with the
girls. Take a hot bath and I want to find you laying in my bed when
I get home.”
I prepare myself a small meal that I believe Mistress would deem
acceptable and follow her instructions and draw a bath. I think of
nothing but the warmth of the water and my love for Mistress. She
always seems to know when things have been “too much” and today
was one of those days.
I’m grateful that I have the emotional tools to deal with the
wounds that were inevitably ripped open by my mother’s presence.
As long as I am enough for Mistress. As long as Mistress loves me.
I don’t need anyone else but her.
After the bath I put on a set of fresh clothes and lie down on the
bed. I find the newest catalog for her shop on the nightstand and
thumb through it. So many beautiful designs. After a while I get
antsy. I can’t relax when Mistress isn’t here and I don’t have
chores to take care of.
The sound of the door and voices trickle faintly through the closed
bedroom door. I strain my ears reciting Mistress’s instructions to
be in bed when she arrives. My mother’s alcohol infused voice
carries clear as day.
“That
Dominique is a hoot!”
I shake my head and wonder just what kind of trouble they have been
up to. I hear the doorknob rattle. I turn to face the door as
Mistress glides in. She quickly slaps her hand on the switch,
killing the lights. Her breathing tells me she’s a bit drunk and
in her touchy feely mood.
“Take
off your clothes.”
I move quickly, perching myself on the edge of the bed I remove my
sweatshirt and sweatpants and fold them, setting them on the floor
next to the bed. Mistress makes quite a racket traversing the dark
of the room. I hear her steps stumble back and forth as she giggles
to herself.
The bed recoils as Mistress dives onto it, bouncing and laughing as
she crawls her way to the top. I spread myself out on the bed and
shuffle closer to her. I hear a small clatter as she shuffles
around. I feel the fur of her sleeve on my shoulder. She is still
wearing her fox fur coat. I close my eyes and feel the touch of fur
on my neck. It slowly closes around. The tug of straps and buckles,
a new sensation. The lock clicks behind my neck. I feel her arm
around me as she tugs her finger on the collar’s frontal ring. I
feel the collar constrict and some metal points dig into my neck.
She releases the ring and the spikes relax their bite.
“A
new toy from Sasha.” she whispers into my ear.
Mistress pulls me closer to her and drapes the edge of her coat over
me. I feel the warm skin of her breasts against my back. She pulls
my waist until my thighs feel the warmth and moisture of her sex.
“pet.”
“Yes,
Mistress?”
“Thank
you for not ending up a serial killer.”
“What?
Mistress?”
“I
think your mother is the worst person I’ve ever met in my entire
life… and you’ve met my family.”
She giggles and presses her face against the back of my head,
planting a firm kiss.
“pet…
I promise I will never allow her in this house ever again.”
“I
love you, Mistress.”
“I’m
sorry, pet. This was a bad idea.”
“I’m
glad you met her, Mistress.”
“Why
is that?”
“Because
now you understand how much I love you, Mistress. I exist to make you
happy and no one else. I’m the luckiest boy on the planet.”
“Will
you still think that if I let you out of your chastity belt tomorrow
so that I can whip your penis?”
I exhale so rapidly it’s almost a cough. Mistress giggles.
“Yes,
Mistress. I will still think that.”
“Are
you sure, pet?”
“Absolutely.
You do what you do because you love me and understand my love for
you. My mother did what she did because she didn’t love me.”
“My
pet… how you drive your Mistress crazy.”
“What
Mistress?”
“You
make it so hard for me to want to hurt you… until I remember how
much you like it.”
I feel her finger tips grab my nipple and twist. I let out a low
moan as my sex strains against the belt.
“pet.”
“Yes,
Mistress?”
“Will
you be okay if I push you to your absolute limits?”
“I
will be strong for you, Mistress.”
“How
can you be sure?”
I take a slow deep breath and exhale it through my nose.
“Because,
Mistress. How could I ever let down the wonderful woman that took in
this short, ugly, under-endowed boy and made him the happiest man in
the world?”
Mistress wraps her arms around me and squeezes me tight. I feel
myself drift off with her breath on my cheek.
“pet.
You’re not really that small. You’re average… ish. Big
enough.”
“Does
that mean you’ll let me out of my cage more often, Mistress?”
Her burst of laughter answers my question.
A cute little snore whistles through her nostril. A wide smile forms
across my face. My Mistress. My Queen. My Goddess. I love you
more than anything.
I
feel refreshed in the morning. Mistress’s hangover makes her rise
slowly. I’m afraid to leave the room until she unlocks the collar
she put on me last night. I attend to her with water and aspirin. I
watch her turn to her back on the bed, her breasts peeking out from
the front of her open coat. She stretches and yawns. A few moments
later the collar is unlocked and I’m on my way to start breakfast.
It
takes a bit for the coffee to kick in. Mother and Stephanie are in
the same morning boat as Mistress. I stand by in silence while they
eat and make small-talk. As I clear the plates I hear mother in her
more serious tone.
“You
know, Cass. When I see what a well-behaved man Francis has grown up
to be, I can’t help but feel pride at the wonderful job I did at
raising him. It’s not easy being a single mother and I was so
certain that he would never amount to anything.”
Mistress
takes mother’s hand.
“I’m
really glad we got to spend some time together, Linda. It was great
to learn about how Francis became the man I fell in love with.”
Mother
departs soon after to take a shower. Their flight leaves in a few
hours. Stephanie stays at the table with Mistress.
Stephanie
shakes her head as she speaks. “I can’t believe that she said
that with a straight face.”
Mistress’s
face beams with a grin.
“Is
it okay if I keep in touch with you, Cass? I’m really interested
in learning more about my former step-brother.”
“That
would be wonderful, Steph. Francis has a lot of… hidden talents.”
Stephanie
gets a strange look on her face and her next words are almost a
whisper.
“You
guys must have some kind of… unorthodox relationship going on don’t
you.”
“Whatever
do you mean?” Mistress is adorable when she plays coy.
“Well…
it’s obvious who wears the pants.”
“And
sometimes only once or twice a year.”
“What?”
“Oh,
nothing. Just a little inside joke.” I avert my eyes as my cheeks
flush red.
“Francis,
I have something I’ve wanted to say to you ever since I met you all
those years ago, but even more so now.”
“Yes,
Miss Stephanie?”
“I’m
so happy that I’m not you.”
My
face burns as they laugh together and pound their hands on the table.
Stephanie excuses herself and Mistress remains at the table, sipping
coffee. With our guest out of ear shot she breaks her silence.
“By
the way, pet. Your father is coming to visit next week.”
I go
as white as a sheet and my body begins to quiver. Mistress turns her
head toward me.
“Poor
little pet, it never gets old to tease you.”
She
cracks a smile and I let out a small sigh.
END
ACT
