Fiction: fs01 - Part 53

Author’s Note:  This takes place several days after Part 52.

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LIII

Over the past few days Mistress and her friends split their time between skiing and the spa.  Thankfully there were no repeats of the earlier events but just to be safe, Mistress bought me a new outdoor outfit at one of the local shops that is passably male.  She also changed up my role so that I would accompany them to the chalet when they were skiing and stayed back at the cabin tending to chores while they were at the spa.  While I vigilantly kept a lookout for Wonder Woman, our paths did not cross again.

Barb has taken on a more interactive role with me, easily making demands and throwing out the occasional tease.  I have to believe that the previous discussions on my submission and submissive sexuality have affected her.  She still doesn’t address me by a name other than slave.

This morning seems different from the rest.  I feel invisible.  It’s an odd feeling to adjust to.  While it can be stressful to be overworked and burdened with tasks, feeling idle unnerves me a bit.  It’s like my mind already accepts that my role on this trip is to serve, please, and amuse them.  If I have no role to fulfill it leaves me feeling… empty.

I watch Sammy and Gordon buzz around the room, rearranging furniture and moving things to and from storage.  I approach Mistress as she sits on the sofa and kneel at her feet.  I don’t make a sound; I merely kneel and watch her face as she browses on her tablet.  She’s beautiful.  If we were at home I could sit and do this for hours, perfectly content with existing in her presence.  In this environment I can’t help but feel restless.

Mistress slides her foot out of her slipper and wiggles her toes without looking up.  I read her cue and shuffle closer, taking her foot gently in my hands.  I cherish this duty as I carefully massage her foot, working the pads of my thumbs across the ball of her foot.  I detect the change in her breathing as my thumb firmly glides across her arch.  My heart flutters and my sex strains against the belt. 

I immerse myself in my work, a display of love expressed through my hands.  I notice her shift her pelvis as she slouches on the sofa and flexes her thighs together several times.  A smile beams across my face.  As I reach her heel I allow my fingers to stimulate the sides and back while my thumbs continue to work the bottom.  Her breaths are slow and deep.  I watch her diaphragm expand and collapse in a slow rhythm.  I slowly work each toe.  I slide my thumb from base to tip.  I separate it from the rest and move it in circles while my fingers apply gentle pressure.  As I finish her foot I lean down and kiss its top.  She pulls it from my hands and I gentle slide her discarded slipper back onto it. 

She extends her other foot.  I carefully remove the slipper and repeat the process.    I lose myself in her pleasure.  My mind finds peace in service… Mistress… the one I love.  My sex strains again as she moans and slides her hips around the sofa cushion.  I can smell her as her legs part the bottom of her robe.  I lean down and kiss the top of her foot.  I get greedy and steal a couple of extra kisses up her ankle.  Of course she notices and quickly pulls her foot away. 

“I think the slave has forgotten its place.  Get the gag.”

My brow furrows as my spirit sinks.  I disappoint myself.  A quick scuttle to Mistress’s room and I return to her, kneel, and present the locking gag.  I turn away and kneel as she inserts it into my mouth, pulls the straps tight, and locks it to my harness.  I turn to face her when she finishes. 

“Continue.”

Mistress lets the slipper drop off of her foot.  I take her foot back in my hand and work through the process I’ve done so many times before.  As I press my thumbs into her soft skin I steal a glance.  She continues to focus on her tablet, her fingers tapping and gliding across the screen.  My earlier mistake makes me self-conscious… I long to have her eyes meet mine… show me warmth… to let me know that I’m okay.  Errors make me insecure… I strive for perfection. 

My thumbs slide across her arch.  She cranes her neck and takes a deep breath.  I notice her hips shift on the sofa.  Her eyes stay fixed to the tablet.  After the heel I give more attention to the top of her foot.  I glide gently, with flat pressure, in an attempt to stimulate circulation and the nerves.  Her toes curl as I find just the right spot. 

My next instinct is to suck her toe… my loss… my fault.  My fingers will have to do.  I shorten my motions and caress every part of her toe.  I roll the flesh on the bottom gently between my index finger and thumb.  She clenches the tablet with both hands and lets out a low moan.  Her eyes remain on the screen as she resumes her tapping.  Each toe elicits a strong response.  Soon her thighs slide back and forth on the sofa. 

I gently replace the slipper on that foot and go back to the other foot.  She moans on my first pass this time.  My penis attempts another erection.  Every time her knees part I catch the glorious scent of sex and I long to taste her.  Please, Mistress, look at me.  Her fingers tap and glide along the screen.

The ball of the foot… then the arch… the heel… the top… onto the toes.  I carefully work over every part, continuing with the roll of my thumb and index finger.  Mistress’s body reacts but she shows me nothing on her face, her blank expression stares intently onto the handheld screen.  .

I continue my work as I watch Barb approach and lean forward on the back of the sofa and she looks over Mistress’s shoulder.  I reach her pinky toe.  Mistress inhales deeply; her nostrils flare as she arches her hips again. 

“Cass, why are you tapping on your tablet when the screen is blank?”

Mistress’s cheeks flush a light shade of red.  Her lips part and reveal her gnashed teeth.  Mistress tosses the tablet across the sofa and her hand takes the back of Barb’s head, pulling it to hers.  Barb’s eyes go wide open with surprise as Mistress consumes her with an open-mouthed kiss.  Her off hand gropes Barb’s breast.  Primal moans and gasps for air surface each time their lips separate for an instant.  Mistress grabs Barb by her shirt collar.

“Bedroom, now.” 

She shoves me with her foot and I tumble onto my side as she struggles to her feet.  They are gone in a flash.  I return to my knees and pause.  A tiny voice calls out inside of me, ‘those were my kisses.”  I pull my hands in to my chest and sulk. 

Theresa snaps me back to reality.

“fur, if you’re going to just sit there, get up and help Sammy and Gordon set things up.”

I hop to my feet and nod before tracking them down and assisting with things.  We move the sofas to the outer wall and replace them with a semi-circle of ‘thrones’ around the fireplace.  We replace the normal dinner table with a longer banquet table.  We hang decorations around the room.  I’m a bit at a loss for why we are doing this.  I simply follow directions; it doesn’t really matter to me since I couldn’t ask questions with the gag in place anyways. 

I have forgotten how distraught I start to feel with the gag in place.  For a while I was accustomed to it but the events of this past week make me acutely aware that it reduces my status even further.  It feels like the dividing line between service and servitude… do I serve with pride or am I bound to serve? 

We set up another large table behind the dining table and cover it with a tablecloth.  It looks like we are getting ready for a feast or a party. 

Mistress returns to the living room and plops down on one of the thrones.  Barb takes the seat next to her.  They slouch and tease each other back and forth with their hands, their disheveled hair flopping around as they poke and prod at each other.  Mistress is beautiful in afterglow.  Her smeared makeup and signs of perspiration display the intensity of her sexual passion.  I feel the belt block my arousal.  I approach quietly from behind, ready to attend to her.  She calls out without looking my way.

“slave, go re-shovel the walkways and chop firewood until the caterers arrive.”

I nod and bow out of habit, as I know that she cannot see me.  I change my boots, put on my coat, and head outside.  Once outside my mind slides easily.  The shoveling takes very little time, it is merely a cleanup of snow blown around by the wind.  The repetition of the axe and the wood… with so many logs to split and no end in sight… this is what I do. 

I put down the axe and stack up the most recent pile of wood.  A series of vans pull up the driveway with the name and logo of the catering company on the side.  I make my way quickly back to the cabin and stow my coat and boots in the closet. 

Sammy and Gordon direct the workers as they set up serving platters and warmers for a wide array of food on the back table.  The aroma makes my stomach growl.  I haven’t eaten yet today.  I’m not even sure what time it is.  The final item on the table is a large cake that looks almost like a wedding cake. 

As the caterers depart I watch Mistress return from her room.  She wears a black version of her robe and has done up her hair and make-up.  Barb follows her wearing a blue robe.  The others aren’t long behind them, each in their group color from their monthly trips to the fetish club.  Theresa in gray, Lisa in purple, Dominique in Red.  B appears in gothic black gown with a fur-trimmed jacket.  I’m never sure if this is B’s natural style or if it’s what Theresa likes. 

I assist Mistress into her chair at the head of the table and continue with the others.  Barb sits to her right and Theresa to her left.  Upon finishing, Sammy, Gordon, and I begin to serve the food and wine.  My stomach growls again.  The wine flows quickly. After the main course is served, Sammy and Gordon fill up plates for themselves and head to the kitchen to eat.  Dominique doesn’t keep them on a food restriction.  I take my attention position back and to the right of Mistress.  I feel myself fade out again to cope with the hunger pains.

Theresa’s knife on the wine glass snaps me back to the present. 

“I wanted to make a toast to my best friend, Cassandra… for giving us time off to take this vacation and paying us well enough to be able to take time off whenever we want it… so that we could be here to celebrate this occasion.  Also, to Dominique for letting us stay at this beautiful cabin and introducing us to a spa that will surely become an addiction for most of us.”

The sound of clinking glasses has me spring to attention anticipating refills.  My instinct is correct and I hurry around the table topping everyone off.  Lisa’s palm smacks me on the rear and I jump with a small grunt from behind the gag.

“He doesn’t even know, does he, Cass?”

“I was checking to see if he would notice, but I don’t think it has sunk in yet.”

A round of laughs follows from the table as I look at Mistress with a blank stare.  Mistress motions to me with her hand and I approach her with caution.  She releases the locks on my gag.  I move my jaw back and forth to relieve its stiffness.   She looks me in the eyes with a wide grin.  I swallow and fidget as I recognize her predatory expression. 

“This party is for me to commemorate the birthday of the slave I own.”

My expression shifts to bewilderment.  I lose track of the days so easily when Mistress isn’t at work. 

“The slave may eat the food that is in the oven.  There’s a juice box in the fridge.”

I smile and nod at Mistress, ignoring the jeers about the juice box.  I make a quick trip around the table topping off their wine.  Barb speaks up.

“God, Cass, I can’t believe he found out it’s his birthday and he has a special meal waiting for him after you starved him all day but he still refills our wine first.  Just how much did you have to flog him to make that his first impulse?” 

Mistress laughs before responding.

“A lot.”

I set the bottle on a cart near the table and quickly retreat to the kitchen.  Gordon opens the oven and retrieves a foil-covered plate with a hot pad.  I retrieve the juice box from the fridge.  I peel the foil away revealing… fried chicken and mashed potatoes.  A quick inspection of the aroma and the texture leads me to one conclusion… the Colonel. 

I spend the next 7 minutes in heaven enjoying a rare treat.  Soon after I return myself to wine duty.  Barb continues to feed her curiosity.

“Am I the only one that thinks it’s strange that it’s Cass’s party even though it’s the slave’s birthday and that he rolled with it like it was normal?  And why are all of you acting like it’s normal as well?”

A roar of laughter shifts Barb’s complexion to a deep shade of red.  I quickly shift my position and get ready to pour as she empties her glass in a series of large gulps.  It seems the alcohol is taking effect on everyone.  Lisa pounds the table with her fist causing the silverware to clank against the plates.  It surprises me when she is the first to answer.

“Oh Barbie… think about it.  Seriously, who would celebrate a birthday party for a slave?  It’s not like they’re people.”

Her last sentence feels like a knife in my chest.  I refill Barb’s glass and quickly drift into the background.  The pain changes into humility as I realize… that Lisa is right.

END ACT

Fiction: fs01 - Part 52

Author’s Note: This takes place several hours after Part 51

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LII

It hasn’t really dawned on me until now that my world is very isolated.  Aside from some brief forays with Mistress at her work, I haven’t been a part of normal society in several years.  Being out in public feels strange… and my outfit only magnifies those feelings. 

I sit awkwardly on the bench next to the chalet, facing the slopes.  It’s a nice day for this time of year with temperatures in the mid-30’s.  The sun is shining and there’s very little wind.  I lose my train of thought and lean back on the bench.  The fur bunny tail applies an uncomfortable pressure on the plug inside me and I quickly slump forward again. 

Mistress shackled my ankle to the bench with a pair of leg irons.  If I stretch out far enough I can hide most of my body behind the large wooden sign that shows the location and difficulty of the various ski runs.  While I tested this, I have not attempted to use it in that way. 

Before I met Mistress I remember that I used to get frustrated at the self-absorbed nature of people.  The way that most people act like they are the only ones in the world that matter… and everyone else is just… in the way… I used to find that severely distressing.  At this moment that same behavior is all that protects me.  No one seems to notice.

I haven’t seen Mistress or her friends since the started going on their runs.  I have no watch and can’t tell how much time has passed. 

Before long I see a group of 4 women approach.  As they get closer the color of their jackets tells me it must be Mistress, Barb, Theresa, and Lisa.  Lisa’s wave in my direction confirms this.  They continue conversing as they approach.  Mistress hands me her snowboard as she talks with Barb.  I stow it on the rack next to the bench.  Barb’s board follows as well as Theresa’s and Lisa’s skis and poles.  They continue past me, as I’m just a servant.  Sometimes I forget.

I actually find myself missing my belted hand muff… well, if I am forced to have one I prefer the belted one.  This one has to be held up and if I want to use my hands I have to dangle it from my wrist or pull it onto my sleeve.  The miracle invention known as “gloves” seems to have rendered these obsolete.  I think Mistress likes them because it makes me appear more docile and makes things more difficult.

I look in the chalet’s window and see Mistress seated inside the dining area.  My stomach growls.  I turn away and my eyes spot a woman down the sidewalk.  She’s staring in my direction.  I turn and look behind me to see if there’s someone or something else.  I feel my chest twist inside; she’s looking at me.   I watch as she raises her phone.  My heart sinks as I realize a picture of me is probably on facebook by now. 

She continues walking and my insides beg for her to turn down the path to the chalet doors.  A lump forms in my throat as she continues walking straight ahead.  As she comes into view I see she’s wearing a red wool coat with black fur trim with knee high boots.  Her gloved hand runs through her extremely long brown hair, pulling it back over her shoulder.  Our eyes meet and she cracks a grin, her red lips revealing a glimpse of her white teeth.  She’s very pretty.  As her steps continue getting closer I turn away in shame.  I plop back down on the bench and try to appear inconspicuous.

The clack of her boots on the sidewalk stop behind me.  I feel my pulse and blood pressure spike.  My nerves are on fire.

“Are you okay there, little one?”  I reply instantly.

“Yes, Ma’am.”

“Call me Miss.”

“Yes, Miss.”

“Well this one is well-behaved.  Look at me.”

I turn back and face her.  I have trouble keeping eye contact.  I want to hide.  She arches one eyebrow and continues to grin.

“Is your owner nearby, little one?”

“Yes, Miss.”

“Good.  I just wanted to make sure that you are here by choice.  That cute little ankle bracelet might seem questionable to some.” 

“Thank you, Miss.  You are very kind.”

She turns and raises her hand as she walks away.  I watch as she turns down the sidewalk to the chalet before she disappears into the building.

A few minutes later the slew of voices of Mistress and company approach.  I quickly hop up and retrieve their gear.   As I pass Mistress her board she cracks a smile.

“Did you make a friend, pet?”  My eyes look at the ground.

“She checked to see if I was okay, Mistress.  She knew.”

“Smart girl.” 

Barb hands me a styrofoam cup. 

“I thought you might be thirsty.”  She speaks without making eye contact.

“Thank you, Miss Barb.” 

I take a sip.  It’s hot chocolate.  I can’t remember the last time I’ve had this.  A smile forms across my face.

“Manners, pet.”  I nod at Mistress; my cheeks flush red in shame.

I reach down and take Barb’s hand, bend down at the waist and plant a kiss on the back of her glove.  She pulls her hand away.

“It’s not that big of a deal.”

I raise my head and watch as Barb’s face flushes red.  My heart feels warm.  Mistress did that on purpose.  She winks at me.  I sit back down on the bench as they depart towards the chair lifts.  I sip my hot chocolate and cherish the warmth and sweetness of its taste. 

I smile as I think of Mistress and the others.  I feel so lucky every day.  I zone out with thoughts of her as I reduce my consciousness to pass the time.  I’ve honed this skill well from spending so much time in cages.  I relax my guard.

My peace shatters as a snowball hits me in the face.  The sting and the cold on my skin… I wipe the snow from my eyes. 

“It is a guy.  I told you.  No tits and look at those shoulders and thighs.”

“God, can’t I go anywhere without having some faggot rub his gayness in my face?”

“I know, right?”

My chest twists into a knot.  This is the worst kind of attention.  A quick glance confirms my initial guess.  Young.  White.  Rich.  Privileged.  There are 3 of them and they approach me quickly.  They may as well be clones.  The same haircut, matching designer après skiwear… the same look of hate in their eyes.  I stand up as my brain quickly processes its limited options.

“Sit down, faggot.”

I sit and lower my head.  Another snowball explodes on impact with my cheek.  I cover my face with the muff.  I peek out from behind it and watch the one on the left film me with her cel phone as the others approach. 

“It’s all I see on the news.  All I hear anyone talking about.  Go away.” 

I can only manage a meek reply.

“Please leave me alone.”

“This piece of shit thinks he can talk back to me?”

She grabs my forearm and pulls my hands down from my face.  Another snowball hits from point blank range.  My eyes tear up. 

“Tanja, do you have your pepper spray?”

“Yeah.”

“Give it to me.  I need to teach him a lesson.”

I stand up but find a firm grip on my shoulders forces me down. 

“Sit down.”

I weep.

“What’s going on here?”

I recognize the voice.  The woman in the red coat stands a few feet away.

“Nothing.  We’re just teaching this fag a lesson.”

“Interesting.  Mind if I watch?” 

“Go ahead.”

“You’re not from around here, are you?”

“Hell no.  I think I’d kill myself if I had to live in this bumblefuck little town.  Tanja, where’s that pepper spray?”

“Chill.  I can’t remember which pocket it’s in.  It might be in my purse.”

“So you’re planning on spraying him with mace?”

“Yeah.  The little shit disrespected me.”

I watch as she approaches the girl shooting video.

“Can I see that?”

She passes her the phone.  I watch as she takes it in her hand and smashes it on the sidewalk.  She stomps down with the heel of her boot several times for good measure.

“What the hell, you bitch?  That’s my brand new phone.”

“Such a shame.  You know, it probably isn’t smart to record yourself performing a hate crime.  I’ve been shooting video of you from the start and have called the sheriff.  Our ‘bumblefuck little town’ doesn’t think too highly of spoiled, rich, hate-mongers.  Now get the hell out of here.” 

“I’ll sue you for breaking my phone!”

“Try me.  Maybe you can borrow one of their phones and look up federal hate crime statutes and penalties.”

She looks at her watch.

“I’d say you have about… 4 minutes before the sheriff arrives and arrests you.”

“It’s our word against yours, you stupid bitch.”

She shakes her head and holds up her phone.

“I’m still recording audio.  Too bad money can’t buy a brain.” 

“I’ll just smash your phone, too.”

“Ever seen a surveillance camera?”

She points up at the black dome mounted on the edge of the roof.

“Come on, Katie, let’s go!”

“Fuck this, I’m not getting chased off by some girl.”

“Come on!”

“I’m not going without my skis.”

“Leave them.  Your dad will buy you new ones.”

“Yeah, Katie, listen to your friends.  They’re obviously smarter than you are.”

I watch as Katie grits her teeth and growls before turning and running after her friends toward the parking lot.  The woman in red takes a photo of their SUV as they back out of their parking spot.

“Are you okay?”

“Yes, Miss.  Thank you very much.”

“I’m guessing if they were men you would have fought back.”

“Yes, Miss.”

She sits down on the bench next to me.

“What’s your name?”

“fs01.”

“What kind of a name is that?”

“It’s my slave name.  May I ask your name, Miss?”

“My name isn’t important.  Make sure you tell your Mistress to get rid of the ankle shackle.  If there really was a serious threat, that could get you hurt or killed.  I’m sure you’re obedient enough to not leave without permission.”

“Yes, Miss.  Thank you.”

She leans back on the bench and points her face to the sky.  I notice that she’s quite beautiful. 

“May I ask you a question, Miss?”

“Ask away, I can’t promise that I’ll answer.”

“How did you know?”

“Know what?”

“You seemed to know everything about me.”

“Let’s just say that you aren’t the first fur sissy I’ve met.”

Her lips form a smile.  I smile as well.

“The sheriff isn’t really coming.  I’ll stay here for a few more minutes to make sure those stupid bitches don’t return.”

“Aren’t you afraid of them?”

“Trust me, fs, I have things in my purse that would have made them soil themselves.”

 “Miss… you are wonderful.”

She turns her head toward me and smiles.  We sit in silence for a few minutes.  She is laid back and confident.  It makes me feel safe.  After a few minutes she rises.  Her hand digs through her pocket and retrieves a set of keys.  She kneels down and I move my foot as far as I can in her direction.  She unlocks the leg iron from my ankle.

“Be safe.”

She turns away and raises her hand as she walks away.

“Thank you, Miss.”

Mistress and the others return a short while later.  She inquires about my ankle shackle and I give her the details as we drive to a bar in town to meet up with Dominique and B.  She’s surprised that I’m not more shaken up but I assure her that Wonder Woman saved me and calmed my nerves.  Mistress doesn’t apologize to me often but she does today.  I assure her that she doesn’t need to. 

At the bar we meet up with the others.  Sammy and Gordon fetch the drinks.  Mistress keeps me close and orders me a glass of milk and a salad warning me that if I make any sour faces that she will have them serve the milk in a baby bottle and force me to drink it in front of everyone.

Barb is sore as is the typical first snowboarding experience.  Theresa and Lisa had fun but their knees and backs are in pain.  Mistress moves gingerly but doesn’t share any of her aches and pains with the rest of us.  Dominique’s idea to hit the outdoor hot tub later is met with unanimous approval.   

I’m a little bit gun shy… I find myself glued to Mistress’s hip.  I’m sure she doesn’t blame me after the events from earlier.  I keep my eyes down for the majority of dinner.  On one occasion where I allow my eyes to scan the bar I see the woman in red seated at the bar.  She’s not wearing her coat but a red sweater dress with a long-sleeve black top underneath.  Her long brown hair gives her away.  I tug at Mistress’s sleeve and whisper to her.

“Wonder Woman is at the bar, Mistress.”

“Which one is she, pet?”

“The one in the red dress.”

“Would you like to show her your thanks?”

“Yes, Mistress.”

“Sammy, on your next pass to the bar would you mind fetching the woman with the long brown hair seated at the bar?  I would like to buy her a drink.”

He nods.

A few minutes later I watch as he speaks to her. Shortly after she approaches us from across the bar.

“Hello, fs.”

“Hello, Miss.”  I blush and look at the floor in order to avoid being distracted by her cleavage.

“Hello, my name is Cassandra.  My slave here wanted us to thank you properly for what you did for him earlier today.  Can I buy you a drink, Miss…?” 

Mistress trolls her for her name.

“Miss is fine.  I would love a drink.  Whiskey.  Crown Royal, please.”

Mistress motions to Sammy who nods and quickly retreats back to the bar and returns with a glass. 

“Was that your first time putting fs out on public display like that, Cassandra?”

“It was, Miss, and I’m extremely embarrassed by how things turned out.  I have taken your advice and will keep that in mind in the future.  I am very grateful that you stepped in to protect my slave and I’m sorry if it inconvenienced you in any way.”

“It was no problem.  I hate people like those girls earlier… they really make my blood boil.  I’m glad to have them out of my town.  Do be careful in the future.” 

“Is it okay if my slave thanks you properly?”

“That is fine.”

Mistress nods at me.  I move quickly around the table and bow.  I take her hand in mind and kiss it. 

“Thank you so very much, Miss.  You are wonderful.”

She nods at me.  I watch as her cheeks show a slight tint of red as she smiles.  Mistress speaks up again.

“Would you like to join us for the evening, Miss?  You seem to be comfortable with the lifestyle.”

“Thank you, Cassandra, but I am meeting a friend in a couple of minutes.  If you spend more time in this town I think you’ll find there are a lot of us who are kink-aware.  The spa side of the resort was actually designed as a place where powerful women could be pampered by… that special type of male.  If you become regulars in this area, I’m sure we’ll cross paths again.”

Her expression displays a hint of naughtiness.  Dominique chimes in with a grin.

“Did I fail to mention that to the rest of you?  You should have seen B today, if I didn’t know better I’d never have guessed she was submissive.” 

B blushes and takes a gulp of wine.  Theresa rubs her head.  Miss speaks up again.

“I should let you know that the owner of the resort has banned those girls from the mountain.  She’s also selling off their skis on ebay and donating the money to charity.  Hopefully they'll think twice before harassing someone in the future.” 

The news draws a positive reaction from everyone at the table. 

“My friend just arrived.  Thank you for the drink.  Have a good evening.”

“Thank you again, Miss.  Since you prefer to remain nameless, I’ll just have to call you Miss Wonder Woman.”

“It’s not like I’m a super-hero or anything.”

“I’m sure to my slave you are.  But it’s short for wonderful woman.  That’s how he kept describing you to me.”

Miss lets out a laugh.  I blush and look at the floor and when I have the courage to look up, she’s nowhere in sight.  I smile knowing that there are good people out there helps to restore my faith in the world. 

Dominique throws her fist in the air.

“To the hot tub!”

“Hot tub!”

The sound of their semi-drunk voices in unison brings a smile to my face.  Thankfully Sammy and Gordon will be driving us home. 

END ACT

Fiction: fs01 - Part 51

Author’s Note:  This takes place the morning after Part 50.

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LI

I wake up perched on the very edge of the bed.  Lisa’s sprawled body manages to occupy the majority of it.  She snores lightly with a faint nasal whistle.  It’s cute.  I roll off the bed and tumble onto my side with a thud.  My hands are still locked inside the muff that is bound to my waist.  I rise to my feet with some difficulty as I feel the circulation slowly creep through my body.  A quick glance at the fireplace releases my instinct to add some logs to the smoldering coals but I’m again reminded that it’s impossible to do until someone unlocks my hands.  My morning brain has never been my strong suit.

I manage to somehow get the door open and return to the living room.  Mistress sits on the sofa while reading her tablet, dressed in the under-layers of her ski outfit.  Barb lies next to her with her head on Mistress’s lap, her hands shielding her eyes from the light. 

“You’re up late, slave.  Sammy and Gordon had to tend to the fireplaces and start the coffee.  You’ll be punished later.  I could use a refill.” 

Mistress shakes her empty mug from side to side.  I lower my eyes, embarrassed at over-sleeping. 

“Today, slave.” Her voice displays her annoyance.

I tug at my hands to try and make the chain rattle so that she can hear it.  I shake my elbows. 

“Insolence.  It’s a good thing I brought the strap along.” 

I let out a whimper and try to speak to her with my eyes.  She doesn’t look up from her tablet.

“If you have to pee that badly, just go.  Make sure you put on your coat and boots or you’ll be sorry.”

My whimper becomes a wine as I shake my hands in the muff again.  I wouldn’t be able to put on a coat or open the front door. 

Barb lets out a hearty laugh.

“God, Cass, you’re such a bitch.  It’s too early to fuck with him that much.”

“It’s never too early to fuck with him.  Besides, wasn’t that little whimper just the cutest sound?”

Mistress’s face shifts into a wide grin as she sets down her tablet and shakes her key ring.  I approach her and stand with my muff in front of her.  She loosens the ends and rolls them back before releasing the locks.  Mistress extends her hand and hooks her finger on the ring of my collar and tugs my head down.  She closes her eyes as her lips meet mine.  The kiss is slow, wet, and passionate.  Her eyes slowly open as our lips part.  I wince as my sex presses uncomfortably against the belt.  She speaks in a whisper.

“I’m still going to punish you, pet.”

My face blushes red.  I kneel, bow my head, and kiss her feet.  First the right, then the left.  I rise and take her coffee mug and refill it in the kitchen, mixing in her preferred blend of cream and sugar before returning it to her. 

“Mistress may I please use the outhouse?”

“Yes you may, pet.  Then hurry back, wash up, feed the fire in Lisa’s room and get started on breakfast.”

I breeze through the early tasks and get to work on a hearty breakfast.  As they eat I listen to them talk about their plans for the day.  Dominique and B will spend the day pampered at the resort spa.  Mistress and Barb plan to snowboard, it will be Barb’s first time and she’s taking lessons.  Theresa and Lisa will be skiing.  Based upon their words I gather that they ski together fairly regularly back home. 

As breakfast nears its end I can no longer make out their words.  Their voices reduce to a whisper with the exception of laughs and giggles.  I sense something ominous as their eyes regularly meet mine. 

I clear their empty plates.  They get up from the table without speaking or looking in my direction.

“pet, after the dishes are done report to the living room.”

“Yes, Mistress.”

I bow as she departs.  My heart races as the knots twist within my chest.  I hurry with the dishes as the anticipation eats at me.  After I finish I head to the living room.  A very large suitcase sits by the first sofa.  It’s one of ours but I don’t remember bringing it. 

Mistress stands before me with her arms folded across her chest.  The other ladies stand beside her, all eyes upon me.

“Come here, pet, so we can get you out of that uniform.”

My fingers fidget as I nod and approach Mistress.  As the women part, a view of the sofa’s opens up and I see what they were hiding from me. 

“You remember the ski outfits we went shopping for last year?  They’ve been sitting gathering dust and this week seemed like a perfect time to finally put them to use.”

My face blushes red and my heart sinks as my memory recalls the greatest humiliation I have suffered to date.  The outfits sit out on the sofas, grouped as they were picked out at the shop.  I tremble as I approach Mistress and present my hands.  She begins to unlock me from my uniform.  My stomach twists and turns.

A few moments later I stand between the sofas naked except for my chastity belt.  A couple of whistles and cat calls soon follow. 

“Cass, I think fur could use some sun.  That is some pale-ass skin.”

“Maybe you should have him work out.  Aren’t men supposed to have pectoral muscles?”

I want to cover my face and hide.  I don’t understand why being naked makes me so self-conscious.  This feels worse than being in uniform. 

“pet, they are going to pick out your outfit for the day.  Be a doll and model anything they ask you to try on.”

I nod and close my eyes.  At least it’s too early for booze.  I hold out a tiny ray of hope in my heart.  Dominique is the first to spring into action.  She makes a bee-line to the sofa and I cringe as she returns to me.  She holds up the fur-trimmed pink figure skating dress in front of my body and stands to the side as she speaks.

“There’s obviously only 1 choice here, little one.  The pink and the sequins really bring out the terror in your eyes.”

“Come on, Dom.  Maybe not you, but some of us will have to be seen with him today.”

I let out a sigh of relief.  Theresa is always the voice of reason.

“Suit yourselves, you have my vote.  I’m going to get dressed.”  Dominique strolls out of the room with Sammy and Gordon in tow. 

I glance at Mistress who sits on the sofa sipping a cup of coffee.  Our eyes meet and she smirks while my expression calls for help.  It isn’t long before the others congregate around a specific outfit. 

“Model this one for us, fur.” 

I hold out my hands as they begin passing me items one by one.  It starts with thermal stretch pants with the bunny tail.  As I pull on the turtleneck I hear the jingle of its attached bells.  Some thick wool socks pull up over the pant legs.  The puffy cropped jacket with fur collar and cuffs.  Thick knit mittens.  A scarf with fur pom poms and more bells and its matching beanie with a huge for pom pom and “Ski Bunny” embroidery.  Lastly I slide into the pink rubber boots. 

I can’t open my eyes as I stand before them.  Their giggles tell me enough.  My face burns red with shame.  I feel a tap on the arm.  I look ahead and see B standing before me.  She holds up my earmuff harness.  I lower my head as she buckles it on my head and locks it into place, followed by a firm smack on my bottom. 

”Miss Cassandra I think he needs a butt plug to go along with this.”

“That can be arranged, B, I did bring along his entire assortment of locking plugs.”

My heart sinks.  I stand motionless while immersed in shame.  I watch Barb sit on the sofa next to Mistress.

“I can’t believe you’re really going to put him through this, Cass.”

“Why is that, Barbie?  This is really just an extension of one of his fantasies.”

“I think by now he understands that some things best remain a fantasy.”

“How about I let him choose?”

Barb nods. 

“pet, I’m going to give you a choice.  You can go to the ski resort and carry our gear, watch it when we are in the chalet, and keep a bench warm for us outside while we are on the slopes or you can spend the day here by yourself.  Dominique tells me that the kennel on the far side of the shed was designed to house a man so I have no problem leaving you here today.  What would you rather do?”

“I want to be as close to you as possible, Mistress.”

“That’s what I thought, pet.”

I watch Barb as she shakes her head. 

“Something from last night isn’t sitting well with me.  I’m struggling to understand.  You said that what happened made him submissive, but I don’t understand the sexual part of it.  Sure he admitted to jerking off about it, but I can’t believe that’s all it took.”

Mistress motions to me.  I approach her and kneel.

“pet, tell Barbie just how much you used to jerk off thinking about Brittany.”

“Every day, Miss Barb.  At least once per day, sometimes more.”  I feel another wave of heat and blood rush to my face. 

“And how long did you do this for, pet?”

“Three years while we were in high school.  And then for several more years after that.”

“Did you just masturbate about her, or were there other things?”

“It always involved her, sometimes the thought of her, sometimes the thought of her doing things to me.”

“What kind of things would she do?”

The shame of the memory stabs me in the heart.  I bite my lip.

“She would embarrass me in front of her friends and tie me up.”

“And that turned you on, pet?”

“Yes, Mistress.”

Mistress leans forward and hugs me, pulling my face into her breasts.  The smell of her perfume relaxes me.  My face must have shown my agitation. 

“That just seems nuts, Cass.  Is that how most submissive men are?”

“Yes, Barbie.  Men have this habit of over-fantasizing about particular things and over time they develop fetishes.  This gives them needs that they are often ashamed of and pet is no exception.”

“Is that why he gets so frenzied when you wear fur?  Because Brittany did?”

“Probably… but I like to think it’s because of how sexy I look, don’t you agree?”

I watch Barb blush a bright shade of red.  Mistress giggles.  Barb bites her lip before blurting out some words in her defense.

“Well I am mostly attracted to your confidence.”

“Mostly?  What is the other part?”

“God, Cass.  Those tricks won’t work on me.”

“A girl can dream, Barbie.”

Mistress leans over and gives her a kiss on the lips.  I watch Barb’s expression change a dozen times before she finally gives in to Mistress’s charms and relaxes.  A quick glance around the room and I notice that Theresa, B, and Lisa have cleared space on the sofas and are sitting and observing our little chat.

A moment later Barb notices them as well and her face beams red again.  She shakes off her turned-on expression and returns to her inquisitive nature. 

“Now that I think about it, Cass, you seem to be a master of the mental games with him, just what exactly are you doing?  Or is that a secret that you don’t want to share in front of him?”

“Oh, it’s quite simple and it’s no secret.  My pet is a bright boy, I’m sure he knows exactly what’s going on but that doesn’t mean he has any control over it.  For example, talking about him like he’s not a person while he’s right here in the room does quite a number on him.  It makes him ache and love me even more.”

I feel my mind slip a little.  Deep in my heart I know she is right. 

“So if I were to just sit here and say that I can’t believe you’re taking him out in public in such a fruity little outfit it makes him feel even more submissive?”

“Correct.  We can make it even worse by involving the others.  I noticed aside from Dom, this outfit was a unanimous choice, can I ask why, Theresa?”

“The bunny tail.”

“B?”

“The tail.”

“Lisa?”

“Definitely the tail.”

My face burns red and I close my eyes.  Mistress continues.

“You see, Barbie, it’s not that we act like he doesn’t have feelings… we just treat his feelings like they don’t matter.” 

“That sounds terrible when you put it that way, Cass.”

“But it’s so much fun.  Watch this.  Hey pet, how would you like to sleep in the bed with me tonight?”

My eyes light up.  I look up at her with longing. 

“I would love that, Mistress.”

“I could even let you out of your belt.  I think it’s been a while, would you like that?”

“Yes, Mistress.  It has been a while, I would like that a lot.”

Mistress’s laugh that follows stabs me in the chest.

“You’re so cute, pet.  You know that with Barbie here you won’t be sleeping in my bed and the keys to your chastity belt are locked in the wall safe back at home.”

I express my disappointment on my face as the glimmer of hope in my heart gets smashed to pieces.

“That’s so fucked up, Cass.  I don’t understand why you don’t give him rewards for being good.  You punish him for being bad.”

“That’s sweet, Barbie, but I think you misunderstand our arrangement.  Why does he deserve a reward?  He gets exactly what he wants.  He gets to serve the beautiful woman that he loves.  He gets to live out his fantasies and serve and entire crowd of beautiful women.”

Mistress raises her arms and motions to everyone in the room.

“Serving us perfectly is merely what is expected of him.  The thought of rewarding him for that is silly.  I punish him for failing because really, who wants to tolerate failure?  Besides, if I didn’t punish him the guilt would eat him alive.  Isn’t that right, pet?”

“Yes Mistress.”

Barb makes an explosion sound and motions her hands out from her head. 

“Consider my mind blown, Cass.  It still just seems so mean.”

“Mean?  Let’s find out.  Do you love me, pet?”

“Yes, Mistress.  I love you.”

“How much do you love me?”

“Mistress, I love you with all my heart… all my soul… I love you with my entire being.”

“Am I too mean to you, pet?”

“I love you just the way you are, Mistress.”

Mistress holds out her hand to me and looks at Barb with a wide smile on her face.  Barb shakes her head.

“Also, Barbie, I understand there are times when pet needs to be loved. Every so often he needs a recharge and I’m there for him.  He also knows that I love him deeply.  He’s the perfect match for my heart.”

I blush and smile.  I feel my heart fill with the warmth of her words. 

“Doesn’t he get jealous of me?”

“pet, do you get jealous of Barbie?”

“Yes, Mistress.  I get very jealous.”

“Do you hate Barbie?”

“No, Mistress.  Miss Barb makes you happy and I could never hate someone that makes you happy.  I like Miss Barb, she has a good heart.”

Barb’s face blushes again and she crosses her arms over her chest. 

“Are you jealous of my pet, Barbie?”  Mistress giggles and Barb scoffs.

“Hell no.  I can only imagine the fucked up shit you’d try to dress me in.  I like having dignity.” 

I allow the implications of her words to slide off my back.  I’m still enthralled with Mistress. 

“I’m not sure if you know this, Barbie, but you keep my pet in a constant state of frenzy.”

“What do you mean, Cass?”

“Hey, pet.  We have about an hour before we have to leave.  How would you like to taste me right now?”

My eyes light up and a wide smile forms on my face.  My fingers fidget in anticipation.  I feel my sex strain against the belt.

“I would love to taste you, Mistress.  It would bring me so much joy to pleasure you.”

“Show me, pet.”  Mistress points at her feet.

I nod, bow and kiss her feet.  First the right foot, then the left.  I can barely keep myself from shaking. 

“You’re so adorable, pet.  But you know I’d never allow that while Barbie is here.” 

My face contorts into a frown.  Barb scoffs and covers her eyes.  Laughs come from the gallery behind me.  I turn and watch Lisa slap her hands together as she buckles over.  B shakes her head.  Theresa throws her head back as she chuckles aloud. 

I am their amusement.  My emotions are a toy.  I sulk in silence.

“pet, after you clean all these clothes up, present yourself in the bedroom.  I’ll have your plug ready.  We’ll leave in an hour.”

“Yes, Mistress.”  I can barely spit out the words. 

I remain kneeling while the others rise from the sofas.  I feel a tap on the shoulder.  B hands me the fur muff from one of the outfits. 

“Wear this today too, fur sissy.  You really are a tool.”

I close my eyes and nod.

A few minutes later I find myself face down on Mistress’s bed.  Barb watches from the chair as Mistress pulls down my pants and exposes my bare bottom.

“Are you ready, pet?  Barbie thought you would like the biggest one.”

Tears fill my eyes.  I let out a series of whimpers.  I feel the cold rubber against my skin.  Please don’t do this, Mistress. 

END ACT

Another "great" Blogger WTF

I'm not sure if others have noticed that when they redid the format of the followers widget it seems they have disconnected our blogger profile from our standard google profile...

Which seems to mean if you follow, people can't click on your profile and see your info, it just displays a list of blogs you follow.

If you post a comment from your blogger profile they can get to your normal blogger profile by clicking on your name, but any blogs you have started following since then don't seem to be showing up.

Kind of a pain in the ass.  I have come across a good number of blogs by finding links when the authors followed me... now that option is gone.

Back in Form

There are times when I'm worried about what I post because a lot of what I write probably makes me seem unstable.  Then I realize I've already written pretty thoroughly about a number of the worst things that have ever happened to me and I figure what the hell.

(It is probably obvious that) My current obsession is writing.  As with the way my craziness works I get emotionally disheveled when events happen in life that block me from my obsession.  In this case, things that prevent me from reaching a mindset conducive to writing unnerve me... in a way that I can only describe as "life feels wrong" and a desperate and frantic feeling to bring it back to feeling right.

I do want to put it out there that I appear and function quite normally in the world even if everything inside of me is spiraling in a bad way.  It probably seems like it carries a lot of gravity when I write about it... but that's mostly from the fact that it's a breakdown of my coping mechanisms and/or realizing my support system has shifted in an unpleasant way.

I have to say it's rather irritating being able to step back and watch everything eating me on the inside with a full understanding of what is going on but not being able to do anything about it.  Within D/s dynamics I can channel all of that energy into service.  Without it I'm left spinning as I do my best to find my way out.  

On the upside I have managed to get a hold on the emotional spiral I was in for a few days and hope to get back to working on part 51 of fs01 very soon.


On a side note, I will be delaying the milestone drawing for a while... I started working on it last week and I'm just not feeling it.  Considered it delayed but not canceled. 

Intensity and Effort

Yesterday some things happened that managed to trigger an emotional spiral.  Some unintentional events woke the demons and put me into a bad state that is beyond my rational control.  I can't help but be a little bit upset with myself as I feel the spiral of self-defeat.  I will keep writing to try and keep my thoughts and feelings open rather than bury them while I try to mend what is going on.

I've been called a lot of things over the years but one description that I don't think has ever been used is carefree.  I tend to have a very intense personality.  I am excited about what interests me.  It consumes my thoughts.  I wish to share it with those I am close to.  This is often contagious and I often find I can get other people excited about those same things... I can sell its merits... show them the reasons and intricacies behind my interests.

This blog makes things a little hard since it is not something I will share with those I know.  Even those who know of its existence... I tell them that this is my place that I need to be able to center myself.  The people who are here made an effort to be here and took the dime to dig in. 

Behind the intensity is my effort.  When I decide to do something, I try my hardest.  I'm not one of those people that talks about "oh, when I get around to it...".  I blast into things... full speed... balls to the wall... this is what I want to do and I will be the best at it.  I never do things half way.  This was something that K noticed from the start.  I didn't need training.  She was able to ramp up the micro-managing in rules like a game of "Simon Says" where I could go round after round without missing a beat.  Meticulous and precise with details... always displaying attention and awareness... always learning... looking for ways to improve. 

I look at my performance in whatever I do as a reflection of who I am.  I don't half-ass things or scrape by with "just enough."  When I see people that won't put in effort or consistently do the bare minimum, I tend to think they will half-ass most things.  I don't want people to think that about me.  I want to appear perfect and with the work ethic and dedication to make that so.  I want to exceed expectations by such a margin that they have to completely rebuild how they go about making expectations.  Raise the bar, I'll be fine.  Keep raising it, I'll be fine.  It's what I do. 

In a lot of ways this contributes to the intensity of what I crave in submission.  Throw the kitchen sink at me and I'll catch it.  I actually get disappointed when this doesn't happen... because I fear that it means they are seeing me as less than what I could be.  I do not respond well to kindness unless it includes a stipulation that it is a gift.  I acknowledge that it's probably dangerous for me to be wired this way since it's easy to get too deep.  It's also potentially confusing to balance kindness vs. intimacy as they are distinctly different things.  I need the intimacy... but kindness is optional. 

All of this has become such a part of my identity that I can't picture myself without it.  I know that it rose from my methods of coping.  This became who I am out of fear that I will be too little... lesser... unworthy.  I would accept it as purely a positive if it didn't carry with it the shadow of demons.  I do try to see it as a positive.  I strive to continually improve.  It reflects well on me in relationships, friendships, work, sport, hobbies, etc.  I want people to see anything that I do and see a reflection of excellence. 

In the moment I see this as self-motivation.  In the bigger picture I recognize it rooted in fear.  Is that a bad thing? 

The intensity also cuts both ways.  When I am knocked off balance emotionally the hurt swirls in with the same level of intensity that I display in other things. 

I have also found that the perception of my intensity isn't always seen as a positive.  I've been rejected by some for exactly the same reason that I am drawn to others.  This keeps me questioning myself and never quite able to settle in with embracing myself fully. 

The Quest for Emotional Control

Yesterday I wrote about coping.  I see coping as my means of dealing with feelings after they have arrived.

I often feel like my coping methods took a rather elaborate route over time.  In reality they are due to lack of emotional control.

Emotional response is fascinating because what I have found is that while we are able to control where we direct the emotions, I feel like I have very little control over the intensity of said emotions.

To illustrate what I am talking about with an easy example you can think about an experience where someone deeply hurts your feelings.  People have varying routes on how to channel this.

-Defensive.  You can get angry.  Rage.  Put up the emotional barriers and lash out.  No one will hurt me. 

-Internalize.  You can be stoic.  Put on a neutral or even happy face.  Keep your guard up.  Show nothing.  The pain stays inside slowly eating away at you.  If left unchecked/unvented it will eventually become a major problem.

-Time-release.  At the twinge of reaction you can attempt to process this.  Do it slowly and rationally.  Put out feelers to make sure you interpreted it correctly.  The magnitude of the hurt sets in bit by bit over a period of time.  At the end it feels just as bad but there was no monster KO punch... you got taken down by a series of jabs. 

-Sadness.  It hurts.  You feel it, you express it.  Pain in its natural form.  This is often the hardest to do because it involves those present to see your vulnerability.

-Self-Defeat.  This is probably the worst possible way I can think of dealing with hurt but it is my default when it relates to my demons.  It feels deserved.  I claim responsibility for it.  It's my fault.  I always seem to make this mistake.  I bury myself in a spiral of the original pain and the secondary pain caused by heaping the blame upon myself.  This is reserved for those special kind of hurts that rattle the deepest insecurities of my being.

-Detachment.  To me this is the least desirable method to choose... but also the one most strongly rooted in survival.  Shut down... distract... feel nothing... feel numb... look at everything but that.  This is my natural choice when I will have to deal with people and care about what they think of me.  Similar to internalizing, this has a tendency to eventually fill up and boil over, causing the full weight of the stored feelings to hit all at once.

-Rely on confidence.  This is the method I am worst at because there are limited situations where I actually feel like I can use this.  This requires a strong sense of self and an understanding of what is important.  If hurt is brought on by people that are unimportant and/or words that I know aren't true, they can eat a dick because their words don't matter.  This is mostly applicable with strangers and less so with people who we actually care about.

There are probably more ways to deal with this.  Every time something affects my heart I seem to see myself at a cross-roads where a handful of these methods are my choices.  I have a split second to decide how and in what way this will hurt.  I would say that I try to make a "wise choice that I won't regret" when faced with it... but that would be a lie.  It's like ordering a shit sandwich and getting hung up on what type of bread I want to eat it on.  I suppose I usually choose the path that I think I am most likely to be able to handle at that given time.

I've never really considered myself to be the most emotionally stable person even though many people have leaned on me for support over the years.  I have to wonder if other people have discovered an actual method of emotional control instead of just flipping a switch and deciding which track you want to send it down.  Another observation that I have developed over time is that I don't think that the majority of people are aware that there is a miniscule time-frame in which they can choose how to react.  I know that most people who explode with rage never seem to teeter between rage vs. crying before they fly off the handle.  Is this just a myth that I wish to actually be able to control my emotions as they come in instead of merely controlling how I allow myself to feel them?

I am still wanting to finalize my The ____________ submissive archetype.  I know that this type in particular (as well as some others that experience very deep levels of subspace) tend to react with self-defeat when they experience hurt in a D/s environment.  Unfortunately self-defeat has such a way of looping upon itself that an actual punishment and atonement are often needed to free the sub from this cycle.  Odd stuff.