Mistress
Prologue
She sits at her chair, in front of her mirror on her dressing table. She's already gotten washed, cleaned her teeth and everything else, but she hasn't dressed yet. Doesn't want to get any of her make up on her clothes. She picks up her eyeliner. Draws it on, one eye at a time. Brushes on some mascara. Red lipstick, black eyeshadow, white foundation. She's done now, and she gets up to get dressed. I look away as she strips out of her dressing gown and into her underwear. She pulls her black silky camisole over her head, and then something black, sheer and lacy. Black opaque tights, a short black skirt and some shiny, black, knee-high DM's. She stands up, tall and proud, ready to face the world.
Until I speak.
"Let me go, please, for a minute, let me go, please, just let me go…"
She saunters closer to me, sashaying her hips.
"Now, we can't have that, can we? I'll have to restrain you if you talk like that again. I don't want the others to hear you."
"No, Mistress. I'm sorry, Mistress. But just a minute of freedom-"
"If you have any sense of self-preservation you will shut up, now," she snaps. "I'm good to you, aren't I? Don't make me hurt you again, Michael."
