fs01 – Arc 9 – Chapter 69

Chapter 69

Author’s Note: This takes place several weeks after Chapter 68.

Day 1.
I sit on the sofa in the living room. I don’t know what to do. Mistress left for Europe yesterday. Her shop is working with some new European suppliers and they are taking a multi-week tour. Theresa is with her to help with the contracts and B went along for the vacation. Lisa is there as well, continuing her role as Mistress’s assistant. Brittany is doing part-time work for the shop as a photographer so I assume she is taking pictures… but she probably just wanted to go on a trip with the others.

Usually Mistress would have found someone to house sit. Dominique was in Europe a couple of weeks ago and refused Mistress’s request, giving her own conditions. Mistress left this choice up to me. If I choose to stay with Dominique, I will obey her with her only limit being “no permanent damage.”

Mistress left me with a few hundred dollars in cash, a credit card, a bus pass, and an old blackberry phone capable of sending text messages and email. She released me from my uniform and purchased me some second-hand clothing to wear. I’m allowed to spend money as long as the amount is reasonable and she intends to seize any possessions I accumulate when she returns. While I will remain chaste for the duration, this is more freedom than I have had in years. How long has it been?

It has only been 15 hours since she left but I already miss Mistress. I take out the phone and type her a mail.

“Dear Mistress.

I love you. I hope your travels are safe and I look forward to your return.

Your pet, fs.”

I quickly hit send. She already told me that she doesn’t intend to write me back but that I am welcome to email her whenever I feel lonely.

Who was I before all of this? What have I missed the most? I go into her office and turn on the computer. Mistress’s instructions were to be me. Have fun. Make choices. Remember. I quickly look up some addresses of some shops and match them against the bus schedule Mistress left for me. Apparently video stores don’t exist anymore. Neither do record stores except a couple over in the bad part of town that is over an hour away by bus. I feel old and out of touch. Inspiration strikes.

I grab my coat and head for the door, checking carefully that I have everything. Keys. Wallet. Bus schedule. Map. Note pad. I open the door and cringe as the brisk air touches my skin. I quickly close the door and turn around, heading back to the coat closet. I dig quickly through the box that Mistress brought for me. Two coats and a couple of pairs of shoes. No boots, no gloves, no hat. Do I dare?

I don’t believe that she wanted me to just sit indoors all day and rot. I steel my resolve and head over to her side of the closet. I look for the most masculine items she owns. Least feminine is probably a better word for the search. I find a pair of black knitted gloves with fur at the cuffs, a black knitted scarf with small fur poms on the end, and a black beanie with a large fur pom pom on top. She never wears these. I don’t think she will punish me too badly if I wear them for warmth but I don’t dare remove the fur and deface them. Fuck it. I will enjoy this freedom.

I quickly dress myself in the mirror and head out the door. The bus stop is six blocks away. I pull the scarf up over my face and give it a few more wraps. The coat is old and worn, leaving gaps where the lining has worn through. I quickly become aware of all of them. My experiences with outings keep my self-consciousness to a minimum. This town is cold in the winter, it’s never really odd to see people bundled up and wearing “questionable” clothing.

I have to wait 10 minutes or so for the bus. I board it and take an empty seat near the back. It takes about 20 minutes to reach the block of my destination. I exit quickly and scan the street. Bingo. I walk swiftly, the red and white sign grows as I move closer to it. The colonel. How I have missed you.

My eyes widen as I scan the menu above the counter. Options. How long has it been since I had options? I order the three-piece meal with potatoes and corn. I savor every bite. I debate getting a large bucket to go. Maybe next time… I can come again tomorrow. I wash up after the glorious meal, my belly distends itself against the coat. I linger in the entryway out of the cold. Where to next?

I scan up and down the street and see a small bookstore. I leave the restaurant and cross the street at the next intersection. The store carries both new and used books as well as a selection of movies and music. I’m excited. Inside the store I feel like I’m on Mars. Authors and novels I’ve never heard of. Movies I haven’t seen or heard of. I’ve been cut off from the world for five years. How strange that feels. I browse the movies and find a DVD from a director that I like. It’s used and inexpensive. I locate a CD from one of my favorite bands from my youth. I haven’t heard them in years. Everything used is so cheap? Does no one buy media anymore?

My body throbs with excitement. As I pass through the shop I see a display with a cover that I have seen before. The 101 Shades of Beige novels are on display and on sale. I’m sure Mistress wouldn’t mind. 24 days is a long time. I scoop up the three books and make my way to the checkout counter. I place them neatly on the counter. The salesgirl looks to be in her early 20’s. She cracks a warm smile at me.

“These books are really good, are you just getting into them?” I appreciate her small-talk and respond.
“Yes. I’ve heard a lot about them from others.”
“That’s a cute hat. Did your boyfriend get it for you or did you pick it out yourself?”

My face burns red.
“Oh crap. You’re not gay?”
“No. I’m married. Wife.”
“Oh my God, I’m so sorry. Please don’t be mad at me. It’s just that the only men that buy this book here tend to be gay, and I looked at your hat and I figured… I’m so sorry.”

I lower my eyes.
“It’s okay. I’m not mad. I couldn’t find another hat today and it was so cold out.”

I pay for the items and leave quickly. I feel a little bit screwed up… but that’s probably closer to normal than the rest of it. I walk briskly down the sidewalk and turn into an alley to catch my breath. Processing my emotions takes me a few seconds. Why do I feel more normal feeling humiliated than free? I find myself wondering if Mistress neglected a hat and gloves on purpose. I regain my composure and head back to the bus stop. I wish it wasn’t so cold. The bus arrives soon after and we are on our way across town. It takes 30 minutes until I reach my next destination. World of Guitars. It has been a long time. I make sure to deposit my hat and scarf in the bag with my books before entering. I don’t want a repeat of the bookstore.

I walk in and within three minutes a sales rep is on me.
“Looking for anything in particular?”
“Just browsing for now.”
“Been playing a long time?”
“I haven’t played in years but looking to get back into it.”
“Why did you quit?”
“Wife didn’t want me playing.”
“Ah. Divorced then?”
“No. Just… off the leash for a month.”

I thought this would be less awkward. Fuck it.
“I can’t spend a lot. Do you have any inexpensive starter packs?”
“A few. What’s your price range?”
“As little as possible. Show me the three cheapest ones.”

His expression loses its excitement. They must be low-margin items. I soon find myself with instruments in my hands that I never would have considered playing years ago. Two of them are awful. The third is pretty decent for the money. I do the math in my head. $8 a day is reasonable right? I purchase the kit and an extra set of strings. We un-box it in the shop and get it ready for me to carry out. The guitar has a bag. The accessories fit in my other shopping bag. I have to carry the amp by itself. I really should have called a cab.

All of my items occupy the seat next to me. Thankfully it’s not very busy out. An attractive young woman boards the bus a few stops up wearing a coat with a large fur collar. I find myself “staring from my peripherals” at her. I don’t want to seem creepy but I still manage to enjoy the view. I sort of disgust myself a little. It takes 45 minutes to reach the stop near home. I hustle home, excited like a child with a new toy.

I bust through the front door and toss my coat near the closet. I pop the CD in the player and plug the amp into the wall. After getting the strap adjusted and the guitar tuned I press play and find myself happily jamming along with the songs on the album. After about 45 minutes I scan through Mistress’s CD’s. I locate one of her favorites and swap it into the player. She loves this song. I decide to learn it. I take a piece of paper and a pen and begin to learn the song by ear. I will practice it every day until she returns. I will work on the vocals once I have the guitar down. I want to make her happy.

I play until my fingertips throb. Today is a good day. I pull out the phone and type up another email.


I will have a surprise for you when you return. I love you, my Goddess.

Love, your pet.”

What to do now? I’ve killed half the day. I want to kick myself for not stopping somewhere to get a cheap hat and gloves. There’s always tomorrow. Mistress made sure the kitchen was stocked with groceries before she left. I decide to go and cook dinner. I decide to allow myself one bad for me meal per day. The rest will be cooked and healthy. I sear a chicken breast in garlic and black pepper along with some asparagus. As it cooks I type up another email.


Thank you so very much for the bountiful, nutritious, and delicious food. I miss you already.

Love, pet.”

I slow my typing near the end as a small ache enters my heart. Cooking makes me feel lonesome. I’m usually cooking for her. I eat by myself at the kitchen table. I clean up and do the dishes out of habit. Mistress has informed me that I can relax on my daily chores as long as everything is in order upon her return.

After dinner I pop in the movie and relax on the sofa watching it. The film is good but not great. I don’t know why, but it seems like indie directors that go mainstream Hollywood seem to lose their quirkiness as they go. I grab a glass of water and prepare myself for bed. It feels good to sprawl out and relax. I take my copy of the first 101 Shades novel and begin to read.

The story isn’t bad.  I can understand the popularity with women readers and how it spawned so much interest in Femdom recently.  It is told from the Domme’s point of view.  As I read it I can’t help but wonder if Mistress thinks this way or if it is purely a work of fiction.  Based upon my experiences, there are bits and pieces that resemble her but the character in the story doesn’t quite have the same… flair for cruelty that Mistress wields so competently.  She was right about the enemas.  The male orgasms don’t make me jealous so much as they highlight the differences between our lifestyles.

In the story the sub is constantly trying to get attention for his penis and the Domme uses that back and forth as a means of control.  Corporal punishment is more of the ‘funishment’ variety. It makes me think a little but I have trouble picturing myself similar to the sub in the story.  Beatings for fun and so much play focused around his penis.  A striking contrast to Mistress’s sexual pleasure and using beatings for corrective purposes.  I try not to nitpick and just enjoy the ride.  I find myself occasionally tugging at my chastity belt, as the writing is definitely hot enough to have me attempting erections.

I get about a hundred pages in when I decide I should probably get some sleep.  I unwind with a hot shower and replay the days events in my head.  The bookstore salesgirl’s facial expressions continue to haunt me.  I feel my face burn each time her voice echoes in my head.  The twisting sensation in my chest lingers.

I type up a final email to Mistress.

“Dear Mistress,

I had a very exciting and eventful day.  I wish you could have been a part of it.  I hope you are having fun.

Love, your pet.”

I turn out the light and lie back upon the bed.  I look at the clock.  12:02.  I close my eyes only to toss and turn.  This agitated feeling doesn’t want to leave on its own.  Another glance.  1:47.  I want to sleep so badly but I can’t seem to find any peace.  A wave of shame sets over me as an impulse creeps into my heart.  I’m so fucked up.  I rise and get another drink of water before hovering in front of the dresser.  I don’t know why but I feel like I’m being judged… and in a way, I am. The harshest judge of all… my self.

I pick up the hat from my uniform and pull it onto my head.  I tremble a bit as the head harness follows.  I slowly buckle it in place.  I hate myself right now and I don’t know why.  The heat rushes to my face as the familiar sensation in my chest overtakes me. I pick up the phone and type.

“Dear Mistress,

I am struggling to sleep without you watching over me.  I love you so much.


I quickly hit send and fall onto the bed.  I close my eyes and immerse myself in the shame.  This is my subspace.  My fingers tease my nipples through the comforter while the voice from today echoes again in my head.  “That’s a cute hat. Did your boyfriend get it for you or did you pick it out yourself?” My heart twists and my sex strains against the belt.  In this moment I hate myself for being alive.  It loops again and again, pressing me deeper and deeper into the shame spiral.  I envision myself buying items while in my maid’s dress.  It hurts so much I feel like I could cry.  I don’t remember exactly but I manage to doze off.

Day 2.
I sleep in a bit later than I am accustomed to.  I don’t feel all that rested.  I quickly free myself from the hat and harness and type Mistress an email.


I hope you have a wonderful day.

Love, pet.”

I start the day with a hot shower and a shave before making breakfast.  Toast, some fruit, and juice.  I used to love breakfast. Now the thought of anything heavy makes my stomach turn. Amazing how we become acclimated to certain things.

I futz around on the guitar, playing the song I am learning for Mistress through a couple of times before I find myself in the bedroom finishing the second half of the novel.  The first book ends decently well.  I look forward to the next one.  What do I do now?  I lay on the bed, brainstorming ideas of what I have wanted to do but haven’t been able to.  I wish Mistress was here so that I could worship her body.  When did I become so simple?

In the living room I fire up the player.  Game of Thrones season 2 it is.  I break for lunch after the first episode. A sandwich with a pickle, some yogurt, and a small bit of chips tides me over.  I wonder if I should go out and do something or if I should just stay in.  I remember the bookstore.  My face heats up and I decide to continue watching the show.  I take a break after another couple of episodes.  I like where the story is going.  Another few passes through the new song. I pick up the phone.


Every time I try to think of something to do I can only think of you.  I’m doing my best to make you proud.

Love, pet.”

I watch one more episode, eat dinner, and then begin reading the second novel.  This book continues where the first one left off. The Domme hasn’t seemed to change much over the course of the series so far… she’s still shaping him to her vision of the perfect sub.  I put the book down after a while.  I feel a little bit empty. I pick up the phone again.


You give my life meaning.  Every day I spend with you makes me feel happy and fulfilled.  I miss you.

Love, pet.”

I try to sleep for 30 minutes before I fetch the hat and harness.  I feel my temperature rise and my entire mind shifts to a calmer place.  This is me.  I am what Mistress wants me to be. My face frowns as the familiar line passes through my head.  I picked it out myself.  I doze off soon after.

Day 3.
I wake in the morning and grab the phone.


I need you.  I love you so much.  Please have lots of fun.


I discard the harness and hat feeling like a broken record.  I have thoughts and feelings about everything I have done and read, but the voice in my heart keeps calling out to her.  My Mistress. My Queen, my Goddess,the love of my life.  No use wondering about it.  I decide that I will get chicken again today.  This time I will remember to shop for a hat and gloves.

Today is even colder than the first day.  It’s snowing outside and it’s overcast.  Gloomy.  Why am I going for chicken?  I ask myself this question once and fear the answer.  The bus ride seems to take forever.  I exit and head up towards the colonel’s smiling face.  I pause and look across the street at the bookstore.  I can see the counter through the window.  She’s working again today.  My face blushes as I head in for chicken.  My thoughts are scattered and frantic during lunch.  I feel an ache in my chest.

Outside of the restaurant I stand in the cold, staring at the bookstore.  I shake my head, trying to clear the cobwebs and head back to the bus stop.  I make it halfway before jaywalking across the street, my legs working on their own, following the call of this inner craving.  I move briskly through the shop and find another movie to watch.  My knees shake and I have trouble breathing as I approach the register.

“Well hello, mister ‘I don’t have a boyfriend I have a wife,’ yes, I do remember you.”

I cringe at a pain that isn’t physical as the blood rushes to my face.  My reply is nearly a whisper.

“Hello.  I liked the first Beige novel. Do you have any recommendations for similar books?”
“I think I can smell a fetish here.  Have you read ‘Venus in Furs’?”
“Yes, I have.”
“Did you like it?”  I blush harder as she asks this.  My mouth feels dry.  I nod in response.
“‘Exit to Eden?’”

I nod again.
“You’re going to have better luck trying online with e-books and downloadable content.  Most male perverts won’t buy those books in stores so only the handful of mainstream ones ever make it to most shops.”
Her words feel like a kick in the gut.

“Thank you, ma’am.”

I pay for the DVD and head for the door.  She shouts at me from the register as I approach the door.

“Do come back again, my day feels empty without seeing you in that hat!”

I hurry down the sidewalk as fast as I can without running.  My knees are rubber.  My face is on fire.  I want to cry.  On the bus ride home I write to Mistress.


I’m finding ways to fill the day but nothing is better than kneeling at your feet.  I love you.


As I close the front door behind me I finally allow myself to cry out.  I sob gently and slide down to the floor.  Why did I go back there? Why did I ask for more?  I forgot to buy another hat and gloves.  I am a mess.

I skip dinner that night, my stomach continues to twist and turn.  I spend the evening finishing the second novel and starting the third.  The Domme in the story has finally stepped things up changing from light bondage to heavy chains and locks.  She adds a cage and starts using chastity to train him. I find this third book hitting closer to the life that I know but I’m a bit puzzled that he’s so slow to learn and adapt to her rules.

I read all the way until the end. My eyes ache. The clock says 2:04. The buzzing in my head tells me sleeping will be a chore. Another email.


I miss everything about you. I miss your guiding hand. I miss your smell. I hope you are well.

Love, pet.”

My heart continues to ache. How said I really am, unable to go a few days on my own. I lie on the bed in the dark, my open but tired eyes scan the ceiling looking for nothing. The nagging sensation continues in my heart. I swallow my pride and rise. The hat and earmuffs find my head as I ache with shame. I retrieve Mistress’s robe from the closet and hold it close to me. I press my nose against it and inhale her scent. Another email.

“Dear Mistress,

You make everything feel okay. You make everything normal. You are my world.

Love, pet.”

I quickly hit send and rest my head on the pillow. Today’s events quickly replay themselves in my head. The salesgirl’s words stab into me like a dagger. My soul bleeds in a familiar way, causing my ego to silence itself. I close my eyes and press my lips against Mistress’s robe giving it a gentle kiss. It makes me feel drunk and less screwed up. Sleep finds my eyes.

Return to the Table of Contents


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s