Anklets

“What did you just say?” She feigned that she hadn't said anything.

“How about I just tell Mistress Kathleen, later”

I'd take the issue of my .. mistreatment.. up with Mistress Kathleen, later.

I followed her up the driveway, which seemed forever. My heart pounded with anticipation.

Two or three cars passed us by and disappeared into the distance. One slowed down, just past us, and the passenger rolled down the window. A ride perhaps? I looked up from the road to see a woman's gloved hand beckoning without saying anything. I didn’t respond, neither did my little bitch of an escort. The passenger then sort of half-stuck her head out the window of the car, looking back toward us , but my “escort” waved her off. I just kept walking.

Down a hill, up a hill. Up a hill, down a hill

“You know, these pumps were NOT made for a walking honey?” My escort feigned not hearing me. At the same time, I somehow I knew this was all calculated by Mistress Kathleen.

Part 2 – Moments in the water closet

Mistress met me at the foyer, looking both sexy and elegant, as always. I greeted Her in the usual way by bending down and kissing Her feet, even though several other guests were standing there.

“What is she doing?”

“Oh my God!”

“Well that’s different”

I was slightly embarrassed by their comments, but this was what She said She always wanted. As I stood back up, I kept my eyes to the floor sort of like a naughty child, and continued to stand in the foyer, eyes down to the floor in Her presence as always. There was a beautiful tile pattern on the floor, tiles looking like they were perhaps each hand made, no two alike. She made not even an indication I was there, but I knew my place enough not to move. I even started to count the tiles, from near boredom, as She greeted friends, one after another, and they went inside. All I could see was their feet. All the guests were women and the click-clicking of their heels on the ceramic tiles was near rhythmic and musical.