Preface
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My apologies for the long delay since part 17. The real work intruded rather badly. Plus the fact that, as originally written, this was a somewhat different story. By the time I first publishing on Literotica I'd changed some key premises and had rewritten about a third of it to those new parameters.
That material made up parts 1 to 17. I'm getting into parts that were never rewritten, so I'm doing it now. As you might expect, that slows things down. I have to rewrite things as trivial and detailed as the color of Betty's eyes up to the degree to which Katy is dominant and Virginia is submissive.
Anyway, work, and rewrites, and being sick for a time have all delayed part 18.
Again, thanks so much for the comments and various exchanges. There have been a couple of dick heads (Talking penises. Is there a story idea there?) but most of you have been a delight to talk to and, for a couple of you, a lot of fun to get to know better. Mike, you're a treat. Sharon, they are truly, truly magnificent, darling. Bob, such wicked ideas. And above all, Lisa, I love you baby.
*****
Friday, April 20, 2012, And so, we begin
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As instructed, I was out of the house by noon. At breakfast Katy said she'd text me when I could come home. I did a little shopping then went to the neighborhood park, the one up the street from my house, to read and watch the preschool children play and their mothers watching over them.
I had a few wistful moments over the children Brian and I had never had. As it did at moments like this, my anger at the drunk driver who killed him rose up. And, as usual, I let it continue for a few minutes then suppressed it.
Today was not the day to get hung up in anger. I wanted to remember this as the first day of something wonderful for me. Thinking of what was going to happen I had trouble concentrating on my book. I tried not to waste time imagining what Katy might be preparing for me at home.
Instead I spent most of my time observing the children and mothers. I thought briefly of the "mother game" the three of us played from time to time. Often it was me, but Katy and Betty also got tagged as "mother." I'd watched Nancy's kids for a few days on several occasions, usually when she and Mark went on anniversary "honeymoons." I think I'd have been a good mother.
Well that wasn't getting me anywhere either. I was sitting on the ground with my back against a large rock. I leaned back and watched the clouds and refused to check the time yet again. I'd wait patiently for Katy's message.
I knew phone reception here was excellent. And she knew where I was. If I didn't respond when she texted, she'd come get me. And I'd probably get punished for not coming when called. I briefly considered turning my phone off but, again, this wasn't the day for that. We could do discipline another time.
I watched the clouds and the nervous energy subsided. I knew I'd fallen asleep a few times only because I woke up with a start each time, usually from the sound of the children games or a mother shouting at them.
Finally my cell phone sounded. The message gave instructions.
"You'll find clothes in the garage. Change into them before coming in."
I replied "Yes, ma'am" and ran to my car.
I buckled in, started it, then sat there calming myself. Or trying to. I've never driven so carefully in my life, despite the urge to speed.
I pulled into the driveway and pressed the remote. The left most garage doors went up and I drove into the first bay. Her car was in the second bay, as usual. The third bay wasn't entirely empty. The pile of things she'd ordered was smaller, but some things remained. I thought briefly of the classic car Brian had kept in that space. Until he was killed while driving it.
I sighed, turned off my car, pressed the button to close the overhead door, and stepped out. On the work bench there was an ordinary shopping bag.
A note beside the bag said "My pet. Strip completely. Including make up and any jewelry." I looked and saw supplies there to do that. "Dress in only what you find in this bag. Leave everything else here then come in when you're ready." It was signed, "Mistress."
My nipples came up hard. I pinched them both, and not gently. I removed my makeup then my clothes. Upon looking in the bag I was a bit surprised. Sneakers, panties, bra, t-shirt and jeans. As I started to dress I realized what was odd about them. They were all in the styles Katy wore. Sneakers instead of the running shoes I preferred. Hip hugger panties and jeans, instead of the somewhat higher waist one I preferred. Bra in my size, but her style. And a plain white t-shirt.
I dressed and was about to go in when I remembered my earrings. I took them off then had to stop again to tuck the t-shirt into the jeans, the way she usually did but I usually did not. I entered the kitchen.
I was expecting to see her either dressed, as I was, in her usual "uniform," or perhaps as I usually dressed. Instead she was dressed like a 50's TV sitcom mom. Torso hugging dress which flared out at her hips and fell below her knees. Medium heels, and her hair up in as close to a period style as she could get, given that her hair was far too long.
She looked decidedly older than her nineteen years. In fact, she looked the part of a loving mother, much older than her nineteen years. And as I noticed that, I realized I looked a lot younger than my thirty-one. She was playing age reversal, and doing a good job of it. I felt like a teen again.
To add to the effect, she was holding spatula and I could smell steaks cooking.
I said "Hello, Katy."
She answered, tonelessly, "Mistress."
I started again "Hello, Mistress."
She replied, more cheerfully, "Sit, dinner is almost ready."
I noticed the table was set. I took my usual place and waited.
She served out steak, mashed potatoes, corn and some rolls and milk. I drank milk only occasionally, as did she, but given the tone at the moment it meant something more than that. It was a thoroughly homey traditional meal. As the meal progressed, I realized it was to emphasize the age reversal. Or, I thought, probably even more her authority. She was taking me from an adult, to a child before going on to a pet then a puppy.
She talked as we ate, addressing me as if I were a teenager and she was an adult. It was very odd at first, but as she continued it seemed less so. This went on for ten minutes or so until she changed the subject.
She said "I'm getting a new pet this evening. I want you to understand how we're going to be taking care of her."
I thought, "Ah, here we go."
We talked, or mostly she talked, all through the remainder of dinner. Basically she was reviewing all of the talk we'd had for weeks about me being Ginny and, more recently, being her pet when I wasn't Ginny. I'm not going to go into this conversation. It would amount to writing about talking about it, then writing about doing it. Boring. Much more fun to read about our actions that evening and the weeks and months to follow.
So we'll skip forward. Eventually she served out ice cream and the meal came to a close. She cleared the table and put things in the sink, saying she'd do them later. Before returning to the table, she retrieved Ginny's toy box and what looked like a small jewelry box and put them on the island.
Turning off all the lights, except the one over the table, she pulled me from my chair and to the open area between the island and the counter.
"Kneel."
I did so, wondering what she'd arranged. We were still both completely dressed. She opened the small box and held a necklace when a pendant out before my eyes. It was a rich gold color. Quite beautiful. I reached for it, more or less an unthinking action.
She said, softly, in no way urgently, "Don't touch it."
I put my arms back down to my sides. The pendant was heart shaped and about an inch across. Designed so it would naturally hang to show one side. She held it out for me to see, turning it slightly to the light.
"This is the front."
Engraved, in a simple and easy to read script, was "Virginia."
"You will make sure this side shows when you wear it."
"Yes, ma'am."
She leaned down to look closely into my eyes.
"You will wear it at all times when you are not Ginny. Even when you're not Pet. Do you understand?"
I answered, "Yes, Mistress."
My panties were getting damp.
She tipped it up to look at the front herself.
"I'd have liked to put 'Pet' here. I'm pretty sure that's what I'll be calling you most often when you're not Ginny."
