January 11
th
, 2011
Dear Alissa,
This is the last time I'll be writing for a while. I have a lot more to do than I thought, but things are great. I don't want you to worry, but I just need to focus right now. Love you lots and see you next time you're in town.
-Petra
I'm glad I finally figured out what to say to Petra. I dated it for tomorrow and I'll just send it out then, but back to the training. I really need to be able to remember this.
I started to feel drowsy after finishing my champagne. I know there was something other than alcohol in there and it tasted bitter. I still taste it.
After I moved to the floor, where I suppose I'll be sitting from now on, Tom sat on the couch and proceeded to tell me what was expected of me. He went over the usual chores and cooking, but then he moved on to talk about other expectations.
"You will always be at the door, on your knees, when I arrive. I will beep once when I enter the driveway. If you are unable to do this, even once, there will be consequences. I also expect you to take care of yourself properly. No body hair, blemishes or undone makeup will be tolerated. You need to look perfect."
While I understood the need to look good, I certainly didn't think he would ever be able to tell whether or not I had body hair -- until he brought out the 'uniforms.'
He reached into a duffle bag and pulled out a pile of outfits. The first that he held up, he said, was my shopping/errand running uniform. It was to be worn only when I was out of the house, which according to the first contract I signed, meant that he'd be with me every time I wore it. It was a bright blue mini-dress that looked more like a dress a nightclub waitress would wear. He told me to try it on, so I reached for it, only to have him pull it back and laugh.
"You have so much to learn. Wait here."
He returned with a pair of heavy duty scissors and told me to stand up and hold still. I freaked, but did what I was told. He cut the sides of my pants to remove them. He did the same with my shirt, bra and underwear. I was standing there, completely exposed, confused, but mostly sluggish and drowsy.
"You'll need razors,"
he said, looking at my bushy pubic area.
"We'll go shopping tomorrow."
I assumed that meant wearing the blue dress. He went through the other outfits. There was one dress for shopping, one for going out with his friends and a final one for when he hosted dinner parties. They were all skimpy. I was amazed at how little fabric was used.
