The Shopping List 1

This is chapter 4. I didn't begin

The Owner of My Lonely Heart

(chapter 1) intending to write a follow up, but chapter 1 lead to chapter 2:

Lonely Heart Seeks New Man

, a short piece that inspired me to write chapter 3:

From Lonely Heart to sub

, the story of transformation. Here is Chapter 4: The shopping List, wherein we learn that transformation is our never-ending journey. It's also a love story.

Master sent the "grocery list" before he sent me the time and place of our next lesson. Along with the list of items I had to purchase was an instruction:

"You can purchase at Pleasure Palace Porn Emporium on Clark Street. Ask Master Clerk for help selecting the best items. He knows me and will make sure I'm happy with your purchase." I checked the web and the store was on Clark north of Belmont in Boys Town. I checked my work schedule. The day was about over, and no more meetings or calls in my calendar so I left my home office for a drive into the city. Wife was still downtown and not expected home until late in the evening. I sent her a text explaining I was heading out for a while to shop for used records. I made a mental note to stop somewhere near the Emporium and buy a used record.

Traffic was typically congested for late afternoon, and driving on autopilot I reflected on the items on the list. It looked like Master was ready to move along with my training and wasn't going to spare any expense...at my expense. I had checked the cash in the lockbox in the bottom drawer of my desk. Over $600. I withdrew $400, not sure what these items would cost. His text had warned me to "bring a lot of cash."

I arrived at the Pleasure Palace Porn Emporium at 5:20. I parked in a metered space on the street a block away. Entering the store reminded me of the early days exploring my bisexuality. My stomach and sphincter tightened and I hoped I wouldn't see anyone I know shopping for porn. I used to visit adult bookstores, perusing the DVDs and the toys, eventually wandering into the private viewing booth area. I was usually put off by the hustlers lurking in the hall outside the booths. I'd find a booth and lock the door behind me. I'd pop in coins or tokens and jerk off hoping I remembered to bring a tissue for clean-up. Once I walked into a booth and a young man, a handsome young, man sat in the chair in front of the screen watching the menu. I said, "Oh, sorry." And he said, "It's alright." I should have stayed. I could have gotten my dick sucked.

The Emporium was a classier store than the other shops I'd visited. Bright spot lights and neon highlighted the various products that catered to the BDSM community, gay, lesbian, straight... all the bases were covered. I wandered past racks of dildos and vibrators, portable pussies and lifelike companions, and found the area that catered to my needs. Actually catered to Master's needs, but I was his errand boy with a pocket full of my cash. A lovely woman the color of a burnt sienna crayon was taking inventory of leather collars. She wore tight black jeans, a low cut navy t-shirt that amplified her breasts, and a black vest. Her hair rose above her head in waves of gold and shiny brown. Eye makeup and nails were coordinated with the blue of her shirt. Her eyes were pale blue but looked like they could switch to neon blue without the flip of a switch. Or the neon sign above was reflecting on her pupils and my mind was racing through another fantasy.

"May I help you," she asked. Yes, yes you can help me.

"I'm looking for Master Clark."

"There's no Master Clark here. Are you lost, little boy?"

"Oh, I'm sorry. I meant Clerk. Master Clerk."

She frowned and said, "Oh, him. Well, he's not here. Doesn't start until 6. Are you his new student?"

"No, I have this list and my...friend..."

"You mean your Master?" She grinned and raised an eyebrow. "Is that it, boy? You have a Master and he sent you in with a list of things he needs to train you? To whip your skinny ass into submission?"

"Yes, ma'am, he sent me in with a list of things to buy. But he's already whipped my ass into submission."

"I'm sure he's only getting started." It seemed like she knew Master. "What's on your list? Let me see it." I opened the text on my phone. She read it, nodding, smiling, and laughed lightly. "This man is going to have fun with you. I don't suppose he's paying for this."

I shook my head.

"I didn't think so. Let's start. You don't have to wait for the famous Master Clerk. He's a sadistic prick and would make sure you returned with the most uncomfortable equipment. I'll make sure you get the correct items. You'll feel pain but you won't suffer long term for it."

I assumed she was another sub and she knew the finest gear to make the experience pleasurable for both Dom and sub. I was wrong.

"You see, the trick to being a loving Dom is to make sure your sub knows who's the boss, but not while leaving too many marks or scars while playing. I always take care of my slave or sub or bitch or whatever you're called, and if I send you home no one knows what you've been up to." Looking me in the eyes with her beauties she said, "Follow me, boy. If I were training you, that's what I'd call you. Boy."

The first item on the list was a leather collar. Although we were in front of the rack of collars she lead me to hand cuffs. She chose a pair of leather cuffs that hooked together but I would be able to unfasten if I needed to release them. Another restraint would pull my arms back and fasten behind me at the biceps. It looked uncomfortable. There was another device that would fasten to my ankles and wrists and put me into position to be fucked or abused or both without any chance to fight back. She suggested a breathable ball gag with leather straps. She handed me a package with 30 feet of cotton bondage rope, black, to color coordinate with the leather wear. We wandered to the aisle of dildos. She pointed at a selection of butt plugs, some for training, some for the expert use.

"Has he fucked you?" A question I never thought I'd here from a helpful store clerk.

"No."

"You ever been fucked, boy?"

"No, Ma'am." She smiled at me and the warmth in her expression melted me. I looked at the training set of butt plugs in her hand, her navy blue nails curled around the edge of the package, and I imagined them scratching me in places my wife would never see, leaving welts or drawing blood. Speaking of blood I had an erection. I hoped she hadn't noticed.

"You'll want this pack. Start with the narrow, work your way up to the thick one." She added it to the collection in my arms. "And lose the boner before you hit the street. You might get jumped out there."

She selected a flogger that wouldn't sting too badly. She picked out a 6 foot leather leash. And then we selected the collar. She wrapped a few around my neck for size and style and we settled on a studded leather adjustable collar with a smooth liner to prevent chaffing my neck. It had a stainless steel d-ring to hook it to the leash. We moved out of the BDSM boutique and back to the ass-play aisle. We chose an enema device with a one-way valve, easy to clean.

Only a few items left on the list, she looked at my crotch. "Boner gone?"

"Yes ma'am."

"Good. Because I have to measure your cock for its cage." We stood in front of a selection of male chastity devices, dick shaped metal cages and colorful plastic models. "Drop your pants." I looked around the store. Nobody there to see. I was an obedient boy and fumbled with my belt and fly while juggling the arm load of gear. She looked annoyed, said, "Oh for god's sake," and undid the belt and fly and pulled down my pants and boxers. She squatted in front of me and nodded. She stood up, brushed past me and went to the counter, returning with the kind of measuring tape tailors use. She stopped behind me and I felt her long nails brush against my butt cheeks. I felt my cock start to stiffen but fought the urge.

"My goodness, he did give you a good spanking. What did he use?"

As she measured circumference around my balls and cock, I said "First a wooden spoon and then his hand." She measured the length of my cock. She looked at the products and selected a stainless steel cage. It included 3 rings and one cage. The cage was designed to cover my limp cock and fasten to the ring with a small brass lock. The lock was included with 2 keys in the package. "You want this one. Measuring your circumference might be unreliable since you just had a boner, but one of the rings should fit. The cage itself is what it is. Your cock will fit unless you get hard, but the point is...don't get hard! And ask him to help you put it on. At least the first time. It's easy. You put the ring on like it's a cock ring, balls first then your cock. You ever use a cock ring?"

"Yes, Ma'am. That's why he spanked me." She shook her head as if to say, you're a bad boy.

"Let's go ring up." I waddled after her, and she turned and said, "Pull up your damn pants, boy!"

I dropped most of my goods on the floor when I bent down to pull up my pants. Hastily zipped up and fastened my belt, picked up my gear, and I met her at the counter. She added condoms and lube to the bounty. My order was complete

She was processing the order and asked me, "You sure you're ready for this, boy?"

"Yes ma'am, ready."

"How many times you been with him? What's his name?"

Now I was stumped. When we chatted online he called himself Gary. But when we met he never introduced himself, but neither did I. We sat and talked like old friends catching up, until he lead me to the house where he took ownership. We met again for an intense and sometimes violent session. As we came to the end of the lesson I heard myself referring to him as Master. He had several names for me, most of them degrading.

"We've been together twice and I don't know his name."

She dropped any pretense of compassion and said, "Bitch, for real? You don't know his name?" I wanted badly to just pay and leave. But this wasn't going to end soon.

"Look, we met online. I thought he was another lonely guy who wanted to hook up. We chatted for months. We finally met and he took me to this house and he said he owned me."

The shop door opened and a tall thin man in a black overcoat entered. He was pale with greasy black hair, a pointy nose and black eyes set close together. She sneered at him and said, "Master Clark! Welcome!"

"It's Master Clerk," he corrected her. "I'll be in back until your shift is over." He walked through the store and disappeared into a door in the back. At that moment I realized the shop didn't have private viewing booths, which accounted for the lack of foot traffic in and out of the store.

"You don't like him, do you?" I asked. She was bagging the order and looked past me toward the back of the store.

"I don't dislike him, I don't like him. We work in the same shithole and spend all of five minutes together during shift change. I just know he's a shitty human being and a worse master to his slaves."

The price of my newfound role was close to $300. I peeled off the cash and handed it to her. She counted out my change and as I took the money I asked, "Do take tips?"

"No, boy, I don't take tips but I have a couple of tips for you. First, find out this mother fucker's name. Then do a little more research on what you're getting into. You owe it to yourself. You have rights. And you have to let him know that. If he's not an asshole he'll listen to you and consider what you're saying." She slipped a thumb and finger into the pocket of her tight black pants and pulled out a business card. "Two things. I'm giving you this card so you can access the website on it, not so you can call me. The other thing is: don't let him find this card. He will be pissed. If you're his property you shouldn't have another Master's or Mistress' business card."

I read the card. A cat o'nine tails was designed around the upper edge and steel handcuffs in the lower left corner. Mistress Mia, her phone number and a link to her blog: Mistress Mia's Tips for Subs in Training.

"What if I called you?"

"I wouldn't answer."

"I'll leave a message."

"Are you this impertinent with your Master? Your Mystery Master?"

"He warned me not to be impertinent."

"You should obey that command."

"Let me buy you drink?"

"Excuse me?" Disbelief at my suggestion, but the eyes were smiling.

"May I buy you a drink, ma'am? Mistress Mia, ma'am, please may I buy you a drink?"

"I don't now, boy, is your Master okay with that?" Her voice dripped in sarcasm.

"Are you going to stick a cock in my mouth or ass?"

She laughed and shook her head. "You are too much. Oh, the fun I could have with you. Without a dick between my legs."

"How about it? Are you off at six?"

"6:30. I have to close out my register and turn things over to Master dork."

It felt like she had lowered her guard, pulled back the mask of Mistress Mia and exposed the real woman beneath. I smiled and asked where we should meet. She directed me to a bar 3 blocks north on Clark. I asked if there were any record stores nearby, and she named 2 within walking distance. I told her I'd see her soon and I left the store. It was a few minutes before 6:00. Time to shop for a record and then off to the bar to meet Mistress Mia.

I found a used record shop on Clark Street, and browsed the jazz section. I found a mint condition copy of Coltrane's Giant Steps, decided to buy it for Master. He enjoyed jazz, but had no idea if this was something he'd enjoy or if he had turntable. Moving on to the post punk section I picked up a used copy of The Stranglers Black and White. It was in decent condition and provided cover for my absence from home this evening.

After paying for the albums I walked to the bar Mistress Mia had suggested. I found a table for two. I looked around. There were few patrons at the bar, all women, and all the tables were empty. The barmaid called across to me, "Can I help you?" I looked at my watch. 6:32. Should I punish her for being tardy?

"I'm meeting someone in a minute. I'll wait until she gets here."

I sat impatiently thinking I had been too trusting of Mistress Mia, and I was about to be stood up. The door opened, I looked over but it wasn't Mistress Mia. It was a tall, slender woman, bald and the color of a burnt sienna crayon. She had Mistress Mia's beautiful eyes. It was her. She had changed into faded jeans and a loose fitting gray t-shirt. She had no hair. The blue nails were still on her fingers. She stepped to the bar, ordered 2 beers and joined me at my table.

"You've changed."

"Had to get outta those work clothes."

I looked at her head and asked, "A wig?"

She nodded. "Yes. I just finished a round of chemo," she said as if it was something everyone did every day. "If it doesn't grow back...well, what do you think?"

"I love it. I mean...you're beautiful with or without hair and I am so sorry how desperate that sounds."

She smiled over her beer, took a healthy drink, and told me, "Boy, you are so easy. You really need me in your corner. Were you this easy with Master what's his name?"

"Yeah. I was embarrassed until I realized how much I liked it. Being abused and waiting for some kind of reward."

"You HAVE to read my blog. Lots of good free advice. Example: you have a safe word?"

"Stop."

"No, you have to pick something that will make him stop. Think of something you'll remember. Your wife's name?" She chuckled. "Does your wife know about this?"

"No. I don't know how she'd react. We haven't made love in years. We love each other, but she doesn't like sex. It hurts her."

"So you 'discovered' you're bisexual, and started meeting guys online and then in person?" I nodded. "And in the beginning was it basic mutual blow jobs or beating off to porn?"

"Yeah. But after I came it was awful. I was full of remorse. I couldn't wait to get out of there."

"How did you end up with your Master? What was it that made you want to meet him in person?"

"Before we met in the chat room...a few months earlier, I had begun flirting with a guy. We met after a few encounters. He'd indicated he was interested in mutual blow jobs. He wasn't. It was the first time I hooked up in a car. We met at a business park after hours. We parked behind a warehouse and I got into his car. He looked me up and down and said he didn't suck on the first date. Not really a date, I told him. He grabbed the back of my neck and squeezed. The pain shot down my spine. I cried out, and he said, quiet you pussy. He continued holding my neck and unzipped his slacks with his other hand. He told me to loosen his belt and unbutton his trousers. I did that. All that time, feeling threatened, helpless and alone...my dick got hard."

"Boy, your dick got hard buying butt plugs."

I took her hand. She didn't pull away. "It wasn't the butt plugs. It was you. Your eyes. It was you." She withdrew her hand and reached under the table, caressed my stiff cock, and looked in my eyes.

"Go on, boy, tell me more about the bad man in the car. Did he make you touch him?" Every word she said, every note of sarcasm in her voice, drove me mad with desire. I hadn't had sexual feelings for a woman in years, but I knew that once I arrived home I'd jerk off thinking of Mistress Mia.

Oblivious of anyone else in the bar, not caring if they saw her hand on my crotch, I continued my story.

"His cock wasn't hard, but it wasn't limp. I stroked it a bit and he said, 'That don't cut it, bitch. Lick it.' He forced my head down to his cock and I licked. It smelled and tasted like it had been packed away in his briefs all day. I gagged a bit and he slapped the back of my head. Hard. He told me he didn't need any editorial comments about his cock, and that's when I smelled the booze on his breath. I think it was whiskey. He grabbed my hair and told me to suck it. So I sucked it. I wasn't turned on by the cock, but his aggression and anger...well I was hard even if he wasn't."

I paused to drink my beer. I hadn't relived the moment since it happened. My mouth was dry and I realized my erection was gone and she wasn't holding my crotch. Her right hand was on my left hand. I stared into those eyes and smiled behind my beer glass. I put down the glass. She said, "Proceed." She tilted her head slightly and said, "And wipe that grin off your face, boy."

"So I started sucking his cock. It tasted like the smell of someone who hasn't showered in 2 days. Sweaty and musky and sour. I hated it, but eventually his taste faded as I got more of my spit on him and he got harder. He started tasting like cock. Anyone's cock. I've sucked more that few, but never like this. Cramped into his car, my head hitting the steering wheel, his hands either squeezing my neck or pulling my hair, forcing more of his dick into my mouth. Look, I like cock, but like I said it wasn't his cock turning me on. It was his force. But I'm a good cocksucker. He was hard and his bitter juice was leaking onto my tongue. He lasted longer than I thought he would. I thought he was ready to cum. He grabbed my hair and pulled me off his cock."

I needed more beer. I could almost taste his bitter precum on my tongue. I downed my beer and called out, "Bar lady, can we have two more?" Every woman at the bar turned and looked at me. The bartender leaned across the bar and said, "Mister, get off your ass and come here and ask nicely." Mistress Mia laughed out loud and said, "Penny, please excuse my guest. He's new. He looks old, but he's still a boy." She turned to me, gestured at the glasses as if to say, pick them up and get your butt to the bar. I brought the glasses to the bar, and asked nicely, "Bar lady, please may we have more beers?" She filled a pitcher and placed it on the bar with 2 fresh glasses. "Looks like you'll need this, boy." I left $20 on the bar and thanked her.