Author's Note: All characters are above the age of 18. I want to thank my wife for editing and my friend Ann for her encouragement.
Persephone tied her surgical-style mask on at the back of her neck and head, then stepped into Vince's dark gray Dodge Challenger. Anxiety overtook her as she looked around the inside of the car.
"I'll drive safe; I promise," he assured her as he rubbed her shoulders.
"I know," she said. "I'm just a little nervous."
"You don't have to wear your mask until we get to the store," Vince said.
As they talked, a woman walked two dogs past the car. She glanced over at Persephone, her eyes widened, and she quickly turned away. Persephone let out a heavy sigh.
"I prefer to wear it. If I could have one that covered my whole face, it would be better." She buckled her seat belt.
"That would defeat the purpose of this whole exercise," Vince said as he started the engine.
The drive to the grocery store was uneventful, save for a few glances from drivers in passing vehicles. In Persephone's mind, these momentary glances felt like judging glares that analyzed her hideous scar down to the very last detail. By the time they reached the parking lot, she had slid down several inches in her seat.
Vince looked over at her. "We're here," he said with a raised eyebrow.
"I don't want to do this," Persephone said. "I can't handle the staring of other drivers; how am I supposed to handle a whole store full of people?"
"With dignity and strength," he said. "I'll be right beside you."
"Vince, I'm not strong." Her voice cracked. "That's the real reason I'm a sub - the real reason I got caught up in all this conditioning bullshit. I'm weak..."
"Submissives are some of the strongest people I know. They have to be to put up with the bullshit Doms throw at them," Vince said as he rubbed her back. "I tried it, and I couldn't do it."
"You tried being a sub?" she asked.
"Aunt Billie said it was important that I understood what it was like. I've never been so uncomfortable in my life. It was supposed to be one week, but it ended after one day," he admitted.
"She didn't..."
"Peg me?" he interrupted. "No. We didn't get that far. The thought terrified me. And not because I'm opposed to anal stimulation, but because of the humiliation and emasculation that it would involve. You handle being a sub better than I did. You're stronger than I am, Sephie."
"Then that doesn't say much about you, does it?" Persephone spat bitterly.
"Goddamn it, Persephone! I will punish you - actual punishment - if you don't get out of this car and complete a grocery shopping run with me," he demanded. "You will sleep on the motherfucking sofa for three nights. I won't touch you or speak to you more than I absolutely have to until the fourth morning."
Persephone looked back at him, her lip quivering.
"Fine," he said as he pulled on his mask. Vince got out of the car, slammed the door behind him, and marched towards the carts.
Persephone thought, 'One to two hours, verses three nights alone. Utterly alone. I can't do that either.' She opened the car door and shut it behind her. "VINCE! Wait!" she yelled as she ran. He stopped with a grocery cart in hand and watched her catch up to him.
"I'm sorry. You're right. I can do this. Just don't leave me alone," she begged.
"Good," he stated. "You push the cart; I fill it. If there is anything you would like that we pass, you must ask me to buy it. Do you understand?"
"Yes, Sir," she choked.
"If your fear becomes too intense, you may ask to use the women's restroom instead of your safe word. You can hide there until I'm done shopping." He sounded cold - colder than Persephone ever known him to be. It scared her a little bit. "Do not use it unless you have to. Do you understand?"
"Yes, Sir."
His face softened, and Vince cupped her cheek. "I love you. If I didn't think this was important, I wouldn't push so hard."
Persephone took a deep breath. "I know."
"Come on," he urged her. Persephone followed Vince but already saw some of the people around her glancing her way. "Just ignore them. They're just uncomfortable."
"Because I'm ugly," she whispered.
"No. Because they're curious but don't want to be caught staring," Vince countered as they entered the store.
"How do you know that?" she asked.
"Have you ever seen someone disfigured before? Weren't you curious? As children, we're told that it's rude to stare or ask personal questions of strangers. We struggle not to stare, and yet curiosity gets the better of us, so we glance. We catch ourselves glancing, so we quickly look away. It's an awkward dance between what society expects and our instincts," he explained.
"And what makes you such an expert?" Persephone challenged.
"Before we started, uh, dating, did you ever catch me looking at your chest?" he asked as he stopped at an apple display.
"No. You've always been the perfect gentleman," she said.
"Let's just say I was disappointed whenever you wore a bra." He winked at her over his shoulder.
"You little perv!!" she admonished him. He laughed at her, and they drew the attention of a few shoppers in the produce department. She suddenly felt self-conscious, but Vince was looking over apples as if nothing had happened.
Persephone scanned the produce department. The shoppers quickly resumed looking at whatever vegetable or fruit they were considering. However, one boy - age 8 or 9, by her estimation - stared directly at her. It wasn't a stare of fear or disgust but curiosity. Pure, non-judgemental, curiosity. It was still uncomfortable, but it seemed to confirm what Vince had told her.
The boy's mother caught him staring at Persephone, gave an apologetic wave from across the floor, and said something to her son that Persephone was too far away to hear. The son and mother turned away, but not without a quick backward glance from the child. Persephone smiled despite herself.
"Maybe you're right," she muttered as they passed the tomatoes.
"Of course I'm right; your tits are fantastic. They should never be constrained," Vince responded.
"Not about that!" Persephone hit him in the arm. "About coming here."
"Oh, good. Feeling braver, are we?" His eyes twinkled with a devilish gleam as he showed her his list. "Go order these from the deli for me, and make sure to ask for the pepperoni and mozzarella first."
Her mouth dropped open. "Are you serious?!"
"Yes," he stated. "You forget that I'm a bit of a sadist."
Persephone sighed. "This is because I compared my scar to pizza, isn't it?"
"I will neither confirm nor deny that. Give me the cart and get moving."
She groaned, took his list, and walked to the deli counter. Three other customers were waiting in line, including the young boy and his mother. A squirrely man in his early twenties and a very determined woman in her fifties worked behind the counter, quickly slicing cheeses and deli meats with little pause. Persephone took a number.
The mother edged closer to Persephone. "Hi. I'm Mary," the woman said with a bright smile. Her eyes flashed to Persephone's left. "I'm sorry about my son; he gets curious."
"I understand," Persephone replied with a smile behind her mask.
"What, uh, caused it, if you don't mind me asking?" Mary asked.
"Car accident." Persephone became uneasy and shifted away from the woman.
"It isn't, you know, because of him?" Mary asked as she nodded towards where Vince was shopping.
A flicker of rage crossed Persephone's face as deep-seated conditioning to protect her master surfaced. "No," she whispered to Mary, "and keep your motherfucking insinuations to yourself, bitch."
