Juliet

Author's note: This is a short short story, with no sex. It is a character in one of my novels. If anyone is interested in a writing challenge, try writing this girl's diary. Feel free to contact me.

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Have you ever dreamed of being snatched out of your life into something much grander? That happened to me. One day I was a waitress at a greasy spoon diner. The next day I was working for Richards Enterprises and was introduced to my mistress. The next I was given to her. It was like a dream come true.

I am very quiet. Even I think so. Finding the right word can be so difficult. By the time I was old enough for school, everyone tended to avoid me, even the bullies. I guess it is not fun if you cannot get a reaction. I made decent grades in school, because all the tests are in writing, but most of my teachers treated me as if I were slow. After high school, college was not an option. There was no money and no one thought I was good enough anyway.

It goes without saying that I never had a serious boy friend. What might be harder to believe is that no one tried to make me a one night conquest. Not even Ted hit on me, and he claimed every other girl in the class. The weird part is that I would have let them. By my junior year, all it would have taken was, "Let's go fuck." I would have tried anything the guy, or the girl, wanted to do. Instead I went home and read fantasy stories about women who get enslaved by barbarians, but manage to cope through sex. You have heard of Gor, right?

After high school I had to find work. That was easy sometimes. I look good on paper. Some people only want to read the application and see you nod to what they say. I had trouble keeping a job. Sooner or later the owner or manager would get tired of me not saying anything and find a reason to fire me. It was pretty harsh. I drifted down to a job waiting tables at a coffee shop on 7th Street. It was working pretty well, because no one wanted to hear about daily specials.

Then it happened. Two guys came in for lunch. They were talking about erotic photography, the kind with handcuffs. I was getting wet just hearing about it. Then they noticed me listening. A few minutes later one of gave me a card saying Richards' Enterprises and told me to call in the morning. When I did, they told me I had been hired at the diner, so I was already late for work.

That day I met Mistress Cynthia. She warned me not to call her that, but I still think it. Mistress knew exactly what I was from the first time we met, even if I did not, yet. She told me about Jason, and how she had tied him up for the picture. I was wet before I even met him. Then I saw the video we took the picture from.

You have probably seen the picture by now. It is a simple upper torso portrait of a bound man, staring at something outside of the frame. It is the expression that gets everyone. There is a mixture of pain, fear, longing and lust, all at once, and all folded into a beatific expression of acceptance. The object he was staring at was a riding crop in Mistress Cynthia's hand. Jason and I walked through the entire scene, frame by frame, from all four angles, looking for the perfect shot. Mistress pulled it out in less than a minute. Even Peter, who does this for a living, does not know how she does it. Mistress is very gifted.

For work, Mistress put me with Jason. We worked at the simple, repetitive but tricky part, while she, Peter and Justin worked on the fancy part. It was nice. Jason and I worked well together. After we were done for the day, Mistress sent me to her friend Francine. It was interesting. Francine had me strip naked, then kneel with my hands behind my head, then went away for a very long time. Mistress told me later that Francine had apologized for being gone so long.

When she finally came back, Francine showed me how to maintain the posture more easily, which I liked a great deal. Then she showed me Second Posture, which is exactly what I needed. I sit on my heels, knees apart, with my hands behind my back holding the elbows. It is very relaxing, yet it gives Mistress easy access to my pussy and my tits. Mistress has gone so far as to bind me in the posture when I am observing her work, though she usually includes a butt plug and dildo or ben wa balls.

That was how I went, in less than a week, from a lonely girl who had never been kissed, to the happy submissive of my Mistress. In my entire life, the only one that had every made me cum was me. Mistress has found all sorts of ways to make me cum, usually involving whipping my pussy in some way. It is so much more satisfying than spanking it myself, which I had done for so long. Perhaps I should explain spanking pussy, since it does not appear to be well understood.

When I was in grade school, I was running in the school parking lot and never saw a short metal pole. Bang. The next thing I remember was the nurse's office, with my skirt up and my panties down. Mrs. Voss was prodding the area below my belly. The bruising was very serious, so it must have already been coloring and swelling. I can remember that some pokes hurt and others hurt, differently.

The next day, my mother took me to see Dr. Carlson. He had my mother hold me while he examined the same area. Again, some of his prodding made me squirm because it hurt, and some of his prodding just made me squirm. There was a difference. This time my hands were held.

This was to become a pattern for the next several days. Every night my mother would hold my arms, while she tested the tenderness of my pelvic area. There was a bump that never completely went away, but the bruising did. This is one place where being non-verbal probably helped. Mother would have stopped if I had said what I was thinking. She might have taken me to a shrink.

In any event, the bruising improved and the probing stopped. Naturally, I started doing it myself. Just probing with fingers was nice. It did not take long to figure out where the sensitive spots were. I can remember wondering why Dr. Carlson and Mother never touched me quite that far down. After a while, I discovered I could get a bit of that mix of pain and pleasure if I hit it with my fingers. Soon I was literally beating on my special place like a drum. I used the sticks from a toy drum they had at school. They are sticks about six inches long, with round rubber balls at the end. I still have them.

A while later, I had a discovery. It worked better if there was something in the slot. Fingers soon gave way to other things. I broke my own hymen before I turned eight. It was with the handle of mother's hair brush. The blood scared me, but I was in the bathroom, so I was able to clean it all up. The incident did teach me caution about using anything with even a slight edge.

The whole thing with having the arms held took a lot longer. Tying your own arms is counterproductive for autoerotica. I did not rediscover that, really, til I met Mistress. She has tied me up and whipped my pussy so much better than I ever did by myself. Now one of my fantasies is being tied to a bed, spread wide, with Mistress drumming my special bump to Michael Jackson's Beat It.

Mistress knows me so well. It is funny, I suppose, that I lived 19 years, and never realized I was a submissive with masochistic tenancies. Sean Richards recognized it as soon as he saw me. Mistress not only recognized it, she has been training it. My favorite was the office party. She had me kneel and blow Jason, with everyone watching. Then I was turned over and Peter stuck his big cock in my ass and pounded me out. I must have cum five times. Afterward Mistress told me never to forget that it had been a scene. Scenes are pretend. Life is something else.

Tonight I am supposed to go with Jason and not pretend.