Foreword: Both characters depicted here are 18 years or older. I didn't feel it was important to give them specific ages and my Mistress often refers to me as a girl. As this story was originally written by her directive, I tried to carry over a distinction between Domme and sub through use of language which comparatively glorifies or diminishes characters who might otherwise seem to be equals from the beginning. Call it stylistic preference, foreshadowing, or something else. It is, however, not an attempt to bring minors into my fiction.
*
The night was cold. She had been watching the building for half an hour. The building's occupant pulled away from behind the store a few minutes before and the structure had been still and lifeless in her absence. The lights were off and all was silent. Summoning her courage, she slipped out of the shadows and off of her clandestine spy post on top of a trash dumpster. She felt the sand, pebbles, and concrete of the driveway against her feet as she quietly crept across the gap to the store. Taking cover behind a bush, her fingers slipped into the flower pot where she knew spare keys were kept. Vaulting over the railing, she crouched next to the door and closed her eyes as she turned the key. She muttered a curse as the lock loudly snapped open.
Moving inside, she gently let the door shut behind her. She picked up a basket and began stalking through the aisles, putting items she needed in it as she went: canned food, ramen, chips, soda, and bottled water. With her basket full, she prowled through the shadows to the counter. She set it down and hurriedly began dumping the food into plastic bags. Hopping over the counter, she picked up another bag and started scooping cartons of cigarettes into it. She didn't smoke, but who knows what she could trade them for? She threaded her hands through the plastic handles and started to hop over the counter before she caught a glimpse of a blue backpack illuminated in a ray of moonlight. She stooped down and grabbed it, her fingers fumbling for the zipper. Opening it, she took the plastic bags one by one and poured them in. She put on the backpack and started on her way out before she felt nature's calling.
Sighing, she turned back into the store and walked into the heart of it. Frustrated she could not find facilities on the first floor, she reluctantly turned her attention to the stairs and to the apartment above the store. Her quiet footsteps faded to nothing as wooden steps changed to beige carpet. Poking her head in one room, then another, she finally found a bedroom. Filled with bed, bookshelf, lamp, windows, and some kind of padded chest, she could see a set of slatted doors -- probably a closet -- and another room with the door slightly ajar. She moved curiously towards the bed, her fingers barely passing over the surface of the crimson comforter draped over blanket and sheet. Her gaze drifted to the mirrors set up at the head of the bed, providing reflections of the room around her and different perspectives of the bed itself. Tearing her eyes away from her own reflection, she padded over to the next room and sighed with relief as she spied a toilet. Scampering over to it quickly, she lifted her dress and gratefully sat.
As she stood she lowered her dress, still savoring the soft touch of double-ply toilet paper, she glanced around the rest of the bathroom. The shower made her think of the grime on her skin, the shampoo, her clumpy hair, and the deodorant, oh the deodorant. How she longed not to smell the sweat shining where dirt hadn't settled. She staggered over in a daze, her fingers shaking slightly as she pulled the cap off.
"Spring Breeze. Smells nice, doesn't it?"
She smiles and nods. "Yes, it does. It reminds me of-"
She turned around, the plastic in her hand across clattering to the tile counter. In the doorway stood the store owner, leaning against the door frame with a slight smile across her face. Dressed in a long sleeved white shirt, black pants, and a black trench coat folded over her arm, she looked every inch the figure of authority and was both awesome and bewitching.
"It reminds you of what?" she prompted, her confident smile ever present.
"L-laundry detergent, ma'am. It reminds me of laundry detergent."
She held out her hand, palm down, moonlight shining against white gloves. "Give it to me."
Without turning her eyes away from the strong woman she groped behind her for a moment, looking for where the deodorant had scattered to. Her fingers finally bumping against it, she offered it with open hand to the other woman. Opening it, the woman inhaled intently.
"I'd never thought of it before, but it does now that you mention it."
While she was otherwise distracted, the girl quickly ducked and sprang towards the door. She felt a slight pressure on her hair before she came to a screeching halt, her head screaming in pain as she jerked backward. Her feet fell from underneath her and she swung backwards, knees skidding to rest in front of the woman.
"I didn't tell you that you could leave. In fact I-"
"I'm sorry. I know I shouldn't be in here. I just really needed-"
Her world shook as a white glove flashed out of the darkness and struck her cheek soundly.
"Do you have any manners? You are in my house, holding my property, and you interrupt me? Is this the way you were taught to behave?"
"No ma'am," the girl responded, her gaze torn between the ground and her captor.
"Then why have you acted in such a manner?" came the cool reply.
"I really need to go and since you pointed out I don't belong here then I wanted not to be."
