With my nose pressing Karl’s boxers against the wall and my hands planted on my head, I had no concept of time, although I knew it was late when my masters finally started to stir because daylight had been streaming through the bedroom window for quite a while.
I listened to the mattress shifting, Karl’s hacking and Rebecca’s groaning.
Karl noticed me first. “What the fuck? What are you doing, Chrissie?”
“Um, sir, you … you told me not to move last night, remember? But you fell asleep before I—”
“Ugh, keep your voice down, damn it; go get me some tomato juice,” Rebecca hissed, her tone betraying her irritation.
“Um, right away, Mrs. Martin,” I whispered, pulling my nose back and removing Karl’s underwear from the wall. After folding them and setting them on the dresser, I scooted to the kitchen, my tail between my legs. I’d assumed my decision to stay put all night would be greeted with satisfaction from my masters when they realized the depths of my dedication and obedience. While standing there for hours, I’d also fantasized that perhaps they’d even tease me a little about being such a compliant wimp, and that their taunts would stoke my submissive fires, making for an erotic morning.
Instead, I got the worst possible reaction; the hung-over Rebecca didn’t think my stunt was cute at all. She wasn’t honored, flattered or impressed — just annoyed. Making matters worse, there was only a tiny drop of tomato juice in the refrigerator, a sad reality which I reported to my scowling princess.
“Well, get me a glass of water and then change out of that stupid dress and run down to the 7Eleven and get more,” she snapped. “And hurry up, Chrissie.”
“Yes, Mrs. Martin. Right away, Mrs. Martin.”
Karl yawned. “While you’re out, why don’t you stop at Top Dogg and pick us up a couple hot dogs and some chili fries?”
“Oh, good idea, something greasy for a hangover,” Rebecca said.
After serving Rebecca’s water and taking the initiative to also prepare a glass for Karl, I changed into street clothes and ducked into the bedroom one last time before leaving.
“Um, is it okay if I get myself something to eat, too?” I asked the reclining couple.
Rebecca waved her hand. “I don’t care, Chrissie, hurry up.”
It was still pouring when I headed outside. I muttered a curse, unhappy at the prospect of toiling all day in the overgrown lot next door without having slept, while also getting soaked to the bone. I dashed from the porch to my Mercedes, phoned in the Top Dogg order and hit the road, rubbing my eyes as I drove in an attempt to stay awake.
After picking up two large cans of tomato juice from the 7Eleven, I zoomed through the rain to the restaurant, where breakfast was ready for pickup. Within a half-hour of leaving the Martins’ house, I was back with their order, which pleased my mistress.
“Wow, that was quick, good job, Chrissie,” Rebecca said from the bedroom. Her compliment filled me with joy as I rushed to the kitchen, transferred their food onto plates and served them breakfast in bed. I sat on the floor and leaned against their mattress, enjoying my scrambled eggs and sausage out of the Styrofoam container, once again feeling like part of the family after what had been a tense start to the day.
Rebecca glanced out the window, chewing. “I bet Cyndy and Tom end up canceling that fish fry.”
“I dunno; he’s been pretty excited about it for a long time, so he’ll wait until the last minute if he does cancel.” Karl looked down at me. “Chrissie, if it don’t stop raining by the time we’re ready to leave, I guess you can just go on home and finish that damn lot another day.”
My angel popped a chili fry into her mouth. “No, he’s still got a whole bunch of cleaning to do; he never did finish because we left for the car dealers. Chrissie, it was so stupid for you to stand there all night like that.”
“S-sorry.”
“Yeah, well, next time something like that happens and we fall asleep, you need to leave and get your chores done. Understand?”
“Y-yes, Mrs. Martin … I’m sorry, Mrs. Martin; it’s just that Mr. Martin told me not to move until he said so, and—”
Rebecca showed me the hand. “Ugh, just shut up, Chrissie, you’re giving me a pounding headache. Next time, just do your damn chores, okay?”
I lowered my eyes. “Yes, Mrs. Martin.”
Sitting at the foot of their bed, I finished my breakfast in silence while above me on the mattress, my masters ate and watched TV. When they were done I collected their plates, washed them, and then got started on the chores I hadn’t had the chance to do the previous evening. While I worked, my stoner masters stayed in bed chain-smoking doobies.
Because they were dealing with hangovers, I used the whiskbroom and dustpan instead of the noisy vacuum cleaner, although neither Rebecca nor Karl seemed to notice the sacrifice. It took about three hours to finish my chores, and by the time everything was done, the skies had cleared, Karl had confirmed with his buddy that the fish fry was indeed still a go, and he and Rebecca were in better spirits as they prepared to leave, their headaches having faded.
“The house looks good; you probably don’t need to come over tomorrow,” Rebecca said as I followed her and Karl outside. “So, I guess we’ll see you Wednesday.”
“Um … yes, Mrs. Martin. Thank you, Mrs. Martin.” Her edict had burned a hole into my soul, since it meant I likely wouldn’t be seeing her for days, although she didn’t appear to notice my anguish.
Karl waved his hand toward the jungle of a lot next door. “That should keep you busy for a while,” he said. “Make sure you lock up the shed when you’re done with the lawnmower and shit.”
“Yes, sir,” I said under my breath so neighbors wouldn’t hear.
With that, Karl hopped into his new F350 while his wife, my angel, slipped into the passenger seat. A wave of submissive sadness washed over me as I watched the truck peel out of the driveway. With a sigh, I trudged to the Martins’ shed to retrieve the needed tools, and then got started on what I knew was going to be one hell of a job.
As the hours under the humid sun crept by, with every bone aching and my body covered in sweat, I kept envisioning Rebecca and her husband relaxing at the fish fry, partying with their friends. I’d fume at the indignity of it all, and the resentment would threaten to overcome me — until my little dick would stir, and I’d glance around to ensure nobody was looking before sneaking myself a quick pick-me-up diddle. Then, the cycle would restart.
I finished just before sundown. The formerly overgrown lot looked like a pool table, and as I returned the lawnmower and tools to the shed and locked up, I felt absolutely exhausted, but also pretty damned proud of myself.
Having gotten zero sleep the night before, I conked out seconds after arriving home. I wasn’t sure how long I’d been in dreamland when my phone rang. I was still groggy, but snapped out of it when I saw Rebecca’s name.
“Hello?” I glanced at the clock, which showed 1:24 am.
“Um, Chris … c-can you help me?” She sounded like she was crying.
“OMG, of course, I can, Mrs. Martin — what’s wrong?”
“It’s Karl. He’s … he went crazy again. He … we got in an argument at the fish fry, and he hit me after we got home … and … I just need to get away from him. Can … can you get me a hotel room somewhere where he can’t find me?”
“Yeah, I’m getting dressed now, and I’ll find a place and call you right back.”
“Okay. T-thanks, sweetie.”
“Of course. Just one sec, okay? Call you right back.”
As I scrambled around throwing on clothes, I was ashamed to admit to myself that while I was certainly worried about my angel and infuriated that Karl had assaulted her, I was also feeling twinges of happiness. This news brought hope that Rebecca might wise up and divorce that selfish sonofabitch.
And I also couldn’t help feeling overjoyed that, when my angel had found herself in trouble, instead of calling her many cool friends, she’d reached out to me, the little five-foot-six sissy.
She’d even referred to me by my male name, Chris!
My princess needed my help. No matter what, I knew I had to rescue her, and whisk her away from the shitty situation that was dragging her down.
I called the Hilton and rented the presidential suite. I figured if I was going to be providing Rebecca Anne Strickland with a better life, I might as well get started on the right foot.
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To my anguish and delight, Rebecca cried all night.
I certainly wasn’t happy about my angel being in pain, and her tears churned me up inside — but at the same time, I was secretly thrilled that she was seriously thinking about leaving her dickhead of a husband.
“OMG, tell me what happened,” I said as I escorted her into the palatial suite I’d rented.
She sat on the couch and sighed. “Well, we were at the fish fry and he started acting like an asshole, wanting to fight everyone. Then, on the way home, he gets on the freeway and floors it.”
I rolled my eyes. “Oh, jeez.”
“Yeah. He had it way over a hundred mph … I kept telling him to slow down, but he never listens — and, sure enough, the cops pull him over and he gets another damn ticket.”
“You gotta be kidding me.”
“Nope — and, then, the stupid-ass almost got himself thrown in jail yelling at the cop; he’s lucky he didn’t. So, then, when we got home everything just blew up. We had a huge argument and he …” Tears filled her eyes. “H-he slapped me.”
I took a seat next to her on the couch and rubbed her arm. “OMG, I’m so sorry, Mrs. Mar— … um, I’m so sorry.”
“Thanks, Chrissie.” Through her tears, she managed a smile, and I forced my lips upward in return, hiding my embarrassment and disappointment at being called by my “sissy name,” since I’d thought she’d called me to provide friendship, not submission, and in the moment, I was more interested in saving her than serving her.
