Sunday, September 27, 2009
This morning Panties woke in the closet as Miss D slept on the red sheets (her preferred color as well as that of her best friend who lectured Panties on the subject) of the full size bed. She is starting not to refer to the apartment as Panties’ or even hers, but the implication is clear. Soon there will be pink walls and Barbies everywhere. There are to be portraits of Panties and herself hung as well as a pink whip hung under one of her portraits to catch the eye of any guests Panties might invite. “We can sew beads and sequins onto the whip,” she said, adding with amusement, “You’ll have to make the whip that’s used on you.” She does some things differently. Before, Panties was punished for willful m*nly acts as well as for “just being a transvestite.” Panties still hears the echo of Miss D’s words: “If, you’re a good girl, you won’t be spanked.” She prefers the pink flogger. She knotted the tops of the leather strips and tested it on her palm. She didn’t say, “get in your favorite position,” or “lift your skirt,” and she didn’t offer Panties the comfort of hugging one of her Barbies Still, to be on her knees, bent over, waiting, was significant enough. Miss D asked Panties to speak why she was being punished. “For my willful squirt.” The leather mane came down, barely brushing Panties’ bottom. “For taking a trip without permission.” Another light stroke. Panties’ involuntary cry was more surprise than pain. Like Miss B, Miss D, for some reason, very much liked the sound. She had Panties repeat the noise, louder and louder. “For doubting you.” Panties feared a long, hard lashing, but again it was a gentle slap of leather. And that was it. Panties stood up, and after serving Miss D a meal of roasted yams and leeks with melted organic cheese on top, washed the dishes and began dressing for their night out. Two girls going to a show.