IX.
He makes me say things I don't want to say, He
makes me do things I don't wanna do,
and even even though I try to break away I can't stop doing things
for him, can't stop
saying I adore him, He's got the power, the power of love over me, Do
WAH!
Master said I should go shopping, get some new
clothes. I know sHe is correct, because
soon I have to look my best, but really, it's amazing what a good
fuck will do for your
motivation to go out and move big molehills.
So I took master with me to advise me on my
purchases because sHe has good taste. I have
plenty of money at the moment due to my gardening successes, but
master says that as far
as my writings are concerned money is unrelated. I am supposed to
find them a wider audience,
so sHe is going to introduce me to some publishers. SHe says that the
ones sHe knows are men
and that this will work in my favor, especially if I dress up. So I
will.
We went downtown to a few department stores and
had a great time. Master picked out what
sHe thought would look good on me, and then I put them on and walked
out in front of some
mirrors. I love mirrors, except that I always come out back to front,
and I can't see my back
properly. But department stores are pretty keen because they have all
round mirrors and I can
see how I look from all sides at once. After a while people start
hanging around looking at the
performance though, and it's sort of annoying because although I am
fairly self confident, I am
also a private person. Then, all those eyes and smells get to making
me feel a bit nauseous sometimes.
I was going to be a dancer once, but I was too sensitive to the
audience, so I had to give up, it was
like all their desires and urges and anxieties were just rushing in
on me through a funnel. I almost
suffocated once.
I like black, it throws the paleness of my skin
into contrast, so a new dress in that, cut away at the
back and at the shoulders, but with sheer black muslin short sleeves,
and then layers of the same
from the hips, clinging and parting as I walk, it follows the curves
of hip and breast almost like a
straitjacket but surprisingly comfortable. Electric blue is
especially nice as it picks out the color of
my eyes. My mother used to tease me sometimes saying, Lynx, you
Siamese? So, another long
slinky number in black and deep deep rich blue, a tight low bodice
and a V line from the waist
pointing to and paralleling the shape between my legs, then a
straight fall to the calf.
Master is smiling smugly, and sHe says that it is
unfair to unleash me on the people sHe has called
friends. Indeed, there is some guy leering behind me right as sHe
speaks.
I spin around and hiss at him, Hey, check this
out, buddy! I say, and push my tail up through my
legs from behind so it looks like a tent pole under my dress. His
eyes bug out and he clears his
throat and walks away, but master says I should be careful.
We go home, and I dress in the new fabrics fitted
out in my form, smooth down my hair shiny red
black, eyeliner, glitter on my cheeks breasts and arms, deciding to
test the effect on my friends at
the club. I'm about to leave when sHe tells me I look good enough to
eat, so I peel off my new
skins under close direction, get cleaned anew with a damp warm
tongue.
Mmmm, sHe licks her lips and I start to preen
again with new energy.
Take a few last checks in the mirror,
unecessary, sHe says.
You better run, you better take cover.