“Dr Lee? It’s Michael. Michael Janda. I know, I sent that email a while back but I can’t get the idea of seeing you out of my head.”
“You want to see me for what then? Mmmm?”
“I want to see you to make sure there’s something of you to the person in my head that I imagined and fell in love with, Dr Lee. And with you in the process. I’m just asking for ten minutes of your time. I promise, Dr Lee, I won’t become a pest.”
“Mmmm.”
“Mistress Lea, it would mean the world to me to just be near you again.”
“Yes, Michael.” She said softly. “I know.”
“How could you, Mistress?”
“I want something from you first. Call it a test. Make me that girl you dress up as and drop by Friday at 4pm. I trust you know the address from the flowers.”
“Yes, Dr Lee.”
“Mmm.”
“Dr Lee, if I’m overly forthcoming it’s because I’ve become very accepting about who you are to me, an who I am to you. If that makes sense.”
“Mmmm?”
“I belong to you in all ways, Mistress Lea.”
“Goodnight, Michael.”
I put on my best outfit. A plum leather top, a white knit shrug, and a white skirt, all from Saks. Arriving at Dr Lee’s house, my heart sank when no one answered the door. The word “Facebook” was written on a card in an envelope attached to the door. The card was blank except for the hand-written message, “You are already a wonderful distraction.”
I opened Facebook on my phone and saw a friend request from Lea. By the time I got home, she had shared a video with me. She was wearing a pink pastel skirt suit and appeared to be at home, sitting on a sofa. “Michael,” she began, “I want to know how you feel about me. The truth. All of it, even what comes from the schizophrenia. Come back over.” She giggled. “I love making you jump through hoops. And I couldn’t ask this to your face. I was too afraid of seeing pain.”
“You are an absolute doll. What do you go by?” she asked me at her door.
“Nicole.”
“Come in, Nicole, I made us dinner.”
“So,” I said over a bowl of dumplings, “you want to know I love you more than a sane man can love a woman? You want to know I’ve loved you for twenty years and likely will until I die. And you want to know that I’m your possession, that you own all of me? Life will never make sense without you and you’re the only thing in this world worth wanting. With perhaps thirty exceptions, I’ve only fantasized about you for ten years now. I want to be taken. I want to feel you’re my mommy. No role play, necessarily. I want you to determine what I think, feel, and believe. I want you to determine what I do and how I act. I will submit to you without pride or humiliation. You own me. I want to please you for its own reward, and I want to do so helplessly because you own my heart, mind, body, and soul. All I have is the experience of being me, a ghost observing myself and reality from within my own body, washed out and without a thought in my head, merely conscious. I want you to teach me to be a good girl, and the right kind of slut. I want you to claim my ass and understand that it’s then yours, that you can have it any day, any which way you want. When you’re Mommy, we can talk about vaginal intercourse. My dick only belongs in my Mommy’s pussy. I doubt I could have intercourse if I tried. I’d probably be overwhelmed with anxiety and spaz out.”
“Why are you saying these things?”
“Mommy taught me that my dick only belongs in her pussy, which means I can never make love to another woman ever again.
