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Marque - Chapter 6 - Cinderella (Report It)
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Marque
Chapter 5 Cinderella
by VampirexPrincess
The list was not a hard one. Nor was it a long and tedious detailing of what he wished done in most areas. For the most part I had the same list everyday. I tried to stay to the schedule of times that were laid out for me so that I did not lose my place. Sometimes during lunch he would make a surprise trip home or call to see what I was doing or what I had done. Sometimes I neither saw or heard from him at all until he was ready to make the trip home. I never knew what kind of day it might be or when he might show up and throw a wrench into my procrastination or selfish desires to get more sleep.
I moved from the door and let it click closed behind him. All of my equipment was gathered and placed into a small bucket that was filled with water and a bit of bleach. All of my items were cleansed thoroughly and hung up to dry for the time when they were needed. I stepped back into the bathroom and left the list on the refrigerator where it could be checked off as items were finished.
The next few items were just self hygiene that most people do on a daily basis when they prepare for their day. I returned to the bathroom and made myself a nice hot bath, sliding in a large bath bomb that would scent and hydrate my skin while I worked. Razors and scrubbing pads took turns in all the right areas. A few pages of my book “Angels and Demons”, was read while I soaked. I left the bath with a sense of relaxation and rejuvenated spirit.
My hair was long, curly to the point of always finding stiff tangles between the comb and my hand. It was oiled and twisted up on my head while I oiled the rest of my body down and turned on the straighter. Later I might create board straight bangs or have enough time to do my whole head when the house was clean. It was left on the counter while I dug into the lower portion of the closet. His clothes hung on the top….mine were spaced out on the bottom rung so that when I was looking for clothes in his room I had kneel beneath him.
There were a few outfits that I was permitted to wear inside the house while I worked. Today I chose the Cinderella look. It was a boring old nightgown..white with blue flowers on it. He cut it in a few places so that when I worked he could look at my body when it moved. Sleeveless and torn it wasn’t much more than a mere rag to be honest. Beneath the arm holes it was cut lower. At the V space of my breasts it was sliced open. There used to be a pretty blue ribbon that tied up in the front into a small bow…now the pieces of the ribbon were stretched out into a makeshift hole to hold together the two sides of the work gown. Angry knots just barely kept each round of titmeat roped back in the cloth. They wrestled for a looser place in the bustle. Sometimes one of the nipples would scrape up over the blue ribbon and make a crushed pink tapestry for my gown to hang on.
It was comfortable in it’s own way. But I thought it was terribly ugly. Perfect for cleaning house in. His requirement with anything that I chose was to adorn my feet in high heels to match. Blue glass slippers were strapped on. They raped the sky 9 more inches than my normal height. They weren’t really blue glass…but a cheap prostitute plastic that had little battery operated lights that flashed each time that I clicked over the floor. My ballroom attire…to contrast with the ugliness of the work cloth. Each of these items represented two sides of me. And this morning I felt like they were both calling me to action.
House chores are boring…so I won’t bore you to tears with how it felt standing in front of the bed with my ass hanging out and bending over in the short cloth to tuck in each blanket. It would take me an immeasurable amount of time to describe my music playing on the stereo now while I shoofly hair loose in wild thrashes while the laundry soap fell into the well of the washing machine. Nor will I explain to you how much my legs start to burn after 30 minutes of standing immobile in these heels while I wash dishes from dinner and breakfast. All of that is just too boring.
But what you might find even more astounding is what comes next when the house is clean. The work cloth comes off and I lean over on the kitchen floor while I eat. Elbows and knees planted into the ground. Each meal that I take by myself is taken in the fashion of a dog wearing blue glass slippers. I can’t sit back on my heels lest the sharp end make me remember what it is that I am wearing. I can’t use my hands for anything but to move my body around while my nipples drag in a reminder against the ground….every so often drooping into my bowl for a cold or hot surprise. I eat like this when he is not here and when I am permitted to eat. It is both humiliating and exciting to be on the floor…licking and tearing at my food with my teeth. I enjoy this part of my day.
Soon after my food bowl is washed and put away I am given assignments to do. Sometimes I am reading stories of other slaves , other worlds, and other expectations. Some of them are like the one that I am writing for you now. Other times I am given a writing assignment where questions are asked or scenarios are set out for me to discuss with my Owner on paper or typed text. You just happen to be reading one of those assignments now. “Describe for me a fantasy of yours.”
A lot of what you are reading is real. Names, places, and items might be changed to protect the guilty. And a lot of what you are reading is my past smashed into the present….and sometimes you might even be reading a pure work of fiction that I dreamed out of my perverse head. I will leave it to you to either accept my writing for what it is. Or to dissect what you really think happens behind closed doors. What I can tell you is a fact is that there really is a man that I call Marque. He exists in all planes, present, past, and fiction. I change a little of what he is to suite the story and my own longings. But he is real. And someday my Prince will come.
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