Chapter 19

I got to KMart as quick as I could, after having put on the appropriate outfit. The drive to the store served to distract me from thinking the worst and kept me from hyper-ventilating. I still couldn't believe I had lost complete track of time. That's the last time I get caught up in my chores like that.

In the store, I headed back to the security office. As I'd feared, my Master had already departed for the day. The guys on the evening shift said he'd left, leaving behind a strange message for me. The man, a short, balding fellow, handed me a sealed envelope. I took it, my out-stretched hand shaking visibly. Grabbing the proferred envelope, I quickly pulled my hand back and retreated from the office, not wanting to explain my nervousness.

I walked through a couple of departments, dodging customers left and righ before coming to a secluded area in the cleaning products aisle. I looked at the envelope. No name. Nothing. Just a blank white envelope. Taking a deep breath, I tore it open and pulled out two sheets of paper. The first one sent goose bumps down my spine. It read: Go to Customer Service and pick up the package. No need to worry about paying for the items inside. No need to even tell anyone the purpose of the box. Don't look inside -- not unless you'd like a sneak preview of your doom -- and face the added trouble such a move would put you in. I felt sickened at the thought of having to deliver my own punishment. There wasn't anything I could really do about it -- just do as he ordered and know that it'll all be over with soon.

The second sheet in the envelope contained his address and directions to his farm. Good. I tucked the two sheets back into the envelope and headed to the Customer Service desk as the front of the store. The two women working the counter gave me an odd look as one -- an elderly woman -- handed me the package.

I took the package, a box that was about twelve inches by twelve inches and set it, along with the envelope, on the seat next to me. I sat there for a bit, staring at that box. It was so light in weight that it was hard to believe that any instrument of doom would be inside. I picked up the box again, and looked at it closer. There was nothing special about it. My name was written across one sealed flap. Other than that, there was nothing but the manufacturers code and a small triangle made of three arrows -- the recycle symbol. The box was taped closed with string laden packaging tape.

Running my finger along the bumply tape, I wondered if I could pull a small corner of it up. It'd only take a trip to the post office or a hardware store to buy new tape and reseal the box... My thoughts drifted. No, that wouldn't work. The tape would surely tear at the thin outer layer of the box, leaving behind blatant evidence of my curiosity. I set the box down again and retrieved the enveolope containing the letter and directions.

A quick study of the lefts and rights and street names and I was on my way. I refused to look at the package again, not wanting to torture myself with it's contents. Coming to the first intersection after leaving the parking lot, I stopped dutifully at the glaring red light. What was my punishment to be? I wondered. Plug up the ass? Enema bag full of some horrid concoction? Drink his piss again?

No, it couldn't be drinking his piss. He'd used that punishment on me once before and he'd know it wouldn't be as effective a second time around. Besides -- and here, I couldn't help but glance at that damn box -- he purchased the items to be used for my punishment.

The light turned green and, with everyone else around me, I allowed myself to be herded off into a somewhat, unknown fate. The car purred. Damn no excuse from this piece of metal. I'd hoped that I'd have engine problems. A flat tire. Anything to keep me from reaching my destination. Anything to keep me from reaching my Master.

Sighing heavily as I drove along, I realized I wanted to see my Master. Punishment or no, I really did want to see him. And I wanted to be a good slave for him. I turned on the stereo in the hopes of a distraction. I turned the stereo off, not liking the noise emanating from it.

I opened the window to let the air blow my hair around. I closed it, feeling anger as the tips of my hair whipped distractingly at my left cheek and across my face.

I started to sweat as the sun beat down on the car, as the window magnified the heat. Reaching out, I turned on the air conditioner. Immediately, I felt goose bumps paying a visit to the bumps already coating my arms and legs -- the bumps that arose when I read the note. The bumps that refused to fade. Again, I reached out and this time I turned off the air conditioner.

Getting comfortable as I watched for landmarks and street signs was turning out to be impossible.

What was in that package? I asked myself.

A whip? No. KMart doesn't sell whips. Nor floggers. Nor butt plugs. KMart was a family store so that meant the items were nothing more than every day household items. What could hurt me? What could it be that we hadn't already picked up from the store.

Thinking back to that first day at KMart, I wracked my brain to recall each item that either I or my Master had picked out. The list was reasonably long. He still possessed the items, either keeping them in his car or in at his house. Those items weren't for punishment. They were merely for enjoyment.

Shivering, I let out a small sarcastic laugh -- his enjoyment. Sighing lightly, I felt my pussy stirring with interest as I thought back to that first day. Talk about emotional turmoil! That day had me exhausted -- mentally and physically.

Sneaking a peek at the box, I wondered again if I could sneak a quick look see. I looked around me. The road was empty, except for me. Pulling the car over, I took the box in my hands and rested it in my lap. So damn light. My fingers caressed the smooth surface lightly.

What if I just didn't go to his house? What if I turned the car around right now and went home?

What if my husband caught wind of my lack of respect for my Master. I groaned. Closing my eyes, I let myself get a mental image of my Master. I pictured him looking down at me as I kneeled before him in a properly submissive pose. His express was cold, showing a hint of impatience. But, only a hint. He was still in control. Always in control. I tried, mentally, to conjure up his words, his edict. Nothing came to me.

I knew it was going to be bad -- this punishment. There was no doubt about that. Oh, hell! How could I let myself be so late to meet him? How dare I to get so involved in my work that I allow myself to lose track of time? To, inexcplicably, forget all about him. What gave me the right to think that I could walk into KMart, into his office, and expect him to be waiting there for me?