Chapter 4

I took a shower after arriving home from my astounding day. It was supposed to be a quick one, so I could get to work on time, but when I started to lather up my face, I made circular swabs on my forehead and cheeks and stopped. The steam of the shower helped rejuvenate the dried remnants of Mistress' emanations around my mouth. I didn't want to wash there. I wanted her with me. Her heady aroma wafted up into my nostrils, and I went weak, remembering what I had done just half an hour before. I had slumped back against the shower wall, and masturbated myself to a writhing orgasm, the hot water drumming on me like the echoes of her voice, still in my ears. Then, please me... please me...

I floated into the store five minutes after my four pm start time "Hi Trace," the head cashier, Janet, said, chomping gum. "Ready for this? Grace called in sick, so we're down to two cashiers tonight—"

"Get yourself behind a register then, and let's do what we can. I've got to meet with George. Where is he?"

Janet looked at me with the half-mast eyed look she always had. How did 19-year olds get so bored with life?

"Sumthins different with you," she said, cocking her head to one side and giving her gum a breather for the moment. "You pregnant?"

Well, maybe her eyes were half-mast, but she was observant. I wasn't aware I was exuding anything different, but my oh my did I feel different. It must have shown.

"Pregnant? Geez Janet, gimme a break. No, I'm not."

"Hmmph," she grunted, and walked off to work a check-out lane. "George is in the office," she called back.

George Tischler is the store manager. He generally is out the door by four, so I was glad to have caught him still here. I poked my head in the office. "George, got a minute?"

"Since when are you late? I've never seen you late. And no I don't have a minute," he said, looking annoyed as he always did. George was forty-two, overweight, on his second marriage, with four kids total. He was gathering his things to go, and he took off his glasses and tossed them on the desk.

"But go ahead, make me stay late. Perfect ending to a fucked up day. 'Scuse my French." Why he bothered to excuse himself, no one could figure out. "What's on your mind, Traci?"

I sat. "I need to cut back my hours. I'd like to work part time."

He squinted at me in disbelief. "What? I thought you were in the poorhouse, and that shitbird husband of yours had taken you to the cleaners. And you want less hours?"

I smiled. "All true. But yeah, work something out for me to be the relief assistant manager or something, so I can work twenty hours a week instead of the forty I'm doing now."

He was still regarding me suspiciously. "What the hell. Oh, you found some new guy or something? Some guy that's gonna support you?"

"Does my life need to be an open book here at this place? Maybe it's another job."

He stood up. "Fine, you're gonna put me in a fuckin' jam so you can work somewhere else? I'll have to let you go."

I stood up then, too. "Fine. Can me. Try and find someone who knows this store and the employees as well as I do. Send me my last check please, George. After tonight I'll be adios."

"What the fuck... ?" I heard him say as I turned to walk out. I guess he was ready for the "old" Traci reaction, which would have been to whine, argue, and maybe even beg. Wow, I was surprising myself. I really wasn't aware, until just now, that there was a "new" Traci, outside of how I felt in the presence of my new Mistress. This was pretty cool, indeed.

"Hey hey, ok, you got the part time!" He called after me. "I'll work on a new schedule at home and call you."

"Thank you, George," I sang from outside his office.

"Mizz Peterson?" The voice was Amy, the young pretty cashier I had just hired three weeks ago. She was standing at her register, looking desperate, and a woman in curlers, about sixty or so, was standing in the check out there, arms folded, looking pissed off. I walked over.

"What's the problem, Amy?"

"I'll tell you the damn problem," the lady snarled cutting Amy off. "I brought this box of cereal up here, and there's a hole in the bottom of the box. And little Miss Helpful here won't discount it! That's the problem!"

Amy winced. She had seen me go overboard to help customers before, and probably felt like she had screwed up, not knowing how to handle it.

I took the box from the customer and looked at the hole. It was about the size of a dime, but of course the bag inside was intact. I was convinced, from my nine years at this store, that there were some people who would do anything to get a discount. Look for merchandise that's damaged, maybe even damage it themselves.

"I won't discount it either, I said." I dropped the box in the garbage can nearby.

The lady stared at me in disbelief. "Now what do I do? I want my cereal!"

"Go find another box, then, ma'am." I looked at her and felt disgust. She doesn't deserve to be called "ma'am." My lovely, commanding, delicious Mistress does, though.

"Why don't you folks find me another box!" she said contemptuously.

I wasn't getting rattled, like I used to. I smiled and shook my head. "Sorry, we're shorthanded. There's a Piggly Wiggly a mile down the road. Maybe you can get your cereal there. If you've got your groceries then let's move it along, ma'am. Others are waiting."

The woman's mouth dropped open, and Amy covered her mouth to conceal her laugh. I walked away, and licked my upper lip, where Mistress lingered. Mmmm... my heart hummed.

The next morning, I knocked on Mistress Dana's door, excited like a little girl on Christmas morning. Today was the day she was going to get an outfit for me. Ryan opened the door, and smiled at me. How was I to address him?

"Hi Traci, Dana will be out in a minute. I'm just heading out to the school, 'scuse me."

"Good morning... Master Ryan."

He turned as he headed to his car, and gave me a big smile. "Glad to hear you're going to be with us."

"Thank you," I said, and went inside. I sat down on the sofa, looking around to see if anything needed straightening. Mistress Dana then appeared from the spare bedroom behind me, in a pair of slacks, a knit sleeveless top, and heels. She looked dynamite, but then, it's hard for her not to. I thrill went through me when I saw her, and remembered that she had given me my first taste of a woman, when she had me feast on her pussy the day before.

"Hello Traci."

"Good morning Mistress!" I slid to the floor, and looked up at her from my kneel.

She smiled. "Ahh, good, good. We're learning."

She stood in front of me, and again my submissive position made my pussy start to grow warm and moist.

"I want you to vacuum in my chamber, and clean the bathroom that is in there. I have a client coming at nine. After he leaves, we'll go out and get your outfit."

I could not contain the smile on my face. "Thank you, Mistress."

She reached out and held the side of my face. I melted inside, and below. I wanted to thank her for letting me have her pussy yesterday, but I just didn't know how to form those words. I was afraid that whatever I said would only fall short of expressing the enormous impact it had on me.

"And thank you," I almost stammered, "for rescuing me." It seemed that her rescue of me was continuing, day by day. The way she looked at me and nodded in response, it was as if she understood it that same way.

"You'll need something to wear for Mr. Doe—that's what he wants to be called, and that's what I have called him for three years--so I've picked out something nice for you to greet him in until we can go shopping. It's hanging on the bathroom door of my chambers. You may get up now. Go and get changed and start your duties in my chambers, sweetie."

"Yes, Mistress." I went upstairs and went opened the door to the room I had never seen before. I sucked in my breath when I walked in, and slowed so I could take it all in as I headed to the bathroom.