“The Escape” – June
I hate HER. This black-haired bitch visits him about six times per month. I still wonder whether it was her voice I heard on that day I was brought here. I’m not sure, because that person had left the room before he unpacked me and their voices sounded strangely through that mask and hood I wore. She never talks to me; she just looks at me in the most arrogant way I can imagine. In the beginning I never knew when she would come next until she arrived. In the meantime I have learned that he always behaves really strangely on these days. I have to use make-up and the results of my attempts aren’t very attractive, because I have never used make-up before. And I have to wear this heavy, stiff and long straight front over-bust corset. It makes very nice hips and a very small waist, but it flattens my breasts, almost if I had none. It is hard to breathe while wearing this corset; it compresses my ribcage and bust in a very restrictive manner. Every detail of my outfit has to be perfect, the corset fully closed, the catsuit thoroughly polished and I have to wear these expensive shiny steel restraints. That iron waist belt is the worst part of the outfit. I have to wear it over the corset and it generates even more pressure on my lower ribs than the corset already does, especially when I have to sit. Usually he enjoys looking at me and telling me, that I look great in my outfits. And he loves it to ask me, if I feel comfortable, knowing that I don’t. But, as soon as SHE arrives, he ignores me completely for the rest of the day until she leaves again. One day I understood the reason for her visits: SHE loves to play with him in the playroom. First I was relieved; I thought as long as he had another playmate he would keep his word never forcing ME to play. On the other hand I had strange thoughts feeling myself being the only looser in the entire game. He had fun, the black bitch had fun – and I had none. With the time passing on I started to wonder: Is it my only role to suffer while all others have fun? Or do I have to suffer because I am not willing to have fun with him in the playroom? I feel very uncomfortable on these days, not only physically but mentally as well. I have strange thoughts, feel lonely, useless, neglected. I’m not his favourite toy. Do I really hate her or am I just jealous?