A Secret Lost Part 1 (3 page)

"Lingerie it is then," I retort with a smile. "Aren't you going to thank me for looking after you?"

"Thank you, Mistress."

"Time to get you some slutty high heels, don't you agree?"

"I agree, Mistress.” She’ll have to start taking acting classes if she ever wants to lie convincingly.

"Actually, when I think of it, I think the pet store should be our first stop," I say slowly as I open the passenger’s door.

Looking at me with dread in her eyes, she asks "The pet store, Mistress?"

"I did promise to get you a collar and a leash, didn't I?"

"Oh," is all she manages to offer in return. Seeing my raised eyebrow and stern look, she hastens to thank me again.

"Don't mention it, Anna. Part of being your owner is assuming responsibility for taking care of your needs," I say and get out as she thanks me once more. "Now out you go, and I want to see a spring in your step to get those jugs bouncing!"

Walking to the entrance, we already catch more than a few sneaking glances. With her fat tits dancing freely with each step and her bare belly, Anna is quite a sight, and all false modesty aside, even though I'm aware that I look pretty good myself,  I know Anna Kelly is the real candy here. That woman is build like a sex-goddess and I'm enjoying seeing her discomfort as much as I enjoy seeing her tits bounce.

"Imagine how great you'll look with the appropriate clothes, Anna," I say wishfully. "Your friends won't recognize you." She doesn't respond and I don't expect her to. "Now, let's find the pet store, shall we?"

"Yes," she says and hesitates. There are people around now and I know it'll make her wish she was never born if they heard her say the word.

"Excuse me, pet?" I say sternly, already a pair of heads turn at the word 'pet'.

"Mistress," Anna adds softly, eyes of passersby growing wide when they overhear her.

"And don't you fucking forget it."

"No, Mistress," she says, her face turning a bright red.

Chapter 3

Anna

I don't recall ever being this afraid or hurt or embarrassed before. So many years have passed since that horrible shoot that I had almost forgotten about it. Almost, but not quite. But long enough to believe that it would never come back to bite me in the ass, but look at me now. Eyeing Joanne from the corner of my eye, trying to ignore the way my breasts shake and the attention they draw, I still have a hard time believing this is happening. She looks younger than she is and that only adds insult to injury; to have a mean spirited teenager do this to me, and then Joanne, of all people. A girl I used to babysit to give Steve and Diane an evening off. The girl I always bought birthday presents for and who used to smile so sweetly at me. What happened to make her this way?

"Are you looking forward to our little shopping spree, Anna?" she says.

"I am, Mistress," I say without hesitation, my heart skipping a beat; I haven't forgotten the way she slapped my face and ass. Just thinking of it makes me blush. More than the physical hurt, it is my pride that feels trampled on. How can she do this to me? I always treated her as my own daughter and now she makes me want to cry.

"I think you should move your hips more as you walk," she says. "Sexy, you know. The sexy walk of a bitch in heat."

Why does she have to say these things? "Of course, Mistress." I wish I could just die as I follow the command and draw in even more stares. Some of them approving, but not all. The old lady looks at me with disgust and I can't say I blame her. Joanne, why? I want to ask but don't. The AC in the mall hits me square in the face and I feel my nipples start to stiffen as I step in from the heat to the artificial cold and have to suppress the impulse to cross my arms over my chest.

"When you get home, I want you to mark this day on your calendar," Joanne says in that sweet voice of hers. "It is the day you get your first collar."

"Thank you," I say, and add 'mistress' softly, hoping not too many notice. The two nearby teens do, though, and I feel my body temperature go up by several notches as they ogle my breasts and ass with a greedy smile. How far will she take this? In my head, I already made calculations on how much money I have in the bank and how much I can get for the house at short notice, and instantly realized the foolishness of it all. Even if I moved to the other side of the nation, she'd still have her revenge by posting those dreadful pictures on the internet. I'd be a fool to presume she wouldn't mention my name and then it would only be a matter of time before I'd be found out again. And now, with the filming and having me smile, she’s even taken the excuse of a mistake made in my youth away from me.

"Your hips, Anna," she says sternly, an eyebrow raised.

"Sorry, Mistress. I'm not used to walking like this," I say, again forcing myself to move my hips the way she wants, the way I imagine a hooker walks to draw attention to her goods, and I feel my heart sink further in my chest.

"It'll be easier in high heels. They'll have you walking like a slut in no time."

She says it so casually that I again wonder how I could have been so mislead by her demeanor. Was there ever a sign of what was hidden behind that sweet face or hers? I don't think so, but there is no mistaking what she really is, no matter how much I want to be wrong. But I've had the experience of being slapped and humiliated, and her sweet beaming smile, to prove that she is enjoying this and that I'm her prey. Feeling ridiculous with the way she makes me walk, my ass moving left and right and my breasts shaking like crazy, I almost feel relieved when we reach the relatively empty pet store; or I would, if it weren't for the knowledge of what is coming.

"Now let's see what we can get you, Anna. Something nice and girly," Joanne says, sounding as cheerful as I feel miserable.

Following her to a rack with collars, I ignore the few shoppers around me and their stares, wishing I could just die as she picks out a pink collar.

"I think this will look great on you, Anna. What do you think?"

What do I say to that? With her fresh teen face and her girly body, it is still hard to imagine that the same sweet girl I watched growing up is really forcing this travesty on me, but when she holds the collar up under my nose there is no denying reality.

"It looks nice, Mistress," I say and feel my heart beating even faster.

"Try it on."

Speechlessly I watch her for what seems like forever, until she frowns and gives me that threatening look. I can tell see the sales-guy’s jaw slowly drop open when I accept the collar, my hands trembling, and lift it to my neck.

“Maybe I can help?” he says, already at my back and taking the cursed thing, and I just stand there, my hands lame at my sides, when I feel him put it on. “A lovely color,” he says. With my personal space invaded by him, I wonder what Joanne would do if I told him to back off, but I stay silent, feeling his growing hard on pressed against my ass.

“Do you have a matching leash?” Joanne asks, in that misleading sweet girl tone of hers.

“Of course we do,” the sales guy says, a cheer in his voice. Less than ten seconds later, I’m collared and on a leash and mentally preparing myself to drop down on my hands and knees; it would seem the crowning achievement to make my humiliation complete. But she doesn’t. Instead she parades me up and down the aisles and I try to keep up a smile for the staring customers, hoping it will convince them that this is just some elaborate joke. One woman shields her child’s eyes from the sight we offer, before she rushes off, expressing her disapproval in no uncertain terms. I can only silently agree that it is a disgrace, but between Joanne and the compliant sales guy, there is nothing I can do to stop this. “We have some great feeding bowls,” I hear the sales guy say behind me and cringe, my face turning an even deeper red. Can it get any worse? “At the end of the aisle and on the left,” he says, putting his hand firmly on my ass and almost physically pushing me forward to the latest humiliation of the day.

“One for the bitch’s food and one for water,” the sales guy redundantly explains, holding up a bowl as if it is a trophy.

“We’ll take it,” Joanne says in a heartbeat. At the register, she at least has the common sense to allow the sales guy to take the leash off. “Security might not take kindly on seeing a lovely couple parade around like that,” he explains. “Me? I’ve always been supportive of your people’s lifestyle.” Realizing he thinks we are a gay couple, I feel myself blush with renewed intensity. Joanne just laughs as she pays using my credit card.

“Now let’s get you something decent to wear. Something that justifies those curves, Anna.”

Grateful that she at least tolerates my silence, I ignore the stares as best I can, following Joanne to the next department store. I can only imagine what she thinks is ‘decent’, and while we stand on the escalator to the third floor, I imagine for a moment how easy it would be to just jump and have it all over with, but I’m not tired of life just yet. Just embarrassed and hurt and more ashamed then I’ve ever been. Who knows? Maybe she will get tired of this silly game she is playing, just her teenage hormones acting up, a temporary thing.  Surely, in time, she will realize that what she is doing is wrong,  a thought that lifts up my heart, but at the same time a shudder runs down my spine at the thought that maybe she won’t tire of it. Maybe she’ll grow to love it more with time, just as she is clearly loving her control over me now.

“You like wearing a blouse?”Joanne asks, leading me into a clothing store.

I tell her I do.

“Good. Because we’ll get you some.”

“Thank you, Mistress,” I say as softly as I can, only to have her laugh at my obvious discomfort. Silently, I watch her pick out one blouse after another, all of whom are at least one size too small. “I’m a size –“ I start, only to be instantly cut off.

“Do you think I care what size you are, Anna?” Her eyes penetrating and jaw set.

Put in my place like a little kid, I turn my face away, the collar making its presence known as it rubs uncomfortably on my neck as I do so. I’ll look ridiculous in what she picks. Not because they aren’t nice, they actually are. Especially the one with the bright colored flower motif, but they won’t be able to contain my breasts without looking like the material is ready to tear apart, but I am well aware that is the effect she has in mind, and feel my anger rising again just as it did when I first saw those damned pictures. Telling myself to hold it in, that nothing good can come from antagonizing her, I accept the stack of clothes and make my way to the dressingroom, as instructed.

“Ready to show off, Anna?” Joanne says. She sounds as cheerful as I feel miserable. Avoiding my image in the mirror, I know I look exactly as I predicted. Unable even to button up to the fifth button from the top, my breasts are basically hanging out there; I guess I should consider myself lucky that at least my nipples and areola are covered. Barely, that is. Wishing my legs could stop shaking, I step outside, only to catch the sight of a saleslady who, after she managed to close her mouth and stare for longer than was decent, quickly turns and walks away, and a broadly smiling Joanne. “Hot!” she says and I try to smile. Turning the corners of my mouth up is, however, like a fight against the sadness that weighs on my heart, tugging at those same corners in an attempt at expressing what is going on in my chest. But Joanne doesn’t want to know about my sadness, she wants a happy pet.

My heart skips a beat when she tells me that it is time to get something really hot. If this isn’t ‘really hot’ then what is? Tank tops, as it turns out, are really hot to her teen mind, and before long I am posing in front of her in a ridiculously small top with a deep cut that now has me showcasing my breasts like a stripper, my belly bare. By the time we leave the store, I am carrying bags with blouses, tops, t shirts with provocative print like ‘Do me!’, skirts that barely cover my ass, one of which she has me put on right after I paid for it, and more, all at least a size too small, all meant to embarrass me and it does. I feel like crying and screaming at her, but instead I trail after her like an obedient pet. Maybe I am already learning? I certainly seem to have resigned myself to my fate already. Our next stop is for lingerie, which I am certain will allow her to find new heights to embarrass me.

“I think you’ll look lovely in this, Anna,” Joanne says, holding up a crotchless vibrant red bodysuit and my jaw drops. The part that is still unaccustomed to the insanity that I am forced to subject myself to wonders why she would possibly want me to dress in that, and then I remember the film she took of me and I know for a  fact that she’ll have me pose in that. “You want to try it on?” she asks with a sly smile and I feel I’m going to faint. “Kidding. You can try it on when we get back.” 

“Thank you, Mistress,” I say, hoping no one can overhear me.

“Why don’t you pick something out for yourself?”

Relieved, I say how I’d like that and already my eyes roam around for something modest, only to have her dash in my hope with a single sentence.

“But to make it more challenging and fun, I want you to pick something that you know will please me.”

Looking into her innocent and sweet face, I wonder again how there can be so much evil hiding behind it without me ever noticing? It seems a cruel play of nature to put that much darkness in a girl with such a pretty and innocent exterior.

“Of course, if you disappoint me, you’ll have to face the consequences for that, Anna,” her voice soft and the threat of punishment in her eyes.

Naturally, I forget about anything that is modest and instead look for the worst. Settling with a beaming red face for a silk corset that I know will have my breasts spill over like two pieces of ripe fruit, I offer it up for her approval.

“Very nice, Anna. Seems you have taste after all, but this is only part of one outfit. Please continue.”

Glad to at least have the sales girl busy with other customers, I pick out a pair of net stocking and a thong that is so tiny that I know it will barely cover my most intimate part. To round it off and make her happy, I pick out a pair of high heeled black leather boots that come up all the way to my thighs, just imagining walking around like that I feel my body heat go up another few notches and that I'm running a fever.