Short Chapter...more to follow, provided work doesn't impose...
She looked at him, there on the floor and the story he told had served to mitigate some of the feeling of power she had felt earlier. That power had been replaced by pity. The manager had no children, her marriage had likewise been ill-formed and was peacefully concluded shortly after it had begun. That said, she almost wanted to call what she was beginning to feel, maternal. But mothers are powerful. As quickly as it had been mitigated, she began to see other avenues for this to travel.
An interesting tale….Mr Simpson.” That name is hardly appropriate, given the current situation. Theodore isn’t quite right either, is it…Mr. Simpson?”
Theodore simply looked at the floor, not what she wanted so she sharply reiterated, “Is it?”
“No, ma’am.” It was all he could squeak out. She continued, in the lilting, but biting, tone, “What do you think we should call you? I certainly can’t call what sits here in front of me a ‘man’ so perhaps something more…feminine? What do you think Teddy?”
He simply looked at her, again with smallish tear set to drop. Sensing that there was little left to defeat, she did not require his further participation, “I think I will change the name on your lease to Theodora Simpson. And we can call you call you Teddy for short.”
The tear dropped. She, again, continued without his taking part, “I can see that you like it. I’ll make the changes.”
At about 6pm, the manager of his apartment had entered his apartment. It was now 6:40pm. In the span of only 40 minutes, his life and his name, at least to her, had changed. Forever he feared. At least until his lease expired. His complete surrender and re-subjugation had taken less than an hour.
“Well…Teddy; I’ ve to go home and see to some things, but I think I’d like to check back in on you tonight, after you’ve wet that diaper. I’ll come and supervise your changing your diaper.” She stood and walked to the counter to retrieve his phone, and using his phone dialed her number.
“When you’ve wet your diaper, you will call me and…I think since babies cry when they have wet diapers, maybe you should be crying when you call.” She placed the phone on the counter, looking down at the pitiful man on the floor, a slight smile creeping across her face. “Yea, you need to be crying when you call me. I have a key, I’ll let myself in.”
The feeling of power had returned. Still a little maternal, but powerful.
� Betty Pearl's Sissy Stories 20.1
Topic: Once Upon a Time.... (Read 12534 times)
