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An Afternoon Tea

Scene One: Backstage

"Ah, there you are my pretty pet! All nice and comfy on your pretty perch, are we?"

I hear Miss Debra's cheerful voice from behind me. I scan the large, ornate, gold-framed mirror hanging on the wall before me, straining my corseted neck to determine her whereabouts. I quickly spot the reflection of her pretty face, as she playfully peeks between the lush heavy folds of the stage curtain that separates this luxurious dressing area from the rest of the conservatory.

"My, I see Fifi has been as attentive to detail as ever!" Miss Debra says as she parts the curtain, then slowly and confidently strides around my dressing stand with feline grace, as if sizing up the extent of my humiliating, and to her, amusing, predicament. "Remind me to give her a special reward for being such a good little French maid, won't you, Darling?" JINGLE JINGLE

My pretty bells jingle an affirmative to her question as I find myself automatically responding to her the best way I can under the circumstances - by nodding my head the few fractions of an inch that is permitted by my restraints and neck corset, and shaking my bottom and breasts too, as I've been trained to do. I feel like I just want to dissolve into the thick carpet below me. I am so mortified to find myself, formerly a very masculine, independent male, responding to her question in such a humiliating way, as the well-trained sex pet that I have become under her wise control and close supervision.

"Oh I could just eat you up, babykins!" she beams as she stops directly in front of me, her beautiful face close to mine, patting me on the head like you would a small child. Ohhh! How condescending!

Her wonderful perfume, her smile, her sparkling eyes intoxicate me. "mmmmmm" I feel butterflies in my tummy being this close to her... whenever I'm close to her. I can't get enough of her... and she knows it.

"What's that, Darling? Oh, you like my perfume, do you? How sweet. Yes, such a sweet sweet girl you've turned out to be," she smiles affectionately patting my cheek, "And don't you just love how Fifi has fixed my hair and applied my cosmetics?" she exclaims twirling her well manicured forefinger in one of her dangling red tendrils and batting her lush lashes at me.

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