***
The following afternoon, Zooey poked her head in the kitchen door while Andie was washing dishes. Seeing the gleam in her Mistress’s eyes, Andie could tell she was up for more dastardly deeds. Her body leapt on the idea, while her battered mind lagged far behind.
“Got the corset on?” Zooey asked.
“Of course.” Every second of her day since that morning when she first adjusted the laces and carefully fastened each hook and eye had been a stirring reminder of the restraint the garment placed on her. With every move, the confining stays produced a subtle, but powerful reminder of the submissive essence of her being. This truth would never leave her.
Zooey smiled, seeing the effect of the corset play across Andie’s face. “Just as I thought,” she commented. “So, is Grandpa sleeping?”
