Tom – Thursday

Trapped in the base of the bra cup, back uncomfortable against rigid underwire sewn into the fabric, Tom tried to alter his position. The flesh pinning him to the fabric was warm and substantive enough to prevent him from doing anything more than squirming slightly. He could hear the slow steady rhythm of her heart beating and he wondered what she had in store. He had heard her call his name, but he played deaf, letting her think he was muffled. This was no play time, of that he was certain. Janine was an escalating experience in endurance and pain tolerance. Lina the opposite. Sam was somewhere in the middle, developing her own sexual identity with a few of Janine’s overtones, but Miss Addison, she was a mystery. Like Tess, she had used her bra as a means of transporting him, not sexual titillation or stimulation. What was her game?

Did she get sexually worked up? He didn’t know and wasn’t sure he wanted to find out. The day drug on for him as she went through the motions of her daily routine. He guessed she remained at the school for around an hour after the end of classes before going home.

To him it sounded as if she were walking home, traffic noises. It took her no more than fifteen minutes to make the trek. An elevator bell, doors opening and closing.

“This is my home,” she said, setting him on the table top. He paused to survey the environment. The teacher lived in an apartment, neat, organized, decent furniture though utilitarian in the dining area and living space beyond, subdued and neutral color palette. Several floor to ceiling shelves filled with books. Small TV opposite an upholstered chair. There were vertical blinds on the far wall, glass doors to a patio or balcony her presumed.

He wrapped his arms about himself, finding the ambient temperature in the room cool from being tucked against her warm body for the day, his skin puckering with little goose bumps.

“Read much?” he quipped, looking up at her.

She frowned. Reaching down, she flicked a finger at him, knocking him from his feet and causing him to sprawl on the cool surface of the table. “Miss Addison,” she reminded.

Tom glowered, getting to his feet and rubbing the area of his shoulder where she had struck him.

“And yes, I very much enjoy reading,” she answered, gazing over her extensive collection of literature. “It will gives us something to do in the evenings,” she stated.

He frowned, choosing to remain silent. What now? Given how tightly wound she seemed to be, he was surprised there wasn’t like a million cats in her apartment, each with its own little pet name and quirky personality.

Looking back down on him, she took him in her slender fingers, holding him in front of her as she ventured down the hallway leading off the living room. There were four doors, two bedrooms or an office and one bedroom, a bathroom, and a linen closet. There was some type of ornament or wreath hanging on the only closed door in the hall, one of the bedrooms he supposed. It looked like some kind of intertwined willow branch similar to a dreamcatcher.

Stepping into the bathroom, she him down inside the molded fiberglass shower/tub unit before seating herself on the toilet.

He looked from one end of the tub to the other, noting the shampoo bottle and conditioner on the corner near the faucet, then up at her. She sat there, passive expression, just observing him.

Raising his eyebrows, he puts his hands out to her in askance.

“You will remain here while I make arrangements for your accommodation,” she said. “Suffice to say, any attempt or effort to flee with be met with swift and immediate correction,” she added, rising slowly to her feet. “Do you understand?”

From his point of view, he couldn’t see any way he might possibly escape. The height and vertical sides of the tub were impossible to ascend. The opaque white shower curtain was on the outside of the tub and the metal stopper for the drain was a built in feature. No, escape seemed unlikely. He nodded, “Yes, Miss Addison,” he said.

She vanished from his line of sight. Walking down the tub, he inspected the metal press-down cap over the drain before relieving himself. He wondered what means of containment she would come up with to house him.

When she returned, she carried in her hands a clear plastic square Tupperware container deep enough he would be able to stand upright in. She also held a blue colored lid with several holes punched in it.

“The holes should provide sufficient ventilation that you will be able to breathe effectively,” she said, showing the lid to him.

He smiled glumly and nodded. This was not good. She planned to seal him away when not with her and he seriously doubted he would be able to pop open the lid to escape. And escape to where? Burrow through a wall into a neighboring apartment like a rodent?

“When you are required to be confined in here I will also ensure you have necessary toileting facilities as well as suitable bedding materials,” she advised, nodding more to herself than to him. “I expect you will comport yourself with a modicum of propriety.”

If that meant behave properly while in her talons until he could find a means of rescue, he nodded.

“Good,” she replied. “Now I must get you prepared for tonight’s lesson,” she added, setting the container on the counter beside the bathroom sink.

Lesson? What lesson?

“I think you will need context to understand your role and what will be required of you in the days and weeks to come,” she stated directly, bending at the waist and reaching down into the tub, taking him in her right hand.

This was not good, he thought as she returned to standing. He watched as she moved over to the sink and he could hear the water as she turned on the tap. Three steps brought her back to the tub where she knelt down and picked him.

“Let’s begin,” she said.