| The Half Empty Feeling Author's note: You ought to read the first part of this tale (Half Full) to get the background to this chapter. -- I stood in a state of shock, though it is fair to say that my daughter Adelaide was even more shocked than me. And quite what my granddaughter Mistral thought I have no idea. They both started at me with big, round and disbelieving eyes, looking me up and down as if I had landed from another world. I blinked back at them in total horror. This was not the way it was supposed to be. It was Saturday morning and I was ready to let someone into my world, but not like this. The three of us were facing each other; Mistral holding her mummy's hand and the pair of them on my doorstep. I really didn't expect to open the door to my daughter and her child, and I don't think my daughter had any idea I would be like this. You see, I was dressed as a little girl. Quite ridiculous when you think about it, but what choice did I have? I know, I know. It's ludicrous that a 51 year-old woman should dress in a pink and white spotted dress with a short, flared skirt and short, puff-ball sleeves -- a dress with a pink bow at the back. On my feet I had Mary Jane-style shoes and short white ankle socks with pleasing little pink lace trim. Had I been forty five years younger I might have passed as a small child going to some other child's party, but even forty five years ago I don't think I would have been seen dead in such an outfit. I was a parody of a 'likkle ikkle girlie.' Not my idea at all, but then that wasn't the point. Sasha said she wanted it, and that was how it was meant to be. "Mother," said my daughter Addy when she got her voice back. The way she always did when she disapproved of me, though she said it with a hint of incredulity that suggested that madness had finally been visited on her own mum. "Grandma," chuckled my granddaughter Mistral, who thought the sight of me dressed in babyish clothes even her friends would throw a tantrum in if their parents insisted they wore was hilarious. "You look funny!" She giggled. "In, now," snapped Addy, "before the neighbours see you." She ushered me backwards and stepped into the house, and at the same time tried to pull her daughter behind her in some gesture of protecting the girl from my craziness. Mistral resisted as she wanted to get a better view of what sort of stupidity her weird grannie had indulged in. "I didn't expect you, Adelaide... Addy...uh, Mistral, too" I said. Lame offering as clearly I didn't expect anyone but Sasha at my door. Sasha ready to use me. "Is this dad's doing?" Addy looked me up and down with her face a mix of astonishment and revulsion. "Is this his idea?" "Your father? Good heavens no... he's..." I stopped myself. I could have been smart and blamed it on him, said it was the sort of perverted sex game jaded old marriages require to inject fun into the passing years. But I missed the opportunity. "No, he's out," I blushed. That's right, I actually blushed in front of my family. Not something a woman of my age and standing is expected to do often. I went bright red because my dress was pink and spotty, if you can imagine it. I even clutched at the hem of the short skirt and tried to pull it down to hide my embarrassment; though it was a tad late. Mistral had seen what I wanted hidden and of course had to announce it. "I can see Grandma's pussy! She's got no panties on," the child gasped. "What?" Addy stared anew at me, a look of disgust and horror spreading over her face. What was bad had just got worse. "I forgot to put them on," I lied. Sasha had been explicit; no pants when she arrived. I was going to be fisted by her small hand as soon as she came to my home because in her words she always got bored waiting for me to remove my pants. "So what the hell is going on?" Addy glared at me. "Dad's not here? So, mother dear, who exactly is this ridiculous outfit for?" "Uh... It's not for anyone," I tried to lie again. "It's just something I do, you know..." "No, I don't know," said Addy, coldly. "Tell me." "Yeah," said Mistral. "Mummy won't let me go without pants," she said, in case that helped. It didn't. "Look, I am on my own. No one else," I said. "I just like to dress up in funny things." I was scarlet and mumbling. "Um, I better go and get changed--" "Your boobs!" Addy gasped, stopping me as I started to turn away towards the stairs. "Where the hell are they?" Even having my arms in front of me didn't hide the fact that my normally sizeable bust was almost non-existent. "Oh that's just to make the dress fit better," I managed to say. "They don't do dresses like this with..." Another failure; explaining the dresses had no darts for large busts would make things worse. If they could be worse. Taping down my breasts with yards of bandage to make my shape more like Judy Garland in Wizard of Oz probably didn't impress my daughter. "Tell me exactly just what is going on," said Addy, her suppressed anger blazing in her eyes. "You got some man coming round while dad's out?" She must have forgotten Mistral was there; normally she wouldn't suggest anything to do with sex if her daughter was around. She was a single mother and clearly, having made one mistake herself, didn't want her child brought up thinking about such matters. "Man, uh, yes." I felt a wave of relief: the cavalry had arrived to save the day. "I'm sorry, it's just that things have been not good with your dad and me and I felt I needed someone to have a fling with, nothing serious, and he said he would call in and you came and I wasn't expecting you and if I'd known I wouldn't have done it." I might have burbled on with even more of this grateful gushing pack of lies when the the doorbell rang. The cavalry had just retreated. "Okay! Let's take a look at him," said Addy. "Let's see who is breaking up my parents' home," she said and with a flourish, opened the front door. Sasha was on the doorstep and she took in the scene with a laugh. "Cool," the girl said as she looked at my outfit, and at the faces of my daughter and granddaughter, who were clearly unable to believe there was a cute eleven-year old on the doorstep. "Looks like I have more crazy bitches to play with," grinned Sasha. I really ought to have fainted because the damn floor wouldn't open up to swallow me. -- Addy wouldn't let me out of my little girl clothes. Sasha had gone, having realised that there weren't three people to play with at all. That and the way Addy screamed at her along the lines of "Who the fuck are you?" Mistral had been shuffled off to play in the dining room, no doubt drawing on my new dining room table. Normally she was banned from marking it but that was the least of my worries now. For all I knew she was inscribing 'Gran's a pervert' on the polished top. "Okay, explain. Properly," said Addy. She was sat facing me and had forbidden me to keep trying to pull my skirt down (not that it would have covered much) as if she wanted me to be as humiliated as possible. "Addy, it's not what you think," I had started off trying to say. "I think it's exactly what I think," said my daughter, without any warmth in her eyes or voice. "You apparently have this... this child lover, who you dress up for. Dad's out so you get the kid round for sex." I felt deflated. Put that way it seemed pretty bad. Actually, I don't know how it could be put any other way. "The fact is," I said, taking a deep breath, "this isn't my idea. The girl who was here, Sasha--" "Ah yes, your favourite pupil. You seem to talk about her all the time." I nodded. My favourite indeed. "It's her idea, all this. She tells me what to wear." Addy's eyes widened. "What? She like you dressed as... as a prostitute?" "I am not a prostitute," I snapped. "So being a pedo is better, is it?" Addy was shaking her head in disbelief. "No, it's not. It's just that I was attracted to her and I can't explain why, but she makes me do this. Uh, she controls me." "Bollocks," said my daughter. I had never heard her say that before and I stared. "Don't look so fucking surprised," my daughter pressed on (another first, I thought; good job Mistral was out of the room). "You're telling me that you -- a middle aged supposedly sensible adult -- obey a small girl's whims?" "Yes. If you don't believe me, ask her mother." "Shit!" Addy gasped at my blunder. I understood we were in the space of a few minutes going to get all the swear words I never thought I'd hear from my own daughter. So very reserved, I always thought. Or used to. "You mean to tell me that her kinky mother's involved too?" "No! Well, she knows what her girl's like, what she does. I'm not the first she's used." I said that with a pang of regret. "Good God! How often does the kid come round here?" "I don't know... once every week or so. When your dad's out. Usually I have to go to her place." "So her mother can keep an eye on you, I suppose. And what does this cow do to help?" I blushed. "She's not a cow. Um, she goes shopping with me. Sasha gives me a shopping list, things I have to buy. Gail -- that's Sasha's mother -- makes sure I buy the right things. That they fit the way Sasha wants, maybe a little too small or showing certain things." "Shit, shit," said Addy again. "So you have a wardrobe full of this weird stuff?" She waved her hand at me. "But no knickers." "Not a wardrobe full," I said. "A few things. But sometimes I can wear knickers," I said, remembering that wasn't very often. Even in class they were banned; it's funny doing my everyday job knowing I am panty-less under my skirt and even funnier that there is a pretty girl in my class who knows too. Someone who could, I fear, order me to show the class what I have on underneath. I just hope she never does as I'd die of embarrassment, holding up my skirt and showing my newly shaved cunt. "Show me," said Addy, taking me completely by surprise and jumping up. "I want to see this collection of perversion." The collection of perversion as she called it turned out to be several strange fetish-like dresses which included a French maid's dress (again with ridiculously short skirt but lots of flouncy petticoats), an old-fashioned nurse outfit that was meant to be two sizes too small for me so I almost squeezed out between the buttons) and a bizarre nun's outfit made of a cheap plastic. They hung on one side of my wardrobe, and prompted me to say -- without Addy having to ask -- that they are quite safe as my husband never goes in there. "And you have to wear them when?" Addy picked out one and surveyed it disdainfully. A harem girl's outfit comprising of fine smoke brown gauze long trousers that gathered at the ankles but hung baggy from the waist and a short bolero style top of the same material, a top with long baggy sleeves that drew in at the wrists. There was also a veil, naturally, but made of thicker material. It wouldn't do for a harem slave to show her face fully, would it? "I have to wear them when Sasha stays. She calls me her doll and I have to play dress up. That's her phrase," I explained. "Then she fucks you?" I gulped and nodded. Indeed she did, when I was lucky. "That F word... I wouldn't say that." "I would. So she really does fuck you," said Addy, driving the point home. "I suppose. If she wants it," I added, feeling even more miserable. Put that way, there seemed to be not much in it for me. "Or I you know, uh, I lick her out. If she's in the mood." "Meaning?" Addy hadn't put down the harem outfit. "Sasha doesn't always want sex. Sometimes I have to just, you know, serve her. She won't touch me then. I mean, just be on hand... Make sure she's got everything she needs." "I can't imagine," said Addy drily. "I have to serve her because I am, um, nothing special." "Okay," said my daughter. "I can agree with that. Right, you can get out of that ridiculous fetish doll dress." I breathed a sigh of relief. Maybe she didn't accept it, maybe she didn't understand it, but it was over. I would get dressed normally and try to repair some of the damage of this morning. But I was wrong. It was far from over. "Get into this," my daughter thrust the harem outfit at me. "I want to see how stupid you look in it." "But I can't. There aren't any knickers." "You have managed without them so far, so what's the problem here?" My daughter stood, arms folded. I understood at that moment she was not going to vacate the bedroom while I changed. And then it got a little worse. There was a sound at the door, and there was Mistral. I had, for the moment, forgotten about her. But she had wandered upstairs on her own and now was looking at me with contempt and amusement on her pretty little face. Whatever shock my daughter felt, whatever humiliation I felt we could see that for Mistral this was fun. "She gonna dress up in that?" Asked my granddaughter. If nothing else, she was not the least embarrassed by me. Amused, perhaps, but not upset. "Yes, honey," said Addy. "She's going to look cheap." "Great!" Gurgled Mistral, and then she held the drawing up she had done while her mum and I talked. The little girl was a passable artist, and I could tell the drawing was of a woman who was meant to be me. But me dressed in a sort of ball gown. "It's Cinderella," said Mistral. "It's Grandma as Cinders." "What a good idea," purred Addy. Then she said the damnedest thing. "But I think Cinders here needs to look like she wants to go to the ball first." -- The pair of them watched me get undressed, and to my amazement passed comments on my taped up tits and then the shape of them as I unwound the bandage. I must admit I was glad to get out of that confinement, and while I wasn't sure about my daughter and her daughter watching me critically it was good to get the air to my crushed boobs. The little girl even said as I stood naked in front of them: "She could do with losing some weight." I was astonished and I blushed. No child had said anything like that to me before. Not even Sasha; she just accepted me for what I was. "So how should she lose weight?" Asked Addy. "Make her run up and down the garden," said Mistral. "At night, when everyone's in bed." I was both amazed at what she said and horrified. Not at they way she said it, but at the way my sex pulsed. I suddenly was feeling just the same as I felt when I had to attend to Sasha. But she was older, experienced. More controlling. Yet here was Mistral, my own flesh and blood, looking at me with a certain light in her big, innocent eyes. Looking at me like she understood. I pulled on the harem clothes as quickly as I could, closed the velcro fastenings at the ankles and wrists and then hastily pulled on the veil. I wanted to cover up my blushes. I didn't care they could see my pussy and my tits; like a child I was acting as if people couldn't see my face they couldn't see me. "She could be a dog," said Mistral. "A lady dog is called a bitch," said Addy. "Bitch, yeah," chuckled Mistral. "An' the bitch can have a kennel too and a dog bowl to eat from." "A proper dog," laughed Addy. It was the first crack in her stone-faced coldness. In a way, it felt worse as she was clearly amused by me now. "With a tail shoved up her fat bottom," grinned my six year old granddaughter. At those words my pussy erupted in a flood of juices. I am sure they smelt it and maybe even saw the brown of the harem pants get darker from the leak. But I was aroused and humiliated, and I think they knew it. Especially when for a reason I could not begin to tell you I dropped down on all fours, like a good bitch would. They laughed at me, the two of them, standing looking down at me. I felt humiliated and disgusted with myself. -- Addy didn't stay long after that. She took Mistral off with her telling me to get myself sorted out, and Mistral laughing at me for being a "naughty little bitch." I could have cried, but I felt too mixed up. Once they had gone I tried to call Sasha up to apologise and ask her to come back over as the coast was clear, but there was no reply from her mother's house. I got out of the harem outfit and tried not to weep. After an hour of feeling sorry for myself I got dressed as Bob would be home soon; there would no time to play dressing up. But I didn't put any pants on as I hoped Sasha would magically return. Yet I knew that was not going to happen. I guessed Addy's bellowing had scared Sasha off. The trouble was I didn't know how scared off she would be. Maybe the Edmonds were avoiding me, but there was no response from Gail's house all over the weekend. I tried to call Addy up (more to test the temperature than make any overtures to repair the damage) but when she eventually answered Adelaide was cold and distant. "I'm sorry," I said. "I have no idea what you are talking about," said my daughter. And in that moment I knew the damage had gone so deep it couldn't be repaired by me apologising. The weekend was hell, and even Bob noticed my tears and misery. He said, as he always did, that he didn't understand women. Well, I wasn't in a position to help him. I was lost and couldn't wait for Monday, to make things good with Sasha. I resolved to let her beat me if it helped. I'd even send the class out so she could do it first thing Monday morning. No knickers, of course. And no bra in case she wanted to twist my nipples. But Monday morning turned out to be the second disaster, or rather the continuation of the first. Sasha wasn't in class and I was summoned to the Head's office. "That Edmonds girl you seem to think is a good pupil -- was a good pupil -- has left," sniffed Greenie. She looked like she was happy my class had gone down by one and to prove it even had a faint smile on her ugly face. "I got a letter from her mother this morning, saying she's moving her daughter to another school. Good news wouldn't you say, Mrs Sonders?" I nodded meekly and felt worse than ever. How I got through the day I have no idea. I kept looking up to see if Sasha was suddenly there, grinning at me like she did when she had one of my punishments lined up. But her desk was empty and even the other kids noticed she had gone, but then she was popular. I got sick of the brats asking me when Sasha would be in or asking did I know where she was. Then one of them even wanted to know if I missed her. I said no, of course not. Which on reflection was about the biggest lie I had ever told. --- There was no one at the Edmonds' house, and the more I called the longer their phone rang unanswered. I could only assume I had utterly scared the Edmonds off, and with no one to speak to about this I went into a fog of despair. Bob barely noticed my depression, and didn't even ask when I said I was going out. I sat for ages outside Sasha's house in my car staring at the unlit windows. Not only was no one there but when I plucked up courage to go and peer in through the window, I saw with a sinking heart that all the furniture was gone. They had gone and left nothing, apart from me with a broken heart. I even walked home as a penance in the hope it would make things somehow okay and it rained, again. Hard and cold. But I never noticed and of course it made no difference at all to anything. Apart from soaking the little girl pink dress I wore under my coat. --- I don't know how long it takes to mend a broken heart, but I have heard they all mend eventually. Sure, I could offer some platitudes about time being a great healer, but every hour seemed at first like agony, every day endless. I willed the phone to ring, but it didn't. At least, not from anyone I wanted to hear from. And Sasha never came back to the class. I didn't even see much of Addy. When she and Mistral came to see us, they made it clear (to me at least) they had come to see Granddad and not me. And yes, even my husband Bob finally noticed. "You and Addy had a falling out?" He asked one day a few weeks later. "Sort of," I said. "Hmmph," he snorted. His answer to everything. Bastard. But time does heal. A couple of months later I had actually gotten over Sasha. Oh I still didn't wear knickers in class and as a self-punishment I tied thin cord round my nipples when I went braless. I liked to imagine Sasha would approve, even if no one saw it. I was doing it for me, no one else. At least I had the memories and it's surprising how you can cum hard over what had happened. For a time my cup really was more than half full. And then, one day when I was least expecting it, the phone rang. End of part two. |