Julie finishes shaving my body, until all I have left is my pubic stripe. She makes me sit under a cold tap until my balls are tight in their purse and my cock has shrivelled to two inches, then she puts my cage back on and dries me with a towel. She is being very gentle, and I feel secure in her hands, no longer aroused but wanting her to cuddle me. The cold air is creeping over my shaven body and I start to shiver. ‘Oh princess,’ Julie says, ‘are you feeling cold? Let’s get you dressed.’ She leads me, cock chain in her hand, to her own bedroom and lays me down. I watch in silence as she arranges an outfit for me.‘This should suit you fine,’ she says, and begins to dress me. I am limp in her arms, and I follow her instructions to, ‘hold your legs out, point your toes towards me’ as she rolls a pair of opaque tights over my shaven, and very slender, legs. I hold my arms in the air as she drops a cute dress over my shoulders. (I’m a short, skinny man, with a hipless, girlish figure). Edward stepped towards her but said nothing. Alice didn’t move, her eyes just fixed, blankly, on the spot he had vacated. Fleetingly, he rested his hand on her shoulder then turned and walked quickly from the room. Alice looked down as her tears started to fall once again. The following day, a Thursday, was as bleak as any Alice could remember. From the moment she had felt Edward rise from their bed to go to work to the moment she retired back to bed that evening she neither saw nor heard from her husband. She had walked for what seemed like hours in the afternoon, the hot sun a stark contrast to her mood. Buying a paper, she sat on a park bench and read of the crowds filing passed Valentino’s coffin in New York, of Pola Negri fainting and having to be carried away. She dabbed at her eyes once again. She knew it was pathetic. In fact, she was almost as angry with herself for this ridiculous over-reaction but then thought back to Edward’s cruel words of the previous evening. When.
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