On a mild Sunday afternoon in November, I decide to walk her.
High heeled shoes strapped about her feet, short corset cord... neck collar, through the sixteen spinal grommets, right buttock grommet then left... I tightened. I diapered her as a precaution and this oddly provided a degree of comfort. With the elbows clipped together, I threw a coat over her shoulders, the sleeves hanging empty. I buttoned only about the neck leaving the folds to flash open below with each step.
My hand approaches her nose.
“Must I be leashed?” that once effervescent voice so humble.
“You’ll feel better being under control, Sunny. When were you last able to move on your own? Governance is ingrained. It thrills.”
I deftly slip the clip into her nose. It clicks closed and I give the connecting cord a light
