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One particular sunny day, I was counting down the register for a shift
change. I was in a hurry because I wanted to get out of there in a decent time
and head home. I heard the front door chime behind me and a man who resembled Phillip
Seymour Hoffman walked up the counter. He wore a black sweatshirt, black
sweatpants and looked unbathed. He curtsied to me as if he was a ballerina and
introduced himself.
“Hello kind sir. My mistress is in the car and demanded that I come in
here and pick out a butt plug for me to wear for her. Could you please point me
in the direction of your butt plug section?” He said simply and without losing
his slight smile and happy tone. He sounded very eager to please. I paid it no
mind and decided to answer him.
“Um, the wall over there has a bunch,” I said as I pointed out. I would
normally step out onto the floor to guide the customer to the area I was
mentioning, but I was in the middle of counting money.
He curtsied and thanked me for the help and went to the wall. I flashed
my co-worker a weird look and they nodded back, stifling a chuckle. Moments
later, the man came to the counter with his chosen plug.
“I hope my mistress likes this one,” He said as he peeled out his wallet.
I rang him up quickly, so that I wouldn’t lose my place in my counting the
second drawer down. I tossed his plug in the bag with the receipt and thanked
him. He curtsied and left with a smile.
“What the hell was that all about?” My co-worker asked through a laugh.
“I don’t know man. Just some role play I guess. Why they always gotta
include us?!” I replied.
Moments later, the man came back in with the bag. He stopped at the same
spot he was before, curtsies again and began to speak. “My mistress would like
to know if I could use your backroom to insert this into me. Could I use your
backroom please?” He said with a smile. By this point, I clued into the fact
that as he walked, there was a slight rustling sound. I now realized that he
was wearing an adult diaper.
I shook my head. “No man, I’d rather you do that on your own time and
place, okay?” I stated as nice as I could. He thanks me again, curtsies and
left again.
About five minutes later, I finished my count of the second drawer and
was ready to gather my things when the door chimed again. The man was walking
back in, and rather stiffly. Almost, uncomfortable, as if something was stuck
up inside his own asshole. I knew what it was. He stopped in the same spot,
curtsied and asked his newest question.
“Hello! My mistress would like to know if I could clean your bathroom for
you,” He said simply. I stood dumbfounded.
“Um, what?” I said. It was all I could drip out of my mouth to say.
“I have been commanded by my mistress to get down on my hands and knees
and scrub your toilets, your floors and even with a toothbrush. I would really
do an excellent job for you. Would you let me clean your bathroom for you?” He
said, simply. I grew tired of the game, odd as it already was.
“You know what dude, I think we got a handle on it,” I replied.
“Are you sure?”
“Yes, quite sure. Thanks but no thanks,” I added. He
curtsied and left again. This time, for good. I saw him get into the passenger
side of a small Chevy and drive away. I never got a look at the driver, his
beloved Mistress. But I am sure they were off to more adventures somewhere else
down the road. But thank God our conversation was over!
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