The Red Crop

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“Clip, clop; clip, clop!” is heard, as I move along the hall.

“Extend your right hand!” Mistress explains; “Press the palm onto the plaque, and spread your fingers wide!” she continues.
The black rubber feels warm to the touch, but as I am spreading my fingers, the door to my home is sliding up quietly.

“Welcome home!” she pronounces, indicating for me to step in.

“This, is my home?” I inquire.

“Yes, miss; this is your new home, I hope you will enjoy it and feel right at home!” she points out.

As I am stepping over the threshold, the door is sliding shut; just as quietly as when it opened, but now I am alone. I am home, but for a moment I am feeling alone and lonely.

There is an identical plaque, inside.

“Of course, I can never go back; even if he would accept me, I can’t take it with him. Even if he foregoes the revenge and punishment for running away; I know he will beat me up, abuse me to his heart’s content!” I ponder, realizing I had finally gotten away.

There is never a going back, when you break up. If the other is abusive; you can consider yourself lucky, just by getting away alive.

I had finally accepted the offer, the invitation an old friend had given me. I had gotten all the way, to where I am now. I had been accepted, as I am.

There are a pair of boots, in the shoe-rack. Just as she had promised, these are the cervine ones. I am still wearing the equine ones.

Standing in the cloaking room, I am scanning the small space. It is my cloaking room, of course. The floor had been laid with the glossy, black stone tiles. I can see the white beechwood picket-fence over the cherry-wood. There is a pin-prick star-skape covering the entire ceiling, held in place with mate black silicon.

“Curious!” I ponder; “but I guess, I can get used to this!” I conclude.

After escaping the living hell, I had called life; I guess this is as close to heaven, as I could possibly dream of.

The floor is elevated by a foot, three feet from the door to my living room. I could but imagine, this has a significance in some manner. Even if I had failed to pick up on it yet.

Slipping out of these boots proves to be as easy as taking a pair of regular shoes. With that, I leave these in the shoe-rack. I can’t wear my outdoor shoes in my home, as exciting as I picture it being.

I will just have to get used, to who I am now; the diminished stature, measuring only five foot.

There is something about these boots I had been wearing, even beyond the height and posture I experience as I wear them. Maybe it is in how they build me up, makes me feel braver than I had ever been. Or is it just these little noises I have, as I move around; reminding me of something, and the inherent power they have?

Once I had taken the boots off, I slip my feet into these new indoor shoes. Now I stand up; bow down and rub the back of my heels to get back to the desired stance.

I extend my right hand, pressing the palm onto the plaque; spreading my fingers, opening the door into my living room. My home.

I step in, into the living room. The door quietly closes behind me.

The floor is laid with oak wood parquet. Polished; smooth and shiny. It is hard under my feet.

I find a two seat sofa in the right corner, with a small table just two foot away; opposing the TV set, covering the entire wall upon which it had been mounted. At first, the sofa seems as if it had been black leather, but the smooth material is silicon. The table is forged out of chromed titanium with a single three by five foot sapphire glass sheet.

The wall behind me is covered with three foot bookshelves, a foot deep from wall-to-wall.

Before me, is what appears to be a painting. The motif is depicting a girl before her home. She is clearly oriental, and the building is of Japanese style. Just that I am uncertain, as to the exact era, due to my lack of knowledge of Japanese architecture and history.

The girl has a fair complexion, even for the region. Her hair is still pitch black, shimmering healthily in the light of the sun shining down from above; cropped short bangs ending just above her eyes, diminutive braids before her ears, while the rest of her hair is tightly braided and flows down the length of her back.

She is wearing a metallic silicon top in deep ruby hue and a matching knee-length skirt.

From what I can see, she is wearing a pair of Crescent Moon boots of the cervine variety; not the classical Japanese foot-wear or the Western alternative.

Her inch-long, semi-square nails had been lacquered in traditional Japanese red. A curious detail, at least to me. She is lifting her right hand, extended in a warm greeting; thus exposing the bright cerise touch-pads and the porcelain white suction-cup covering the entire palm of her hand.

She is looking at me, smiling in a warm welcoming gesture. She feels as if she could have been my mother, but I can’t put a finger on exactly how or why she had given me this impression.

On the right side of the painting, there is a door to the balcony. There is a window on the right and left of the door and painting as well.

Beside the sofa, I have the door to my bed-room and the girl’s room respectively.

I step over to the door to my bed-room; extending my hand and press the palm of my hand onto the plaque; spreading my fingers in order to open the door. I step in, and the door is sliding shut behind me.

I have a bed, four by seven feet. The bed is already made. A black sheet, covered by the crystal-clear quilt. A large, crystal-clear pillow is held down by the edge of my quilt.

I have a night-stand by the side of my bed. Behind the bed, I can see the doors to the built-in wardrobe in which I am supposed to store my clothes and bed-linen.

There are three sets of change for me and the bed. Each identical, to what is already presented.

As I turn around, opening the door; I turn to the next door to the girl’s room, opening it with what is now practiced ease. Not that it had ever been that hard, in the first place. I had merely been unfamiliar with how they handle before I had arrived.

I enter a small room, with two sliding doors of frosted sapphire glass. Behind one, I have the shower. The floor is laid with glossy stone tiles, while the walls had been laid with warm turquoise tiles. Just as everywhere else in my home, I have the same black with a pin-prick LED star-skape. Curiously enough; my shower is controlled by a plaque, similar to the one controlling the door.

As I am examining the girl’s room; I find the room sparse to spartan, with only a place to stand where I can relieve myself.

I step up onto the pad, finding the utility already adjusted to my size; making my orifices lining up, perfectly. There is also a sink, so I can watch my hands.

“Curious!” I ponder, as I am stepping down from the pad; “This is something, I will just have to get used to!” I realize.

§“I can shower in peace and quiet, tonight!” I mumble, to myself, as I step out of the girl’s room.

Maybe I never had much of privacy, or private property where I lived; but now I have. I just need to fill up my home, with a few items to make this my own. Maybe a few decorations and books? Since it is quiet, I could enjoy reading.

“Wait, there is a door out to my balcony?” I ponder, as the idea strikes me.

I don’t exactly expect much, but the promise of a balcony was still a promise. While I could put up the exploration for a moment; but since I have seen the rest of what is now my home, I could as well have a look at it at least.

The walk through my living room is not far, but as I reach the door; I extend my right hand and press the palm down on the plaque, spreading my fingers to open the door to my balcony.

Now I step out, only to find the vast balcony before me. Just as expected it is virtually empty.

However, I have a table and two chairs in the corner on my right. The table is an outdoor version of the table before my sofa inside. The chairs seem to match the table.

The true shock, is the door to the cabinet within which I could store a small selection of items. I have a complete tea-set for two; including the cups, spoons and pot. Although I guess I had not expected the diminutive fridge.

A wooden fence is protecting me from incidentally stepping over and fall down onto the ground below. While it is not technically part of the fence, but the wood continues all the way around the space.

“Twenty five degrees” reads the thermometer; “Forty five percent humidity” reads the hydrometer.

“Seems like a fine day!” I point out, to myself.

“I should have a cup of tea, here!” I ponder; “I just have to decorate this, and it will be a special joy!” I conclude.

This had been such an unexpected surprise. I had never seen a large balcony before, and most certainly one this luxurious as the one I have now.

Since I had seen most everything, the new home had to offer, I go back to my bed room. While I thought I had seen it; there were a few things I could afford a closer look. Maybe the balcony had inspired me?

Now I step into my living room, walking over the floor, to the door leading to my bedroom.

Half the way to the door, I end up stopping; leaning forwards, extending my right and left hand and slide my fingers over my heels. In the process I am changing my stance. With that, I am now standing on the tip of my toes, as I am walking the rest of the way to the door.

While my feet are stylishly small and girlish; all according to the tradition, it is still lending me a few more inches to my stature. The second adjustment had straightened my legs a bit.

Now I continue to the door, stopping; extending my right hand and press the palm of my hand onto the plaque, before I am spreading my fingers in order to open the door.

Just like a charm, the door slides up quietly. I step in, then the door slides shut as I had passed the threshold.

“That, is something I will just have to get used to!” I ponder, as I stand in my bedroom once more.

There is a photo of me, my face hanging over the pillow on my bed. The photo looks as if it had been taken today.

As I am looking down, I notice the drawer of the bed stand; pull it out, only to find an empty wallet and a freshly printed ID card, or driver’s licence.

Not that I would need either an ID card, or a driver’s licence in here; but it isn’t a prison and I can go as I please. Outside, however; I could need these items.

For now, I leave the wallet, where it is; but only after I had inserted the ID card into a fitting pocket inside my new wallet. I push the drawer in, before I am turning my back on the bed-stand and walk over to the wardrobe.

The doors of the right wardrobe slide up quietly and quite effortlessly; revealing its content, before me. The inner wall behind the hangers is clearly intended as a full-length, or full-body mirror. I can see my reflection as I please.

“Looking good!” I exclaim, as I see myself looking back.

I can see blouses, skirts, brassieres, panties and stockings all lined up. Three identical versions of what I am already wearing.

My tail reflexively raises, demonstrating my current level of excitement. Just the seven inches, but it is a functional tail all the same. My tail, that is. It is a part of me, after all; I like it, just as it is.

Just that I imagine myself with a longer tail, one I can proudly show openly.

I close the wardrobe, taking a step aside to face the other wardrobe on my left. The doors slide up before me, revealing the content. Clear sheets, quilts and pillows. I even have a pair of smaller side pillows.

Upon the discovery of these smaller side pillows, I pick them up; walking back to my bed, before I place the pillows to the right and left of my larger central pillow.

“There, perfect!” I exclaim, feeling my tail raising a bit with my growing excitement.

Now I return to the wardrobe, closing the doors; before I walk back to the door. I extend my right hand, pressing the palm onto the plaque and feel its operational warmth; spreading my fingers wide to open the door, before I am stepping out of the room. The door quietly slides shut behind me, just as I had passed the threshold.