POV Chapter 7: Cat's night out

Filed: POV @ 4:55pm on September 11, 2014 No comments yet! :(   Word Count: 581

Going out isn’t easy when you are single and broke.

I do have a job, I work two nights per week at a donut shop. It’s all I could secure.

The problem is that I don’t want colleagues to talk to. To mingle with. To chit-chat. That would be the death of me.

But without a high school diploma, I am rather limited in my career choices, and with my constant depression, it’s not like I am a bundle of joy during interviews.

But two nights per week is just enough to pay rent and meals and very occasionally, some clothes.

I am fortunate enough that electricity is included in the rent or I don’t know how I could afford it.

But it’s not always like that. Sometimes, the other employee who works the night shift is on vacation I get to take extras shift, and when that happens, I treat myself to some extras.

Yes, I should save for a rainy day, but when you feel like it’s always rainy, what do you do?

I have a nice black latex dress. Well, nice is relative term. It shows a lot of skin and normal people who die of shame being seen in it.

But in my case, that’s why I picked it. I want people to easily see my body and with the dress clinging to it, almost nothing is left to the imagination.

Plus, it’s really short and can easily be lifted to my waist for quick action, or dropped to reveal my breasts for easy access.

When I go out, I want action. I want eyes on my breasts and ass.

But I don’t wan’t theirs eyes to move up, so I wear a latex hood. It was actually my first “purchase” and still my greatest.

It has a hole in the back to let out a pony tail, too little holes for my nostrils and a zipper for the mouth.

It was hard to find exactly what I wanted and even harder to find one which allowed to breathe through the over sized zipper. My hood was custom made by a local guy in exchange for a few BDSM sessions with him.

But the greatest feature was the apparent absence of holes for the eye. Instead, the latex was thinned so I could almost perfectly see while entirely concealing my eyes.

When the mouth zipper was closed, the only visible features of my head were my nostrils and my pony tail.

Of course, I didn’t walk to my destination like this. I put on a jacket over my dress, and dropped the hood in a pocket, retrieving it in front of the Black Lotus Dungeon door, making sure it was securely in place before walking in.

I just dropped my coat on the counter without so much looking at the attendant and went straight to the bar without saying a word.

At the Black Lotus Dungeon, I don’t pay for entry. I don’t pay for anything.

The owner lets me come as often as I want and in exchange, I entertain his guests and occasionally, himself.

I am not a prostitute… I am not paid to have BDSM sessions or sex with people I don’t know.

Instead, I become in a way, a GIMP. A sexual toy to be used. I am no longer a person with an identity, feelings and a personality. I become a tool to be used and abused.

I stop being Cat. I stop being scared. I stop being the daugther of incest. I become nothing.

And it’s the only way I have found to feel alive.

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