Not fair...

This isn't fair to me.

This isn't fair to you either.

Why won't you see that?

Why won't you listen to me?

Things have to get worse before they get better.

Delta... I need you to work with me. Please, can you just wake up and—

~~

Delta woke up in a hot sweat. It had been a long time since they'd had a not-quite-dream like that, where there was nothing except for Kassandra's voice. It had seemed clear at the time, but now that they'd woken up the memory was fading before they could grab hold of it. One line stood out, though. 

Things have to get worse before they get better.

When did they fall asleep? The last thing they remembered was their encounter with their Mistress, and laying next to her in bed. Maybe they'd drifted off to sleep at some point? For just a moment, they wondered if she'd left them alone again, like she had last time — but sure enough, Delta could feel their Mistress' arm still wrapped around them protectively. She was a quiet sleeper, which was... nice.

They stared ahead aimlessly at the wall as they grappled with the lingering emotions and fragmented words from their dream. Delta always clashed with Kassandra. Yes, Kassandra just wanted to protect them, but they couldn't help but feel that she was doing more harm than good in that. They wanted Kassandra to be a part of their life, but couldn't she just trust them? Or maybe Delta was the one who needed to trust her. They didn't know anymore.

Delta typically wasn't one to hallucinate, but they swore they could hear some sort of harsh vibration, like frequencies changing on an old television set. Maybe if they went back to sleep, it'd go away? But that wasn't an option. They couldn't sleep, so they just stared.

"Plaything."

Delta jumped a bit, not expecting to hear their Mistress' voice.

"Why are you awake?"

That she knew they were awake unnerved Delta — did they really give it away so easily? They had thought they were lying completely still.

"I just... had a bad dream," they said, and that mostly was true. "I'm sorry for waking you up."

There were no more words between them, and the two eventually fell back asleep.

~~

Delta was reawakened by the blankets being pulled out from on top of them. The cold air of the room flowed over them, and their eyes drifted open slowly. They looked around, trying to see who had taken off their blankets, and wanting to yell at them to give it back. They suppressed that urge as soon as they noticed their Mistress standing there, holding the blanket up. She was fully dressed in new clothes, her hair and makeup already done. They were, of course, still in their clothes from last night.

"Wake up," she snapped.

Delta responded with a soft murmur that was supposed to be 'good morning', the thoughts of last night still spinning around in their head.

"Speak up when you talk to me, plaything."

Delta snapped to attention. "I'm sorry, Mistress," they said immediately. "Good morning. I'm, uh, sorry, I'm still tired, and—"

"Well, get up, then," she ordered. "You have things you need to do for me today. You don't want to keep me waiting, do you?"

"No, Mistress," Delta said, still a little groggy but trying to push the sleepiness aside. They sat up on the bed and rubbed their eyes, shook their head, and lifted their eyes to meet hers. "Um, what do you need from me today, Mistress?"

"Good question," she smirked, clearly pleased with how Delta worded it — always ready to serve, always willing to do anything to make their Mistress happy. "I need you to make me breakfast. I'll give you our... plans, for today."

Plans? Delta tilted their head a bit, blinking as they tried to wonder what sort of day their Mistress planned out for them. Surely it wouldn't be anything bad, right?

"So, get up," she prompted. Delta nodded, standing up off the bed. Their hair was a mess, their shirt and pants unaligned. Their panties were still dirty from the night before. They really needed to change them, desperately.

"Into the kitchen," she ordered, snapping her fingers for Delta to move along. They did, leaving the room and entering the living room-kitchen hybrid. The sunlight peeked in from the blinds, illuminating the room in a subtly beautiful way. Delta looked towards the clock — it was about 7:30 in the morning, far earlier than they normally were up around. Though they weren't a morning riser —  after all, their Mistress pretty much forced them to wake up — they felt well rested, practically glowing. They could sense that glow on their Mistress, too.

"For breakfast, I think I would like scrambled eggs for us," she mused. "Make me some coffee, too, while you're at it. You can have whatever you want to drink."

"Okay," they said, turning around to look for everything she'd requested. Their Mistress grabbed Delta's shoulder, twisting them to face her.

"'Okay' isn't 'Yes, Mistress'," she growled, leaning in close so that her face was practically touching Delta's. Delta flinched, realizing their mistake. How could they be so stupid?

"I'm sorry, Mistress. I meant, yes, Mistress," they whimpered, using her title twice just in case. That seemed to have worked, as their Mistress leaned back out and smirked at them.

"Very good. Get to it, then."

Delta immediately set to preparing everything. They started boiling water for the coffee, grabbed the pan and mixing bowl for the eggs, and then grabbed milk, cheese, and spinach to mix in. The house was surprisingly well-stocked. It wasn't over-stocked to the point of food going to waste, but it had been filled enough so that Delta had a variety of options for every meal. It wasn't like they couldn't cook — after all, anyone who lived a moderately healthy lifestyle needed to be able to cook, and Delta liked to believe they were one of those people. Scrambled eggs and coffee were easy enough. They weren't necessarily a coffee person, but they were sure there were other options. If there weren't, they could just drink water.

While they were mixing the eggs, they turned around briefly to see what their Mistress was doing. She had pulled out her tablet, and was scrolling through it with a focused expression. She's probably looking at the stock market or something, Delta thought, holding back a smirk. Their Mistress couldn't actually read their mind, but Delta felt a bit bad for making fun of her anyway.

They waited to see if she would try to make conversation, but she didn't, continuing to stare intently at her tablet. Going back to their eggs, they poured the mixture into the pan, poking at it with the spatula. The hot water dinged, so Delta briefly abandoned the pan to make the coffee.

A memory of making coffee for their mom — also a business woman — crossed their mind. How was she? Where was she now? They grimaced, shoving those questions out of their head. It was more painful to think of those things than it was to try their best to forget.

They finished making the coffee, and handed it to their Mistress in a plain black mug. She didn't even acknowledge them as she grabbed the mug, taking a long drink. Delta returned to their eggs silently, finished them, and split them on a plate for them and their Mistress. They sat back down, and looked ahead, thinking of something to say.

"Um... you said you had plans for us today—" Delta started.

"Today is one of the rare days I get a day off," their Mistress interrupted, still not looking at Delta. "I've decided I'm going to spend it with you."

That sounded... nice, actually. They didn't think Mistress would want to spend it doing something bad to them. But they couldn't fully convince themself of that. "Okay," they said finally. "Forgive me for asking, but what... what are we going to be doing?"

"A lot," she mused as she looked up at them and smiled. This smile was different than the ones from before. It was lighter, somehow, as if she wasn't looking to make Delta's life miserable or just simply use them for personal gratification. Not just then, anyway. "I'm going to take you to the Smith Mall. I have a whole day planned for us." Delta kept looking at her expectantly, so she continued. "You're going to be treated very, very nicely today. I'm going to buy you a new set of clothes — after all, I'm not going to have you continue serving me in a T-shirt and jeans. That would be absurd — and then you're going to get nice and pampered. We're going to get our nails done, our makeup done, and our hair done. Then we're going to go get lunch at the most expensive restaurant in the city, and then we're going to go to a show where I've reserved the best possible seats, and you're going to get to drink as much as you please."

Delta's jaw dropped. Not only was that very nice and unexpected for someone who literally bought them, and not only did they feel extremely bashful taking all of this, but...

"That sounds... incredibly expensive."

Their Mistress raised an eyebrow. "And I", she said with condescension, "am incredibly rich. Is that a problem, plaything?"

Delta shook their head.

"Would you prefer I tie you up and leave you in your room without the ability to move for the entire day? Maybe invite some of my coworkers over to have their way with you?"

Delta shook their head again. 

"Then it's decided, and maybe you should try being grateful," she huffed, turning back to her coffee, food and tablet. "The driver will be here in fifteen minutes. Go change your clothes into something that you weren't just fucked in. I won't have you embarrass me like that."

Delta shifted uncomfortably, knowing she was right. Their clothes were probably filthy, and now that they were aware of it, they didn't want to stew in them anymore. They went into the room and closed the door.

"Leave the door open."

"Yes, Mistress," they blushed, opening the door before shyly beginning to take off their clothes. They looked through their suitcase for something else. Their Mistress was right — the vast majority of their clothes were T-shirts and jeans, with the occasional pair of shorts or leggings and the one dress they had. Well, that wouldn't be the case for much longer, apparently. It was a warm day, so they opted for yet another T-shirt — this one with a logo on it — and one of the pairs of shorts they had. They also changed their underwear, which was really the most important part.

They walked out, looking already more clean and put together. Their Mistress eyed them briefly, and they waited for her to attack them or something.

"Go brush your hair and teeth," she ordered.

"Yes, Mistress," they said automatically.

"And I know you're stupid, plaything, but please do use different brushes." 

Delta's face flushed as they went into the bathroom and started running a brush through their hair. They tried to go soft at the knots in their hair — there weren't many, since they cut their hair relatively short, and certainly shorter than their Mistress's, but it was still an ordeal to get them out. They then set to brushing their teeth as well, using an electric toothbrush that appeared to be fresh from the packaging for them. Once they were done with all of that, they returned to the main room.

"Sit down next to me, plaything," their Mistress called absently as they walked in.

They pulled out the chair next to her,  slowly sitting down and looking at her, expecting orders. Instead, their Mistress closed their tablet, and her intense gaze met Delta's as she smiled, putting a hand on Delta's knee and rubbing it lightly. There was a different kind of intensity in her eyes. The intensity in her eyes last night and the night before had been hungry, that of a hunter, looking to devour Delta entirely like prey. This look in her eyes — and her smile — was more so saying I love having you in my life. As if she had been looking for someone, and she'd finally found that person in Delta. Delta felt strangely loved, despite the situation. Even though they didn't have a choice in the matter, they could feel secure here, at least in for a moment.

Not fair...

Delta froze as those words echoed in their mind. Kassandra wasn't making herself known right now... but those words still haunted them.

They were jolted out of their thoughts when their Mistress' phone vibrated. She turned around, her face falling back to impatience. "The driver is here. Let's go."

"...Yes, Mistress," Delta said, grateful for something to distract them.

~~

Delta and their Mistress sat close to each other on the drive over, both of them silent as they watched the view. The buildings, the people, the few bits of nature flitted by. At one point, the car passed a beautiful garden, filled with such pretty flowers. They just wanted to go there, and lay down in the sunlight, taking everything in.

"Do you like flowers, Delta?" their Mistress asked, smirking for some reason.

"I do," they said. "But I've never been able to take care of them. I always kill my plants."

"Maybe I'll have to get you some," their Mistress chuckled. "Get you to be more careful with taking care of flowers."

"That would be nice," they said absently, looking back at their Mistress. They tried to force a smile, but they weren't entirely able to.

Eventually, after a short detour through a highway and an irritating amount of traffic, the car reached the Smith Mall. Delta had heard about it before, despite not growing up there. The mall was at least twenty stories high, with a beautiful exterior and gorgeous glass windows. For a minute, they just stared in awe; in the past, they never would have dreamed of going to such a beautiful place.

Once the car was parked, their Mistress got out, motioning for Delta to follow. They did, taking in the cool breeze. Thankfully, it wasn't too cold, considering all they had were short sleeves. Delta was surprised when they felt something lock around one of their belt hoops. They looked down, and realized their Mistress had chained their waist to her wrist.

"Ah yes, one more thing..." she smirked. "I'm going to make sure you don't stray too far from me."

~~

If the mall wasn't beautiful enough on the outside, the inside put it to shame. The walls were made of smooth, gorgeous marble, affixed with elegantly designed water fountains and decorated with small landscaped plots of nature.Delta could tell that they could never afford any of the items at any of the stores. Who would even want to pay $450 for a plain white polo?

They felt incredibly out of place. Most of the people they saw were clad in suits and ties or fancy dresses. Meanwhile, they were wearing what was pretty much all they had, and their casual dress stood out like a scar on perfect skin. Most of the people looked richer than they'd ever dreamed of. Probably not as rich as their Mistress, but most of them probably lived off a six-figure salary. 

And of course, they couldn't go far to explore. Not with the chain tying them to their Mistress's wrist. Every time they got distracted and tried to move too far, usually to indulge their curiosity and horrified awe at the prices, they were pulled back forcibly to her side. At least she matched their pace, so Delta didn't have to run to catch up. The two made light, awkward conversation as they walked. There wasn't really much to say or talk about, but they sure tried.

They made their way up to the fourth floor or so. Somehow, it was more refined up here than it was at the lobby. There were twenty floors... How opulent did the top get? And how could anyone afford literally anything here?

"I have a stylist here in one of the biggest stores," their Mistress explained. Delta looked up at her. "She's been my guide with my clothing for years. I trust she'll find you something we both find graceful, even worn by you," she chuckled.

"Okay," Delta responded slowly, trying to ignore the insult. "Um... forgive me for asking, Mistress, but I don't want to be too much of a burden, so if things cost too much, then I don't want to—"

Their Mistress stopped suddenly, turning to grab their shoulders with an intense look. "I," she repeated, "am incredibly rich. I could probably buy three of everything in this mall, if I wanted. You ought to stop questioning me. Get that through your thick skull, will you?"

Delta immediately nodded, shivering at the thought of making their Mistress anymore angry.

"One more thing..." she said slowly. "You are going to thank everyone who helps us out today. Do you understand?"

Delta quickly nodded. That was easy, at least, even as shy and awkward as they were. "Yes, Mistress. I will."

"Good," she responded, letting go of their shoulders.

The two kept walking down the area, eventually getting to what Delta thought might as well have been a mall unto itself. The name was some sort of French word they couldn't pronounce. The two stopped in the entrance — or rather, their Mistress stopped, and Delta was yanked back.

"Wait." She kneeled down to Delta's waist, unlocking the chain holding them together. She took it off her wrist, putting it into her shoulder bag. Delta gave her a confused look. "Do not leave this store. I'll know if you do." She pointed a finger at Delta, lightly scolding them as if they were a child. "Do you understand?"

"Yes, Mistress," they said again, appreciating the freedom, even if they felt a bit weird about being pampered so much.

Not fair...

Kassandra's words from their dream again. They tried to block it out. She still wasn't out. Things were still fine.

Their Mistress didn't say another word to them, not even giving them a smile, and led them into the store. Delta gasped as they looked at their surroundings. Mannequin statues stood displaying fancy clothes, in all manner of masculine, androgynous, or feminine styles, and in an almost unbelievable variety of colors. The store clerks wore fancy suits with handkerchiefs in their chest pockets, and Delta shrunk, feeling even more out of place than they did before. Their Mistress stopped and crossed her arms, tapping her foot impatiently.

"I forgot to mention," she started, and Delta turned from their gawking. "In case you're too stupid to notice, I am not in the habit of giving everybody my name. Very few people know it without having earned that privilege. The name I tend to give people is 'M', and that is what they know me by here. I want to be clear — you are not even to call me that. You are to continue referring to me as Mistress. Am I clear?"

Delta nodded. Was M just the first letter of her name? Surely it didn't stand for Mistress. But it didn't matter, because they wouldn't get to use it anyways. Maybe one day they'd learn her name — she'd implied they'd need to prove themself — but today was not that day.

Eventually, one of the store staff noticed the pair sitting around waiting, and came over to help. "Good morning! Welcome, welcome. Can I assist you with anything today?" she asked politely, her clipped tone making it clear she was raising her voice's notes a little to sound more sweet and caring.

"I'd like to see my stylist, Clara," Mistress said, her arms still crossed. "As soon as possible."

"Certainly! She's just helping someone, I will grab her as soon as she's ready." After saying that, the attendant moved to walk away.

"One moment," Delta's Mistress said, before elbowing Delta in the side roughly, causing them to flinch. They stared at her in confusion for a second before they remembered what they were supposed to do.

"Um, thank you," they said, and the attendant flashed them an empty smile before walking away, leaving them to wait. 

Fortunately, they didn't have to wait long. Eventually, an older woman with big, curly magenta hair — probably in her late 30s or early 40s, Delta guessed — walked up to them, a broad smile on her face. It seemed more genuine than the staff lady's had been.

"M!" she exclaimed warmly, opening her arms out for a hug that Mistress didn't give her. "How are you doing? It's been so long!"

"Yes, Clara, because your clothing is good enough I don't need to replace it," she said, smiling lightly. Delta, overwhelmed, instinctively felt the need to hide behind their Mistress — they resisted that, knowing that doing so would not be in their best interests. Their Mistress didn't notice their internal struggle, and continued. "Today, I don't need help — this lovely person here does."

"Ah, I see!" Clara looked down at Delta, who cursed their genetics. Why did everyone have to be so much taller than them? "How are you today? You certainly look like you could use quite the wardrobe change!"

Delta grimaced a bit. What was that supposed to mean? Was it... never mind. They already knew.

"Um, yeah, I, um, I don't have a lot of clothes other than... stuff like this, and—"

"They just moved, and the flight attendants lost one of their suitcases." It was clear that their Mistress was getting fed up with them trying to explain themself, and also that she didn't want anyone to — god forbid — think she was hanging around someone who had no sense of class or style.

"Oh, those silly flight attendants, never really knowing what they're doing," Clara laughed it off. "What's your name?"

"I'm... I'm Delta."

"What a cool name," she cooed. Delta was flattered — after all, they'd chosen it themself. "And what sort of style are you looking for today?"

"Um..." Delta looked towards their Mistress, expecting her to answer for them. After all, she was in complete control of their life — she had the right to decide what they wear, be it style or color. Although she didn't have much to say until now, which surprised Delta. They waited for her to say something, until she noticed them looking up at her.

"What are you waiting for? Answer her," she snapped. Delta looked back to Clara to see if she reacted to the way she spoke to Delta, but she kept that maybe-fake smile on her face all the way.

Delta hesitated, and then answered the best they could. "Um... anything goes," they said, then immediately realized that wasn't a good answer. "I like reds, blues, and blacks and light grays, I guess."

"Got it, and for style?"

Delta wanted to immediately respond no dresses or skirts. They paused, locking their fingers together and forcing a smile. "No preference. But, I guess I like shirts and pants better."

Clara nodded knowingly. "Alright, well, follow me to the dressing room, and I'll have some stuff for you!"

Once Clara dropped the two off at the dressing room, and had been thoroughly rebuffed by Delta's guarded answers to her absent questions about their life, she went off to find some clothing she thought would work. Delta of course thanked her, not wanting another jab. Delta and their Mistress sat silently, their Mistress sitting on the bench and Delta standing and looking blankly ahead.

"Um... can I ask a question?" Delta suddenly asked, not turning to meet their Mistress.

"What is it, plaything?"

"Why did you let me choose what I wanted? I mean, not that that's a problem, really, I'm just... surprised."

Their Mistress gave them a long look as Delta shifted uncomfortably. Should they even have asked something like that? Thankfully, she spoke up after not too long.

"You don't have a lot of freedom, you're right. But I see no reason not to give you this. Besides, I have the final say on everything. If I don't like how something looks on you even in the slightest, then you're not getting it, and that's final. Besides, it's not like you'll be keeping clothes on for long while we're together. Understand?"

"Yes, Mistress," Delta responded, even before they'd even registered what she'd said.

Another moment of silence passed before their Mistress spoke up.

"Now I have a question. Do you not like dresses?"

Delta's face drained. They hated that she asked that question. Should they lie and placate her, only to draw her fury when she found out? Or tell the truth, and bear her disappointment? To be fair, it wasn't entirely that dresses caused them gender dysphoria or anything, although that was part of it. They'd just never found one that fit them — one that was comfortable to move in, or comfortable to be in, or one that they looked good in. They never felt confident in dresses. They always felt demoralized, shrunk even shorter than they already were.

"I don't," they said simply. "I've never found one I liked. I don't know if I ever will find one I like."

Their Mistress hummed in understanding. The conversation was dropped when Clara came back into the room, arms full of hangers with different clothes, all in the colors Delta mentioned. There were also some scarves and jewelry, and a few pieces of lingerie. So this day isn't just for me, then.

~~

Delta went through quite a few outfits, putting together the tops, bottoms and accessories in a rather stylish way, they thought — although their Mistress scoffed at their fashion sense. She had a few things to change, and a few pieces and outfits she had to veto, but for the most part she was fairly pleased with Delta's choices. They were calming down too, getting used to the feeling of being able to freely choose what to wear without worrying about money.

In particular, their Mistress rather enjoyed an outfit where they wore a black vest with a black and white flannel shirt underneath, and gray dress pants, with a splash of color in a lovely, aqua blue scarf that was arranged to their side.

Once Delta was done trying on everything, their Mistress peered inside the dressing room with a curious expression. She noticed the dresses that Clara had picked out for them, all still hanging on the rails perfectly untouched.

"Did you not like any of the dresses?" she asked, and Delta deflated a little.

"Ah. Um. I, um, wouldn't wear them if I could choose, but, I guess if..."

Their Mistress held up a finger to their mouth, as if telling them to stop talking. They stopped, and their Mistress just calmly walked away out of the dressing room area. Delta watched her walk away, awkwardly sitting down on the dressing room bench waiting for her to return.

Sure enough, she did return eventually, holding a dress in her hand. Delta flattened even more. They really didn't want to have to wear a dress, especially by force.

Not fair...

Though, they looked at the sleeveless dress she was holding a bit closer. It was a lovely velvet black with red stripes along the skirt part of it, and with blue ribbons on the straps. The echo that had filled them with anxiety moments before faded away. Something about it... It was beautiful. More than any dress they'd ever tried on.

"I will not ask you to wear any other dress. Try this one on, and wear it with those black heels," their Mistress said, pushing the dress into their hands. They took a deep, quiet inhale and walked back into the dressing room, to begin putting on the dress.

To begin, the dress was comfortable. It was a perfect fit, as if it were made specifically for them. The ribbons were sewn just below where the tips of their hair ended, and they couldn't help but admire the vibrant red of the stripes. They looked into the mirror in the room. This felt... good, in a weird way they had never felt with clothing before.

They slowly opened the door, walking out with the dress on and focusing carefully on not stumbling over their heels. They took a moment to suppress a huge smile, one of joy at having found a dress they felt comfortable in. Once they composed themself, they looked up at their Mistress eagerly, waiting for her to say something. Her face was unreadable, as always.

"Do you like the dress?" she finally asked.

"Yes!" Delta said, a bit too loudly. They continued, softer. "It's perfect. I love it."

~~

The two went to the cash register, and they were busy scanning everything while Delta watched the price rack up into the two thousands — no, three thousands, and higher.

They took another look at the dress as it was scanned, admiring it. They looked back at their Mistress. She was watching their expression fondly, until her phone started ringing. Looking at the number, she let out a groan. "This better be important, calling me on my day off."

There was a pause. Delta couldn't hear the other side, so they watched their Mistress's face.

"You what?!" she exclaimed, making Delta jump. "How could you make such a stupid—"

She was cut off when the other line started talking again. They might not be able to hear, but the rage on their Mistress's face told them enough. After a few moments of agonizing silence broken only by the awkward beeping of the register, she spoke again.

"I'll be over as soon as possible," she growled. "I hope you'll enjoy seeing your next paycheck. You have quite a lot to look forward to." She hung up, eyes blazing with anger.

She turned to Delta, quickly trying to hide any humanity she'd just displayed.

"Looks like our plans will have to take a slight detour."