Part Three: Dear Mistress

3/11/27

No entry yesterday, Mistress. I apologize. Peter was home when I returned from my two-year checkup, and then he kept me busy with menial chores around the house.

Two years! It seems a century has passed since you last bound me to your bed and tormented me with your tools of pain - the worst of which was that wretched feather! You know how ticklish I am, Mistress. You are at your cruelest with a feather in your hand.

I miss you so much, Mistress! I hope you are well, where ever you are. And I pray you will someday read these diary entries so you know your beloved slave has obeyed your instructions, even in your absence. As I did when you would read my entries weekly, I will continue to honor your command to record my thoughts, delights, and fears, daily. Even though you're not here to read them, I find it very therapeutic to record them, and it even makes me giddy to hide my tiny encrypted flash drive diary from my "husband" (cough, yuk). It's the little acts of disobedience that make life tolerable for me these days.

Speaking of my husband, the doctor I saw yesterday asked some very odd questions concerning my relationship with Peter, and the work we did. He was definitely probing, hoping I would talk freely with the assurance that what I said would be kept confidential. What a joke! Everything I said to him was sent directly to the Regime, I'm sure.

Our work for the Service is on record at Vauxhall Cross, though. If he's probing for the Regime it begs the question, why don't they already know? Is the Service not cooperating with the Regime? I was under the impression they took over the Service the day the new Prime Minister took the reigns of power. 

He questioned the timing of our departure from the Service, which I must confess I allowed to rattle me. It's just that it's a question that's been in my mind, too. How perfect was that timing? The Signal Corps was relatively untouched after the Great Purge. Coded messages still needed to be sent. The codes of the enemies of the Regime still needed to be broken, and especially those of the deviant KSN. What prompted the Major to suddenly switch careers?

I never heard who took your place as the Special Actions Director. Not that I even care. Whoever it was would not be able to fill your lovely shoes, Mistress. 

The Major will be home soon, and I have a roast in the oven. Can you believe I can cook, Mistress? My deepest desire is to cook for you one day.

Until tomorrow....kisses!