Task: Wearing heels at the airport

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As mentioned before, last year I spend quite some time of summer at my mum’s place. In the end, I would travel/move to a new place/another country to start my postgraduate studies.

Over the summer Miss Lois and I had started my development/training to become a slave, which didn’t only include discipline, but also classiness. As I’ve mentioned before, I used to wear sports clothes and trainers most of the time. But since the start of my training, this definitely had to change. Specifically, it also included starting to learn how to walk in heels and to actually wear them in public. I was absolutely terrified of wearing heels in public. It’s not like I had never worn them before. I had during fancy dinners and such, but I didn’t mind during those occasions because it felt appropriate. Somehow it didn’t feel appropriate to wear heels on normal days because that would attract attention… and I liked not to be seen. I didn’t want to attract attention. And so during the entirety of my training, the thing I dreaded the most was having to wear heels out in public. I was actively terrified of the idea and very doubtful that I was capable of actually doing it.

The evening before my departure, Miss Lois came up with a new task: That to show that I was going to develop even more as a slave once I arrived in this new place, I was to wear a pair of heels from the moment I got off the plane until I’d leave the airport.

I definitely panicked. I was already quite anxious about travelling to this new place as I’d never been there before and I’m just an anxious person… wearing heels in public, no matter how short, I was terrified.

I told her that I was and that I didn’t feel ready, but she said that she felt like she was taking something important away from me if she didn’t force me to do it now.

I continued to plead: “but everyone will be able to see it and hear me walk and look at me.” and “I was going to wear sports trousers, it’ll look ridiculous. I can’t change to trousers now, they’re already packed.”

She didn’t accept my excuses. She said she expected a selfie of me in the middle of the airport, wearing the heels and that she was actually very happy about this task. She thought this was the perfect start for my new life.

“What if I can’t do it?” I still pleaded.

She said that she had no doubt that I could do it. I’d struggle but it’d be worth it. And that’s how our conversation ended… considering it was already 2 AM and I was flying in the morning.

So the day came, I boarded the plane, flew across the sea and landed in this new country. And then… I had to put on the heels that I’d carried in my hand luggage.

I didn’t put them on upon landing. I couldn’t. I panicked.

I went through passport control, collected my luggage and ended up in the general area, still with the heels safely in my bag.

I have to put on these heels… I have to do it. It’s not that bad. No one will know. Everyone wears heels all the time, it’s fine.

I entered the toilet and sat down, hidden inside a cubicle for a while. Then I got up and left and walked through the hall for a while until I had gathered enough courage to try it again.

In the cubicle, I took the heels out of my bag and put one on. My hands were shaking as I tied the laces. I didn’t manage to put the second one on as my thoughts were racing too quickly. I started crying. I broke down completely. I felt so afraid. I couldn’t show myself in public with heels. I couldn’t stand people looking at me.

I changed my heel for trainers and left the toilets and then walked around in circles for a while, trying to convince myself to return to the toilet and trying to convince myself that I could do this. I had to take a selfie after all. I couldn’t disappoint Miss Lois.

But I couldn’t calm myself down and so my natural survival response was activated… I had to get myself to my new home. I had to get myself inside and safe. If I stayed here like this I wouldn’t make it, whether I’d end up wearing the heels or not. My safety came first, I had to abandon the task.

I probably sent her a million texts, saying that I was sorry. I sent a new one each hour, or so.

It still took an hour and a half until I arrived at my destination and met my new flatmate (who had cooked for both of us!) and another hour and a half until I reached my new room where I dropped everything and cried in bed.

I felt like a failure. I didn’t know how to cope with it. I felt terrible.

I didn’t think Miss Lois was going to come online anymore that day, but at 10 to twelve she messaged me and said that I wasn’t a failure and didn’t have to be so hard on myself. She understood that I had done my best and that if my best wasn’t good enough that we just needed a little more time to prepare me. She said I didn’t have to be sorry because she knew I’d tried my very best.

I worried still, but she said it wasn’t I that had to work on managing it, but that I would get punished for not managing it, which would free me of my sins.

We talked about my fears and thoughts, and why I am so afraid of people looking at me. I said I didn’t think I was an attractive person. Not like her.

But she said that I simply lacked confidence, posture, the right clothes and makeup, which are all things that can be learned.

She promised me that in a few months, I’d walk through town in heels.

This thought scared me. It didn’t excite me. But it was one of those things where I just had to trust her and not listen to my own feelings.
Eventually, I asked her if I could go to sleep, and she said that my task for tomorrow was to suggest three different punishments for not having completed today’s task.

Xx MLSlavePuppet

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