Dommerella Chapter 1 - It's Raining

Submitted by Sara Dimitriaski

Dommerella lived with her Aunt and three sisters in a lovely condo in a sunny valley in the Queendom of Pointecastle. It was a large house, and required much upkeep. Usually in such circumstances one would acquire various personages to maintain such a spacious dwelling, and attend to all the important things, like oiling the leather and drawing baths or tending the rose garden. Such was Dommerella’s plight, that SHE would be the one to handle these domestic duties, instead of going to the Pointecastle Community Domme College, the source and portal to all her hopes and dreams. Poor Dommerella, bright as a star and highly imaginative, would spend her fleeting moments between boring chores, daydreaming of the day she would enter its marble halls, and plunge headfirst into the curriculum of the wisest Dommes in the land.

It was during such a daze as that, on a particularly rainy and stormy Tuesday, that she was caught staring under the eaves of the porch, off into the dreamy realm of some other fairytale, by the mailman. He cocked his head to the side, and seeing her mouth hanging open and her eyes unfocused, stuffed the mail into her front apron pocket, then tipped his hat and went on his merry way. Shaking her head briefly to clear the stardust and sparkles of the otherworld from her vision, she dumped the bucket of mop water she was holding all over the side of the porch and went inside.

In the kitchen she prepared a hasty tea, and set out a small array of petit fours, marzipans and fruit, with a small pot of chocolate fondue. After she laid the mail carefully on the side of the tray, she pulled the large tasseled rope in the corner of the kitchen, setting of the quiet slave bell in the center of the house with a gentle “bong”. Down the stairs came Frizan, her Auntie’s personal slave and favorite boy.

“Have it all ready? Your ten minutes late!” He scolded her, annoyed at having to serve a late tea to his Mistress. He picked up the mail and rifled through it, something Dommerella thought was entirely classless seeing as how none of it could possibly be his business. “Hello!” He said loudly as he pulled out a large velum envelope.

“Addressed to Dommerella Frencesca! Do we know anyone by that name?” he cooed, waving the envelope teasingly in front of her nose.

“Give it here Franny, or I’ll tell Auntie you were in her panty drawer again!” She shot back, folding her arms over her chest. Of course Frizan wasn’t in the panty drawer, but she was willing to bet he wouldn’t want to be the one to convince her Aunt of that. Dommerella took the opportunity to snatch the letter from Frizan’s hands as he stood there with his jaw open, trying to form a suitable retort. “Oh go on will you? Don’t you have to put on something frilly on before you play tea monkey?” She said, stuffing the letter in her pocket and walking back out onto the porch.

Dommerella spent a few moments searching under the rosebushes for a small wooden box that contained 17 gold pieces and a half pack of her favorite cigarettes. After she had replaced it, she held the unlit cigarette in her mouth and opened the letter. As she flipped it open she could hear her aunt’s voice growing louder through the rain and the distant thunder. The crash of a tea cup, Frizan whining, then yelping. Dommerella rolled her eyes, more for her to clean she supposed. When she was able to locate a dry place to strike her match, she inhaled deeply, so very grateful for such moments.

Just then a porcelain teapot came hurling down from the roof, shattering on the eaves above Dommerella and soaking her cigarette and letter both with hot tea. “Oh for the love of boots…” she muttered, crumpling the letter and flicking her ruined cigarette away. Letting out a long a disappointed sigh she wrung out her apron and turned to go back inside. When she returned to the kitchen she found Frizan hiding in the corner, trying to wedge himself between the woodpile and the chopping block, eyes wide like a hunted rabbit.

“Shes in a fine mood Franny, what did you do? Puke on the cookies?” Dommerella asked casually. It was all the same to her, as long as she stayed out of her Aunt’s way she was safe enough. It was her sisters she had to worry about the most.

“Telula and Brigette are out past curfew, that’s all YOU need to know.” Frizan hissed back, his upper lip curling into a sneer.
Dommerella never understood why she and Frizan were always at odds. Both prisoners in the same house, it would seem natural for them to find solace and comfort with each other, helping each other out as was required to get through each day. She supposed it was because he had been bought from one of those exquisite Submissive Auctions, and he fancied himself some sort of hot commodity. She always despised those who thought they were worth more due to breeding, and took every chance to rub his massive ineptitude in his face. It was only fair after all, he had been trying to annoy her since they day he was delivered. Still, Dommerella busied herself in the back of the closet, pulling out her blanket and pillow, and her favorite book “Snow White and the Seven Slaves.” a story about a rogue band of runaway slaves who find a lonesome Domme in the woods, and proclaim her their Mistress. She also pulled out an extra blanket from the top of the broom closet for Frizan, knowing he wouldn’t be allowed back upstairs until morning. She tossed him the blanket, not really caring if he thanked her or not.

Bedding down by the stove, she opened her book, and began to read, letting her mind flow into the story until she could barely keep her eyes open. She rolled over and went to sleep, snoring softly with pockets full of matches and a crumpled, tea soaked letter in her apron.