At the Post Office - Alexith

This confession is based on an email I wrote to my Mistress, a week or two ago. It tells the true story of one of the most embarrassing and yet strangely liberating experiences of my subby life.

I had two missions that day. Firstly, Mistress wished me to purchase an extremely frilly pair of panties, with matching bra and stockings. Secondly, I needed to pick up a parcel from the local post office, which I suspected was an extremely large collection of sex toys. When I woke up that morning I knew I might be in for a bumpy ride. I didn’t appreciate HOW bumpy though...

I got up early, and made my way to the supermarket. Oddly enough, in the small Pacific Island country where I live, the easiest place to buy clothes is in one of the large supermarkets. I figured that getting it done early would be easier because it would be nice and quiet.

After spending some time thinking about what would please Mistress i casually (perhaps a bit too casually, i may have theatrically whistled) selected a black lacy pair of panties with a matching bra, with purple frilly edging. i had no idea what would fit me, but i decided to go with the largest size available of both. Camouflage and deception are crucial components of any heist or caper, and this mission was no exception. I threw a couple of socks and boxers into my trolley. Phew, the perfect crime.

The thigh high stockings were a little harder though because two local shop ladies were right there watching. i kept thinking "i could be buying this for a girlfriend. Act natural!" but i’m sure they sensed my shiftiness. I glanced over out of the corner of my eye to be greeted with two broad mischievous grins. My eyes flicked back down. I gritted my teeth and selected a black, slutty pair of stockings and skulked the hell out of there. OK that was embarrassing! But this mission was coming to a close. My dignity was almost intact and i only had one stage to get through. The check out.

Suddenly i became painfully aware that i was surrounded by women. Women behind me. Women in front of me. I knew that soon an extremely lacy pair of stockings, as well as skimpy bra and panties would be out in the open for all to see. I felt my face getting hot and panic was beginning to set in. But then, technology came into play. I whipped out the trusty iphone, and studiously avoided eye contact pretending to be suddenly absorbed in an in-depth messenger conversation. I felt my heartbeat slowing down. I glanced up just long enough to see a little glimmer in the eye of the checkout lady. A spring in my step, i left the supermarket feeling fairly cool, calm and almost collected.

I couldn’t resist taking a quick glance at my new lacy acquisitions. “Mistress will be pleased” i thought to myself. But then I remembered I had two missions that day. I walked to the post office with a sense of foreboding.

With a flutter in the pit of my stomach i walked into the belly of the beast of French bureaucracy: the Post Office. I couldn’t be sure if the parcel i was collecting was the giant box of incriminating subby sex toys or not. For all i knew it could be a birthday card from my mum, or something equally innocent. Fidgeting with my car keys, heart pounding in my chest, i waited at the desk while the assistant went into the back room to collect the parcel.

I should explain two things here. Firstly this parcel i had been waiting on was not just for one or two small sex toys. This was the mother load of sex toy shipments. Item after evil item had gone onto my wish list at Mistresses instruction. We are talking about a miniature arsenal of sex toys here. Secondly, the post office system where I live is seriously invasive. Parcels can and often are opened on the spot by customs officials. Both these realities were dancing around in my anxious mind while i waited.

Finally, after an eternity of expectation, the assistant came back, carrying out a seriously BIG box, all taped up and ... oh .. my ... god... i knew instantly that it was the sex toys. Nothing else coming to me would be that big and imposing. Operation Buttplug was on, and i felt a rush of adrenaline like a punch in the gut. Suddenly everything was in slow motion.

The customs official, who looked for all the world like Inspector Cluseau from the Pink Panther, beckoned me over and my heart started to beat fast. Looking me over (perhaps noticing my shiftiness) he asked me in broken English about the contents and value of the box. James Bond instincts kicked in, and I said, thinking on my feet, "novelty party gifts for a bachelor party" (which i am sure completely baffled him as he only spoke a little English). Again hoping to placate him i told him the value was around 250 US (which is inflated). I figured that he would be happy to charge tax on such a high amount. He looked me over, and I thought for a moment that I was in the clear. He cleared his throat ....
“do you have an invoice Monsieur?”

My heart dropped. I told him i hadn't.

He then nonchalantly proceeded to take a stanley knife and before I could react he simply sliced the box open. No permission sought. He was on a mission for that invoice. My mouth opened but no sounds came.. i couldn’t think of a single thing to stop him. I was flooded with relief for a moment when he pulled what looked like an invoice from the top of the box (the items inside still concealed), but he passed it to me saying it was no good as it was just an item list. I was still looking at the list in front of me, (inflatable butt plug, nipple clamps, vibrator, fleshlight) when i heard the tearing sound of him cutting further along the tape, opening up one whole side of the box.

Reluctantly i slowly looked up. The box was completely open and there ... in upbeat vibrant colour was a diagram of a large and extremely frightening looking butt plug, complete with tube and bulb attachment. I just about died! In GIANT writing on a red background i saw “INFLATABLE DELUXE WONDER PLUG”. No tricky use of my iphone could save me now. Inspector Cluseau had the evidence of my deviant subbishness right in front of him.... weakly i tried to grin as I prayed for a sudden sinkhole to swallow me up into the ground.

This is how i would describe his reaction.

Firstly he visibly jumped, reeling backward a little as though the butt plug had bitten him. In a strangled voice he simply said "OK" before very deliberately and rapidly taping the box shut.
Mortified i watched in silence as he slowly drew his hands to his chest and wiped them on his shirt. I swear, it was as though he had just been handling dog shit. He exuded disgust mingled with surprise. We made eye contact, for one second and the whole reality of what had just happened was exchanged between us. The whole universe was Me, Cluseau and a deluxe vibrating butt plug.

Finally.. FINALLY. he gave me my ticket (pushing it across the desk rather than handing it to me) to go and pick the item up from the front desk (got to love French bureaucracy).

I suppose all of the above reaction took about 7 seconds, but it seemed an eternity to me. i didn’t know where to look and what to say and what to think, as i mutely took my ticket and waited in line to pick up my box.

It was a chilly day by Noumean standards that day, and when i finally made it out into the street, big scary box clasped in my perspiring hands, the cool air was like this wave of relief washing over me. i realised that my body was hot all over. i felt totally humiliated, but slowly i grinned and then started to laugh.

How hilarious!

I suddenly realised i didn’t care one jot what they thought of me. My heart was still pounding but it was a happy alive feeling, and i was chuckling to myself as i walked back to my car.

I drove home grinning to myself.