"Diary of a Mad, Sad Man"

Amy added: "I want you to shine all my shoes tonight, too. Eventually, I want my whole closet reorganized. Start with the shoes."

"Yes, Mistress, thank you, Mistress." Two more hours of extra work.

She snarled. "And pay attention to what you're doing; I seen a scuff mark on the heel of my blue pumps the other day. What the fuck."

"I'm so very sorry, Mistress, I'll make sure all your shoes are gleaming, I promise."

Amy ignored me and continued watching TV, her pussy still on full display. She looked so blasé, so brash, so mystically, femininely arrogant. It was a challenge trying to concentrate on keeping the polish on her toenails, but I finished like a champ. I don't get many excuses to feel good about myself these days so I pathetically take satisfaction in completing menial tasks that probably never cross either of their minds.

When I announced, "your toes are done, Mistress," she glanced at her feet and nodded.

"Go lay out my dress on the bed, and lay out Conner's things."

"Yes, Mistress, thank you."

Before leaving the room, I checked their glasses and saw that both were about half-full. I hurried to the kitchen and prepared refills. They didn't even glance up from the television as I served their drinks. They're so spoiled it isn't funny. They just expect their glasses to be full when they go to take a drink, and if they aren't they get pissed at me, and I get yelled at or slapped.

After my masters were taken care of, I hurried to their bedroom and laid out their clothes. They looked magnificent as they paraded out the door without so much as a grunt my way. I sighed and started my chores, already aching for her to come back home.

Well, diary, while I was whining about my problems I completely missed the New Year. What a fuck-up I am.

It's 12:21. Welcome to 2018. It sucks, just like 2017.

I'm trying to push through. Will this diary help? I think so. While I was writing, I wasn't curled up on my mattress crying my eyes out and contemplating suicide. So that's an improvement over last year.

I have no idea when they'll be home from the party. I'm going to sign off now and head upstairs. Maybe I can still smell her perfume ...