For the Sake of Appearances Pt. 01

While I flinched and desperately looked for an escape, my face was burning up, while my mouth fell completely dry. Zara had always been a discourteous and appalling example of a woman, but she'd never so boldly assaulted and insulted me to my face. There had always been a kind of quiet acceptance between us. We both knew we didn't like each other, but this was always limited to plotting and backstabbing, never actually descending to outright bullying. However, it seemed that things had changed, and now that I'd finally threatened her grip on my son with my schemes, all of the false decorum had been abandoned. Zara was on the brink of marrying him and getting her way for good, and she wasn't about to let me disrupt her path.

"What's wrong?" she goaded me. "Truth hurts, does it? Where's all of your usual snobby talk and looking down your nose at everyone?"

"I...I...I...I..."

Zara giggled again, then she had to cover her mouth to avoid breaking out into a full laugh. "Oh my God," she said, her eyes excitedly gleaning as a I squirmed in my own home. "Are you actually lost for words?" She dropped her hand from her itching lips and bit the corner of her mouth. "Come on, fatty," she said with extra venom. "Kick me out of your house." With that, while maintaining eye contact with me, Zara strode towards the seating area and left me all alone, in total defiance of my initial demand for her to leave.

For a few minutes, I remained hovering by the door, not sure what to do. My cheek still stung like hell from the repeated slaps, however, my pride was stinging even more. I looked at myself in the floor-length mirror across the foyer, and squeezed my own breasts, the same way Zara had done with hers. Of course, there was no perkiness and they did hang a bit low, but that was to be expected at my age. It was unfair of her to insult me in that way, and it was for that reason that I was speechless and had no retort. It was such a low blow, I mean, I wouldn't walk up to someone and insult their disability, would I?

With Zara across the room, I tried to compose myself and raise the confidence I knew existed within. This was my house, I was in control and she had no right to be here. All I had to do was stride over to her with determination and ask her to leave. If she refused, I would simply call the police, inform them she had assaulted me, and everything would be taken care of.

With that in mind, I headed towards her, just in time to catch Zara making an extravagant show of lifting both of her bare feet, before slowly placing them on the tea table. She didn't even cross her ankles as if it was some form of relaxation. Instead, she deliberately placed the soles of both feet flat against the surface; the same surface on which I regularly served cakes and afternoon tea. As she caught sight of me, she licked her lips and sniggered, "I'm rubbing my feet all over your precious table. What are you doing to do about it, fatty?"

My eyes darted between her feet and her grinning face. Suddenly, all of that composure and confidence once again disappeared and my words caught in my throat. "Umm, I, umm, I don't know." The more I watched her toes dance all over the surface, leaving moist impressions of their shape in their wake, the more agitated I became. I hunkered down next to the table and attempted to grip and lift her ankles. "Please could you stop doing that?" I said. "Your feet belong on the floor."

"Actually, I don't think I will." She wrenched her leg free from my hand and thumped it down onto the glass surface, causing the dangling set of cutlery to jingle. "I'm quite comfortable here."

I dropped to one knee and tried to push at Zara's legs again, however, my weak and frail arms were really no match for her young and toned legs. The slightest tensing of her muscles and I was moving them nowhere. That was until Zara relaxed her leg and I found myself flung forward a foot in surprise, knocking most of the table's contents onto the floor in the process. Meanwhile, I had landed between the chair and table, my plump body awkwardly contorted into the tight space. As if on instinct, I reached out and began clutching all of the forks and spoons that had sprawled out across the floor.

"What are you doing you clumsy fool?" Zara asked, and then, to my disbelief, I felt both of her legs land upon my back. "You don't want my feet on your precious table so you're offering yourself up instead?" She shuffled in place and I felt her heels sink into the arch of my neck. "I didn't realise you cared about my comfort so much."

I froze in place upon feeling her feet resting against the back of my head. Was she actually using me as a footstool, in my own house? It was bad enough that she'd done so with the tea table on our first meeting, but now, she was actually resting her feet on me as if I was a piece of furniture! Of course, I was humiliated and offended beyond belief, but due to the uncomfortable absurdity of the situation, I was completely stumped with how to react. I mean, how often does a woman of my standing find herself in this kind of situation? I was Lady Miranda Pemberton, not some darn house maid. I simply wasn't prepared to deal with such a drastic indignity.

As a result, I was stuck there, paralysed in place, while Zara settled back into the armchair and casually tapped her toes against the back of my head. The worst part was, that throughout the throbbing, awkward silence, I knew that every passing second in which I didn't react and put a stop to such debasing treatment was only compounding my predicament further. She'd suffered no consequences upon slapping me in my own home, and now she was suffering none for using me as her footstool. There was a very real risk that the longer I failed to act, the more Zara would believe she could get away with.

"This is the life," she said while letting out a lazy yawn. "I feel right at home here already." She lightly kicked me in the back of the head, causing my whole body to jolt. "Geez, if I'd known that all it would have taken was a slap across the face to shut your old ass up then I would have done it months ago."

I winced beneath her taunts, and as beads of sweat trickled down both my neck and back, I knew that time was of the essence. With the weight of her heels digging into the back of my head, I had to do something, muster some kind of response before we traversed beyond the realms of acceptability. There was still time, even as the seconds ticked by, for me to react after my initial shock, before things became too awkward. If I just shrugged her feet off, rose to my feet and yelled at her, then things could still be salvaged. Yet, my arms and knees almost seemed like they were cemented to the floor, and I could feel the intense stare of Zara burning into the back of my head, probably amazed that I was just kneeling and allowing her to humiliate me in such a way. I mean, I'd gone from vehemently opposing their relationship to being reduced to my son's fiancée's footstool.

"What happened to kicking me out?" Zara goaded me, as she tugged at one of my ears with her toes. "I thought you were the woman of this house?" There was a silence between us, before Zara jiggled about up on the armchair lost in a giggling fit. "No? Nothing to say?" The longer I remained quiet, the more she seemed to say. "Well, maybe we can do this all the time once I move in here then? Just like in Pierce's apartment, whenever I want to watch a movie, I can just kick back like this"--she lifted both feet and deliberately dropped them harshly into my spine--"and put my mother-in-law to good use. We could even consider it bonding, couldn't we?"

I closed my eyes while my arms and legs trembled, not from the weight of Zara's spoiled feet, but rather the bitter reality of my degradation. After I still failed to respond, she prodded my ear again with her toes. I lurched my head away as she tickled my earlobe, and in the process, I caught sight of a photograph proudly displayed on the mantel piece. There was Pierce during his graduation, and I was stood at his side, the proud and doting mother. The perfect family portrait, filled with mutual respect and a loving relationship, celebrating a truly momentous occasion in his growth. With my hand resting on his shoulder, there was no fracture between us, no splinter lodged in his skin by the name of Zara. I frowned as I noted the smile on both of our faces. All of that happiness was now gone, because she'd arrived and ruined everything!

I grit my teeth, almost growling as I frantically crawled forward from beneath Zara's crossed feet atop my back. As her legs slipped down from my butt, there was a thud as her heels clearly thumped the wooden floor.

"Oww," I heard her say, and I almost smiled to myself at that small victory as I scurried towards the doorway. Yes, it was pathetic of me to be desperately crawling in my own house, but all I cared about was getting away from that evil girl before she could put me through some other depraved torture.

I was just about to make it to the foyer, when I heard a thunderous pounding on the floor behind me. Then, I almost collapsed under an unexpected weight on my back. Legs immediately clamped my ribs, and I just caught sight of Zara's pretty feet dangling at my sides when my head was then harshly pulled back via my hair. She shook me about a bit, causing a crick in my neck before awkwardly yanking it to the side until I was forced to look up into the furious face of the girl currently running riot in my home.

"That hurt," she snarled, while shaking my head to amplify her point. "What the hell do you think you're doing?" She shook my head a bit more, causing me to groan and whimper. "See, how do you like it?"

The irony of this all having begun because she had shamelessly slapped me across the face seemed completely lost on her. I was only trying to escape her abuse, not intending to hurt her or anything: that had just been an accidental benefit!

"Come on, say something!" I heard her tut in frustration, and then Zara's other hand settled into my hair, parting the strands into two separate makeshift reigns. Twisting and wrapping them around her fingers, she tugged harshly then dug her heels into my sides. "Fine then, if you can't speak like an animal, then I'll treat you like one. Giddy up"--she leant forward and whispered into my ear, her hot breath tickling my skin--"you old cow."

My skin tingled at yet another humiliation I was being put through. It was as if they were coming one after the other. When I failed to immediately jump to her demands, Zara took all of my hair one hand and began slapping my ass with the other.

"Come on, cow," she said. "Giddy up and get that fat ass moving."

The whole situation was demoralising as I'd never before encountered such immature and childish behaviour. Even in my days as a toddler, when we played around in kindergarten, nothing like this had happened. As a result, I didn't know what to do. She was so bullishly targeting all of my weaknesses and vulnerabilities that I felt overwhelmed and still paralysed in place. "Please," I whispered. "Please--"

"MOVE," she roared while bouncing atop my back, and with that, almost startled into action, I struggled to take staggered, shunted steps across the foyer, the weight of my son's fiancée making every action extremely laborious and exhausting. There was I was, groaning on my hands and knees while that awful, spiteful bitch balanced on me as if an expert jockey. She tugged on my hair and slapped my ass encouragingly throughout as I whined and groaned my way across the marble floor. "Come on, cowbag," she goaded me. "Giddy up and head over to that plant."

I was completely overwhelmed, a victim of morbid embarrassment. As I lumbered my way over to the potted plant near the grandfather clock, my skin throbbed and nerves tingled throughout a humiliation I never thought possible. The plant was a rare, exotic breed that required tentative care and nurturing. I'd actually won a competition for the bright and healthy colours of its leaves and had placed it opposite the front door as it greeted everyone that arrived. Guests often offered approving comments and I knew that, such was its rarity and condition, that this particular plant was worth thousands.

"God," Zara said while tugging on my hair as she steered me across the cold, marble floor. "No wonder your son is such a pushover if he learnt from you." As we passed the floor-length mirror attached to a cabinet door, Zara tugged on my hair and placed her feet to the ground. "Woah, girl, steady, steady," she said. "Wait here a minute."

I caught sight of my reflection and blushed, especially at the atrocious sight of seeing her casually sat on my back as if it was a completely normal occurrence. What kind of self-centred nutjob thought it appropriate to mount the mother of their boyfriend as if she were some trained steed? Zara's triumphant grin only shrank me further. To make it worse, she began frantically lurching my head from side to side, yanking on my hair in such a fashion that my pained-scalp left me yelping. In the reflection, I could see the determination in her clenched teeth. "Look at you, you call yourself a respectable woman and here you are, letting me treat you like nothing but an animal."

"Get off, please," I finally managed to whine, while Zara's toned legs lifted and firmly locked around my waist once more. Instead of doing what I asked, she began bucking up and down on my back, causing my breasts to jiggle beneath me.

"Oh, look at those saggy tits bounce," she mocked, while watching the two of us in the floor-length mirror. With an extra buck on my back, the ripple sent my breasts dancing around once more; a barrage of laughter in response from my tormentor. "They're like bags of jello or something."

I was sniffling by this point, and as my body ached from her punishing tugs and pulls, my head dropped, unable to stomach that awful sight staring back at me any longer.

"Giddy up," Zara demanded, seemingly tiring of mocking my reflection. "Get me to that plant at once you stupid animal!"

I struggled forwards, feeling the pain through every muscle as I worked my hands and knees across the hard floor, my back waning under the weight of my ruthless, bratty daughter-in-law to be. As I neared my prized possession, I wondered what I'd done in the past to deserve this treatment? What sin had I committed that had resulted in Zara entering my life and putting me through such an ordeal? I was barely given time to think about it before her grating voice stung my ears again.

"Eat it, cow," she ordered, while my face was shunted into the branches of the plant. "I want to see you chewing those leaves like a good little farm animal."

I blushed, and recoiled away from the potted plant, keeping my lips firmly clamped closed. There was no way in hell I was going to do something so ridiculous. The house was filled with fresh and delicious food, and I certainly wasn't going to be devouring my prized, award-winning plant at the direction of my soon-to-be demon of a daughter-in-law.

"EAT IT," she demanded in her usual, loud, overbearing screech, all while painfully yanking on my hair and jabbing her heels harshly into my ribs. "Eat your damn plant you stuck-up cow." My ass stung from the slaps of her palm on my cheeks, and with every dig of her heels into my tender ribs, I felt a little more of my resistance wane. "Eat it," she sneered while gripping my ear between her manicured fingers and forcing my face into the leaves, a branch almost lodging itself in my eye. "Eat your stupid plant, cow."

With that, wanting nothing more than this all to be over with, I began taking desperate bites of my prized plant, chomping through its carefully pruned leaves and devouring all of my hard work. There were specks of gnarled leaves dropping all around me as I worked my way between each branch, struggling to swallow down the awful flavour and instead spitting most of them out.

All throughout the ordeal, Zara mocked and taunted me, goading me with claps of her hands and ringing my ears with euphoric chortles. "That's it, you sad old woman. You don't want me in your house, do you? Well, I don't like looking at this ugly ass plant, so eat it all and save my eyes."

Within minutes, such was my eagerness for this all to be over, every branch was left bare and I collapsed under the weight of what I'd just been forced to do; sprinkles of green leaves dotted all over my chin. Even so, Zara remained sat upon my back in my crumbled state, still tugging on my hair and urging me to continue.