Page 3 of Such A Good Girl

But humanity wasn’t for me.

He probably sat downstairs and cried into his mom’s arms while they spoke about how terrible I was.

Jerry didn’t made it to the bedroom.

That wasn’t exactly a rare occurrence. In the middle of the night, I was thankful for his absence. At least he wasn’t snoring a few inches from my face.

Doom scrolling on my phone, I browsed through a site for independent sellers and creatives called Aimly. Pretty things already covered half of my home. Items I bought to quash my melancholy, yet still I searched for the next piece, which would bring a sliver of joy when it arrived on the doorstep.

Handmade plant pots. Cushions embroidered with delicate florals. Intricately carved candle holders.

So much fluff that I didn’t need, but temporarily filled the hole where life used to be.

I clicked on some cute leather plant hangers, looking at the pristine mock living area they filled. The internet forever offered me a glimpse of perfection. Maybe the woman who had these would also have everything else that I didn’t. She’d have a husband who couldn’t keep his hands off her, and a group of friends desperate to meet up for coffee. A family who loved her.

At the bottom of the page, it showed other hand-crafted leather items. Cute little wallets that looked one hundred percent style over function, personalised stamped key rings, even homemade handbags in an assortment of colours.

One picture caught my eye and made my stomach knot, my reaction both unexpected and visceral. A plastic mannequin sported the daintiest, prettiest collar around its neck. In the palest of pinks, with golden buckles and hardware. I’d never desired something so much.

I clicked away on instinct. Craving something like that was weird. Jerry couldn’t even take lingerie well, far less something so… kinky.

Try as I might, the urge to drool over the delicate collar ate away at me. I pressed the back button and looked at the items listing. My fingers grazed my neck as I read through the details, each word picked with the utmost care. Would I look pretty in it?

Oh hell, there were matching ankle and wrist cuffs, too. I itched to press on the buy now button. Just to feel what it would be like to wear something created purely to make a person feel like an object of utmost desire. The pang hit me between the thighs, almost painfully.

Scrolling down, the reviews hit me like a truck. Pictures of men and women wearing the intricate leather pieces, posing alone or with their partners. People oozing lust unashamedly. Men’s fingers gripping at the leather possessively. I ached forthat. Imagined feeling so precious that Jerry wanted the world to know I belonged to him.

The reviews gushed. Loving statements affirming how the collars and cuffs had added fire to their relationships. Women openly buying them to tantalise their partners and near-bragging over the fantastic results. Men claiming they had bought them as gifts and then enjoyed the results after. People looking to add spicy fun to their relationships, where I was trying to dredge mine up from the fucking depths.

Biting my lip, I fought the wave of emotion threatening to drag me under. The tears mounted on my waterline, blurring the screen.

It wasn’t fair. Why couldn’t I have that?What do these people have that I don’t? Why don’t I deserve to feel wanted?

Throwing my phone away from me, I slid under the covers to wallow in my misery, cursing Jerry, his mother, and me.

TWO

BOBBY

The supple leather melded to my touch. The new red shade from my supplier was exquisite and would team well with the chunky silver buckles that had newly arrived.

A ping came from my tablet on the end of the workbench, another order landing. Another person picking out the perfect kinky accessory for their games. The pings came through the evening, while the square of light from my workshop window danced across the old oak floor. Soon enough, the square reached the far wall, climbing as it turned orange, until eventually it petered out. All the while, I worked on the collars and cuffs, building objects of desire from nothing but strips of leather.

I rarely tired of it.

As day drifted into night, I set to working on a harness for a bespoke order, crafting a caged corset for a loved pet’s body, culminating in a locking crotch piece which would secure toys inside the woman’s cunt and ass. I’d had them send meticulous measurements to get the piece right, making sure the ass piece worked to let the anal plug pet tail through the split in the leather to secure it into place.

Yes, his pet could wag like a good girl. Displayed exquisitely beneath her master’s hand.

An ache of jealousy hit me, and I closed my eyes, my fingers slowly caressing the piece of leather I held. A pet of my own was all I’d ever dreamed of, but with working from home in my isolated workshop, where was I ever going to meet one? Meeting women at all was hard enough, but one who’d crawl for me? Impossible.

Instead, I lived vicariously through my creations. Pouring myself into each piece, guiding it to perfection. It may not have been for my pet girl, but knowing it would rest around the body of another out there meant there was hope. For so long as the items were required, there were eager little pets out there waiting to be found.

It was enough.

The harness took shape as the hours passed. I took time to inlay each strip with a golden thread around the edges, a laborious task that the buyer had paid handsomely for. Then came fitting it together with brass rivets and golden hardware until at last it gleamed. I buffed the leather until it shone, the scent of the polish comforting.

In the early hours of the morning, I hung it up, to let the polish fully settle in before I’d box it up the following day.

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