Dear Diary – Day Eleven

It was as if my wife had timed her announcement to coincide with my curfew.  Having to accept a curfew is bad enough, I’m effectively being put to bed at nine each night.  Still I guess I understand why, doesn’t mean I have to like it though; being treated like I’m feeble minded is so demeaning. 

But this time is was particularly humiliating being sent from the room so the adults could have a private conversation and hear all the juicy details about how my wife got pregnant as I knew for sure it wasn’t mine.   

Still, an early night after the early start to THAT day was much appreciated.  That was until I looked in the little mirror in my tiny room as I was about to clean my face and saw my blue lips.  I blushed.

Needless to say, no matter how hard I scrubbed my lips stayed blue, indelible blue.

And worse, it reminded me that at least blue maggot had got some oral pleasure, even if only for a minute, I’d had nothing.

And much worse some lucky guy had impregnated my wife.  He’d certainly cum, but not me, never me.  Not fair.

So I had a sulky, pouty, moody sleep.

At least as I started the day I thought it couldn’t get any worse. 

Cook came into the kitchen as I was busy finishing washing up.  She seemed super happy and I assumed had enjoyed her day off, but no, she had news.  Miss Kaye was getting married.

What?  It took me a while to process.  Cook just stood there looking at me watching the waves of emotion flow though me.  Confusion.  Realisation that it’s my wife she’s referring to.  Horror.  Confusion.  How?  Realisation: de facto relationships aren’t a commitment.  There wouldn’t even be a divorce.  My wife?  I had been living in some alternative universe.  But... But she always said to refer to her as my wife.  I tried explaining this to PS, but I found it so humiliating.  She started to laugh and said it was too funny, that she wasn’t surprised at all.  But then she suddenly switched and her derision turned to pity.  Poor pet she called me.  I didn’t know where to look.  Best keep busy.  I blinked, my eyes wet, just like my nasty maggot gets wet with precum, in anticipation of tears.  I blushed again and tried to smile.  I did smile, even if it might have been a bit forced.  PS seemed pleased and called me “Good girl”.

As I moved past her she gave my bottom a playful swat.  I almost toppled off my heels.  PS doesn’t know her own strength.  She grabbed me to steady me and I thought she was going to kiss me, but then she said “Why are your lips blue, Marcia?”