Chrissie Chapters 45-47 free porn video

BOOK FIVE "Boss Mommy" Part LCV A stubborn fleck of red polish remained stuck to Rebecca's big toenail, and as I tried to figure out how to remove it without pushing too hard, my mistress's shrill ringtone shattered my concentration. Rebecca answered the phone with a smile. From my position at her feet, I eavesdropped on her t?te-?-t?te. "Hey, Ma. How you doin'? ... that's good. Oh, yeah, she's great ... no, she don't get home from school till about 3 ... yeah, I know, I can't believe he's been dead eight years already. It goes by so fast, don't it?" She shrugged. "Me? I'm fine. I dunno, I hate to say it, but to be honest, I really don't think about him anymore. Hell, I forgot it was the anniversary until just a little while ago." My mistress paused for a second and continued: "That was a whole 'nother life, Ma ... it feels like it happened to someone else. I can't believe I remarried him, now that I look back. I should've learned the first time. The coke; starting fights whenever someone looked at him cockeyed. I mean, I did love him, God rest his soul, but come on! He was in jail the night his daughter was born because of his damned temper -- and then it ended up getting him killed. What if Taylor would've been with him when he started running his mouth? Or me? And one of us got shot instead? It very likely could've happened. I'm sorry, Ma, but the guy was a loser. Once he started getting bad on that damn coke, it was all downhill." After listening to whatever her mother said, Rebecca shook her head. "No, of course not, Ma. I would never say that to her. All she knows is that her father died when she was two. I might tell her how it happened when she's a little older, but she don't ever ask about him, and to be honest, I don't bring him up. Like I said, I didn't even remember this was the anniversary until earlier." Rebecca took a sip of Diet Coke and set the glass on the end table. "Naw, I ain't really got time to see anyone, between running all the salons and spending time with Taylor. A few dates here and there; nothing serious. Oh no, Chrissie ain't a problem at all. It ain't like back in Plainville; the guys out here don't care. There's a lot of trans people around, and it just ain't a big deal. A lot of guys actually think it's hot that I have a sissy maid; they seem to have more of a problem with me having a 10-year-old daughter, to tell you the truth." There was another pause. "Oh, he's fine. He's right here doing my nails. Hang on." Rebecca put her phone on speaker and smiled down at me. "Say hi to Ma." "Hello, Mrs. Strickland." "Hi, Chrissie. You taking care of Rebecca and my granddaughter good?" "Oh, yes, Ma'am. I'm trying my best to." "I know you are. You always was a good little sissy." "T-thank you, Ma'am." "How's your boobs doin'?" "I ... they're okay, Ma'am. The doctor said these new implants hopefully shouldn't leak." "Well, I hope not. My daughter wants to keep you around for a while, Chrissie. That's why she sent you to that school to teach you how to be a proper maid, so my granddaughter would grow up having the best. So, we need to keep you out of the hospital, okay? She put a lot of work into you." "Um ... yes, Ma'am. I should be fine now, Ma'am. Thank you." I could hear Marlene fire up a cigarette. "Such a good little sissy. I miss your foot rubs, Chrissie. And I sure miss having a clean house, let me tell you." "I ... I'm sorry, Ma'am." She sighed. "Can't be helped, I guess. Just keep taking care of my girls, hear?" "I will, Ma'am. Thank you." Rebecca pushed the button to return her phone to private mode. "I was just talking to Chrissie about maybe adding a few more salons," she told her mother. "There's some new tax thingy he says we could take advantage of; something about small businesses in Oregon ... oh, yeah, he's great with all that stuff. My little business manager." My mistress giggled. "Oh, hush, Ma, you're terrible." She winked at me. "Yeah, I locked him back up as soon as he got out of the hospital the last time, and that was, what, 7-8 weeks ago? But he's been good, so he's due for a cummy pretty soon, ain't you, baba?" "Y-yes, Ma'am." "How long till Cummy Day?" I cleared my throat. "Um ... another four days ... if I don't get any points, Ma'am." Rebecca listened to something on the line and chortled. "Ma says I should add five points, just to be a bitch." Whether she was joking or not, the prospect of having five months added to my chastity period prompted me to redouble my efforts to please my mistress. I scraped at the stubborn speck of toenail polish with renewed vigor while Rebecca continued chatting. "So, how's Randy doin'?" Whatever Marlene's answer was, it clearly disturbed my angel, because she shifted on the couch with a knit in her brow. "Dang, I'm sorry to hear that, Ma. I thought all that cheating bullshit was over with ... yeah, well, he's an asshole. Believe me, I know ... I'd just dump him. He's a pig. He's always been a pig, Ma ... okay, okay, I won't say nothin' more about it ... no, if you guys want to try to work it out, go ahead. I ain't sayin' nothin'." There was another pause. "Emily? I just got a letter yesterday. She says the parole board's next month ... I know, Ma, but it don't matter if it was her first time -- it was two kilos. They don't screw around when there's that much. I wouldn't count on her getting out any time soon ... yeah, well fuck Ian ... no, fuck him, it was his dope, and he left her hanging out to dry ... I don't know; he's probably still down in Louisiana somewhere. I don't even care. Piece of shit." The conversation eventually veered to less-weighty subjects, and Rebecca yammered on for a few more minutes before saying her good-byes. After hanging up, she stared down at me from her queenly perch on the sofa. "What in the HELL are you doing, Chrissie?" I managed a weak smile. "Um ... this last bit of the old polish just won't come off, Ma'am." "Well, would you mind not tearing a hole through my toenail?" "S-sorry, Ma'am." "You keep going round and round in the same spot." "I'm so sorry, Ma'am." She flicked her fingertips. "Just forget it and put the purple over it, Chrissie, jeez. And hurry up; don't you got to go get Taylor soon?" "Um, I have to leave at 2:30, Ma'am." Rebecca pointed to her empty glass. "Well, refill that and get these toes done." After serving my mistress's soda, I curtsied like I'd been taught during my two-month course at the Home Service Training Institute, and then knelt before Rebecca and painted her toenails while she scrolled through her phone. I finished in just a few minutes, signaling that I was done by screwing the cap onto the bottle of Purple Passion polish and kneeling upright. Rebecca held up her feet and spread her toes. "Perfect. Thanks, Chrissie." "You're welcome, Ma'am. May I please be excused to go get Miss Taylor?" "Of course, baba." My angel smiled, lighting up my universe. \\\///\\\///\\\///\\\///\\\///\\\///\\\///\\\///\\\// Taylor slid into the backseat frowning at her feet. "I hate these shoes." I navigated the minivan out of the school parking lot and glanced in the rearview mirror. "But I thought you liked those shoes, Miss Taylor. You were so excited when you brought them home. Why do you say you hate them?" She folded her arms. "Why don't you shut up and mind your own business?" "I'm so sorry, Miss Taylor." My young charge fumed the entire ride home without saying another word. When we entered the foyer, Rebecca smiled at her daughter. "Hey, honey. How was school?" Taylor stormed to her bedroom. Rebecca glared at me. "What the hell's going on, Chrissie?" "I ... I don't know, Ma'am. When she got in the van she said she hated her shoes, but when I asked her why, she wouldn't say." Grimacing, Rebecca rose from the couch and knocked on her daughter's bedroom door. "Taylor? I'm coming in." My mistress disappeared into the room, and I busied myself in the kitchen, close enough to hear in case anyone called. After about 10 minutes, Rebecca emerged holding Taylor's shoes. "Here, Chrissie, throw these away." She sighed. "More drama. The shoes gotta go, and Taylor says you should get two points for prying into her business." Blood drained from my face, and I folded my hands beseechingly in front of me. "Oh ... Ma'am ... please, I ... I wasn't prying; I just asked her why she said she hated her shoes, and I only asked once. I really did; just one time. Please, please, PLEASE, Ma'am?" Rebecca shrugged and handed me her daughter's flats. "You know how she gets, Chrissie. Some boy made fun of her shoes at school, and now she's in one of her pissy moods. I told her to cool off before we give you any points, but if I was you I'd try not to annoy her." "Oh, no, Ma'am, I won't. T-thank you, Ma'am, thank you so much. Is it okay if I make those peanut butter cupcakes she likes for dessert?" My mistress chuckled. "That's a good start if you want to get on her good side. Now, go do something, Chrissie; I wanna watch this show. Oh, and we're checking on the salons tomorrow for the code stuff, so make sure everything's ready." "Yes, Ma'am, I will." I curtsied. "Go see if Taylor needs anything." "Yes, Ma'am." I curtsied again and scooted to the kitchen, where I prepared Taylor's usual after-school snack. With shaky knuckles, I tapped on her door. "What?" "Um ... I have your snack, Miss Taylor." "Come in." I tiptoed into the bedroom on eggshells and set the bowl of Doritos and apple juice on her nightstand. Taylor scowled at me. "You get on my nerves, you know that?" I gulped and curtsied. "I ... I'm so sorry, Miss. I just--" She showed me the hand, looking just like her mother. "I don't want to hear it, Chrissie, you're so nosy all the time. And then you turn around and tell my mom everything." "Miss, I don't ... I .." "Don't even try it." She scoffed. "I know you run right back to her and tell her every single thing. How did she know about my shoes if you didn't tell her?" "M-miss ... I ... I ..." "Just shut up, Chrissie, okay? You're giving me a headache. We both know you run back to my ma." There was no winning this argument, so I kowtowed. "Um, Miss ... is there ... uh, anything else I can get you?" When she didn't answer, I offered an olive branch: "Um, I'm making your favorite for dessert, Miss. Peanut butter cupcakes." Taylor actually smiled as she fiddled with her phone. I curtsied good-bye to Rebecca's daughter, thanked her, and backed out of the room with a sigh of relief. Given her mood, things could've gone a hell of a lot worse. The ladies lounged around in their respective spaces while I got dinner ready. After setting the table, I informed Rebecca and Taylor individually that it was time to eat, rather than hollering it through the house, one of the rules of etiquette I'd been taught at the HST Institute. Taylor's spirits seemed to have lifted considerably during dinner, especially after I served dessert. The 10-year-old chewed her cupcake, staring at me as I stood in my usual spot near the table. "Ma, why does Chrissie hate getting points so much?" Rebecca smiled. "I told you, honey, the more points he gets, the more money I take from his paycheck. A hundred bucks per point. That's a lot of money for Chrissie." Taylor frowned. "What does he even need money for? He never buys anything or goes anywhere." "That's not true. He buys groceries when he goes shopping, and he helps pay the bills, too. And he puts a lot of his money back into my salons. It's called investing, hon." Taylor studied me, her brow furrowed. "But he seems to really, really hate it when he loses points. Like it's the worst thing in the world." "Well, wouldn't you hate it if someone took all your money away? He don't make that much to start with." "I dunno." Taylor shrugged. "I guess." Rebecca sipped her soda. "So, what do you think, honey? Do we really want to give Chrissie two whole points? He says he only asked about your shoes one time because you said you hated them. Two points is a lot of money for him." I remained statue-still but trembled inside while Taylor pondered the issue. "I dunno," she finally said. "I guess I was just mad and kinda took it out on Chrissie." Rebecca smiled. "That's awfully mature of you, honey. What do you say, Chrissie? Isn't that mature of her to admit that?" "Oh, yes, Ma'am, thank you so much, Miss Taylor, that is mature, Miss. Thank you so much. Would you like another cupcake, Miss?" Taylor pointed to her glass. "No, but I could use more orange juice." I curtsied and rushed to obey, feeling as though a Mack truck had just been lifted from my shoulders. Mother and daughter enjoyed a nice meal and a discussion about how to handle annoying boys before retiring to the living room to play a board game. I cleaned up and did the dishes, thanking my lucky stars that I'd avoided those two awful points. Part LCVI I followed Rebecca into the Starlight Salon Beaverton Branch, weighed down by a box of hair care products and a stack of papers. Carole, the salon manager, hugged my mistress. "Hey, Becca. I think we got all that code stuff ready." "I hope so." Rebecca turned to me. "Put that box down, Chrissie, and go make sure everything's good." "Yes, Ma'am." I curtsied and hopped to. While the ladies talked shop, I rummaged through the papers until I found the checklist of the items needed to bring the Beaverton branch up to code with the stringent new environmentally-friendly measures that had been recently imposed by the state. While I worked my way through the facility double-checking each item on the list, Sebastian the hairstylist ogled me with his usual leer. I avoided checking the fixtures at his station until last, hoping he might run out to get a coffee, go to the restroom or otherwise disappear. He didn't. "Well, hello, Chrissie." He smirked as I approached his station. "You don't seem very happy to see me. We don't want to tell your mistress you were rude to me, now, do we?" "Oh, no, Mr. Sebastian, sir, I am happy to see you, sir, I'm very happy, sir, please, sir," I whispered, stealing a quick glance at Rebecca to ensure she wasn't listening. "You're looking cute today, Chrissie." He started rubbing my ass, and I knew I had to stand there and endure it. I closed my eyes. "Thank you, sir." "Are you feeling all better now? Your mistress tells me you had a little scare and went to the hospital." "Uh, yes, sir, I'm fine, thank you for asking, sir." Sebastian hollered across the salon: "Hey, Becca, when are you gonna give me another night with this sweet, obedient little thing?" "That was a birthday present," my mistress joshed back. "I can't have you molesting my maid every night, damn it; I need him at home." "Well, can I at least borrow him for about 10 minutes right now? He's just so irresistible." Rebecca looked at her watch. "Oh, alright, only 10 minutes, though. We've still got the rest of the salons to check." "Thanks, boss," Sebastian replied before crooking his finger at me. "Come on, Chrissie, don't be shy. We've only got a few minutes. Let's make the most of 'em, shall we, Hot Lips?" The ladies giggled as he guided me by the shoulders toward the bathroom. Once inside, he wasted no time pulling out his dick and pushing me to my knees. With a resigned sigh, I got started. "Do that little thing you do with your tongue, Chrissie ... ooh, yeah, right there." He grabbed the back of my head and started pumping. Within seconds, he shot his load down my throat, which I swallowed expertly. "Thank you, sir," I said, bending over backward to avoid breaking Rebecca's rule that I never be rude to her staff. Sebastian patted me on my curly locks. "No, Chrissie, thank YOU!" He strolled out of the bathroom zipping up his pants. As I struggled to my feet, through the closed door I heard Rebecca snort and say, "damn, Sebastian, you'd never satisfy a woman -- that took less than two minutes!" "Blame Chrissie; he looks so damn sexy and femme, he almost makes me want to go straight," Sebastian replied to a chorus of cackles. I fixed my face and gargled, and then reported back to my mistress. After she double-checked with me to ensure everything was up to code, she said her good-byes, and I followed her out of the salon. "Come back soon, Hot Lips," Sebastian called just before the door swung shut. Rebecca shook her head. "All men are horn-dogs, ain't they, Chrissie? Even the gay ones." \\\///\\\///\\\///\\\///\\\///\\\///\\\///\\\///\\\// Two fixtures at the Starlight Salon Tigard Branch needed replacing, but the new parts weren't available, a fact that I reported to my mistress. She wasn't happy. "Why ain't they done yet? Didn't we go through the list of stuff that needed upgrades just last week?" "Um, yes, Ma'am." "Then what happened?" The truth was, Theresa the salon manager was supposed to have ordered the fixtures for me to attach that would've brought the facility up to code. But I knew I had to fall on my sword, so I replied with a lie: "Uh, I guess I forgot to get the parts, Ma'am. Sorry." "You forgot!?" Rebecca slapped me across the face, prompting giggles from hairstylists Lisa and Karen. "Add a point," Lisa suggested, and my face got redder. It was beyond embarrassing how Rebecca's employees were all aware of the "point system" that dictated my chastity releases. "Make it two points," Karen called. "Two points sounds about right." Rebecca glowered at me. "You're so stupid sometimes, Chrissie." I was absolutely crestfallen but I knew protesting would only make it worse, so I stood there and tried not to cry. Theresa must've felt guilty watching me take the rap for her screwup, because to my great relief, she finally came clean. "You know ... now that I think of it, I believe I was supposed to order those fixture things," she told my mistress. "You were?" Rebecca frowned. "So, what happened?" "I don't know. You told me about it, but I guess I just forgot. Sorry." My angel shrugged. "No worries, girl. Chrissie, make sure them parts get ordered, and when they come you need to get back here and put 'em on." "Yes, Ma'am," I said, hiding my resentment at being slapped in front of a roomful of women for no reason. While I stood there with a burning cheek, the ladies relaxed on salon chairs and chatted for a few minutes until a customer came in. Rebecca took that as her cue to leave, so she bid adieu to her employees and strode out of the salon while I followed, trying to keep up on my 4" heels. When we got to the SUV, I ventured the question that had been burning a hole in my stomach: "Um, Ma'am ... am I still ... uh, getting the two points?" Rebecca twisted the ignition key and laughed. "No, baba, I forgot I'd told Theresa to order that stuff last week. I'm glad she told the truth -- but why'd you tell me it was your fault?" "Um, because I didn't want you to think I was tattling on Miss Theresa, Ma'am. I thought you might think it was disrespectful if I said it in front of everyone, because she might have been embarrassed." My angel shook her head. "You really are stupid sometimes, Chrissie, you know that?" \\\///\\\///\\\///\\\///\\\///\\\///\\\///\\\///\\\// Taylor seemed pleasantly surprised that her mother was picking her up from school for a change. I held the door open for the youngster, relinquishing my spot in the front seat, before slipping in the back of the SUV. Rebecca leaned over and kissed her daughter. "How was school?" "Great, Ma. I told Bobby Belinsky I didn't appreciate him making fun of my shoes, just like you told me, and he actually apologized -- right in front of the whole lunch table!" Mother and daughter slapped a high-five. Rebecca grinned. "See? I'm so happy, baby. That's what happens when you stand up for yourself. Don't let nobody treat you like that, you hear?" "I won't, Ma. Thanks. I love you." "Love you, too, baby. Feel like going to Chopper's to celebrate?" Taylor pumped her fist. "Heck yeah!" My mistress drove to Taylor's favorite restaurant and parked in the lot. "Wait here, Chrissie," she said before slamming the door. From my vantage point in the parking lot, I could see Rebecca and Taylor through the restaurant window. They seemed so happy, it almost made up for my sadness at being left to sit outside in the backseat of the SUV for nearly two hours. Part LCVII I had just plopped onto my pink-sheeted mattress, exhausted from a long day of housework on heels, when my mistress's voice made me jump. "Chrissie! Come here a minute." I rolled out of bed and hurried to Rebecca's bedroom suite. She pointed. "Close the door." With a pounding heart and an imagination full of possibilities, I obeyed. Rebecca rolled over on the mattress and patted her haunch. "Come lick my butt, Chrissie." I curtsied. "Yes, Ma'am, thank you, Ma'am." I had hoped she was going to tell me to eat her pussy, but her ass was the next-best thing. I scooted behind my angel on the bed and began softly tonguing her tart butthole while she relaxed and watched television. My dick swelled in its cage and the spikes cut into my flesh. As my heartrate increased, my chest started to twinge and I had a hard time catching my breath. It concerned me for a moment, although when the pain subsided I chalked it up to overexcitement and continued giving my mistress her rim job without missing a beat. When a commercial came on, Rebecca wiggled her ass back and forth, moving my head with it. "You like how my butt tastes, baba?" "YssrsssMrrrrmmm," I mumbled into her butthole. "You're so sweet, baba. Move for a second." I lifted my head and she peeped out a little fart. "Hee-hee, sorry, Chrissie, go ahead." The smell hadn't dissipated but I did as told and got back to licking. Rebecca kept me at it for more than an hour until her program ended, and then gently pushed my head away. "That was nice." She yawned. "You want to sleep in here tonight?" "Oh, yes, Ma'am, thank you so much, Ma'am. Thank you." "No problem, Chrissie, that felt good." Rebecca handed me a pillow and the comforter. "Good night-baba." With a song in my heart, I wrapped myself in a cocoon and curled up on the floor at the foot of my angel's bed, listening to her feminine little snores and relishing the earthy taste of her ass that lingered on my tongue. \\\///\\\///\\\///\\\///\\\///\\\///\\\///\\\///\\\// It was a stressful Saturday from the start, as my scheduled "Cummy Days" usually were. I did my quiet morning chores haunted by the knowledge that Rebecca or Taylor could add points at any time for virtually any reason. For each point deducted, I'd have to wait another month for sexual relief, although Taylor thought a point meant my paycheck would be docked $100. While I dusted the knickknacks on the living room shelf, I chuckled at the concept of being paid. I was the one doing all the paying. In more than a dozen years of serving Rebecca, I had probably shelled out $3-4 million for the privilege of having her in my life, not counting all the money I'd earned for her since we'd moved to the Pacific Northwest. Right after we relocated I noticed a market inequity: Rebecca had complained that it was impossible to book a hair appointment, so I did some research and found that there very few beauty salons in our area, and a growing demand for cosmetology services. So, I convinced Rebecca to let me purchase five salons, put them in her name and start a franchise. We came up with the Starlight Salons name together (well, I actually was the one who'd suggested the name and she liked it and co-opted authorship.) Whenever I looked at the marquees, I swelled with pride, knowing I'd done a good job of serving my angel. I'd handed her an instant business empire and was successfully managing it without charging a dime for my services. On top of that, I provided 24/7 free maid service at home, free taxi service for Taylor, and served as a punching bag whenever the ladies of the household needed an outlet for frustrations or annoyances. Me? Get paid? What a laugh. But Rebecca and I played along, since it provided a plausible cover story to explain to Taylor why I strived so hard to avoid points. As open-minded as my mistress was, and despite her trashy upbringing, Rebecca was fairly conservative when it came to discussing sexual stuff with her kid, and she didn't think it was appropriate for Taylor to know the real reason why I hated points so much. No matter what the punishment was, Taylor had learned early on that the point system afforded her great power over me, and she knew she could get me to do practically anything to avoid getting a point. Or two points. Or three. Once, when Taylor was seven, she gave me 10 points after I'd accidentally let her puppy get out of the house, and Rebecca didn't rescind the harsh punishment, even though I was able to quickly track down the damn mutt and bring it home. But while a cloud of fear hovered over my head as I flitted around the house doing chores, I also was filled with hope, because I knew if I was able to avoid getting any points, by nightfall my glorious freedom would come ... Rebecca would unlock me and let me lie on the floor at the foot of her bed and diddle myself while she either watched with a smirk or ignored me. I wasn't sure which was worse: having my angel taunt me and call me all kinds of pathetic little sissies while I jacked off, or seeing her thumbing through her cellphone or looking at the TV, completely disinterested in my masturbatory display. Either way, it was always pure heaven when I had my "cummy," as Rebecca referred to my orgasms -- and pure hell being resecured in the spiked Kevlar penis prison for another three months minimum. Taking a quick break, I leaned against the wall, kicked off my shoe and rubbed my heel. It wasn't even 10am, yet my feet were already killing me. After years spent teetering on 4" pumps, I still wasn't used to the constant throbbing pain that radiated from the knees down, morning to night. My chest hurt, too, and I again had difficulty breathing. I took a minute to relax before the pain subsided. Life wasn't easy for poor little me. My breast implants had caused major medical problems over the years, with leaks and other issues sending me in and out of hospitals. While my mistress and her daughter were sympathetic each time I got sick, they had gotten used to my service, and still demanded that I serve their every whim. All in all, though, I knew I had it made compared to how my life had been under Karl's brutal regime. I slept on a nice, soft bed every night. Rebecca still slapped me when I annoyed her, but the constant whippings and humiliations were things of the past. Karl had been the worst kind of bully, and it had started to rub off on my angel. The sonofabitch got what was coming to him just in time, though, picking a barfight with a dude who whipped out a 9mm and busted six caps in his ass. The murder turned out to be just the kick in the pants my angel needed. After the funeral, Rebecca decided she wanted to break away from her family altogether, both physically and philosophically. She didn't want her daughter growing up in that trashy, dangerous environment, so she directed me to sell the condo, salon and garage, and she moved us to Oregon, thousands of miles from Plainville, Kentucky. As I continued the morning housework, I again felt out of breath so I took another quick break. It only lasted a few seconds before Taylor stomped into the living room rubbing her eyes. "Good morning, Miss Taylor. Can I--" She cut me off with a curt "orange juice," then plopped on the couch and picked up the remote. I faked a smile, curtsied and hurried to the kitchen. Within seconds, Taylor had a cold glass of OJ in her hand, and after serving her I took two steps back and curtsied again. "Is there anything else I can get you, Miss, before I start on breakfast?" She huffed. "You can move out of the way so I can see the TV." "S-sorry." I scooted to the side and executed yet another smart curtsey. "Miss? Anything special you want for breakfast this morning?" "Pancakes with strawberries." "Yes, Miss, coming right up." After one last respectful curtsey, I scampered away. As I was hunched over the stove, Rebecca ducked her head in the kitchen. "I need coffee out here, Chrissie, and I'll take some of them pancakes, too, while you're at it." "Yes, Ma'am." I practically ran into the living room with the coffee tray and served my mistress, who sat on the couch scanning her laptop. After ensuring nobody needed anything, I retreated to the kitchen to finish making breakfast. At one point during the meal, Taylor pointed to the syrup, and as I moved to obey her order, I felt a sudden sharp pain in my left side. It was so excruciating I fell to one knee. "Chrissie! Are you all right?" Rebecca's concerned tone was the last thing I heard before blacking out.