The Idle Chair
It’s impossible to guess how long Daddy left me in the Idle Chair. I know I peed myself at least once already, but the humiliation and discomfort I should feel are buried far, far beneath the imperative of the Idle Chair…. Sit Still, Look Pretty. It’s all I want to do, all I can do, really. Despite being unable to leave my chair, it is surprisingly freeing. All my worries and concerns are gone. After all, the entire responsibility of my universe now is Sit Still, Look Pretty.
It all started like so many things do, me being bratty towards Daddy, of course. Some song about feminism had gotten me all riled up and hyper… He very reasonably told me to calm down and do my chores but I was too headstrong and yelled that I was never going to merely “Sit still and look pretty for him”! That, of course was a monstrous mistake, and I knew it, but this is what feminism often does to impressionable young ladies.