Life Goes On

Life with William is, in a word, interesting. So is my state-of-mind.  To say that I am afraid or even intimidated by him is overstating it.  I am not fearful, but I am on edge.  Watching him buy Vera and walk her out of the ballroom on a leash, naked before hundreds of strangers changed my relationship with William.  That he was willing to pay well over two million dollars for a human being, well I just don't know where to begin.

For one thing, Vera is beautiful.  Not in a flashy way - you wouldn't expect to see her on the cover of a magazine or on a soap opera.  Vera looks like she was to the manner born.  She has the classic beauty you see in the wealthy neighborhoods, getting out of her Mercedes SUV with a toddler or two in tow but a perfect manicure and not one hair out of place.  She looks like the embodiment of elegance and understated style, even without a stitch of clothing on, which is how I always see her.  Seriously, aside from expensive heels and her collar, she is always naked.  I thought I had a pretty strong sense of myself and how I look, but Vera's perfect body is doing a number on my ego.

For another thing, sharing William's attention with Vera is wearing on me as well.  Don't get me wrong, he treats me like a queen and he treats her like a piece of meat, worse than a dog.  But even when she's not in the room, I know she's close at hand, ready to be called, eager to tend to her master's every need.  I never have to lift a finger.  I think that may be a big part of the problem.

I have to share the spotlight with Vera when guests come over as well.  I greet the couples who visit us as the lady of the house, as William's consort or even his wife.  I am elegantly dressed and I manage the servants so I can take charge of the evening and credit for its success.  But Vera is always the unstated center of attention.  William rarely makes mention of her, and he never addresses her directly in front of company, but she is always on display.  He waits until everyone has arrived before making his entrance, Vera just behind him and to his right, like a well-trained dog.  Most of our guests are mixed race couples as well and they are very discrete, but as much as they try not to stare, I see their furtive glances at every turn.

Finally, in the bedroom, Vera is rarely involved but never far from our presence or my thoughts.  Since the Black and White Ball, William has treated me as an equal, in life and in bed.  He kisses me tenderly, holds me in his arms as he would a wife, and is never disrespectful or overbearing.  He is a perfect gentleman and a generous lover.  And I hate it.

I miss being used and abused; I long to be beaten and whipped.  I want to be his whore again, shared with friends and acquaintances, rented out to strangers.  I don’t want to be his wife, or his mistress, or his girlfriend.  I want to be his slave.

I think that’s what he had in mind from the very beginning.