Becoming poor and menial

The descent of a fashion-conscious middle-class woman into shabby poverty, all at the behest of another woman, fifteen years her junior.

Saturday, April 15, 2006

Roped in

I have just slapped myself. The reason? – I was staring into space, contemplating the abyss into which I have fallen once again – and by sitting so idly, I was failing to complete the assignment that had been given me. Yes, that is right it seems that I am once again a slave – for despite attempting to escape my Mistress, I could not endure my liberty, and so here I am once again: tithed, humiliated, enslaved.

I could not endure the shame of what was happening to me. I could not bear that I was spending money on an invisible stranger that I could have spent on my children; of course, I also couldn’t bear that I was unable to spend on it myself, that my clothes were being ruined or given away, and that I was looking ever shabbier; and I couldn’t bear that I was being fattened. Although, in my fantasies, it seemed almost the most humiliating thing I could imagine – to be FATTENED, like a pig! – to know that in other people’s eyes I was growing ever more overweight! – yet I found the reality TOO humiliating – and so I ran away. I stayed free for several weeks – but now, here I am, writing my blog up once again.

I am doing so because it was the first thing that my Mistress ordered. The second was to pay her the overdue tribute. Even as she ordered me to offer up this token of my submission, a part of me was screaming out, “No!!!! Don’t do it!!!!!” But even though I was listening to this part of me, the other part of me knew that I WOULD listen. My finger paused over the button – and then I pressed. My tribute had been paid! I was a serf surrendering the dues of my inferiority once again! And so I stared out of the window, feeling electric with desire and need and craving, but also sick.

And of course, because I was staring out of the window, I was not completing my blog entry. Like a schoolgirl who neglects to do her essay, I had to be punished. And so I slapped myself three times, then three times again, because my Mistress assumed that the first slaps had not been hard enough. Then three again. So it is that my cheeks burn – my cheeks, and my soul as well…


  • At 11:13 AM, Blogger murman said…

    Fascinating and compelling. But your story ends abruptly quite a while ago. Is there more to tell? You can let me know discreetly at I'd love to know.


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