27 Wendy
Wendy
Manhattan, New York
I don’t have to keep a count of the seasons anymore. The calendar displayed on my wall is filled with events. It sounds exciting, but it’s really not. He has created a schedule so that I know what he wants each day of the week. I am to be prepared. The performance of my life is required each time.
Today is belly dancer day. After dinner when he comes down, I will entertain him with the perfect performance.
He has ensured that I have a beautiful costume as well as a number of videos to watch so that I can practice for the event.
He expects nothing less than perfection, and I have learned to give it to him every time.
Five years ago when the woman came and gave me medicine, I listened to her warnings and her words of wisdom.
I have shown the utmost respect and readiness to do whatever my keeper requests.
I never fail to please him. I have made it my sole mission to ensure he wants to keep me.
I cannot even remember the last time he punished me.
No more whips and days of starvation. No more torture with all those little gadgets he keeps in the dungeon room.
I am now his pride and joy. His perfect pet who caters to his every desire.
More recently he has brought others into our games. Sometimes he likes to have a threesome. Most are women, occasionally there is a man.
He is older now. Although he works diligently to maintain his body and to thrive, the years are taking a toll, and it makes me incredibly happy to watch. I, of course, act as if I don’t notice . . . as if he is as virile and handsome as he believes he is.
Lately he has even started allowing me upstairs to his study with him.
A chain attaches me to him so there is no worry that I will run, and his study is on the third floor so no one can see inside the richly decorated space.
I am never allowed near the windows. Instead I use my time to read the newspapers.
The New York Times, The Wall Street Journal, USA Today. He reads many and so do I.
I tell myself that when I’m free again, all this knowledge will come in handy. He seems to like when I read seated on the floor next to his chair. I can’t decide if he sees me as a dog or a child.
But this is good, I tell myself. He is kinder to me when I do all that he asks without hesitation or complaint. I am submissive when he wishes and aggressive when he gives the order.
I think about my old life sometimes, but I try not to look back. It’s painful and it makes me sad. He does not like it when I am anything less than happy and attentive. So I focus on the now. At night when the lights are out, so he’s not checking on me, I exercise. I am stronger than ever now.
I stare up at him with loving eyes. I actually think I might be able to take him. And I would if I were not chained.
He smiles, and I promise myself that this will soon be over. Very, very soon I will escape. The plan is coming together.
All I needed was patience and humility. Just like the woman told me.
For now I am his.
I stare at the newspaper’s social pages. I always look for her there. She is part of my plan.
Him, too, I think. I’m just not sure how yet.
Since my keeper trusts me to a certain degree, I sometimes overhear his conversations.
I know voices and names. I watch for those names in the newspapers I read.
I smile to myself. I’ve found each and every one of them.
I know who these men are—what the public sees, at any rate.
But I also know what they do when no one is watching . . . the same sorts of things he does.
He belongs to a network of incredibly wealthy men who have certain needs that cannot be met amid the rules of polite society. Flying across the world to find what they want has become tedious and time consuming, so they decided to form their own perfect secret society right here at home.
There is much more I need to know, and soon I will.
Very soon.
It makes me happy, this plan I have. I stroke my keeper’s thigh with my hand, and I imagine the way he will die.