A Good Slave Practices Good Posture

I never learned how to sit, stand, or walk with proper form and posture. When I was young, my mother was too busy with her work to pay any attention to my mannerisms.

During the 1970s, we still had charm school in Charleston, and I had heard of some girls at my school talk about attending them. But I did not. Even if my mother had wanted me to attend, I would have fought against it. I wanted to be nude. I didn't care about my social standing.

Suffice it to say, I grew up as a skinny, foul mouthed slouch.

Carla reminds me to sit up straight, stand straight, keep my shoulders back, and keep my head up. I should keep my hands folded together in front of me while I stand, and I should walk and heel with the same graceful obedience as a well-trained greyhound.

She reminds me to keep my words to a minimum and smile when I speak, and always say "thank you" and "you're welcome". Even when we walk together, I never lead. I'm always at her side or slightly behind.

I am her slave, her pet, her prized possession.

She expresses that with a leash tied to a choker around my neck. She has several chokers of various colors, materials, and designs to go with whatever clothes she has me wear. It's obvious to anyone that I am hers, and that she is putting me on display. I give her a sense of pride.

I can understand that someone else will see us as something bizarre. But then again, I've never cared about my social standing. I understand it's a role. But I feel happy and fulfilled in this way. When I see Carla beaming with pride, I know that I'm her source of pride. That makes me feel happy.

It wasn't until high school that I took a greater interest in writing. It helped me process the depression I went into after Teresa and I broke up. I would spend school lunch hour inside the library, and there I took an interest in reading Emily Dickinson, Edna St Vincent Millay, Sylvia Plath, among others. I admired how much power they could wield from their words, and it inspired me to follow suit.

If anything, studying English and creative writing allowed me to analyze my surroundings in a more refined way, and gave me a better sense of discipline than the more forceful approach that Teresa had utilized.

If I had possessed that same refined sense while I was with Teresa, perhaps I would have perceived our relationship from a different perspective. But then again, I was so young and naive.