I hate flying. I really and truly hate flying. The turbulence we've hit on this flight is probably the worst I've ever been exposed to. Can turbulence cause a plane to crash? Fuck.........I hope not, or I'm doomed. Well, so are my fellow passengers, but I'm more worried about my own hide than I am about theirs.
In a desperate attempt to stop picturing my end in a fiery plane crash, I think back to the events that led up to my trembling hands clutching the armrests of a window seat on a Virgin Airlines transatlantic flight.
As far back as I can recall, I have always been the go-getting decision maker. Even when I was a child my brothers and sisters would look to me to pick out or create games for us to play. As an adolescent I worked hard to build the foundation for a successful future for myself and was on my own by the time I turned 17. Now in my adulthood I am a confident, well rounded, successful young woman with a bright professional career ahead of me. I've spent the past 20-something years of my life being boring as hell.... making choices, making money, making decisions, and I see at least another 40-something years left of doing the same. Decisions, responsibility, honor. Blah. Blah. Blah. Boring.
Perhaps it was that thought and boredom which started me on this crazy road. I'm well known for coming up with some pretty harebrained schemes, but this one could very possibly be the most outlandish. I needed something different. Something to shake up my boring and predictable life a little bit. Something to challenge and shock me.
Late one evening, I joined a website for people involved in alternative lifestyles. I thought as far as 'different' went it's about as different as it gets in my vanilla ice cream sort of life. It's sort of insane what people get up to on the internet. I read some stuff that I'm pretty sure no matter how old I get, I'll never be old enough to read, and some other stuff that no amount of bleach will ever erase from my mind. While wading through all of the crazy, I noticed one man in particular who stood out to me. First I noticed Him for His avatar (a 40-something year old dark haired, good looking gentleman) but before long I was paying more and more attention to each one of His posts. When I say I was 'paying attention' the reality is that I was hanging on His every word.
He said things that fascinated me. Things I had never let myself think of before. Things I found secretly titillating. It embarrassed me to feel such a compelling connection to a man on the internet. Especially a man on the internet who had no idea I was alive.
After a few weeks of hero worshipping His posts from afar, I worked up the courage to send Him a 'hello' message privately.
If joining the forum was a step in the right direction, that message to Him would most likely be considered The Turning Point. Within hours I was sucked into the vortex of psychological sensation that was so intense I wondered if I would ever be the same. All of this was happening online! I felt like I was turning into one of those insane weirdos whose stories I had read about and judged as bonkers.
It took me very little time to confess to Him my secret fantasy of ditching my boring, predictable life and live a life in which I had no decision making or choices to worry about. I felt as though He expected this confession, because what He suggested next felt as though it had been ripped from the darkest recesses of my soul; a place that I had no idea existed until He opened my eyes to it.
Go live with Him. A stranger? A man I had met on the internet? Live with Him for a period of one year. During this year, He would own me. I would become His property. A glorified slave, really. He would become the truth by which I lived and loved. I would have no decisions to make but those that He laid out in front of me. My choices would be the choices He felt compelled to give me.
In the most reckless decision I have ever made in my entire life, I packed up my little apartment, put everything into storage, booked a plane ticket, and here I sit, on a plane speeding into my future. Hurtling toward the next year of my life. I'm excited. I'm afraid. I'm aroused. I'm anxious. So many emotions crammed into one tiny body I feel as thought I'll be suffocated.
The plane lands. Sweet Jesus I can't believe I am seriously doing this.
I get off the plane and clear customs. Heart pounding, hands shaking, and walking carefully so that I don't trip all over myself and look like a bumbling idiot, I walk through the gate and my eyes land on him.
He's beautiful. I hate to use the cheesy 'tall, dark, and handsome' descriptors for Him, but it's all so true. He's tall. He's dark, and He's terribly handsome. He's dressed in the latest style and His clothing is quite obviously costly. I feel under dressed in my sneakers, jeans, and sweater.
He smiles down at me and even though I'm still beyond nervous, I feel myself sink into His easygoing companionship.
"It's wonderful to meet you" He says with a gorgeous British accent.
"Um... thank you. I'm excited to meet you too. Well. Mostly. Sort of not really completely excited because I'm nervous too and tired. Not tired of you. I mean I'm tired from the trip. Well, the flight. I didn't do anything on the flight, but that usually makes me more tire...... um. Never mind". Oh God I am such an imbecile. Awesome first impression. I kind of wish the floor would open up and swallow me.
"Sweetheart. Relax." He takes my hand in a reassuring way, and leads me to His Mercedes.
The hour long car ride to His home is spent making small talk about the flight, weather, and various other mundane topics that keep my mind occupied. Neither of us mention the reason for my visit.
I think I may have made a huge mistake. What normal, sane, educated human being does something like this? Not me, that's for sure. There's nothing normal, sane, or educated about this. I want to ask Him to take me back to the airport. I'm about to open my mouth and make the request when He slows to a stop in a residential neighborhood, and I realize with a sinking sensation that we're at His home. I suppose it will be my home too for the next 365 days.
I feel like I'm going to vomit.
The house is so neat I'm afraid to touch anything. The house is in stark contrast to my deeply embedded sense of chaos. I barely resist the urge to push a few picture frames out of place.
He brings in all of my luggage, and I sit uncomfortably on the edge of the couch. He sits down across the room from me, and is quiet for a few moments. He finally breaks the silence.
"I think it is silly that we are dancing around the purpose of your visit here. It's time we got down to business".
My heart stops, but I nod stiffly.
"This is the first lesson I will teach you darling" He softly comments "When I say something to you, a single nod is not enough. I expect a gentle 'yes, Sir' or 'no, Sir' every time. Do you understand?"
I nod.
He raises a brow, and I immediately correct my misstep with a hastily mumbled "Yes, Sir".
"Also it is important for you to know that from today forward, you no longer own the name you were given at birth. Today will be a rebirth of sorts. I shall call you Princess when I am pleased with you. Should you give me cause to be displeased, I will call you nothing at all. Do you understand?"
"Yes, sir" I respond
"Good. While you are here, there are rules you must follow. Failure to follow these rules will result in consequences. First we discuss the rules. Instead of just going over them verbally, I have typed them up for you so that you won't forget them. I expect that within the week you will have them memorized and be able to recite them verbatim"
