Nobody knows is the truth except me, and I only know the truth
that I know..
I am a complex person and have always created my own scenes
and scenarios from the time I was very young. I remember Madeline, the Drama Queen, asking me to be her slave when she was
5, and had read some book called "Aladdin". She had a scarf that she made me wear, and I bowed and served her lemonade, in
the orchard behind her grandfather's property, and ate the morsels of chocolate cookies; she managed to procure for me, like
crumbs to a starving dog.
It wasn't the cookies, even though I still love chocolate cookies,
and get hard thinking about having them fed to me by a beautiful hand. It was
the giving, and the grand gesture of gratitude, that I find so lacking in modern souls. I crave being appreciated, and one
way of getting this adoration, is by serving someone to the very best of my ability.
Ah yes, I learned to do that well. I remember Thomson, the
Sports Master, with the Golden hair, who resembled David in the Greek Sculptures. I adored him from the moment we met, and
when he asked me to collect his gear from the locker room, that was to be the start of our relationship. I was also a very
talented football player, and even I feel pleasure, when I see my own legs in a mirror, or a sudden reflection somewhere.
My mother still has the Album she created, of and about me, somewhere in her keepsakes, but she doesn't bring it out these
days, after that final event, that was to keep me well away from football.
You can say I am a Multi Sexual Servile. I do like the sound
of that. I just love serving, and being thanked, and being given gifts and gratuities for my service. I collect them, like other people collect sea shells, or like my mother greedily hoarded all the news clipping
about me, yes, even the not so nice ones. Avid collectors collect everything
about the subject they love. I hoard them in my brain, in my memories, and in my heart, and each encounter makes my storage
store so much richer. Of course, what Marilee and the others do not know, is that I am a hoarder of concrete gratuities as
well as words and phrases, and many of these ‘gifts’ have been financial. I add them to my 'Gratuity Swiss Bank
Collection' in Zurich, and that is becoming an embarrassment that needs attending to. I am not exactly as poor or as dependent
as others believe me to be, and that is my private business.
Mostly its beautiful, and I mean beautiful, people, who have
helped fill my coffers, and the more beautiful they are, the more they give to me. Beauty
has a way of creating guilt, and beautiful people somehow seem to think that "giving" balances their guilt, at being so extraordinarily
blessed. They are thus very vulnerable to me, who are also beautiful, but with a difference, they gravitate to me, as a moth
gravitates to a flame, and the more guilt they have, the more they give to me. The more they give to me the more they somehow
acquire more guilt, and the next time they give even more.
Ponder that one, and believe me, as I have proof of my words.
I think back on the women I have served who have then rewarded
me so well...
She should have married me. I am talking of Marilee, that arrogant
beauty who always treated me as if I wasn't good enough for her. I had it all planned, and I would have served her well to
her dying day.
She was fine till she found out about my dealings and the way
I had amassed my liquid money. I thought she would be impressed, but she was horrified. Things changed from that point, and
she started to not be around as much.
Don't get me wrong, she comes running if she needs, help, if
she needs someone to talk to, or if she needs her ego boosted. She still thinks that I think the sun shines out of her, but
believe me, I stopped thinking that the first time she left me for that puffed up piece of public property. He ditched her
though and married money. That was his loss and I never really understood his way of thinking. I mean, if a guy has a soul
mate, and they both have stars following their every move, why look elsewhere. Maybe she did not give it to him. She was always
full of her privacy, and always thought she was a private person.
What a load of wishy!!! Marilee is as transparent, as the see
throughs she wears, and she has no hope in hell of covering that one or ever seeing her as she really is.
I ought to know. She confides her deepest and darkest secrets
thinking I am not listening. She honestly still thinks I am a piece of fluff with a toned up body. She has never seen my brain,
and she never will, as she thinks like a woman. That is her downfall. She is soft. Ask her and she will tell you she is tough
and independent. Tom and I know different...she has always needed us, but I was the ear, and he was the groin, and there are
plenty of other parts floating around too. She could never settle for just one part. That's her tragedy.
Getting to stay on her place is the biggest laugh, as actually
I own the property which she is leasing from the bank. It gives me a great high to think that when it suits me, I can put
her out in the cold, exactly the way she dumps on me. Stupid, Stupid Bitch!!! I scream inside. How I Hate her!
Then I want to fall down and weep, as I love her so much. She
is my breath and my passion, and the Goddess that I will adore and serve ,and she is everything to me a dream should be.
Sometimes, those dreams of tenderness get sliced with slivers
of desire. I think of the crazy surgeon who sliced up his patients, and wonder how she and those others would respond, if
their powder puff, fairy slave, suddenly pulled out the sharpest ever razor, and sliced them so damned finely, that they would
not even feel what I was doing until their flesh fell apart.
Yes, I am that good. I have a fine cut throat razor that I
bought at an old farm house auction many years ago, and when I feel sad, I take it out and sheen it to perfection. Yes, it
will slice tissue paper like a hot knife through butter. It gives me a kick to wear it under my sock, tied safely to my ankle.
You would never know it’s there, and only once have I had to use it publicly, and that was to protect my darling. She
never knew. I watch her so carefully when she is not suspecting me to be there. I can tell you things about her, and the others,
that even they do not know.
Women are so transparent even in their deceit.
I should know.
I am both man and woman, and both sinned and sinning. I am the true Dorian that Marilee desires, in the heart she does not
even know she has.
Now why did I say that? Well darlings, let me tell you about
that Bastard Dale. He and David consider themselves hot shot pricks, and that is exactly what they are. They have been working
with Greatchen, planning to take over and ditch Marilee completely. The sad thing is that she is not relying on her money,
which is also theirs and mine... Oh! This is too confusing...but you see, she is the central core, and destroying her, will
destroy us all. I know this, and I will protect her with my life and with everything I know.
The scene revolves so excruciatingly beautifully around, like
a highly tuned merry-go-round, and there is Marilee on her golden horse, riding without a care. It’s her nature, she
never appears to take anything to heart, but in her monologues with herself, apparently aimed at non-listening me, she shows
a different side, and I am afraid, she is learning too much, and she will ultimately cause her own decline.
Now that Tom has come back on the scene, she is far more vulnerable.
She has this highly romanticized view, of ending her days with him, but I have seen his dark ways, and his cruel controlling
of her, and the way he uses her to suit himself. His wife would freak if she knew where he was getting his kicks, and it is
not just from her. Those kids, were created out of his lust for Marilee, not his husbandly yearnings, and the priest would
have laughed his collar tight, with Tom thinking absolution of his sins, multiple sins, was paving his ride into heaven.
The Catholics honestly think sinning is OK, as long as they
confess, and get absolved, so they can do it again. What he did to her was sinning, but she never saw it as such. She was,
is and ever shall be, starry eyed over him, and, until she finds out the final truth, she will stay like that. She would be
shattered to see his soul. It is far blacker than the darkest night, a night without either electricity or a moon.
Dale and the Horse Lady are trying to take control. He cannot
do it. I will not let him. Marrying Sunni was the stupidest thing Dale ever did.
He got Horse Woman riled and angling for a kill, and Marilee confused and angry with her daughter. All Sunni wanted was his
millions. She was enthralled by Shitake, as I call it, and the fact that he seemed to own a huge slice of Macedon. Sunni has
a mind of her own, and thinks she is better than everyone she knows. She only listens to her pocketbook and the motor of her
Porsche...the same Porsche I must add, that tried to gun down Tom, when she realised her mother was going to marry him, and
she would lose everything she thought she had.
Sunni is a bitch...unfortunately, not a fancy bitch like Dale
and my Drag Friends. She's an evil bitch. From the day she was born, she was trouble, and it was her manipulating, that made
Marilee leave the poor sod, that was, maybe, her real father, who, thinking he was getting a woman, thought simply covering
her in gold, would chain her to his side.
A bird cannot live in a black and white material lined cage
with white furry carpets, even if it was 500 acres in the hills. Marilee did not realise what she was doing, thinking marrying
the 'Martyr' would save her from Tom. They didn't call him 'Cactus' for nothing. He was even pricklier than the ones I have
seen. That marriage only got both of them into deeper trouble. The daughter was trouble from her very entry into the world.
She was also the lock to what was a Neptune's Tomb. Even Houdini, could not have pulled himself out of that hold, without
She loves me, as her slave. She has no idea of my other life,
or should I say Lives. She just had her back massaged, and walked out, and I took it.
I am a poor sucker of a bitch, and I like being this way.