It's A Slut World, After All

I replied, my eyes shining, "Yes, Sir. Anything you say."

"Then -- here are your things," He handed the Gucci shopping bag to me, his hands sliding along mine playfully.

"And, since I promised you that if you pleased me, I would give you a token of my affection," he smiled, his tongue caressing his upper lip, "This is for you."

He reached around his neck, pulling off his heavy, intricate chain, and moving behind me, placed it around my neck. It was thick, still warm from him, comforting.

My fingers stroked the weighty rope circling my neck. "Thank you, Sir. I'll treasure it."

Sir took my hand, seeing me to the door. He opened it, motioning me to leave, as he kissed my hand. "Goodnight, biu," He murmured, "I will see you soon."

"Sir?" I whispered, my eyes locking on his as I backed from the suite, "May I ask a question?"

"Yes, you may."

"What does biu mean?" I whispered back. I already knew. But I wanted to hear it. From him.

He answered, his dark, mysterious gaze firm and even, "Whore. It means...whore."

I took the back stairs out and slunk to my car, the tall collar of the expensive coat shielding me from prying eyes. I drove home, fingering my rich chain, the sheaf of hundred-dollar bills spread out on the seat beside me. I thought of the night, of Sir, of the things that he'd awakened in me.

I'd always been the feminist, the animal rights activist, the take-charge party girl who owned her sexuality, railed against the patriarchy, flaunted the conventions. But...he'd changed all that.

A little, at least.

"I like being a...beautiful bird." I mused, smiling to myself as I pulled into my driveway, "Especially when the cage is so... opulent."

It was a cold, windy December day, the snow whipping against my windows, and I was trimming the Christmas tree, the apartment filled with the smell of baking gingerbread and the sound of Christmas carols on the stereo.

I heard my doorbell chime, and opening the door, was greeted with a "Merry Christmas!" by the U.P.S guy, his hands filled with a large box.

"Sign here for the insurance," he pointed to his touch-screen, "This one's worth a bundle."

"Thank you!" I trilled, shutting the door. I tore the box open, lifting the lid. On top of heavy tissue, was a card, the lettering heavy, dark and precise.

From Sir.

"This is for you, biu. I will be visiting you on the 30^th of December. I will be texting you with the details. Sir."

I peeled back the heavy tissue, surprised at the items before me. It was a pair of Prada black thigh-high boots, just my size, and a...black fur coat, a real black fur coat. My fingers stroked the lush, dense fur, marveling at the feel, the forbidden decadence, the taboo.

"This is so unlike me," I marveled, my libido stirring at the promise of Sir's return, "Anna, I mean I, would never... wear fur. Just like Anna would never submit to men for money."

"But, "I smiled a secret smile, "biu...would. It...is a slut world, after all..."

END