In a feeble attempt keep my wits, I try to focus on something, anything, which will distract me. That something was the collar, tight, around my neck....It had been a gift from Daddy, for being his good little girl. A charm hung from the metal ring spelling out the word, slut. Most people would consider it to be vulgar, or degrading. To me, however, it is a symbol of acceptance and unity. It signifies that I belong to him. Truthfully, I'd have it no other way. The Master treated me like a. She drew out a notebook, and opened up to a blank page, beginning to write in her journal. She wrote mostly about the art that she saw, and the people around her. Today was no different, in that she chose to write about the way he looked at the painting. It was from this angle she noticed his eyes were a jaded shade of green. His flesh was tanned, and his shirt exposed the muscular build of his arms that would suggest hard labor, at least implied that with the dust on his torn jeans. He was. More

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