3

My funeral was held a few days after that night. I watched from outside the cemetery as they lowered the coffin into the ground. Then I entered the black limousine waiting for me, and my ten years of servitude began.

The sole purpose of my existence is to fulfill Her every pleasure. But Her pleasures are driven by whims. Sometimes She has me act as the avatar of Her will, stalking and tormenting whichever poor victim She has laid Her eyes on. And then other times I am the victim whom She tortures. I still can’t understand the reasons behind what we do. At first I thought She enjoyed hurting others, but now I question this. She smiles at everything, regardless of what it is.

I once had the opportunity to speak with a man in a similar situation to me, who had some theories about Her. “The Mistress’s domain is the imbalance of power, and the misuse of that imbalance. When we destroy a person’s social support and drive them on the run, we are taking the power they had over their lives away from them. And when we manipulate an individual into tormenting the people around them, we are taking power from those people and giving it to the individual. Similarly, the Mistress’s torment of us is the reinforcement of the power which She holds over us.”

We were both punished for speaking to each other without Her permission. Punishments are frequent in Her service. Even the slightest mistake is grounds for retribution. My body has been broken and put back together so many times that my appearance has become deformed and monstrous. When I let a victim get away, She tore off my legs, and wouldn’t mend them until I crawled to Her and kissed Her feet. When I spoke out of turn, my jaw was shattered and I was forced to each with the broken bones for days. Sometimes She will punish me even when I have made no mistakes. “To remind you of your place.”

There are rewards, as well. Almost any desire I have, She will fulfill. The first gift She gave me was a black mask, to hide the scars and damage She had done to me. But I have learned not to trust Her presents. She always finds some way to hurt me with Her gifts. She seems to particularly find joy making me destroy the things and people I’ve grown attached to.

She usually appears to me in the same form She had in our original meetings. But She can take on many others. I have seen Her assume the appearance of hundreds of different girls. On some days, She doesn’t look like a human at all, but a puppet or doll. I can still hear Her voice speak to me, even in that form. I don’t try to understand how She takes on so many appearances. Such thoughts lead to more punishment.

Such has been my life for the past decade.