Michael finished reading me Venus in Furs tonight. Tomorrow I’m going to start him up on The Secret History so he won’t feel so out of the loop when Tarrah, Claudia and I discuss it in his presence.

Venus in Furs is one of those books you want to read over and over. It’s just so exquisitely written. I’m afraid if I read it at my leisure, I’ll end up highlighting more that half the book. The beginning especially! The dialogue between the narrator and Madame Venus, and then when Wanda discusses her views of the world with Severin.

I loved that book so much I purchased the audio to it. I could only find it abridged, which was a pity, but something is better than nothing. The narrator has a lovely voice. I love English narrators. American English sounds so vulgar. Yet, I prefer Michael’s voice. I wish I’d recorded him reading it.

Perhaps I’ll persuade him to read me certain parts of The Secret History so I can record them, and listen to them. I don’t understand my obsession with his voice. Just a whisper will make me quiver in delight and desire.

“Man is the one who desires, woman the one who is desired. This is woman's entire but decisive advantage. Through his passion nature has given man into woman's hands, and the woman who does not know how to make him her subject, her slave, her toy, and how to betray him with a smile in the end is not wise”

It’s impossible to be a woman, read this book, and not ponder the possibilities. I’ve tried to be cruel and despotic, but I am uncomfortable with that amount of power. Man is the one who desires, woman the one who is desired. If that is the case, and the reverse occurs, then woman is at the mercy of man.

If that statement and its reverse are true, then I am at a disadvantage. While I know that Michael is very much attracted to me, and very much in love with me, fulfilling the ‘desired’ part, he is very much in control of his emotions, and doesn’t outwardly project them, whereas I, I constantly make a vulgar display of my affections towards him, rendering the reverse of that statement true.

Even in a relationship where both parties adore and lust after each other, the one who is most vulnerable-- or rather, the one who allows his or her self to outwardly project their vulnerability, is the one with the disadvantage.

Because I am so terribly vulnerable to him, and outwardly project it so, the dynamic of our relationship seems as though I’m the one who desires, and he’s the one who is desired. Which means he is not wise for not knowing how to make me his subject, his slave, his toy, and how to betray me with a smile.

And yet if it were the opposite-- if he was the one to desire, and I the one to be desired-- I would not know how to do any of those things either, even though-- with the exception of the last thing-- he wants me to.

It’s a most frustrating dilemma. We both want to be each other’s slaves; each other’s playthings. Yet he does not know how to fully dominate me (or he’s reluctant to do so), and I refuse to play my role as Mistress out of fear of my turning out like Wanda. All of this goes on, while I simultaneously resent my position in the disadvantaged party... even though fulfilling my wish to be his slave, demands of me to be at a disadvantage; a complete loss of will and control.

I suppose it’s some sort of defense mechanism, that even in my desire for consensual slavery,I want to have a certain key amount of control that will render him helpless and at my mercy should I wish it so.

I enjoy feeling desired. It’s empowering for that same reason--- that he or she who is desired, has at their mercy the fool who desires them so in the first place.

“It is only man's egoism which wants to keep woman like some buried treasure. All endeavors to introduce permanence in love, the most changeable thing in this changeable human existence, have gone shipwreck in spite of religious ceremonies, vows, and legalities. Can you deny that our Christian world has given itself over to corruption?”

Monogamy is an unnatural thing. Men are hardwired to seek as many fertile women as they can, and couple with them in order to pass on their genes. I should know, provided Michael’s previous long and endless history of love affairs.

Love is indeed the most changeable thing in this changeable human existence. Yet I believe rare cases do occur (as is with me) where love does in fact surpass genetics, and is able to simulate some sort of ‘permanence’. I suppose that is why-- though I am obviously resentful, and terribly jealous-- I forgive Michael for his need of polygamy. It really is not his fault. One cannot always fight against thousands of years of genetic buildup.

Still, I expect him to make an effort if he cares the slightest bit about me, which he does, and so I’m not as cruel and cold towards him any more.

"Your warning is vain. Do with me what you will, as long as you don't drive me away."

"Severin," replied Wanda, "I am a frivolous young woman; it is dangerous for you to put yourself so completely in my power. You will end by actually becoming a plaything to me. Who will give warrant that I shall not abuse your insane desire?"

"Your own nobility of character."

"Power makes people over-bearing."

"Be it," I cried, "tread me underfoot."

Wanda threw her arms around my neck, looked into my eyes, and shook her head.

"I am afraid I can't, but I will try, for your sake, for I love you Severin, as I have loved no other man."

It really is as though that book was written just for us. That scene in specific encompasses my reluctance to blatantly dominate. Topping from the bottom is something I prefer, through the use of psychological manipulation-- play to his weaknesses and insecurities to have him crawling to me like a puppy. Yet I know he thoroughly dislikes this, and seeing as how I can’t stand the sight of him pouting, let alone seeing him miserable without wanting to shower him in kisses, I cannot make use of this cruel but effective tactic.

I’ve already elaborated on my keen awareness of the fact that I have a sadistic side to me which, if I give in to completely, I could truly harm my darling and really take pleasure in it. I cannot bear the thought of it. I am terrified of losing myself to this thing, and truly harming him. I’m afraid of turning into a despot in miniature, a domestic Pompadour. I really do become another person, and I can’t stand the idea of taking delight in physically or mentally hurting my love.

Taking pleasure in his taking pleasure at the lick of my whip or the strike of my cane, yes. But taking pleasure in his suffering, most certainly not.

“I have a real talent for despotism—I also have the necessary furs...”