Added 2023-02-27 18:40:57 +0000 UTC
**Some of the details have been changed for dramatic effect. Mixture of fact and fiction "Look at her. Isn't your mistress exquisite?" He asked me. "Yes" I choked out, because she is, and tried not to let the tears show in my eyes because she is all the things im not. She's thin, she is graceful, she is pretty. She has big blue eyes and one of those small, turned up noses, and she's elegant. She is more experienced. She's been a slave longer, has more self control, knows how to please him more than me. She is standing in front of us; my master, me, the other man, in beautiful lacy lingerie and she looks incredible. I'm kneeling, naked, by his feet and I'm not normally shy about my body but I suddenly wish I could disappear. Comparisons are unavoidable and I cannot "win". I'm not those things. He can't tell me with the eyes of love that I'm thin. I'm not, and he wouldn't lie to me. I'm not elegant. I'm loud and curvy and squishy and clumsy and I have a big nose and a double chin and belly fat. My forehead is too high. My ass is really huge. My features are too strong. I'm too big. Some people find me beautiful, but I'm not pretty. Not the way girls are supposed to be pretty. I'm not her and I can't ever be like her and I wish I could. We're here for her, so the other man can do things for her. This room used to be my bedroom. This flat used to be my home. This place, exactly this place, used to be the safest place in the world to me, utterly mine, and now it is out of my control, used by my mistress, for my mistress. Im only even here as a spectator. I don't count. I kneel by his feet and press my face into his lap and he runs his hands over my back and I love thr way his hands feel, I love the comfort and press closer, even though it is him and his relationship with me that has changed me from an independent person with her own home and business to this...naked, ashamed, unfavourably compared, clinging. Pet. But his hands feel so good on my skin. (Cont. In screenshot)
