From the Master's EyeMature

She doesn't understand. How could she? I've worked for everything I have, and she does nothing but suckle at the teat of my success. She wants everything. She wants time, she wants money, she wants affection. 

I have no time for her childhood fantasies of what adult life is. 

What she needs most is to wake the fuck up. This is life, the harsh and unbalanced reality of slaving away for a pittance of survival. I do what I must, and at the end of the day there's nothing left but complaints. Apparently I don't spend enough time with her, I don't give her enough affection, I don't help her around the house. I shouldn't have to! I am at work while she loiters under the roof I pay for and does what she considers a job, cleaning house. As if I don't spend more time cleaning what she leaves behind. 

A child. That's all she is. 

Every day I see women worth my time. Every day I wonder how I ended up settling for this weak image of a girl who wishes to be what she obviously can't truly aspire to be. The only advantage of her naivety is that she surrenders her body to me when I demand it. With what I go through to support her it's a meager repayment. Her submission disgusts me as much as it arouses me. I ask her to bend, she bends. I ask her to suck, she sucks. She complains I have no passion, and yet what is she but the lack of passion? What true woman would let herself be lorded? I want defiance! I want a fight! 

Maybe if she didn't roll on to her back every time I pressured her, I'd have a little more respect for the bitch. 

In the end it doesn't matter. She'll submit, as she always does. Then, in the night, I'll hear her crying. Defeated. Crushed under my foot like the slave she is. 

Eggshells, she tells me. "It's like walking on eggshells." 

She has no idea. 

How could she?

Just a child, playing in a Man's world.

The End

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