I look at myself in the mirror and I like what I see. Tall, slim and lithe with long auburn hair. A beautiful face, flawless complexion, green eyes and Cupid's bow lips.

I gaze at my body from my pert, out-thrust breasts encased in the flimsy, salmon coloured bra, down past my slim waist to my hips. Narrow but not skinny. I am wearing a pair of sheer panties that match my bra. I can just make out the soft shadow of my pussy lips through the material. My shaven pussy lips. I wear it like that because I think it looks so much sexier. At least that's what I allow myself to think.

It's really because David likes it.

Not much of a victory, but a victory nonetheless. I shave myself for David.

You don't understand, do you?

Neither do I.

Like I said, I liked what I see ... It is just so sad, that I hate who I am. Or at least, what someone else wants me to be.

I'm a bitch.

There, I said it. I'm a bitch. I don't want to be but I am, that's all there is to it. I want to be nice to people, I despise myself when I play my games, but I can't help it. I feel like a puppet sometimes, like I'm dancing to someone else's tune while they pull the strings of my life.

I try to cry about it when I'm alone here in my bedroom, but I can't even do that.

In the middle of the night ... you know that feeling when you don't know whether you are asleep or awake? Your mind just floats somewhere in the cosmos and you don't think about anything at all, at least nothing you can remember when the light of day finally opens your eyes.

Well, I remember!

Not all the time, just once or twice. And I remember that I hate myself. In the middle of the night I semi-woke and found myself in that place and I remembered so clearly that I pinched my arm really hard to try to make myself cry. I couldn't ... Not a single tear.

But now, the feeling is taking over, I am starting to doubt who I am even in the harsh reality of my waking life.

And I discovered that the puppet master still has me. Nothing seems real any more, sensations seem dull and everything has a plastic taste.

I am starting to wonder if I'm even here at all. Who am I? I don't know any more.

I hear a sound like it is coming from a great distance, but I know it's not. It's David and he is walking into the room. He stands behind me and I feel his strong arms snake around my waist, the slightly moist touch of his lips on the back of my neck.

I shiver.

Forgive me. Did I say that nothing seems real?

That wasn't strictly true. One thing, just one thing in my life seems real and that is David. I love him so much, he is handsome, gentle, kind, loving, considerate ... and not rich.

I suppose that's the main reason I hate myself so much, because of the things I do, the games I play. If David knew what I got up to when he wasn't here, he'd hate me, I know that but I play my games anyway. And I know why, because he's not rich. He's second best, he's a toy to play with until someone better, someone richer comes along.

I know, I know. He's nothing to me and at the same time I love him more than life itself. I don't understand and it's tearing me apart.

I can feel his strong hands sliding up my torso to my breasts. Even before he reaches them I can feel my nipples begin to stiffen in anticipation. His kisses on the nape of my neck are tender and loving. His lips are moving now, slowly to the side of my neck and on to the corner of my jawbone.

God that feels so good!

He's making me shiver and I can feel my legs turning to jelly. David's hands cover my breasts and start kneading warm flesh gently. His palms are directly over my nipples and the feelings are sending me wild with desire.

If only I could respond physically. All I do is watch us in the mirror. My arms stay by my sides and I make no effort to return his gentle caresses. I want to, but I can't.

I can feel a fire starting in my belly and my panties are becoming moist. I want to scream! I want to turn around, take him in my arms and make love with him.

"David," I say irritably, "Not now, we'll be late. And you're messing my hair."

His hands remain where they are on my body, but he stops kissing me and looks over my shoulder and into my face in the mirror. He is grinning that grin of his that makes him look like a mischievous schoolboy.

"I don't mind being late. Anyway your hair would look lovely even after I dragged you through a hedge."

I turn a 1000 megawatt smile on him, he always has the right words, but I say, "Thank you Darling, but I must get ready."

Firmly disentangling myself from his embrace, I gently push him away and take my dress from the hanger on the wardrobe door.

Quickly slipping it over my head, I look at my reflection once again. I was right, I am beautiful. I know that and I know that David thinks the same. I can see it in his eyes.

I give him a peck on the cheek being careful not to smudge my lipstick.

Then I grab my small purse and we head out of the door.

We get to the party fashionably late, but not rudely so. That was down to me. David doesn't seem to notice about that sort of thing, but I do. I wish it wasn't so, but it's what I do. I even made him drive round the block a couple of times just so we could do it my way.

Oh, it's wonderful here. A big house in the richer area of the suburbs. It belongs to David's boss. A man I really want to meet, David doesn't know that, but I can't help feeling that the time is near for me to drop him. He is after all, just a stepping stone.

My heart lurches as I have that thought.

Did I just think that?

Why?

I love David, I don't want to lose him.

The puppet master is playing his games with me like I play my games with everyone else and I hate myself all the more.

I wish I could break free. I wish I could be me and not this complete bitch.

Me and David are dancing on the patio. It has been decorated with Chinese lanterns and I can see red coated waiters moving amongst the tables that are set around the edge of the patio area and along the side of the heated swimming pool.

There's a slight breeze and I am beginning to feel the evening cool, so I snuggle closer to David and luxuriate in the warmth he imparts. My hand is in his, trapped between us and my head is laid against his shoulder as we move.

Through half closed eyes, I see ... him.

It's David's boss.

I remember the first time I met him when I went to see David at work. His name is Simon and he's dreamy. He has that look about him. That air. He looks like he should be dressed in smart casual attire as he surveys his Italian estate on horseback. Tall, handsome and self-assured.

I still remember the heat from his firm handshake and the deep piercing look he gave me, when David introduced us. There was a pulsing in my pussy and my nipples became hard. It wasn't because of all the things I just said, no. I know why he excited me. He wanted me. I could feel it. And he is rich! I want him ... Except ... I don't ... I want David.

What's happening to me?

Simon sees us dancing, walks across staring at me as I stare directly back and he taps David on the shoulder.

"Don't be greedy David. Let someone else dance with the prettiest woman here."

Reluctantly, David releases his hold and steps back. He waves us together and retreats to the bar that has been set up by the patio door.

Simon takes me in his arms in the same way that David did and we begin to dance. He looks down at me and whispers, "I've been watching you

all night."

Coyly, I reply, "Really? Why?"

"Because I wasn't lying. You are the most beautiful woman here."

"Thank you."

He smiles down at me. I can see his white, even teeth. The smile is both tender and predatory.

"Why are you with him?"

I glance across at where David is standing. I can see him talking to someone, a young woman. And I am filled with a burning jealousy that is unlike anything I've ever felt before. I see him look up and watch me and Simon dancing. And I can see that he doesn't like the way we are holding each other so close.

And I don't care ... I do care ... I don't care ... I hate myself.

Simon's hand is sliding slowly down my spine now and onto my bottom. Gently, he starts to need the flesh of my left cheek through my dress.

Again, he whispers "Why are you with him?"

I look up into his piercing, dark eyes and lick my lips so that they glisten before I reply, "Just waiting."

He looks puzzled, "What for?"

"Someone better."

I am screaming inside. I want David. Nobody else. Why am I saying these things?

I can feel Simon's other hand loosen it grip on my fingers and with his thumb he begins to gently stroke the soft skin on the back of my hand.

"Like who?"

As I watch his face, his smile seems to grow and somehow darken. And I know that he is like me. He's a user. I vaguely wonder if he is in control of his life, exactly like I am not. I want to push him away, I want to run to David. But I can't.

I don't answer but merely give him a smouldering look.

"Can I see you again?" he asks.

"NO!"

Did I say that? No I just think it. Why can't I just say it?

"We'll see," I whisper

And then I break away and saunter across to David. I know that Simon is watching me as I walk, so I give him the benefit of my sexiest swish. David looks annoyed at me. Not a problem. I know how to handle David, he's like putty in my hands. I just wish that I was putty in his.

GOD DAMN YOU PUPPET MASTER! I HATE YOU MORE THAN I HATE MYSELF!

"I didn't like the way you were dancing with him," he whispers harshly in my ear, "I saw him grabbing your arse and I didn't see you stopping him."

"No he never, you're eyes must have been playing tricks. We were just dancing."

He doesn't seem convinced so I go into my hated lovie routine. My hands wrap around his neck and I pull my face close to his. Staring into his eyes I whisper, "You're the man for me and you always will be."

And I watch the ice melt a little.

I am playing my cards close. I will drop him, but not quite yet. I think I should drop him hard when I do. I want him to see that he has lost me and that I never really cared about him at all. I want him to see that he is a loser who is not good enough for me, not rich enough for me.

I will be sorry to lose him as a lover, he is the best I've ever known. But that's all.

NO! That's not me. Those thoughts are hateful. I worship him like I know he worships me. I don't want to lose him.

I don't care about him ... I do care ... I don't care ... I hate myself.

Christ! Am I going mad? Am I going to wake up one day in a straight jacket?

It's the end of the party. David has our coats and he leads me by the arm to the front door, where Simon is waiting, bidding everyone a good night.

As we approach, Simon sees me and his eyes light up. We shake hands and mutter pleasantries and we can't take our eyes off each other. I know that David is becoming uncomfortable again, but that is not important.

The voice in my head is muttering, "Yes it is. You love him. Stop this, you stupid bitch!"

But I can't. For long moments, my smouldering eyes lock with Simon's. His eyes seem to glow with yellow fire, like a lion watching it's prey.

"Very nice to meet you again," says Simon.

I can feel myself melting. I want to grab him and kiss him and make love with him. My pussy is pulsing again. And again, I know that is not the man, but what he represents that is making me hot. Another stepping stone. Another man to give me what I need until someone better comes along.

The muttering in the back of my head gets louder, "This isn't you!"

Isn't it? I am confused. I don't know. The puppet master is getting control of me again. I can feel it and I hate us both all the more.

Me and David are home. He has barely spoken to me, I can tell he is annoyed.

I don't care ... I do care ... I don't care.

I sigh and say, "I honestly don't know what you're talking about."

He is sitting on the bed pulling off his socks and shoes. He mutters something that I don't hear.

After slipping my dress off and draping it back on the hanger I look at him and ask, "What?"

"I said, why were you doing that? Flirting like that. You know I didn't like it, but you did it anyway."

My heart is breaking as I look at him. This wonderful man, why am I doing this to him?

I answer coldly, "I honestly don't know what you're talking about. We had a dance and we shook hands. What exactly is your problem?"

"I know what he's like. He's rich and he's smooth. I know exactly what his game was."

"Don't you trust me?" I ask icily.

I can see David shrink slightly, "Of course I do ... It's just ... I don't trust him."

It amuses me to see his pain and my heart is breaking.

I am going mad. I must be. Why else would I be like this?

The puppet master sends another command and I am powerless. I walk over to where David and sit next to him on the bed. Placing my arm around him I lay my head on his shoulder and say, "I told you already, you're the only man for me and always will be."

A half smile, "Promise?"

Lightly I pull his head closer and lightly place my lips against his murmuring, "I promise."

As I knew he would, David responds. He holds me tight and kisses me right back and I love it. I love the feel of his lips against mine, the tender intrusion of his tongue into my mouth and my body's automatic reactions.

And at the same time, I feel indifferent. Yes my nipples are hardening as my blood heats up and yes I can feel my grip on his firm torso tightening, but I feel indifferent. Nothing...

Oh please Puppet Master, not now! I want to love him, I want to desire him and you're taking it away.

FUCKING STOP YOU BASTARD! I DON'T WANT TO DANCE TO YOUR TUNE ANY MORE!

Too late. I feel nothing for David. Whoever it is that is pulling my strings is making me think of Simon as I feel David's sweet caress.

And I like it. I like the thought that it is Simon's hand gently cupping my breast. The feelings within me are growing again, the warmth, the sheer sexuality. But it is for Simon, not David.

It isn't ... It is ... It isn't.

Gently and slowly my hand moves round to Simon's ... David's groin, I place my fingers on the hard ridge behind his fly. I love that more than anything. I don't know why, but the anticipation is always so sweet. The knowledge that the man in my arms wants me and shows it so obviously.

Sometimes I think it's because I love him so much and then I think it is because of the pleasure he gives me.

As he begins to knead my breast flesh more firmly, I feel his fingers start to rub against my nipples. They are aching now. They desire to be touched, to be loved.

We disengage a moment and I lean away from him to unhook my bra. Holding the cups in place, I shrug the straps from my shoulders and watch his face change from tender love to tender desire. I know he wants to see them. He wants to see my naked breasts and take them in his hands and mouth.

It's what I want as well. I think it is because I love him so much, but that thought is instantly pushed back to the deep recesses of my mind. I want it because it is another symbol of my power over him.

Teasingly, I let the bra fall away and thrust my breasts out. I am offering them to him. David's reaction is everything I knew it would be. He drops his head between my breasts and plants feather light kisses on my breastbone. Each one sends messages of desire and love straight to my heart. As his hands slide up my side from my hips to either side of my breasts to gather them and squeeze them, I moan softly. Then I can feel his fingers, his strong manly fingers slide over and touch my nipples.

GOD! THAT FEELS SO GOOD!

I want to return the tenderness, the love. But I can't. I wish I knew why the Puppet Master was torturing me like this. Outside, I am getting more and more excited as David lets his fingers trail all over the soft skin of my upper body. I can feel my pussy getting wetter in readiness for the assault it knows is coming. The assault it needs ... I need.

Inside I am screaming not with lust, but with despair. All the things that David does for me and to me and I can't do for him ... And the despair leaves me as the Puppet Master tightens his grip, leaving me with just my base desires, my selfish, base desires.

I moan again when David lets his soft touch slide down to my gusset and gently stroke the moist patch that is appearing. My pussy is getting hotter now.

As he works his magic with my senses, I start to help him out of his own clothing. I know that sounds quite helpful and loving for a worthless bitch like me, but I have my reasons. It's not that I want to feel his skin against mine...

I do ... I don't ... I do...

I DO NOT! I help him because I hate the feel of clothing when I am having sex. Rough material against my soft perfect skin is an anathema to me. So I help him. But my pleasure comes first. Always and only.

Soon he is naked. That feels better, now I can lie back and wallow in the sensations that I know are coming. David is pushing me back by my shoulders, as my back touches the bed, he stands and gazes down at my physical perfection. I see his eyes burning with desire and his long, hard cock ready to give me pleasure.

I moan as David reaches down and slides my, now soaking panties down my thighs, his thumb nail scratches my thigh as he moves and another shiver courses through me. God I am so ready for this. Once my panties are removed he takes my foot in his hands and places delicate kisses all over it. He inches up past my ankle, my calf, my knee, my warm, warm thigh until his head is between their silken heat. And his mouth is poised directly over my pussy. I can feel the heat of his breath as he surveys my moist hole. My pussy lips are all puffed up now and my clitoris is beginning to pulse. I just wish it were Simon between my legs, readying himself for the oral assault on my womanhood.