Hidden Black

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Romance  |  House: Booksie Classic

In the light of the day, they lead very different lives than they do in the dark, when the doors are all closed.

Submitted: June 19, 2018

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Submitted: June 19, 2018



Every decision he makes costs thousands of dollars.

He sits at a desk in an office that rents for more money per month than most of the people in this city make in an entire year. He moves money around and decides the financial fates of those below him. In this modern world of dollars and cents, he is like a god; with one hand he brings ruin, and with another, prosperity.

She was a child of ruin. She grew up hungry and cold and subject to the whims of men in expensive offices. When sickness came to her, it was a plague of calamity, that wiped out what meager funds she was able to accumulate, and put her deeper and deeper into debt.

With what little money she was able to hold onto, she made a gamble. To those men in the expensive offices, she was invisible, but she knew that, if they were to ever see her, there was one thing she had that they would desire.

He is a king. From his office, he issues edicts that change the lives of countless numbers on his spreadsheets. His shell of affluence guards him from their faces, protects him from their tears and cries of anguish as they lose what wealth they have, and his office drinks it up like a great mosquito.

Still, on some level, he understands the power he wields, and in some far off corner of his parasitic mind, he feels the weight of his power's burden.

Ultimately, he was one of her first; the first of many powerful men who would come to her, seeking a reprieve they could get nowhere else. She was awkward, dressed in that black leather she had taken such a huge gamble on, holding the riding crop that felt so alien in her hands.

He gave her money; an exchange of wealth and an exchange of power. And for the next hour, he was not a god nor a king, and his expensive office did not exist. He was merely a man, prostrate before a lowborn goddess, wearing a black collar about his neck.

When it was over, he felt lighter and at ease. He gave her a tip, just a little extra in thanks for her service in inspiring his servitude, and she smiled, for she knew she had found a calling.

From that day, twice a month, they would meet. They would shed their clothes to reveal the black leather beneath, and their roles would be exchanged. The powerful would become powerless, and the powerless would become powerful. His life continued as it always had, while she built hers up from ruination.

And with every dollar he pays, she becomes the queen and the goddess she always knew she could be.

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