Free Venus in Furs by Leopold von Sacher-Masoch

more,” I replied. “But you would never deceive me, you would have the daemonic greatness of saying to me: I shall love no one but you, but I shall make happy whoever pleases me.”
    Wanda shook her head. “I don't like deception, I am honest, but what man exists who can support the burden of truth. Were I say to you: this serene, sensual life, this paganism is my ideal, would you be strong enough to bear it?”
    “Certainly. I could endure anything so as not to lose you. I feel how little I really mean to you.”
    “But Severin—”
    “But it is so,” said I, “and just for that reason—”
    “For that reason you would—” she smiled roguishly—“have I guessed it?”
    “Be your slave!” I exclaimed. “Be your unrestricted property, without a will of my own, of which you could dispose as you wished, and which would therefore never be a burden to you. While you drink life at its fullness, while surrounded by luxury, you enjoy the serene happiness and Olympian love, I want to be your servant, put on and take off your shoes.”
    “You really aren't so far from wrong,” replied Wanda, “for only as my slave could you endure my loving others. Furthermore the freedom of enjoyment of the ancient world is unthinkable without slavery. It must give one a feeling of like unto a god to see a man kneel before one and tremble. I want a slave, do you hear, Severin?”
    “Am I not your slave?”
    “Then listen to me,” said Wanda excitedly, seizing my hand. “I want to be yours, as long as I love you.”
    “A month?”
    “Perhaps, even two.”
    “And then?”
    “Then you become my slave.”
    “And you?”
    “I? Why do you ask? I am a goddess and sometimes I descend from my Olympian heights to you, softly, very softly, and secretly.
    “But what does all this mean,” said Wanda, resting her head in both hands with her gaze lost in the distance, “a golden fancy which never can become true.” An uncanny brooding melancholy seemed shed over her entire being; I have never seen her like that.
    “Why unachievable?” I began.
    “Because slavery doesn't exist any longer.”
    “Then we will go to a country where it still exists, to the Orient, to Turkey,” I said eagerly.
    “You would—Severin—in all seriousness,” Wanda replied. Her eyes burned.
    “Yes, in all seriousness, I want to be your slave,” I continued. “I want your power over me to be sanctified by law; I want my life to be in your hands, I want nothing that could protect or save me from you. Oh, what a voluptuous joy when once I feel myself entirely dependent upon your absolute will, your whim, at your beck and call. And then what happiness, when at some time you deign to be gracious, and the slave may kiss the lips which mean life and death to him.” I knelt down, and leaned my burning forehead against her knee.
    “You are talking as in a fever,” said Wanda agitatedly, “and you really love me so endlessly.” She held me to her breast, and covered me with kisses.
    “You really want it?”
    “I swear to you now by God and my honor, that I shall be your slave, wherever and whenever you wish it, as soon as you command,” I exclaimed, hardly master of myself.
    “And if I take you at your word?” said Wanda.
    “Please do!”
    “All this appeals to me,” she said then. “It is different from anything else—to know that a man who worships me, and whom I love with all my heart, is so wholly mine, dependent on my will and caprice, my possession and slave, while I—”
    She looked strangely at me.
    “If I should become frightfully frivolous you are to blame,” she continued. “It almost seems as if you were afraid of me already, but you have sworn.”
    “And I shall keep my oath.”
    “I shall see to that,” she replied. “I am beginning to enjoy it, and, heaven help me, we won't stick to fancies now. You shall become my slave, and I—I shall try to be Venus in Furs .”
           * * * * *
    I thought that at last I