The Master's Couch is his domain

The girl has been welcomed onto the Master's couch often lately and she had grown accustomed to the comfort there, coming to think of it as "their" bed and the place beside her Master as her rightful place.

One evening the Master made a point of chastising her for not following closely enough and so she was being very attentive at his boots, not letting him get further than a few yards before hurrying to his boots, while also staying out of his way, discerning whether she should be behind him or at his boots awaiting command.

In this mode of thinking, she made a mistake that the Master would have to discipline her for to break her from a bad habit of thinking. She followed him to his couch and as he flopped down in exhaustion, she crept into his arms unbidden. The Master gave a hearty laugh. "Comfortable are you my girl?"

"Oh yes, Master" said the bold girl as she snuggled into the Master's furs.

Suddenly she felt two fingers jammed between neck and collar and her face turned forcefully to gaze into the Master's burning eyes. She tried to look away but it was impossible. She was held fast and transfixed.

"Did I ask you into my furs, girl?"

"No, Master. The girl was only trying to follow as bidden".

"And where is your place to follow, girl?"

"At your boots, Master"

"I see girl that you know your place. Yet you have willfully ignored it. Is that true, girl?""

"No, Master. The girl did not mean to do so?"

"Which is it, girl? You either do not know your place, in which case I must give you a great deal of time under the whip to re-train you as you must be slipping badly. Or, you know your place but saucily chose to ignore it which means you must be punished for this transgression. Tell me which is the case? Because I see a kajira in my furs uninvited and I demand the explanation."

The girls face scrunched into a little ball of confusion and her eyes filled with tears. Try as she might she knew she had no option than to admit she was in the wrong.

Quietly she said, "I know my place Master. I forgot for a minute. The girl has grown too used to being in the Master's furs."

The Master's face softened a little at her humble manner and honest admission.

"Girl it is my fault also, as your Master. I do love to cuddle my little kajira bear in the furs. You are warm in the winter chill. But I see the error in my ways that you are losing discipline. You must remember your place, or others will teach you more harshly, should you be forgetful."

Still holding the girls collar, the Master roughly pushed her from his couch with one boot, swiftly with a practiced businesslike manner the Master tied the girls wrists to a slave ring at the foot of his couch, putting one foot on the small of her back, he raised her hindquarters in to the submissive pose, head down, hindquarters raised. Running his hands over the lines of her body, secured to the slave ring, he sighed with pleasure at her bearing.

"Ah girl, how it pleases your Master to have such a beautiful beast as you tied to the foot of my couch, perhaps I shall leave you like this nightly, what do you say girl?"

The girl's face was pushed to the furs, voice partially gagged and unhappy in her predicament, words did not come quickly.

The Master chuckling decides that his girl needs some focus for her submissive response and taking out his small slave whip and straddling her back striped her hindquarters swiftly with a few sharp cracks.

"What do you say girl? Do you like being at the foot of your Master's couch?"

"Yes, Master!!! Yes!" the girl exclaimed.

"Ah, that's better, mine. I am glad you like it as that is where you will stay, tonight".

And with that the Master heaved himself back into his sleeping furs, pulled his wrappings about him and chuckled softly a few times at the discomfiture of his girl who was learning a needed lesson on the cold floor, and would be all the sweeter in his arms in future nights. He missed her, but he was a Master and would do without her warmth so that his slave would not grow spoiled.

When he released her, he would be watching her manner carefully. He expected that she would be more exacting, careful and cautious. This one had spirit and so needed... and craved... frequent reminders of his power and the respect he demanded. She knew that she had two choices, give him what he demanded or take her chances when he grew tired of her... a new Master who might be worse, or death if she angered her Master too much. The Master knew she wanted to live and knew she wanted him as her Master, hungered for him, and so she would learn her lesson.

The couch was the Masters and he would share it when he willed, how he willed, and a girl should never presume that a place by his side was hers.

Penitence: "I'm sorry, Master"

Where does penitence begin?

The girl cannot begin to regret her actions until she knows in her heart that she has been in the wrong and that is very hard for us modern women to admit. We feel we have to be right all the time, we can't "let down our guard" for a minute in the competitive "dog eat dog" world we are forced out into, even when that is not our natures.

In the M/s relationship, the definition of what is "wrong" is simple. Anything that displeases the Master is wrong. Hopefully we have a wise, caring Master who is not arbitrary and unfair in his assessments of wrong-doing. But once a Master has made his desires known in a matter, if a girl fails to follow his instructions, or falls short in her duties to learn in the chosen manner, she should know that she has done wrong. Sometimes she fights this knowledge with self-justifications, excuses, or plain bullshit.

Punishment is needed at these tests in the M/s relationship for more than one reason. First it restores the balance before the relationship is ruined by the girl's harmful actions. Secondly, and I think most importantly it is an arena for dialogue as the punishment is roleplayed out. The thoughtful Master chooses a punishment that fits the crime and also provides the vehicle for the girl to consider what she has done and what she will do differently in future. The wise Master allows the girl some time alone before she learns if and how she is to be punished and the wise Master allows the girl some time to recover and readjust after the punishment so that she can resume her place at his boots with her new attitude happily in place. He should not let her come to him still sullen and resentful.

There are so many options for a Master to punish a girl and clever Masters think of new ones that are perfect for a particular girl. The worst punishment for a slave is to be deprived of her Master's presence and deprived of the privilege of pleasuring his body. That is like death to the slave. It is important for the Master who uses this punishment to let the girl know that she IS being punished, as this is easier for her to bear than the thought that she is no longer wanted.

Gagging a slave who has had displeasing words is a fitting punishment and it gives her silent time to reflect on her speech and think of new ways of speaking in a pleasing manner in future. Some Master's roleplay putting pepper or soap in the girl's mouth. I can imagine that this would form an image that would make one very attentive to the formation of words for sometime to come.

The hardest punishment for me was being ordered to crawl for a time, but I think it fit the crime. I had been sneaky like a snake so crawling was appropriate and I did learn from my time on my knees.

All of these solitary punishments presume that the girl understands and accepts what she has done wrong and ... the Master fully understands why he is angry. A lot of times there is unfocused anger and the slave is puzzled and confused, still filled with excuses for the behaviour. This is when I think it is best to take out the whip, or the switch, the paddle, or turn her over your knee, Masters, whichever works for you as a direct communication of your displeasure.

As the Master administers the strokes he is forced by the intensity of the roleplay to articulate his anger, his displeasure, his pain at the girl's behaviour. He draws out all the excuses from her until she runs out of them. She probably "hears" him for the first time. And he hears how she has been justifying this behaviour to herself and learns the nature of the flaw in the girl. One by one he shows her the error in her thinking and punishes each error as a stiff reminder to her that going down that road in her thinking will only wind her up where she is, on the Master's whipping post and feeling his angry scowl upon her. At some point in this interaction the moment of penitence comes to the girl. She realizes she has willfully disregarded the Master's instructions or otherwise offended. She knows she allowed herself to be tricked by her own wrong thinking and she is truly sorry for the first time. This is when she opens herself to be schooled by the Master in a better way of thinking and acting.

The moment of penitence is like a light being turned on in a dark room. All of a sudden what was dark and hidden is there in clear relief, uncomplicated by the murky shadows of excuses, and self-justifications. The Master's heart leaps with joy as he sees his girl turn this corner and he melts with tenderness for his misguided darling girl who can sometimes be so misled. In this moment the girl submits more deeply to her Master because he has opened up a dark chamber in her spirit and shown her the way out, if she will only take his hand and follow him out.

Tearfully she lifts her eyes to meet the smiling eyes of her Master. She marvels to see that she has been punished but is now forgiven. She feels unworthy but determined to try harder than ever to be the girl he believes she can be.

Ready and waiting for it

As the girl knelt in obeisance at her Master's boots, his eyes devoured every line of his owned beast with pleasure. With amusement he noted her bottom cheeks twitching in nervousness, the plump orbs showing no recent marks of chastisement. Indeed why should they? She was a good girl, pleasing to him in almost every way, working hard to pleasure him, to not offend. And that was exactly why he knew that his slave was twitching now under his gaze. He had not recently reminded her that she was owned and just how she was owned. As a good Master he needed to rectify that and soon, or she would despair and grow away from him.

Removing his belt and coiling it once across his hand, the Master gave the girl the intimacy of feeling a lash from the Master's own belt. Not to punish her but to reassure her that she was still owned, still his, still subject to his discipline. The delicious double sound of leather on soft slave flesh followed by leather snapping on leather from the doubled belt was a sensual sound to be savored. The Master's keen sense of smell sniffed the air as his girl immediately changed her scent subtlely to one of mingled fear, submission and arousal. Playfully, the Master draped the weight of his belt over the girls back, playfully slapping at her cheeks. Without being asked the girl tenderly and lingeringly kissed his belt and resumed her prostrate position for the Master's re-conditioning whipping.

Smiling at his girl's understanding and obedience, the Master systematically applied stinging strokes, raising first a lovely blush to the girl's derriere, making her ready to receive a few well chosen hard strokes, creating three or four well-spaced raised welts that would be a stinging reminder of him and her place for some days to come. At the first flinch and sign of a tear in the girl's eye, the Master stopped, replaced his belt and said, "You may go mine. That was just to remind you that you are owned and how you are owned. You have done no wrong. You please me greatly and I want you to continue to please me greatly. When I return later, you will show me how well you have learned to please"

And with that the Master pulled the girl to her feet and kissed her deeply and fully. With her submissive state newly aroused, the girl was on fire for the Master in that moment. Instead he spun her around laughing and slapped her on the site of her recent refresher course and shoved her towards the door.

"Later, mine."

And so the girl waits for the site of his returning ship, feeling owned, knowing who her Master is and longing to hear him moan with the pleasure she is going to give him. The cool breeze plays across the heat of her welts reminding her of times when the whipping wasn't just for conditioning but to break her from displeasing habits. That conditioning was now almost perfect as this morning's reminder had caused her slave heat to rise to boiling. There was nothing more important than the Master's pleasure and she yearned for his rod within her with deep throbbing desires that had been unleashed but not yet released.

Feeling unwanted and lonely is a hard test for a girl

Recently I came to my Master and I just seemed to irritate him and be in the way as his mind was on other things: building, preparing things for roleplay, etc. That's been happening a fair bit recently and I have in the past had a tendency to panic and cling and write desperate missives. All of which just makes him more irritated and exhausted with me. So what to do?

Well I neither want to push it, nor appear to go off in a snit. Not only would either action be pointless, my heart is not in it. Either he wants me or he doesn't and time will tell.

There are a few things I need to work on both for us and for other projects of mine, so my plan is just to focus on stuff I need to get done in both worlds, try to keep in a happy frame of mind and feel like I am giving him one of the biggest gifts that a kajira (who has nothing material) can give a Master--the gift of some space away from his girl.

It's a very hard thing for a loving girl to do.

The Master's voice

Silence is cold
but my Master's voice rolls over me like warm waves
rumbling rivulets swirl around me in the safe harbour of his sphere
I come to his arms and burrow into the roughness of a homespun cloak
and I am home

A kajira is a jewel

"You will open like a flower", I was told
under the gentle care of a lover's smiling sun
and his tender tilling of your garden
watering you with his loving
spreading your petals

I don't know when these flowers lived
with their gentle gardeners
I think it must have been in the Paleozoic,
Or was it the Mesozoic?
I know it was Before-me-a-zoic.

These days as the flowers bloom
they get covered fast by the weight of years
layers of civilization's crap in a crushing load
squeezes any hint of tenderness from their buds
humanity's shit heap, crushing any life

The unexpected twists of fate gather up some
And fold them in the pressure-cooker of metamorphosis
Carbon lumps they are fired in the furnace of stress and time
Hard diamonds of potential with the flower locked within

Sometimes a Master finds such a hardened lump
smiles and sees into its heart
Here is the cleft line that will free what is within
Strike too swiftly and all could be lost in dust
But strike just once and the beauty will start to be freed

A diamond without fault lines is useless for gem stones
The Master finds what he wants and carves away the rest
At last the lost and crushed flower blooms warmly in his hand
a jewel he has found and earned.

A Master knows when a kajira is paying attention

A Master sees his girl busy in the kitchen preparing food for his table and sees that her nipples revealed through her camisk are flaccid and relaxed. His brow furrows. He steps behind the girl and under her camisk, cupping one of her ripe melons in his hand and teasing the nipple to attention.

"Girl, are you thinking of your Master and how you are serving your Master with your work?"

"Yes, Master" the girl stammers.

The Master teases her nipple further and switches to give the other breast the same attention. With his other hand, he explores the girl's heat and the hard pear of her womb jumps in responsiveness.

"Do you need to feel the Master's rod between your legs girl, to remind you that you are owned?"

The girl's face flushes, her eyes hood and she moans, "this one longs to please the Master".

The Master laughs and gives her rump a swift hard slap, "You are serving me, girl by making me dinner. This is your pleasure, is it not, to serve?"

"Yes, Master" the girl says, a little disappointed.

"Then let me see the evidence of your delight in serving. I expect to see your face shining and the evidence of your pleasure in serving in your posture and the way your nipples rise as you think about your service. The evidence of your devotion in little things will make me want to plow your valley and fill you with my pleasure at your service. Understand girl?" and with a smart swot to her backside the Master sends the slave back to the hearth.

The female submissive responds instinctively to the presence of her Master with erect nipples. It is something that is hard to suppress or to falsify. Therefore the wise Master keeps his girls' breasts bared as much as possible or takes care to dress them in fabric that reveals the perky state of his slaves' buds. While attention may ebb and flow with concentration to work, a Master needs to attend to a girl who shows little responsiveness in his presence. Her submission and responsiveness is lagging and she needs to be brought to the edge again by whatever means his knowledge of her, skills and preferences as a Master dictates.

The Master Returns

The dark ship grows larger on the horizon until the flag is unmistakable.... the Master is returning! Kate scurries the the kitchen to fetch some cool fruit, cheese and wine on a platter and scurries to the dock, clutching up a fragrant blossom on her way.

She moves to the dock with the platter balanced on her head, the best way to steady her burden over uneven ground. Her body is tanned and mostly bare, her breasts swinging naked and free and but a sheer swath of silk around her hips. She is kajira and will go to her Master clothed in the way that pleases the sight of a true man and not with the frippery that pleases the sight of women in their competition with each other. She has to only please one set of eyes.

As she arrives at the docks, boys are already unloading crates of goods, bolts of silks. She backs out of the way and kneels gracefully with the tray of goods poised on her head, ready for the Master's delectation. Her back arched, her breasts raised naked and inviting, there is much more that awaits the Master's delectation. From the ship she hears the sound of her Master calling orders and one time a hearty laugh that lifts her spirits with the sound of its sunshine, and the resonant commanding tone of his voice works the magic on her that it has always done. She trembles slightly with her desire for his touch, with the evoking of the submissive response that he has so carefully conditioned in her through months of training... until now she is a fully trained graceful and obedient love slave, responsive to his every breath, gesture and mood.

The last cargo to be unloaded is a small brace of naked girls, newly captured by the look of their muddy state and graceless posture as they are tugged along to the holding cells under the palace. Kate barely notices them as they are beneath notice as untrained almost valueless property. By contrast kate has value through the training her Master has invested in her, teaching her to respond immediately and intuitively. She is a jewel beyond price, shaped and honed to her Master's desire but with the beating heart of a woman within and the flaming passion of imprisoned desires and even fury visible within the beautiful shaping and control of her Master's will. Each sparkling facet of her nature has been carefully polished by his craft and knowledge of the nature of women and this one in particular. It is so easy to shatter the jewel along its fault lines so that it falls into dust and blows away in the wind as though it had never existed. Yet a jewel without faults yeilds no entry for the carving, no surprises and no sparkle.

At last her Master steps forward to walk down onto the island, his Homestone awaiting. The sun warms kate's body and a single bead of perspiration traces it's way sinuously down her tanned nearly naked form. She wills her arms not to tremble as she holds her offering of cooling fruit and water aloft, bowed head waiting to be noticed.



It is then that she notices a leash in her Master's hand and the tinkle of of slave bells as a silk-clothed pretty follows her Master from the ship and sinks into a sultry nadu at his heels. Stabbed through the heart at the site of the girl, kate momentarily looses her composure. Her love of her Master causes her pangs of grief and worry that this one may have taken her place in his heart and that she may be sent away. The momentary thoughts cause her to delay in seeing her Master's hand signal to her to come. One of her accomplishments as a slave is that she instantly responds to the mereist signal from her Master... a look to his glass, a pointed finger to his boots, or a gesture that he wishes her to pleasure him with her mouth has brought instant and exquisite obedience for sometime. So he notes her hesitation with annoyance, "Have you forgotten your training, kate? Come quickly!!"



kate hurries to her Master's boots, chastened by the stern tone in his voice. That tone when she hears it reminds her physically of the times that she has heard that voice tone while learning under the Master's lash... and it reminds her of the times that exhausted and punished to near the level of breaking her Master has taken her in passion teaching her that submission is exquisite joy while rebellion is painful. So now at his words she hurries forward as though lashed and her cleft becomes moist and soft in feminine submission aching with anticipation of the Master's rod, ready to serve his pleasure as she has been well-conditioned to do over the past year.



Bringing the tray forward, the Master grunts as he selects some fruit and washes it down with cool water. He tosses some fruit to the girl on his leash and signals her to take the tray from kate. By this time the boys are returning from their unpacking back to the ship. Meeting the Master before he has gone but a few steps, the Master bids them, "Boys take this girl also to the kennels. Secure her separately. It seems she is in need of some re-training." Stepping back towards kate, the Master pulls her to her feet, tears the clothing off her and with one boot, sends her in the direction of the boys. Naked she follows, head down. One boy thinks to rope her but the other shakes his head at him. They recognize that a trained love slave will not need a rope to follow her Master's bidding.



Heartsick and alone the girl sits in the cell with tear stained cheeks. She can hear the sounds of laughter and music in the castle above and knows that the girl in green silks with red hair is even now pleasing her Master with her dance.



Much later she hears the sound of the Master opening the lock of her cell. She recognizes the hunger of the male in the throes of sexual need and waits to be ordered to please him. Before she can think, he lifts her on top of a horse made for discipline, parts her legs and with one thrust enters her to the hilt, pounding her with urgent need and desire. Asking her who owns her, she screams "You do Master, this one is yours" over and over at his urging. It is his pleasure to hear this from the girl that is owned.



Spent he draws her to her laughing, "Oh I have missed my girl, kate".



She answers, "I have missed my Master daily"



"Do you know why you are here?" the Master asks



"No, Master. The girl was slow to see you summon her with the tray. The girl knows that you have many pretties to choose from always. I am always the Master's to do with as he chooses, even...." and the tears flowed... "even to sell this one and send her away."



"Nay, kate. You are the jewel in my crown. The perfect sheath for my sword. I would not send you from me. But know that the love slave must exist in the deepest slavery of all and for the training of other girls, they must know that my self-Mastery is in tact. Even you could not love me as you do if you saw that you could control me by the love I have for you. I could not keep you if I were not your Master and so dear girl you must suffer more for the love that you hold and the love that I give you."



"Master, I do love you. This girl understands. May this one ask a question?"



The Master nodded his assent and his sat down beside the girl stroking her hair from her face and smiling his pleasure at her loving regard.



"Will the girl in green be staying on your chain, Master?"



"We shall see. For a time perhaps. She is the only one of the lot that I am carrying on the ship that might bring a good price if trained. The others will go for pot and kettle girls or paga sluts. I think I will send her into the cell near you for a few days. I plan to keep you here handy for my pleasure and let the other girls do what work is needed. The red-haired one can observe how you please and the words and gestures of your obedience. I would that you help me train her. "



With some small time spent in this converse, the Master seemed in need of some more of kate's expert attentions. Knowing that she was loved but also knowing that she needed to prove her skills, her obedience, her pleasing nature she focused on the fiery yearning centre within her, flaming up to meet the fire in her Master's eyes. Sinuously moving towards him on all fours like a graceful jungle cat her ears perked for his words, her nose sniffing the warm musk of his maleness and her active intelligence reading his face and body for every small hint of his desires. Her body was tuned to be responsive to his every whim. A smile spread across the Masters face as he regarded the body of his submissive slave crawling toward him, her round bottom raised for his plowing, her eyes veiled with love and desire for him. He sighed with pride at the majesty of this submissive animal, this perfect female of his creation. It had taken some work with the lash and some struggle but now he possessed a slave other men might envy and he would feel worth fighting for to ensure she stayed in his collar and for his pleasure alone.

A stubborn kajira is whipped

Someone who identified himself as a new and still learning Master emailed me and asked me to write more about whipping. I am obliging because frankly sometimes I wonder who is really reading. Many clicks, few comments.

Because of a conversation I had last night with a FW (wanting a collar badly :-)) and other indicators I had begun to think that my most devoted audience were women wanting my Master's steel and other women in my Master's universe whom he sent here to read "to understand him and Gor" (which I translate as meaning that he hopes they will get horney enough to beg his steel in future). What Master doesn't like options?

Hence it was good to hear from a male for a change! So this is an imagined, "Whipping scenario"

The girl cowers sobbing in the cell to which she has been sent. Has she done it this time? Has she been so disobedient and lazy, so displeasing that the Master will sell her, or even kill her? She does not know but she is very frightened. She shakes with animal terror and clutches her knees to her chest. Her eyes are streaked with tears, a red mark on one cheek where her Master slapped her hard before dragging her and locking her in the kennel. She starts as she hears the door leading down to the kennel opening and tries to burrow into the stone wall beside her in her desperation to flee the Master's punishment. The events of the past day fill her mind like flashes of vision and she cannot understand how she could have made so many mistakes, been so disobedient and then... on top of it to sauce her Master back, make ridiculous excuses, instead of apologizing and taking what punishment might come.

The Master's steps echo on the steps ... and the girl lives the moment in slow motion as her heart pounds many times for each footstep of her Master's approach. The door creaks open and clangs shut with an resonant tone bouncing off the stone walls of the several empty cells in the kennel. They are alone.

The Master stands in the cell motionless and fixes his gaze on the girl, "To my boots girl and be quick about it this time". The girl runs silently and assumes the obeisance of greeting at the Master's feet. "May this girl speak, Master?"... she stammers

"No you may NOT"... "you have said far too much girl and you will say nothing unless I order it until further notice. If you do not, you will be gagged. I do not want to gag you now because there are things that I hope to hear from you tonight"

"Yes, Master"

The Master quickly cuffs the girl sprawling... "what did I say?"

The girl starts to open her mouth... eyes widen... and she nods her head in silence knowing she spoke after being bid to silence.

"Stand girl"

The girl immediately struggles to her feet brushing back her hair from her tear streaked face. She looks furtively at the Master's eyes but can read nothing in his face which seems to be merely lost in businesslike thought.

"Well let me look at you" the Master says and with one hand undoes the gorean knot fastening the girl's camisk--the scant covering permitted most Gorean slaves unless dancing or serving at high tables. The garment falls to the girls feet leaving her totally naked in the night air. Every fibre of the girl's being wants to pick the cloth up to cover herself. Her arms want to cross in front of the breasts that are exposed with their nipples erect in the cold in front of the Master's cold assessing eyes. And assessing is what he begins to do in earnest. Tilting the girls head up he looks in her eyes, one finger caressing the line of her face. He cups her two breasts, weighing them like ripe melons and placing his face in the cleft of her breasts, he breathes the scent of her slave flesh in with sensual pleasure, exhaling an "ahhhhh" of delight tinged with regret. His exploration continues as he traces the lines of her body and reaches behind her to knead the globes of the proud bottom that used to bob along in tight jeans, inviting the leers of men but untouchably safe from their natural lust that she was inviting. Now her flesh was owned and not her own, naked to the man who bought her. A man whom she had barely come to know, who infuriated her, frightened her and yet also aroused passions she had never felt before. Passions she had been trying hard to deny and fight.

"It is a shame to mar such lovely flesh as yours with the whip" the Master sighed. The girl started to speak, but one finger of the Master's brought her up short to silence. The Master nodded as he saw her obedience, "Ah mine, that is a good sign, you are not stupid then, you CAN learn. Perhaps you are not totally untrainable as I feared. Nod your head if you wish to be trained rather than killed on the spot tonight."

The girl nodded her head vigourously. The Master smiled at her, not unkindly and with some amusement. The girl began to have a faint hope that she might not be punished afterall. A short lived hope as the Master took his coiled slave whip off the hook of his belt. "Ten lashes I shall give you tonight but I shall aim them well to not spoil you. A few dimples on a girl's ass is a pleasing site as it bounces along on her Master's duties or riding his cock, and a few stripes on a girl's back can increase her price as it is apparent she has not been spoiled." The Master walked around to the back of the girl and looked assessing where best to land his whip.

"Come here girl and give the whip your tenderest of kisses. Tell me, and you may speak now, do you know why you are going to kiss the whip with true love?"

The girl's face was troubled. Was this some test like the slave paces she was supposed to have memorized but did not know. She thought to make something up, guess, thought better of it and decided it was safer to be honest, "No Master" she shudders.

The Master laughed. "Well first and foremost, girl, it is your Master's and you will in time learn to look upon everything that is your Master's property with devotion, as is the proper attitude of the well-trained girl. But tonight there is a special reason for you to love this whip. It is your teacher and your salvation if you learn well enough under the tutelage of the whip. Now come and give your loving teacher the kiss of a devoted slave".

The Master held out the coiled whip at thigh level and the girl knelt humble, wide-eyed and frightened. The only thought in her head was "this can't be happening. He is going to whip me like an animal, like a slave, like the slave that I am". The iron collar felt hot like new-forged metal around her throat, and she found herself almost without volition, kissing the whip, looking up at her Master's eyes and seeing his pleasure in her actions, reading his eyes that she should kiss the whip longer and deeper, and then the merest blink of an eye that she should stop. He then gave her the hand signal to assume the position of the "Slaver's kiss", a variant of the obeisance gesture that a girl meets on greeting the Master (and in some households assumes whenever she enters a room with any free). In the normal obeisance gesture the girl kneels and bows her head to the floor, arms ahead palms down. The Slaver's kiss posture has the arms extended crossed for binding, the buttocks raised, exposing back, buttocks and thighs to the lash and the knees spread apart wide so that the girl may be also sexually examined, used and tested in this position.

As the girl assumes the position, she remembers to sweep her hair from her back, exposing her back fully to her Master's whip and covering her face so she is but dimly able to see her Master's boots as he bends to bind her wrists and ankles to slave rings secured to the floor.

In this position the Master first takes the whip and tenderly strokes the girl's body with it allowing her to feel the coiled leather and then the weight of it as it snakes limply across the exposed tender female flesh of her back and buttocks. As the Master kisses her body with his whip, he strokes her soothingly. Oddly, secured in this position and feeling her helplessness under the Master's whip, the girl begins to feel moisture between her legs and is aware of the Master's cock nearby. "Girl, it gives me no pleasure to have to use a whip on you, but this is how you, yourself have shown you, you must be trained. It is so with some girls who are strong as you are strong. I like your strength and your fire, but I will have that strength subject to my will or not have you at all. Some girls are Mastered the first time they feel their Master within them. They come to know the truth of what they are and they become his devoted slave with little fight. Others need only the threat of the lash to keep them in line. But other's like yourself doubt in their hearts that any man will truly Master them by force until they feel it for themselves. I hope that you may learn quickly for your sake, the condition of my property and because I would rather have you bucking obediently on my cock than in punishment under my lash. I remind you that you are commanded to silence unless I ask you to speak and that when I branded you was the only time that screams were permitted you. There is a reason for this. Screaming is not thoughtful. You will bear the lash in silence, listen, think and remember the teaching tonight. Each stroke you will bear as a reminder of a lesson learned."

The Master then examined her heat, pleased at the damp softness he found in the girl. She was having a submissive response. The receptivity of her cleft underscored her readiness to be taught her place. He tested the whip in the air as the girls buttocks twitched and she squirmed furiously (and deliciously) in her bonds. "Girl you will remember by these two kisses of my whip to hurry when you are called" and with an expert wrist flick the Master two times landed the final crack of the end of his whip smartly in the middle of one after the other globes of the girl's bottom creating two rose buds at the centre which began to quickly bloom with pink petals surrounding the red core where the whip had bitten deeply enough to dimple her ass for sometime to come, perhaps for life.

Until that moment the girl had thought that maybe this wouldn't happen, maybe it was a bad dream, but now her pert saucey bottom was flaming with pain and it was only two of ten promised lashes. She desperately wanted to beg for mercy but she knew it was too late.

"Girl tell me now, when you are called will you come quickly? Shout out your answer to me"

"Yes Master..... " and she heard then the sound of the whip being dragged along the ground preparatory to a lash, "the girl"...... and the lash came down full across her buttocks for a third lash... "will remember".... drag, snap, and thwack a fourth lash lower on the buttocks... stiffled sobs "to come IMMEDIATELY when called".

The Master bent and patted her well-striped bottom fondly and possessively. "I believe you will, Mine. Your voice has the ring of honesty to it".

The girl could then sense the Master going around to her side, once more he lets the weight of the whip snake over her back and he feels assessing like the experienced animal trainer he is the condition of her heat. She is responsive. The girl is in a confusion of emotions, she had never thought to be bound and helpless under a man's whip and yet she senses no anger or sadism in him. She knows that for him, this is simply how things are. Men are Masters and women must be pleasing to them... and she has not always been pleasing. How she longs for another chance now. She wonders if she will have that chance. As the Master probes the heat of his girl with practiced hand, her back arches instinctively as a she animal in heat arches to allow penetration by the male. "Good girl" the Master exclaims "this is how you respond to your Master" and standing up, he brings the weight of the whip down on her arched back, "with this lash remember to bow and arch your back under your Master's touch". Tell me girl, "how do you respond to your Master?" the whip was readied and poised to crack on the girls back with her answer to stamp it indelibly on her mind seared with the pain, "bend to his will and whim Master. I bow to his pleasure" the girl said as the second stripe bit into the flesh of her previously unbowed and unwilling back.

With that lash the girl internalized the message she was saying and arched her back more into the position of the submissive. The Master was pleased to see the vent of her opening convulsing in the spasms of the female in heat and knew it was time to associate the painful lessons with the pleasure that would be hers as his owned girl. Grabbing a handful of her lush dark hair, he arched her back further, "Girl what are you?" "Kajira, Master, a beast" "Who owns you?" "You do Master?" "And what may I do to you?" "Anything you wish Master"
"Yes girl, know this now in the heart of you" and with those words the Master drove his engorged member deep in her cleft, holding her striped reddened buttocks in his hands and driving her furiously. She had never been taken like this before and in her mind she tried to hide from the powerful sensations that were overtaking her. There was no escape, she was a female animal being mounted by a stronger male animal that had subdued her to his Mastery. Her body was responding whatever her mind might make of it. "Submit to me girl. I would have all of you or none of you. Yield." And with those words the Master whipped her two cracks on her flanks as he rode her and like a high-spirited race-horse the crop set her to the gallop with her Master firmly in the saddle. She had never been ridden like this before and she worked as though to buck the Master off but he controlled her expertly one firm hand on the reins of her hair, the occasion sharp tweak of a nipple, like the taste of a bit to a mount, and her new awareness of the whip that lay on her back. She felt him hammering at the door of her womb like she felt this man stripping away her last resistence to his Mastery. She was tremblingly helpless beneath him with her slave heart exposed now and yearning to release around his firmness. Just as she was to explode with pleasure.... he suddenly withdrew from her laughing...."this is not for you yet. But soon you will have opportunity to pleasure me, if you learn your lessons well". It was then that the girl remembered that there were two lashes left. Just as she had that thought, the whip snaked out and flicked her hard between her legs. "Attend to your Master's pleasure girl. Think about it, long to please him, and pleasure shall be yours. Displease him, and what shall happen?"... The girl answer, "Displease my Master and I shall be punished, or.... killed" "Good answer, and I know you shall remember who owns you now" as the Master once more expertly aimed the whip stinging into the folds of the girls heat, replacing her pleasure of a few minutes ago with a stinging pain. And it was with pain and pleasure that the girl felt the Master enter her again to finish what he had begun. As he urged her to a sobbing climax the mingled pain of her whipped pussy and the pleasure of her spasms around his spurting penis worked to start to bring about the changes in the girl that the Master had hoped for. She was still wild, only part tamed, but she was learning and responsive. It would not be necessary to break her entirely to gentle her to his will. A little wildness was pleasurable in a girl.

The Master untied the girl now and taking a basin and clean rags, he bathed her welts. After drying her, he took a soothing potion and rubbed it well and deeply into the inflamed flesh. The girl sighed under his cooling healing hands and as he rubbed the poultice between her legs, the Master laughed to see her respond to his rubbing as a kajira should. He hugged her then and said, "That's done with now girl. You are my own good girl. Wear your stripes proudly among the other girls as a badge of your high spirits. Your Master had to take a strong hand to you to bend you to his will and pleasure. Will I have to do so again?".... silence and unsureness from the girl... laughter from the Master... "You may speak girl, I forgot I ordered you to silence. That order is ended now"... "So will I have to take a whip to you again because of willful disobedience?" And the Master looked long and probingly into her deep eyes until she could hide her soul from him no longer. She melted under his gaze and his arms. "No Master, this girl will not disobey you again"... her cheeks flushed with embarassment at her past conduct and she looked with new shyness and wonder at him. There was much she didn't understand about her feelings but she knew that she was looking at her Master. As he drew her into a deep, thirsty kiss, the whip fell to the floor, unneeded.... at least for a time.

Why I love my Master

• Because I fit him somehow, and where I don't fit he stretches me and the stretching is growthful, sexy and sometimes fun
• Because I feel safe wrapped in his big arms
• Because I love the scent of him
• Because his beard tickles.... everywhere it wanders
• Because anytime I think of being lazy or less than I can be as a woman I feel his firm hand on my backside, swotting the silly and lazy thoughts out of me
• Because being owned is freedom to truly love as a woman
• Because he doesn't let me get away with anything and sees through my crap
• Because he is smarter and wiser than he knows
• Because he is a man with depth and complexity and many interests
• Because he has achieved so much self-Mastery and grows daily and his growth as a Master makes me strive more as his girl
• Because he continues to see the best in me and expect better from me yet--he is demanding
• Because he did not allow me to walk into Gor ill-prepared but insisted that I read and that I know the fundamentals
• Because I know that he is desired by many and I fully expect he will take his pleasure where he wills and yet ... I feel secure in his collar as long as I continue to serve as he bids
• Because the sight of him, the sound of his name, his footstep as he approaches makes my knees bend to a kneel
• Because the sound of his voice and the scent of him parts those knees in nadu
• Because pleasing him in the smallest way fulfils me, a "good girl" is enough to bring orgasm
  

Because I can't imagine ever running out of new reasons to love him, and lastly because I am owned, I am kajira and I am Mastered and so there is no choice.

The Point of Tears

There is a point on my Master's island that is called "The Point of Tears" and it has a special significance and a deep allegorical meaning that is connected the the deliberate double entendre of "the point of tears".

If the island is the sphere in which our M/s relationship exists, it is a realm of beauty, play, grace, and also a place in which we greet friends as ourselves, in our roles as Master and slave. When there is struggle, there is not very far to run on an island and there is not that far for a Master to send a girl away from him.

The Point of Tears is an isolated point of the island with nothing but a post and rings to chain a girl who thinks to run, or whom the Master has found displeasing and who needs some time away from him to see how that feels.

Although it sounds like a scary, sad place... and it is... it holds good memories for me.

Once, long ago now, I thought to run from my Master because I had come to.... the point of tears. My heart was breaking because I thought he loved someone else more than me, breaking because I didn't think I was strong enough to share his love without worrying everyday, all the time that I would lose his love entirely. I thought I would disappoint him. I thought I would crack. I simply could not take the hurt anymore. So I ran, and ran, and ran.

My Master found me hiding from him and he was very displeased as I was his and he had not sent me away. I had no right to run from him. And I wanted him to gather me up and take him in his arms and tell me all would be well. He did for a minute. Then his face darkened and he led me to the Point of Tears, stripped me and chained me to the post through a night.

In the distance I heard my Master begin to sob because he was lonely for his girl and could not have her because she had run from him. For some time I struggled on the post and tried to yell out to my Master all my reasons and justifications for running, why it was best I go really. He would not hear me.

I ran out of words. I only wanted to be in his warmth and hold his head on my breast again. We couldn't solve anything on remote ends of the island. I wanted to be let off the post and threatened to poof, leave Second Life. My Master said that was my choice but if I was on his island I would always return to that post, nowhere else, until he let me down.

That's when I realized the post was my anchor point. My Master would never let me flee him further than the post. I would stay there until I realized I was his and that he would be the one to decide when he no longer needed the girl. I didn't have to worry about it anymore, just be as pleasing to him as I could, and pleasing him is not work but my joy.

As soon as my tide of thought turned with the morning, the Master explained that worries and fears were the time to flee to him, not to meet them in the loneliness of places like the Point of Tears. I had learned my lesson well and the Master gathered me into his arms.

Now I like to go and stand by the post sometimes and think about the tenderness with which my Master reclaimed me from the post, dried my tears and gathered his wayward, frightened girl back into his arms.

The place of discipline

My Master has been rebuilding his home and in so doing he felt the time had come to think about the basement area that has served assorted needs, among them a place to send the girl when she was disciplined. The new design of the space will be partitioned rather than one open space that previously existed. In talking about the design, we spoke about the impact of spaces on the psychology of the slave.

In considering this I realized that space and atmosphere (dank cavern, cage, post in the village square) made little difference to me in affecting my mood when subject to discipline, rather it was the state of mind, the actions, the timing.

Why is it both incredibly scary and incredibly exciting (all at once and mixed together) to have my Master take me to a place where I know I will likely be subject to his discipline?

In exploring this mystery, my mind wandered back to the dysfunctional way men and women sometimes argue with each other. What happens when a woman crosses the line with a man she loves? More than likely he storms away slamming the door after him. She doesn't know if he has left for good. She cries. She feels abandoned. She may feel angry and not listened to. No understanding is achieved. She is unlikely to seek within herself as to how she might have handled things differently. She is too preoccupied with pain, loss, dread, confusion, anger.

Alternatively if her lover snaps, looses control (the opposite of Mastery) and lashes out physically at her, this will simply shock and hurt her. It will be too much violence with no rationale, and she will shut down, confident that she is in the right. He is the villain in the piece. Spousal abuse is NOT Mastery.

In either case, if they make up later, they may have passionate make-up sex clinging to each other, so happy that the argument hasn't destroyed the passion at their heart, but has any real communication happened. Has any power balance that needed to shift happened? No. The pitfall is still there and they will stumble on it again in future.

Arguments arise at the fault lines in relationships. Like faults in the earths plates, lava bubbles to the surface with steam and heat. It is the place where two individuals meet unyielding obstacles in each other and earthquakes ensue. Ultimately, one plate must slide over the other. One must yield.

Our differences create the energy between us, the polarities for the sparks of fun, sensuality, passion. Having none would be boring. Taking that energy to the edge but not beyond is an art, a dance, a dangerous sport. It is not something that can be achieved in the dark, not something that can be done without words to each other.

My Master bids me to be myself and so I will be. I love him very much and sometimes a sudden glimpse of him very instinctively brings me to my knees without as much as thinking, eager to please and serve him. I really want to please. I cherish my time with him and honour what he is to me, my Master.

But sometimes aspects of who I am irritates him and I will try this way and that to get on a different track, to achieve my objective in another way that doesn't get him cross, only to make him angrier yet. I am lost, off the path and need a strong hand to guide me back.

Other times something in me makes me run at the rock that is him with all my force, knowing I am headed for trouble but I can't seem to stop myself not because of lack of control but simply because my ego or emotional needs are on a collision course with my Master's and until that plays out, there will be no peace for me or him.

If reason and talking could sort it out, we'd never have difficulties as we are intelligent and communicative people. But sometimes motivations, needs, fears and irrational worries are deeply buried and control us against our own best interests. These are places where in an equal relationship, long struggles that potentially would poison or end love occur. A partner throws up his or her hands and leaves.

A Master will have none of it.

When I see that my Master will have none of it, something in my heart jumps for joy. At the same time I tremble because I know I am in for a hard lesson and I am not sure what it will be or how hard it will be for me to truly bend to my Master's will in the matter. I know that faking it is not possible. Whatever happens next... in the next few minutes, or over the next several days... I know that he is determined that when he is done with me I will be returned to my knees as his loving slave. He will accept no lessor outcome.

A Master is not going to walk out the door permanently or lose his temper and abuse a slave senselessly. A kajira is a treasure like a beautiful bonsai to be shaped by a combination of love, nurture and firm steel. Instead of childish emotional outbursts, he will use his many skills as a Master and his knowledge of his girl to explore and root out the behaviour that is causing distress. He is going to force me to listen and understand his preferences and in the course of this exploration we will not only learn much about each other but the interplay of the energies and the transfer of power will be deliciously erotic and intense at times.

The collision energies build to a peak and the girl sees from the look in the Master's eyes, a tone of voice, a sudden hand gesture, or a dismissal that he has had enough and that her efforts to curb the behaviour (if she has) have not been enough. It is then that he moves suddenly or as quickly as possible in the circumstances to remove her from her place at his boots. She is bound or chained or caged away from him. And that is the key thing about her condition as a precursor of punishment. She is taken away from him for a time. This breaks the cycle of collision. She has nothing to rail at, no one to protest or cry or query or complain to. There is only silence and the place where she is comfined.

What is the attitude of the angry, hostile woman? Arms crossed over breasts, she will cover the sensitive buds that her male Master knows will bend her to his will. Her stance is sideways, tall, proud, turning her sex away from the Master's cock, fending him off with a hip. This is the natural pose an angry woman adopts.

The slave to be punished is secured in an attitude that the Master assesses will make her feel the most vulnerable and disabuse her of her destructive delusion that she can control him in any way. For me, not being able to see clearly what the Master might do focuses my attention in both a calming and erotic way, like hooding a hawk. Bending me over a bench, head away, my hair cascading over my face, the Master secures my feet apart, my hands stretched forward. It is a position where I might be sexually used, spanked or whipped on back and legs. My breasts hang freely and I can not cover them. My head is lower than my behind, in the position of the submissive pup. It is one of several positions that I might be left to wonder what will happen next.

At this point the Master may have the time and inclination to begin to work with the girl immediately, but he may think it best to think for awhile. The sight of his girl bound and quivering, tugging futilely at her bonds, perhaps still in the heat of her anger making futile curses at him, is an amusing and delightful challenge to the Masterly instinct in him. He loves to see her fire and looks forward to how she will soon buck under him. He smiles at her flashing angry eyes but thinks that they do look slightly more pretty, heavy-lidded and adoringly glancing up at him with her mouth wide open around his cock. Moving over to the bound girl, the Master traces the beautiful curve of her flesh from her shapely neck, down her back, glistening with faint drops of sweat from her anger and fear. He cups the round of her firm bottom and sees the cheeks clench involuntarily in their familiarity with the force of his discipline.

With one hand he explores the condition of her heat, tight, dry, only one finger pries into her. With the other hand he takes the coiled whip from his belt and allows her to feel the coil as he rubs it over her back. As she feels the whip's closeness, the girl trembles and the Master notices her heat moistening, loosening, opening to him. This is the sign of a girl ready and eager for the Master's discipline, becoming receptive and ready to have her wrong attitudes stripped from her and to listen and learn new obedient behaviours. Her pussy relaxes to take as much of the Master's hand he chooses to use to force her chamber while he thumbs and twists her nipples into a state of gratifying attention.

From this starting attitude of readiness and attention the Master will begin, now, or at his leisure to probe the fault line in his girl. He will ask her questions. Wrong answers will be punished. Displays of rebellion will often be dispersed by taking the girl sexually during the session. Sex is both a reward and a reminder that she is owned at these times. He will reveal his own thoughts on the matters. The girl will emerge knowing that the Master's will on these issues cannot be challenged. It will not be a matter of a daily painful choice to "try" to do what pleases him. She simply will be convinced body and soul that this is an issue that is not winnable. Sometimes she may even learn things about why the issue is important to her Master... things she was not ready to listen to any other way that changes her heart and mind through understanding. She need not be broken to obey. In any case, the problem is vanquished.

She is returned to her knees, his loving slave again. She has learned more of him and he of her. There may be other challenges but this one will not plague them again . . . or at least. . . if there is a relapse, the understanding is there to curb it quickly.

There is only so long you can dance or write solo

My writing output has been sputtering to a halt lately because for me the most important audience member I have for these writings is my own Master and whether because of busyness or because I have become boring and non-spontaneous to him... I seem to be too reflective, or to wish for more planning sometimes... he has been absent.

He is my inspiration and without him, there is nothing to write about.

The other day I asked him how I could please him and he told me just to be myself. On one hand that was such a nice and affirming thing to say and I am sure he meant it as such. We submissives bring personality, a mind, opinions, and talents to the M/s relationship for sure.

But what attracts us to a Master is that we sense that we need and want to be shaped to his pleasure. We don't want to fight the man that has won our hearts and brought us to our knees. We give up freedom to no longer live in suspense about when we have pleased or displeased, how we may serve, what we can strive to do better. We expect to be told clearly.

A Master who is no longer interested in doing that, has released us ... in his heart, by his actions, whether the formalities have been done or not.

My leash dangles from my collar without a tug. I hope to feel his strong hand again. But for the moment I feel sad, lost, rudderless.. and gentle readers... have nothing to write about.

The lessons learned from simmering

The simmering girl is chained at her Master's boots naked and in heat. He pats her head soothingly, seeing her need, but does not choose to use her that day. She flushes and squirms with her hands imprisoned above her, unable to pleasure herself, her face blushing pink with desire and embarassment at the obviousness of her desire. But her Master reassures her that there is nothing to be ashamed of and that he is very, very pleased to see her slave fires rise and the heat of her desire to serve him. It is simply his choice that she not serve him that way right now. Although it would be pleasant indeed, it is his decision that she learn what it is to feel intense desire and to be deprived of gratification.

Sometimes such training is accompanied by the Master signalling that the girl will be required to pleasure him with her mouth. There is nothing that is more effective in training a a pleasure slave... and more difficult for her... than to demand an expert, loving and thorough blowjob while the slave is in heat. The hot spurts of cum on her face will mix with her tears of disappointment and frustration.

On Earth women have the upper hand in sexual encounters, witholding and granting sexual favours. This works against them training themselves to be as responsive as possible to men and against their own sexual pleasure. Nature does not need women to enjoy sex, only to have sexual urges. The fact is that men become aroused much more readily than women. Women have scant opportunity to develop their capacity to become aroused on cue and are socialized to think that they do not need to develop that ability. Instead they believe that they can choose to have sex only on the few occasions when they become aroused. Therein lies the tension that will destroy many relationships and lead women astray and away from their own enjoyment. It is really a lie that earth women are told by society. In practice, most women find that to keep a relationship they will have to surrender control of when they are fucked, to rebel will drive their male partner away. But because they have this fiction of control in their minds, they respond to their partners with lukewarm, confused acquiscience rather than the passionate response a Gorean Master elicits with his strong hand and his aura of masculine dominance.

My Master is definitely not only the Master of this girl but the Master of himself, therefore he keeps the girl in a constant state of sexual simmering to assure her devotion and obedience.

In the first occasions of such training a kajira will sometimes become quite angry, threaten to run or voice inappropriate thoughts. She may protest that she has a "right" to be pleasured. Such rebellion must be dealt with as all rebellion is dealt with, summarily without much ado. Too severe punishments signal that the Master is insecure. A Master who is in full control will laugh at some rebellious thoughts from his girl, view others as crazy talk that must be silenced and response to others with the minimum and most efficient of corrective actions. A girl threatening to run will be caged or chained. A mouthy girl will be gagged, and so on. At no time does a Master argue with a slave.

A Master demands that his slave not only pleasure him as he wishes, when he wishes but to be fully responsive to his touch. He delights in playing the supple body of his girl as he would a fine instrument. He does not want a piece of dead wood under his hands, a puppet going through the motions but rather a creature of fire and passion, sexual energy singing in her blood under his skilled hands.

The slave learns to recondition her responses to her Master's pleasure rather than her own by being taken without permission but perhaps even more by being denied sexual gratification when she is desperate for it.

As she is forced to remain in a state of arousal without gratification for as long as the Master dictates, she thinks about her need for the Master's hands on her, the pleasure that it is to have his cock within her. The tables are totally turned on her earth expectations and she learns what it is to beg to be released from sexual tension. Only when the girl learns that she has no control over when her Master will choose to take his pleasure with her, does she begin to learn to respond instantly to the occasions when he chooses her as the instrument to serve his desires. It hardly needs to be said that a girl whose thoughts are often turned to how she might be found to be desirable by the Master, how she might arouse his desire and interest, is going to struggle to be obedient and pleasing in all things and struggle not to displease her Master in any detail.

Trust

It is one of the contradictions of this relationship that the collar is supposed to replace any need for trust. Afterall the girl is owned, the Master doesn't need to trust her. She will do as she is bidden or else.

And yet it is so human to want at least something that is freely given of the heart, and to be able to trust that thing. And it feels so hard to trust without power, when one wears the collar, and perhaps so hard to trust that one who simmers in a collar is truly one who loves and cares and can be relied upon.

I find this quite confusing but long for my Master to know that he can trust me to be honest with him. It breaks my heart when I feel any distrust from him.

Kajira, from a Master's perspective

I came across an excellent post from a Gorean Master today. I could not agree more with his description of the relationship between Master and slave, and as I read the words I thought that they could have been written by my Master as they were deeply in tune with his thoughts as I understand them.

(excerpted)

"If I were to be asked to describe a kajira in as few words as possible, asked to sum up the whole concept of a Gorean slave in two words, I would say: a treasure. To me, a slave is something to be valued, to be fussed over and adored, as well as to be served by. A kajira is property, is owned by her Master; once she wears his collar, she is his heart body and soul, which is why it is important that both Master and slave be sure of what they want before the collar clicks closed. . . ."

Great piece!

Kajira from a Master's Perspective.

The scent and aura of a well-mastered girl

Lately I have been noticing that I am getting along with the men in all aspects of my life much better than before and the only thing that I can think of that has changed is that I have been Mastered.

I don't believe my overt behaviour has changed but obviously something has. I have a theory about that. While most men intellectually do not have a problem with the equality of women, they have a strong biological imperative to reproduce. To impregnate as many women as possible they have evolved as stronger and larger and their hormones make them want to dominate women and they have a deep expectation that women will bend to their sexual wills. Women that are sexually dominant or equal, challenge them at a level far below the conscious mind. It unsettles them and they want to "put that woman in her place". I think that they might have to create rationales for their dislike, ascribing negative labels to the woman that may well be unfair. I expect that has happened to me on occasion.

But now I walk in the world knowing that I am totally owned and submissive to a man who is my Master. I am so conditioned as his sub that I cannot think of him without wanting to kneel. I can't think of him without feeling his hands on me and his cock plowing me. I cannot lick my lips without tasting his rod.

There may be subtle changes in my demeanor. If I caught a man looking at my boobs before I would have tended to flash an angry look. Now my response is to be pleased that I am female and I don't find the glance offensive but a bit of a compliment. If I respond at all it will be to blush a little and to adjust my posture to one of more grace. Before if a male boss or superior corrected me, I might flash anger or hostility at him. Now I have a response like a Master spanking me. I take the correction with appropriate shame that it needs to be administered and I am sincere in my apology and wish to do better in future. I affirm the power in the hand that wields various whips in the world.

Don't get me wrong, I have not become a tart or a flirt. Nor am I easy to push around in areas where I have rightly earned respect. My nature has not radically changed. But I believe I now no longer threaten men at a subliminal level. Although our human socialization means that unlike Gor men do not have permission to take any woman that they can Master, I am now one that exudes and communicates the message that I am Mastered. I am tamed. This is pleasing, harmonious and soothing to the nature of most men who are conditioned to be sexually dominant. Feeling the truth of my submissive nature, they no longer see my achievements or leadership in other areas to be threatening to their rightful place within the human pack.

I am female, submissive and know my place in the human pack, following my Master, in his shadow and covered by his strong self.

The biggest online-ism of all? Classes for Masters

I was chuckling this week at the thought of what would happen in a Gorean city if someone circulated scrolls demanding or strongly suggesting that all male citizens were in need of lessons in how to be a Gorean Master, in particular how to handle their girls. Depending on the circumstance I think that the presumptious one might well find himself summarily tossed in the river to cool his over-heated brain.

But on second thought, if the self-proclaimed expert were anyone with real power, likely he would get the same reception in Gor as such folks do in Second Life Gor. People would listen politely, nod their heads respectfully in all the right places.... and then do as they pleased.

Gor was portrayed as a world of polite people who did not go out of their way to make enemies. But also a world of rugged individualists. Therefore, this kajira takes here lead from her own Master and knows her own Master knows how to be a Master led by the fire within.

Settling down a confused kajira

As I fussed a lot about my thoughts on what it meant to be punished without just cause, worried about my Master's distrust and felt that there might be a growing rift, I paced back and forth restlessly in my Master's house, trying this way and that to approach him, to restore what was. He grew increasingly irritated as he was trying to simply enjoy a meal in peace.

With a grunt, he thew aside the bone he was knawing on, shoved the table to the side and approached me swiftly. With one hand on my hair, he pushed me into the position of the submissive bitch on all fours, then reached and bent one arm painfully behind me.

He let go of my hair only long enough to unlace himself and pull up my camisk. Before I could think a coherent thought his maleness was deep inside me, painfully penetrating me in the absence of any advance preparation, moisture or heat.

He said little to me as he took me swiftly, but I gentled slowly under the relentless pounding of his cock. He furiously and passionately reminded me that I was his, that he found me desirable, and that he would have me when and how he pleased. He came into me with a yowl of the triumphant animal. Jumping up, he casually booted me over onto my back and collapsed into my arms where I covered him with the kisses and tears of the repented kajira that understands who her Master is.

Sometimes it is just that easy to restore what is true.

Praise from a Master

"You were perfect!" said the Master, after the girl had been supporting and serving him in a roleplay.

My heart leaped in my chest and I glowed with pride. It was such a very little accomplishment and yet his words meant so much to me.

Why?

I think it is that a Master has no reason to praise dishonestly or manipulatively. His praise is only freely given to a girl who has really deserved it. And praise from my Master is hard won. He is exacting, hard to please and most often finds room for improvement even when noting progress.

In a world filled with so much dishonesty and flattery it is precious to be nourished with a few drops of genuine praise.

I will work all the harder to earn such happiness, and of course it opens me further to accept his shaping of the girl, submit to his will in all things.

I have some sense that he is assessing my readiness for a new challenge, to take me to a new level of obedience. I really want him to stretch me and to start breaking down any walls that displease him. I hope that having proved myself a bit to him recently will convince him that I am ready for him to step up my training again.

Maintaining the attitude of submission

Recently my Master joked with me that he would spank me but I would only enjoy it so he was not going to. It was a light-hearted moment but it led me to reflect on the fact that there are degrees of discipline that a Master gives a girl and to wonder if all discipline must consist only of a painful lesson to be of value.

This girl thinks not.

Just a few weeks ago the girl started to get into a topic that was forbidden her. A few sentences in and her Master signalled her to silence and to bend over. A very few head-clearing slaps were administered to her bared backside as she stammered her apology and realization that she had been disobedient. With each stroke of the bottom-warming paddle, her Master went over the explicit directions he had given and the general principle that these directions were framed in. It was IC and there were others within earshot of the punishment so it was slightly humiliating and slightly funny at the same time. The suddeness of the act made the the girl gasp and in an act that only took a few seconds her submission was renewed. And yes it was also arousing, but why?

There is nothing lonelier or more destructive than a woman imprisoned by her sense of pride. So often I have gotten myself locked into a position that I have taken on something, some extreme statement, ultimatum or rule. Later, it often seems silly but I have no way to back down. I have made a cage for myself.

Therefore these little displays of dominance from my Master keep me from ever becoming that rigid, prideful and lonely woman. He will always bend me, strip me of my pride and warm me with his will and his maleness. It is very difficult to act like a proud bossy female when my bottom is glowing and my face is blushing from having been given a recent come uppence. Even if it is partly in fun, the lesson is learned, the reminder is given. The girl remembers her place.

On Earth men are afraid to make their displeasure known because they fear that women will retreat into that frigid cage of pride and their words will not be listened to or remembered. When the totally submissive Gorean slave trembles under the Master's whip, the Master knows her attention is totally on him, the words of his displeasure will be listened to and remembered and the attitude of his girl will be.... sooner or later..... humility and willingness to learn to improve. It is a vehicle for honest communication instead of the silence of two tortured solitudes.

Is it any wonder that the relieved, forgiven, freshly whipped kajira is more desperately hungry for her Master than ever?

The Emotions of a Gorean Master

Gorean Masters are far from unfeeling Stoics. They live life to the fullest taking joy in life, love, food, sex, the thrill of battle, the love of homestone, appreciation for the beauty of nature.

Why is it then that the custom in SL Gor seems to be for Gorean Masters to not show emotion when their most cherished slaves are lost to them, or they fear might be lost? Masters devote a lot of time, thought, emotion and energy into the selection, collaring, and training of a kajira. It therefore seems natural to me that both IC and OOC, they would be distraught if a girl that they valued were to be lost, or another Master challenged them for a girl's ownership.

Gorean Masters weep openly when sad and then pick themselves up and do what needs to be done. This is strength. Weakness is being afraid to express true emotions. A girl should not confuse the fact that her Master weeps in contemplating her loss with an ability to "top from the bottom". He will weep but still do what he wills.

Hearing my Master cry with sadness at something I did was the worst thing in the world to me, and I pity those girls whose Masters do not openly share their emotions. Making my Master sad is worse than any beating or restriction. It is total failure in my job of giving my Master exquisite beauty, absolute obedience and ecstatic pleasure.

Dancing into submission

I realize that I was dealing with a hot button issue in an earlier post when I suggested that a Master had every right to force an uncooperative kajira to the furs.

For the real person it is hard to find a new level of submission, a new place of submission when one is angry and rebellious, and yet it is the adrenalin and excitement of the M/s relationship that sometimes those real emotions have to be expressed and brought into check.

There are other ways to do this than either forcing furring or punishment

What better way than to command a rebellious, angry kajira to pleasure the Master with a dance?

The girl sits sulking at the Master's feet, steam coming out of her ears about some decision of the Master's that does not suit her. Amused the Master sees his girl in a foul temper and tosses her some dance silks and ankle bells and commands her to the dance sands.

She tosses him a look of fury and thinks to disobey. He makes it clear that she can dance her way back into his good graces or feed the sleen that night. Her delicate mouth opens and closes as she bites back the words of fury and she hurriedly, gracelessly dons the silks.

She steps onto the dance sands and raises her hands above her head in the attitude of a captured slave tied to a slave post. The Master approves her start position and signals her to stay in that attitude while he admires his property. Getting up from his seat he walks around the kajira. Seldom has she felt his eyes so hard upon her, so assessing whether she be worth keeping or not. With the clinical hands of a horse trader he feels the roundness of her ass, the firmness of her bosom, his curled whip brushes her hair back from her shoulders and traces downwards along the line of her body. She feels his judgement and knows she wants his approval... and yet she still feels anger and hurt within her heart.

Tears of anger, humiliation and hurt form in her eyes as she watches the Master return to his chair and clap for the music to begin. She taps one little spoiled foot in the sand looking for the centre of the rhythm of the dance but her mind is elsewhere and so as she begins her dance her movements are automatic, lifeless, her carriage lacking pride and passion. As she completes a turn she sees the Master's eyes upon her like burning coals in the night and feels the heat of his displeasure within her feminine folds. Involuntarily as she meets the Master's eyes, her body assumes the position of the submissive animal, she falls to her knees and in her dance crawls on all four towards him like a she-sleen... and just as dangerous and snarling in her temperament. The Master chuckles softly and approvingly at the spirit of the girl that he owns. Uncurling his whip, he cracks it sharply, an inch away from the girl. Her eyes flame. Her heat rises.

Obedient to the whip, the girl rises into the attitude of the proud Gorean dancer. She may be fed to the sleen that night but she will make the Master miss her if he does. Her hands form delicate waves down her body drawing attention to her pleasing shape and she sets her breasts in motion, shimming under the Master's gaze, the nipples obviously in a state of alertness under the fine fabric. As she whirls in a tent of her silks, one after the other is stripped from her by the Master's clever whip handling and the looseness of the Gorean knots that allow dance silks to be easily removed.

Her outrage as she is stripped is delightfully amusing to the Master but if she falters in her dance step the whip that is cracked on the silks will find flesh instead and so she must keep to the figures of the dance. Her predicament is not lost on the girl. She is her Master's property and so she must please to live. As she accepts this truth she finds a different look in the Master's eyes, willing her to submit to him in all things.

The thing that has angered her is like a burning coal within her, and yet she knows she must accept it, just as her thigh accepted the burning branding iron that singed her Master's initial deep, deep into her flesh with pain and burning.

She takes the burning coal of her Master's will into her soul and lets it set her dance on fire. She dances her fury, her pain and her slavery. She falls to her knees with the weight of the collar and writhes in the sand. The Master looks at his girl with pity and love as she struggles in the dance to find her way back to him. That look is a silken thread to the girl.... a way to journey back. Arching up into the Gorean bow position she demonstrates just how agile she is as she raises herself to her feet. Her hips undulate in figure 8's with a sharp accentuating lift setting her slave bells to a tinkling crescendo. Her eyes never seem to stray from her Master, no matter how she dances. She communicates her fire, her heat, her passion and her love. His eyes ask a silent question and her lowered lashes and blush give the answer. She has found shame at her rebelliousness and is once more secure in the collar.

Without punishment or disruption the Master has brought his girl once more to heel by forcing her to remember how to be pleasing and to remind her of how much she wants to succeed at pleasing him, how bitter she would find it to fail at the duty of exquisite beauty and absolute obedience.

When my Master is well pleased with a dance, he will sometimes leap into the dance sands to dance with me with abandon as a preliminary to another sort of dance...

When the Master is sad

It is a rainy day when the Master is sad. Even if the Master says that it is nothing the girl has done and nothing she can do, still she is sad.

In her sadness, she must take care not to be a nuisance, not to press. The Master will tell her if she can serve. At times like this being provocative and sexually teasing may well just annoy the Master. Best to offer quiet service, beauty and loving comfort.

Today I bring a warm footbath with floated petals of flowers and soothing oils. While the Master sits disconsolately I wait for the merest nod and hand gesture to signal me to bend over into boot-jack position, taking one boot at a time between my legs, the Master pushes on my backside to remove his boots, sometimes sending the girl sprawling.

I take his feet one by one lovingly and gently and place them in the foot bath to soak before beginning to bath, massage and attend to each foot tenderly. I think about my love following him in every footfall, so that my service becomes erotically charged with submitting my all to this humble act.

Simply acts of body service for my Master are as sweet to this girl as pleasure in the furs and more comfort to the Master when he is feeling poorly.

My Master is like a rock

five stone haiku

unseen intruder
yet the annoying pebble
shapes my footsteps

***

over-laiden cart
finds an unexpected rock
to be unsettling

***

at unmarked crossroad
a moss-covered pointed rock
might be a guide-post

***

to till my garden
I throw the hardened clay clumps
at an upright rock

***

the calm, deep river
cleft by obdurant boulder
churns the still waters

***

That "Mastered" moment

As a slave I never know when it is going to happen, nor how, nor really why.... I only know as surely as the sun will rise that it will!

There will be a moment ... or several... in any interaction with my Master where his mastery of this girl will be felt suddenly and thoroughly through her being as surely as if she were chained to a post and being bosk-whipped.

It is the moment when I feel my own vulnerability and submission. It is often at a moment when I don't know what might happen next.

It might be like this:

The Master looks hard at me and says a reproving word and then smiles.

"What kind of a smile is it?" I wonder. His hard look makes me shiver. In an instant I feel gut-wrenching fear of abandonment and my stomach clenches, I feel that I may have earned a whipping and my tail tucks in with an instinctual motion that tilts the pelvis and tightens the labia as though to repel a rape but actually squeezes the clit causing a spasm of sexual excitement coursing through the girl to reduce her to the state of a trembling leaf. I know that my only hope is to please him ... I need to please him... there is dampness in my heat. My nipples harden under the sheer fabric of my camisk and I look up at him with a look of total female submission to his will.

The triumphant Master looks down at me trembling at his boots... depending on his mood... satisfied to see his affect on me but with purposeful regard to impress his Mastery more upon the girl, approval and amusement to see that I have responded totally to him, or with playfulness and a wish to be pleasured by the girl who is quivering at his boots. And ready to pleasure him I will be ... the intensity is there because he has--once again--found my slave heart and made it skip a beat.

A tone of voice, a gesture, a phrase, a sudden unexpected tug of the leash, a dispassionate instruction, a hand gesture into a position..... who knows what Masterly surprise will trigger the slave's sudden convulsive tug to obedience. But triggered it will be.

Dreamer and dream

Dreamwalker you prowled like a panther in the land of slumber
Capturing mirrored light of meteor showers in your golden eyes
It was the time of late summer restless stirring in my dreams,
Falling falling through the nightsky and into your dreamscape

You held out your bright globe of captured dreams like a beacon
Catching the essence of my falling star above the ocean of oblivion
You peered with curiousity at the galaxy of soul dust swirling within
Gently you cupped a hand upon the globe and warmed the life within

Lucid dreamer with a captive dream, you shaped me
A dreaming soul birthed to a body of pure light
Constrained by iron and learning the steel of your will
I am your dream and grow into the shape of your imagining

More than one on a chain

Further thoughts on jealousy, chain sisters, mastery of more than one:

Every individual that is involved in roleplay in the Gor, I believe has to ask themselves why they are there. Are they there to examine the truths of their real selves? Then they want to roleplay in a context that to some extent resonates with their own deep truths and who they are. Or are they are they amused by playing a role in the context of the often inconsistent rules of a manufactured society? In that case they will enjoy trying on many different roles and the more preposterous the situation, the more fun for them.

Knowing why you are here will determine how seriously you take it all and to what extent you are prepared to accept things that run counter to inner truths.

Like others, I am attracted to Gor because some of what Norman writes about the submissive nature of women speaks deeply to my erotic imagination and rings true about the way in which I am attracted to men.... or not. I crave Mastery in order to open fully and sexually to a man. I won't settle for less. In fact I demand it by being a very, very strong woman that will break any man that doesn't keep me on a short leash. In many ways I am an alpha female and I seek the alpha male. I can explore this role in Gor or elsewhere. The relationship comes first, the roleplay is a very distant second for me.

Men understand the deep biological competitiveness that they feel over the possession and dominance of women. Sometimes they fail to see and understand that women -- who can have much fewer off-spring than men--are even more biologically driven to compete. Let's realistically understand that there is a deep biological urge to have the sperm of the strongest and the brightest to father one's own children. This is not an impulse that is conducive to women lovingly and easily sharing a Master's penis. Human children take a long time to grow up. Women want the strong warrior and mighty hunter to only have to protect and feed THEIR children.

BUT you say... Gorean slaves don't have children, and ... further... this is "just" Second Life. True but submission itself is recognized by Norman and broadly in Gorean thought as coming a deep biological need relating to the genetic imperative of women. We know that the excitement of submission, the thrill of Mastering a quivering, responsive female fuels the sexual tension of Gorean roleplay... despite the premise of slave infertility. We enjoy the way the roleplay taps into that sensual energy. I think it is only commonsense to understand that the same roleplay will also trigger the territorial and competitive programming in all of us.

If you are not deeply engaged at an emotional and physical level in experiencing all the joys and pain of the Master/slave relationship then I truly fail to understand the appeal of the roleplay... but certainly if it is just a game to you then sharing a chain will not be hard for you. For the rest of us, it will likely be extremely difficult.

Am I saying that it is impossible to Master more than one? No. I am saying that it won't be easy, and it is a different sort of relationship and challenge than the Mastery of one love-slave. In the books, Norman did not suggest that kajira loved each other as "sisters". Quite the opposite, he acknowledged the bitter rivalry among slaves. Certainly friendships between slaves are possible. Friendships among women everywhere flourish and are deep and nourishing. But just as sexual competition among men threatens friendships, so does it with women.

You say, "But slaves are not allowed jealousy. They are not allowed an ego."..... I fall over laughing in the grass and kicking my little feet in the air. Slaves may not be allowed to EXPRESS jealousy, or hurt, or pain, or suffering, or... any other emotion the Master forbids them to speak of... but slaves are vibrant, complete, loving women in collars with all the emotions of human beings, which is the thing that makes having one on her knees at your boots so very, very delicious.

One time I sent a communication to a woman of my Master's acquaintance--an ooc note regarding an ooc relationship--and my Master was very angry with me. His response was to order me to exist in the bracelets position and to forbid me to speak to any female of his acquaintance without permission. Whether IC responses and restrictions are appropriate for situations that are totally ooc is a subject for another post (I don't think they are) ... and yet I feel the wisdom and appropriateness of my Master's response. Why? There would be only one way for him to have peace under his roof if he were to bring another girl onto his chain. He would have to chain me to keep me from killing her and forbid me to speak to her so that the vitriol I would throw in her direction--out of his earshot-- wouldn't have his new girl in tears by nightfall. And so he would have to begin to enforce his will on me with deep restrictions to counter deep impulses.

It is the Master's decision to have as many kajira on his chain as he wishes and it is the Master's decision as to what roles and duties the girls have and who will be his first girl and to punish that which is displeasing to him. I love my Master dearly and so if he were to bring another onto his chain I would do as he asked me and hide my pain as best I could as a fallible person. But I would be stabbed through the heart inside and seething with hatred for my rival. I would see that the Master didn't care about that and I would... in time probably stop loving him. And I concede that might not matter a whit to a Master.

I read posts all the time, and hear stories from Masters who bemoan the "ooc drama" that happens between the two...or three... or more... girls on their chains. "Why can't everyone just get along?"... and I have to laugh at the naiviety of that statement. It isn't the kajira's job to "get along" with the girls you have on your chain, it is your job as Master... who has created this tense situation to enforce your will on the girls. You have chosen to have a nest of seethingly jealous females fighting over access to your cock. That is the bed you have made, Master... go lie in it. Go and chain those girls, put them in separate cages. Do what you must, but don't expect them to be the solution to your dilemma. Let them know that any who displease you will be killed. You'll get peace and obedience. Love? Well you've made a choice that love is not going to rule you. Don't let it.

And so I think it is a choice for the Master of what sort of Master he is and what kind of work he wants to put into his Mastery. Mastery of one is difficult, but given the submission of the heart of the girl, he will find it always pleasing to bring out the girl's slave nature to love and serve him. To Master more than one is a different challenge and the Master must not expect a bevy of happy, loving girls who will love each other and serve him happily to arise by magic. That is an outcome of a long and difficult task of Mastery. He will be fighting their competitive natures, have to give much thought to both discipline and control through his power to make each girl love him enough to put up with her sisters. He will lose some who will run away or suicide rather than share.

At this point in time, I rather think my Master would lose me--physically and emotionally-- were I to find another on the chain with me, but his Mastery has surprised me before now in taking me places I did not think I could go. I am kajira and know that it is my Master's choice to make. I have no illusions that I have any influence over his decision beyond the power of any slave has.... to please him so very, very, very well with beauty, exquisite obedience and sensual delights, that he would ... at least for a moment regret my loss. He has chosen to collar an alpha female and is not fool enough not to know that any girl he would bring into my reach would be in danger of being clawed to death. He enjoys the ferocity of my love for him and is well-satisfied with having brought a proud alpha female to kneel at his boots. He also knows how deeply I love my collar and his power over me. He is Master and will decide.