"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.
Monday, April 13, 2009
Sunday, April 5, 2009
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?
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?
Friday, April 3, 2009
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.
Thursday, April 2, 2009
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...
Wednesday, April 1, 2009
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.
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.
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