Frank OOC considerations in RP M/s relationships

 During the two years that I have been without an M/s relationship I have considered and even experimented with a few potential Masters as we tried each other out for likely “fits”.

Is thinking about these things a buzz-kill…hmmm.  Nothing is more of a buzz-kill when you are within a M/s relationship than “topping from the bottom” so it is best to be sure you are on the right wave-length from the beginning to avoid a puzzled and lost Master taking direction from his slave. 

Levels of Experience:

When I was first collared my Master was worried about my lack of experience.  I didn’t get it.  I was willing and eager to learn and I wanted him to be my teacher.  Now I understand that he really didn’t want to be that much of a teacher and although he took me on, things might have gone better for me and for him if I was as experienced as I am now.  Things upset me that wouldn’t now.  I felt things with an intensity that was sometimes over-the-top because it was all so new.  An equality of experience is a really good starting point for a pair, although I don’t think it is insurmountable with good will and eyes open.  I think it is particularly hard for an inexperienced Master to successfully Master a girl who is a well-trained slave.  Here the OOC and IC have to be carefully separated, with the girl never guiding or questioning her Master during IC sessions and there has to be a core felt respect that can transcend occasional blunders. The moment the girl feels her Master is a doofus, there’s going to be no sparks there for either.

Where are we going with this?

There is totally no point in entering into a M/s relationship when one person is hoping to take it to RL asap and the other has no interest in ever having an RL M/s relationship.  How RL we are going to get is another question to ask yourselves.  Anyone who believes that SL and RL can be totally separate is a heartless fool of course BUT there are differences in expectations. It is a heartbreaker to get into a M/s relationship and have it suddenly run aground on some insurmountable differences in expectations.   Here’s the kinds of things you need to ask: Will you confine communications to SL and text.  Will you use sex toys that can be remotely controlled?  What are your feelings about webcams?  Will a collar be worn in RL?  If so, will it be symbolic (a ribbon or neck chain) or a locked collar with a key in the Master’s possession?  Do we consent to RL discipline as directed by the Master and what kind?

Communications:

Will we have an emergency back-channel contact process (Skype, email, cellphone in case we can’t get into SL or there’s some other need to communicate)

SL expectations?

Are we connecting one pair of alt or all of our SL existence.  Will we use a visible collar at all times, one that can be show/hide or not use any collar at all?  Are we going to be part of a roleplay community or are we purely exploring on our own?  What’s our flavour?  Gorean, BDSM or “making it up as we go along”?  What are our other responsibilities, interests and restrictions in SL?  Some of us have professional avatars or business avatars that we can’t associate with relationships.  Can we accept that those avatars will continue to operate outside the relationship, or do we need to find some compromise or token connection to feel the commitment deeply?  Can we connect all our avatars in such a way as to make things work?  Do we want our connected avatars to use RLV or do we prefer to operate on trust?  Where will we act out our scenes? 

Others?

Is our experimentation private or are we involving others?  A Master who publicly beats a girl and then asks her to parade her red ass around the town square expects obedience but he might like to know if he is ever going to see her again after that command.  Probably good to know.   Likewise a Master who decides that a fit punishment is to give the girl over to public use.  You want to be sure that this is not going to be so demeaning and damaging that the girl will never speak to you again in any reality. This kind of scene can be very exciting but takes thought and preparation.  You need to know your girl and what she can handle.  More importantly, is your desire as a Master to have more than one on your chain.  Some girls just will make trouble for you if you bring them into a household or relationship like that.  You need to decide how much trouble you want to handle and if it isn’t much let the girls slide who won’t share you if that’s the shape of your desire as a Master.

Time:

How much time do we have for this and do we know our schedule?  I know that a very meaningful M/s relationship can happen between people who only find the occasional hour or so online in a week—when that is enough for both partners.  This is especially true if you can keep things lively through email and exchanged notecards.  A slave can do a Master’s bidding in his absence and work to please him.  She can develop dances, write poetry or weave stories to titillate him.  Likewise discipline can be accomplished asynchronously through cage time assigned and served.  Those tricky cages that ask you questions and IM Master if you leave early serve well for this. I know I feel Mastered more fully when the SL consequences of my behaviour get translated into RL consequences that can truly be punishing and not just fun and sexy.  One example that comes to mind was a time that I was gagged in SL and my RL punishment was that for that day I was not to speak unless spoken to and then with as much brevity as possible.  I walked about visualizing the gag in my mouth, knowing that the Master had found my speech displeasing and thought hard about how speaking was a privilege I had to earn by framing my words always with care to pleasing my Master.  I did a lot of shy smiling that day and actually learned a great deal about differential behaviour.  So short time is not insurmountable.  What IS a huge problem is differences in expectations.  Whether is a difference in amount of time, usual time periods on line, or degree of predictability, if there isn’t room for compromise, it is not going to work.

Turn-on’s and Turn-offs:

I suggest you make independent lists of your top turn-ons and turn-offs.  Just let it all flow out.   

If you do all of this and feel more sparks than you started with, you are probably on a great path and in for a rollicking ride.

back

I am not back in SL Gor but nearly a year has elapsed since I took the blog down and the hurts and reasons for not wanting it here are diminished.  I am going to try to share some of my path out of the darkness here, and maybe a new chapter might be written, who knows.

Abandoned

Although my tears have been enough to fill a river, I can no longer sail away from the inevitable conclusion that I have been abandoned.

No formal word of release has been given and yet the reality is that there has not been enough contact or meaningful interaction over the past few months for me to sustain the pretence that I have a Master in SL any longer.

I don't understand the reasons and events leave me in a cruel limbo. Only once in the last month has he been in SL. He wiped away my tears and told me that although he had been "lost" and walking on paths far from me, he had missed me, was here now and all was well. Then he disappeared again without a word as two weeks passed, ignoring my missives, not responding to any IM or emails sent to any address.

Finally I had to make an OOC deadline for myself to give up.... take off my collar.... and be born anew as an abandoned one. In our old city, 14 days was the time for a girl to be declared as abandoned and I have been left without a word for more than 14 days on several occasions this year. I can't go on like this. It is wrecking the rest of my SL and RL too. As long as the collar was in place and he was aknowledged as Master in my profile, I looked for him every day. Each "ping" of an IM I hoped was him. Each glimpse of some new "online status" announcements I hoped to see the loved name. . . and each time I logged off without seeing him I crashed into depression and wondered, worried, wrote another note from love, sadness, anger, worry. No one can do that forever. It erodes sanity, productivity and self-respect.

Where to from here?

I have no idea. For now my goals are simply to get through each day without crying or doing anything desperate and nutty. Mostly I am succeeding. Doing anything productive.... now that's a struggle. Very simply, I am a basket case right now.

I don't know the future of this blog right now.

If there are posts you enjoy or would like to keep, please feel free to make copies for your own use. My plan is to delete the blog in its entirety when the time feels right. I will allow at least a week for people to come and copy any favorite post, no matter when the moment comes when I feel it is time for me to release these words from my heart and experience.

I will always love you Master and thank you for your time with me. I hope one day I will come to understand why your paths led you so far away from me in ways that lead to healing rather than blame or hurt.

Does one ever graduate from slavery?

A provocative question.

Lately my Master has not had time for me. He's not been well, he's over-worked but.... this girl senses that she's not as high in his priorities as she once was. How I feel about that changes with the day and the hour. My feelings for him remain loving. I worry about him, then feel a bit of a pulling back of that worry as I wonder if the illness is but an excuse for him taking a break from SL while he thinks things over.

A hot kajira is a terrible thing to waste, and yet this girl has been in limbo for weeks, neither released nor called to the furs nor used in any way.

I review my shortcomings as a kajira and the missteps we took along the way in our mutual path. As a new kajira with an experienced Master, I was unready for some of the challenges he gave me and balked and rebelled and broke at times under them. I worry that by the time I was ready and fully opened to his Mastery his whip hand was so weary he started to give up. I don't know.

These musings do not lead to understanding. Only my Master's words can do that.

In the meantime I find myself thinking about the uncertain future. What if I am released? Where will I go? What will I do?

More and more as I confront these thoughts I find myself feeling that I may have learned what I needed to learn from this aspect of myself. While I would willingly stay in this beloved collar for a longtime, a lifetime, I do not love the collar for it's own sake but only the Master whose name is on the collar. If he chooses to release me, I will walk a solitary path of reflection and healing, not rush like a crushed thing to another shelter.

Berries out of season

There then was nature’s miracle,
Ah! Sweet berries out of season
Springtime’s blessing bestowed
upon the cusp of winter

And we two travellers,
by fate, fortune or stupidity,
upon a path few travelled.
Ill-favored as it was and
treacherous with rock slides,
nettles and the gnarled roots of pines.

Yet we two fools alone were there
to reap the bounty of such rare sweetness,
borne among the nettles of canes
bent by both early frost and weight of fruit

Laughing we gathered berries
without a care to bloodied fingers
and fed them to each other.
Lips stained by berries and our own blood,
stark stains of life upon two lined faces,
Summers’ tans long had faded
But there we were alive and happy in that moment
savouring each sweet drop afforded us

Me Feb 2010

A Musical Roleplay Adventure Jan 31 @ 11 am SLT

SONGS OF A WANDERING HARP A MUSICAL ROLEPLAY
City of Laura

The Story:

Long days ago ago the story began . . . a ragged wandering harpist approached Laura's Head Merchant Fuzsea in the teaming port of Schendi. HIs harp strapped on his back, the minstrel's gaunt visage told a tale of destitution and his wary glances betrayed an aura of desperation.

As Laura's merchant oversaw the loading of rare spices and goods that would fetch a good price when safely brought to port in the North, the bard grew near, keeping well to the shadows. A corner of his gilded harp peaked out from its leather wrappings on his back, a tell-tale clue that this wanderer had seen better days. The Merchant's eyes narrowed thinking, "Surely there is a tale behind this odd one".

"Are you the Master of this ship? Will you be returning to Laura?" the Minstrel called out from his place among the crates.

"Ai" Fuzsea nodded, his face an ureadable mask as he eyed his girl sternly about her task of recording the loaded goods. He had taken to personally seeing that the cargo was recorded correctly, with none of her suspicious "mistakes".

"What price passage on this ship?"

"Five gold tarns. Tis a perilous journey and looking at your scrawny bones and hands unaccustomed to a man's work, I don't expect you could lend much work to pay your passage."'

The bard pulled out a thin purse and showed the Merchant the small collection of copper and scant silver within. "This is all I have and I must get to Laura!" The Merchant laughed and gave him a shove, "Then lad you must earn more coin or sprout wings and fly. Those coins are not enough for passage on a garbage barge, but thank you for the goodly laugh. It does my digestion good" and a healthy belch followed as the Merchant turned back to his task.

The Minstrel's shoulders fell. He gathered his cloak about him and he started back to the City. Pausing he looked back and saw the Merchant with his hand on his girl's collar, pulling her to her knees and snatching up her wax tablet angrily as he fingered the whip at his belt. This could be his chance to slip on the ship undetected. With haste and stealth he doubled back and secreted himself among the casts to be loaded.

****

It was several days out of port when the Minstrel was detected. Hauled to the Captain for judgement, the Merchant scowled and told his men to throw the impudent stowaway overboard despite the man's anguished pleas for mercy. As they tied him, one of the men said, "It's long nights and hard ones on the sea. Let him play for us before we cast him into the sea"

"Why should I play for you, you filthy villains?" cried the Wanderer. "You'll be killing me anyway".

The crafty merchant pondered. A happy crew was a good investment. "I'll make you a bargain, then lad. If you please the crew tonight, you buy a day's journey and another day of life."

Begrudgingly the man drew forth the harp and began to tune its strings as word spread and the men and scant passengers came up to gather on the deck in the moonlight. Once the hands struck the strings a change came over the musician as a magical light seemed to come to his face and his eyes wandered to a land unknown. So were the listeners transported by the sounds of the gilded harp and the tales of wonder told in music. As heads began to nod in sleep, it was clear that the bard had more than won his day's reprieve.

And so the game continued nightly until the ship neared Laura. While taking on supplies and unloading goods onto the river boats for transport to Laura on the final leg of the journey, the Merchant sent word ahead. He was bringing a captive to the City of Laura for the entertainment of the Citizens. If he pleased them, his freedom and passage was paid and his crime was forgiven. If not the Merchant would keep him as a captive on the ship for the crew's pleasure.

***************

Join us for a Musical Roleplay!


BIO:
Mihangel (Angel) is proud to be one of the rare breed of harpist who happen to be male!

Living in Wales and working across the globe, he is an accomplished performer, who has played since he was five years old, plays both the Welsh lever and orchestral harp, he has worked hard to show the breadth of his instrument.

Playing a fairly wide repetoire - from traditional Welsh folk music, pure classical pieces by Debussy et al to the more complicated works to Karl Davies and Salzedo, Angel has performed in many of the worlds larger venues - Millenium Centre,Cardiff; Royal Albert Hall, London; Sydney Opera House, Sydney to name but a few.

He is one of the most accomplished classical musicians performing in Second Life and is obviously a lot of fun and a very good sport.

(This concert is brought to Laura through collaboration with the MUSIC ISLAND CONCERT SERIES. http://musicisland.ning.com.)

Crawling

Some while ago I was very bad and as a punishment my Master commanded me to crawl naked in his presence until further notice. I over-reacted to this punishment at the time and the Master decided it was being perceived by me as different than his intention and so he rescinded the order. Like a good kajira should, I felt sad to be deprived of my Master's punishment due to my weakness.

I never like to fail my Master and I wanted to understand what he intended me to learn from crawling so I have thought about it since then and experimented with crawling and thinking about my reactions.

Crawling is de-huma,nizing and while one clings to the privileges of humanity as essential at all times, crawling creates panic. But the kajira is called "beast" and no matter what your roleplay may allow at other times, it is important to feel comfortable and gloriously sexy as that beast.

Stripped and ordered to her knees the girl loses her voice and humanity. She snarls as the Master slips the leash on her collar and drags her to heel. She feels the lash upon her back ordering her to silence and the snarl turns to a whimper as she lifts her tail in submission to the one who owns her.

Her proud beautiful beast's body sinuously crawls as the Master commands, comfortable in her coiled sexuality. The vent of her heat is exposed and the redness signals her submission and readiness for her Master as she crawls to do his bidding, flashing him the occasional spirited look of defiance earning a cautionary slap to her flanks to centre her attention on her submissive conditioning.

This is the place without words. A place to go when words have failed. She crawls until she remembers that she only walks and talks with his permission. When she displeases she will be reduced to beast again, not to harm her, but to put her back in touch with the beautiful beast that pleases. From this comes all good and love.

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.