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.

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.

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.

Kajira, from a Master's perspective

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

(excerpted)

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

Great piece!

Kajira from a Master's Perspective.

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?