A stubborn kajira is whipped

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Yes, Master"

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

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

"Stand girl"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Why I love my Master

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

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

The Point of Tears

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The place of discipline

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A Master will have none of it.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

There is only so long you can dance or write solo

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

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

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

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

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

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

The lessons learned from simmering

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Trust

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

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

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