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.