Some people think slavery is mostly about the physical. Collars, cages, whips, and a whole array of props. But in truth, it’s more like a nervous system of the soul. What do I mean by that?
It’s that something, deep inside, that still responds to the unspoken "kneel". It’s that something that awakens a vast space in me when certain words are spoken. It’s a readiness to not exist or to exist only when called if someone (a Master) requires it.
It’s not about longing for sex or the lash. (Though that longing may well exist, too.) It’s about yearning for that one look - the look after which nothing more is required of me. Except to be.
To be obedient.
To be pleasing.
To be devoted.
To be ready.
To be known inside out.
In slavery, it’s not pain that arouses me. It’s the fact that I don’t decide when it hurts. And that, with all my heart, is what I truly crave.
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