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Every relationship, every bond leaves something in us. And that regardless of the particulars and the circumstances.
Even so, I know I don't want to be merely remembered. I want to be necessary. Like the ache in your knees that won't let you forget you once knelt before someone out of love.
In Gorean subculture (slightly different than in the books), femininity itself is not inherently valued. A Free Woman is not "more valuable" simply because she doesn't wear a collar, nor is a kajira "more complete" because she has surrendered. These two aspects of femininity are, in truth, not opposed, but complementary.
Both Free Women and slaves may tend to the home, nurture the atmosphere around them, or care for family, because at their core, these are innately feminine qualities, and both are women. The difference between them does not necessarily lie in the function they fulfill, but rather in their inner motivation. For a kajira, such care is likely to be, first and foremost, an act of service – a giving of herself as a gift to her Master. For a Free Woman, it is more often an expression of responsibility, rooted in dignity and strength. Both nurture, love, and protect. But one does so by offering her service as a gift, and the other by acting as a responsible guardian of natural order. What separates them, then, is not the act itself, but the perspective from which it is lived – the inner lens, the source of intent. The way we experience emotions and their content may vary, but not necessarily the emotions themselves.
Kajira femininity is often portrayed as spectacular – especially in the books. It is shown as vivid, sensual, emotionally surrendered. And strongly embodied. The femininity of the Free Woman, on the other hand, is often hidden behind a veil – not just the literal cloth she might wear upon her face, but also a metaphorical one – the veil of modesty, of intellect, of courage. And yet within both of them – in the kajira and in the Free Woman – lives the same essential longing: the desire to be needed, to be seen, to be significant. The difference lies only in how that need is fulfilled.
In Earth-based reality, these lines often blur. They can become extremely fluid. Because a kajira may be a physician, a mother, a business owner. A Free Woman may quietly long to surrender. That’s why – at least to me – instead of forcing simplistic dichotomies within Gorean philosophy, perhaps it’s worth giving more attention to the subtle nuances. When a woman enters the role of a kajira by choice, she becomes the one who serves of her own volition. A Free Woman, (while performing many of the same actions in practice), may be protecting her home and the values she has chosen for herself. Both the kajira and the Free Woman are strong – in different ways. Because their inner strength draws from different sources and different motivations.
Ultimately, the question isn't which of them – the kajira or the Free Woman – is "more" feminine. The point is that both, regardless of role, can fully embody their femininity, rejoice in it, and live it out – each on her own terms. Each in her own unique way. Each in alignment with her own choice and the impulse of their heart.
Gorean Lifestyle philosophy – for all its inherent hierarchies – does not impose a value ranking in this regard. Instead, it reveals a spectrum of possibilities. A true Gorean woman, and a true Gorean man, do not diminish any of them, but allow each to flourish – in her own way, on her own ground.
The rule is that when we’re together, at a certain set time in the evening, I am to be ready and remain entirely at my Master’s disposal. That readiness usually means being naked, in nadu position, by the bedroom door, wearing a steel collar, my hair down. Optionally – if Master has expressed such a wish beforehand – I must also have makeup on or be dressed according to his instructions. Or have certain items prepared.
This time, I hadn’t received any specific instructions from him. And although it’s usually me waiting for him, this time it was different. The moment I knelt in my usual place, he was already waiting for me. For a split second, I panicked, thinking I’d been too slow and had kept him waiting. But fortunately, no. He had simply planned things a little differently that evening.
As soon as I knelt, he came over to me and carelessly dropped a notebook and pen on the floor right in front of me.
– Tonight, you will not enter the bedroom, and you will not move from here until you write me ten reasons why you don’t deserve to be given an orgasm. And I don’t want a short, clipped list. I want at least ten full sentences. Exact, precise reasons. Don’t try to cheat or be clever, because you’ll regret it.
– But... – slips out of me foolishly, so startled am I by the change in the routine. On top of that, Master has been keeping me unsatisfied for three days now. Not as a punishment. Simply because that’s his will. And I’ve been obedient and good, but I can think of only one thing...
– Was there something unclear in my order? – Master asks sternly, giving me a chastising look.
– No, Master. I’m sorry, Master. It will be exactly as you wish, Master – I replied, realizing I had just given myself my very first reason.
I don’t argue. I take the notebook, the pen, and without getting up from my knees – only shifting my position slightly – I begin to write. Everything inside me is churning. In plain human terms? It hurts. Because I had truly counted on finally being granted pleasure, and instead I got homework. And honestly, I don’t think I can come up with ten reasons... I’ve been good and obedient for a long time now. I haven't made any mistakes for a long time. But I know it’s not my decision. I must write something, and I will. But what exactly? What was it that Master meant with this order? I want to do the task, and I want to do it well. Should I just make things up? Probably not. Definitely not. He told me not to cheat or get clever. So I can’t invent nonsense. But ten reasons? I have no idea. I run a detailed examination of my conscience from the past few days. I manage to write down four reasons. And then complete blank. Fortunately, Master doesn’t rush me. He’s busy with his own things and waits until I let him know I’ve finished.
I think hard. Maybe this is a test? What is he expecting? Other thoughts pass through my mind, too. I realize that right now what hurts most is not so much the denial of an orgasm or the prospect of continuing to be kept on edge, but rather my inner lack of understanding as to why he decided on this, why he gave me this specific order. How am I supposed to do it well if I don’t even know what it’s meant to achieve? I hate not understanding... But wait! What exactly is it that I want to understand? I’m not even sure anymore. Maybe I’m overthinking it. "God, girl! Get a grip!" – I scold myself silently.
I jot down another reason... Then another... Now I have seven. And at that very moment, I realize that I’m wet down there, between my thighs. Very wet. And there’s a small damp spot on the floor beneath me... When I finish writing the tenth reason, I know I don’t need much to feel fulfilled. All it would take is Master’s permission. Just that. And that's all. I call him and tell him I’ve completed the task. When he comes over, I hand him the notebook, my eyes lowered. He reads carefully. Says nothing. Only:
– Good girl. Now you may enter the bedroom.
– Sometimes I think I’m just a tool in one of your games, Master.
– No. You are the game. I’m just moving the pieces. Or rather... The fingers.