The truth is, my heart hasn't been beating for me in a long time. It beats for my Master – even when he's absent. It beats in anticipation of his voice, his gaze, his touch – the one that will instantly convince me that I am no longer my own.
I don’t want to be a Free Woman, not if freedom means this haunting emptiness that takes over me when I have no one to serve. Because in my world, freedom is the ability to serve.To be chosen – for obedience.
I feel like an empty vessel. Only my Master can fill it. With his word, his gesture, his command... Even just his glance. And his silence, too. Because isn’t a Master’s silence sometimes enough to break you?It’s in the moment I kneel before my Master, a collar around my neck – that’s when I feel most like myself. Completely. Exactly where I belong. That’s when I feel fulfilled.
Surrender doesn’t hurt. And it’s not even that difficult – not really. I’m not saying it’s easy either. But what I do know now is that the pain of waiting for the right person hurts far more. The waiting for the chance – and the permission – to give that surrender. That pain can be unbearable.
I’m longing for the moment when I hear my name and know that it’s not just my name being used – but something more. A summons. The prelude to a command that already waits to be obeyed, even if it hasn’t yet been spoken in full.
To belong to a Master – to be owned – doesn’t mean being less. Or being worse. It means becoming everything I can be. The fullness of who I am. A fullness I can only access on my knees, at his feet. A fullness that only he, besides myself, is aware of – and only he has access to. No one else.
No comments:
Post a Comment