Discussion: Failed Communication

Greetings Masters,
Greetings Mistresses,
Greetings fellow kajiri,

For meryl the best way to for her to avoid a failure in communication is to just be honest about herself. Sometimes that means being honest with herself, first. Everyone has limits with what they can conceivably do well. Too much, and something starts to suffer. she thinks many women already push themselves a lot, but meryl knows being mother, wife, slave, student and tutor, she has a lot on her plate. she is lucky in that she has a Master who expects her humanity, not superslave!

meryl thought about what her greatest need as a slave would be. she wasn't sure how to answer that for awhile, until she figured she'd just be blunt. her greatest need as a slave is to be allowed to be herself. her whole self: as a slave, a woman, a mother, a student (since she is allowed to attend) ... she is not sure she is conveying this correctly, but she thinks expression in many different ways, but always with respect, is her greatest need. To feel she can say, do, express anything within the confines of her chosen lifestyle with Master and not be judged save that she maintains her respect, would be her greatest one.

With respect,

meryl

La kajira of Jaxxon Wallace

Discussion: Good Turns Bad

Greetings Masters,
Greetings Mistresses,
Greetings fellow kajiri,

meryl feels that the best way out of the cycle is to just not mince words and dive in. One can speak directly and respectfully at the same time. meryl has found this slave in the situation and usually because she kept things to herself that she thought would not be pleasing for someone to hear. As it turns out, meryl can perhaps say things that are displeasing to hear, but still need to be heard because withholding information about feelings or thoughts can sure cause a whole lot of a bigger mess than if she had just been open in the first place.

Hoping it makes sense....

With respect,

meryl

La kajira of Jaxxon Wallace

Mid-Terms!!

Things just went "bat-shit insane" as Master likes to say.

Have a lot to catch up on, naturally, but juggling well.

Just so busy... :(

Rambling Post

I wrote a post complaining about my various ills last week, but then I deleted it thinking it was just too whiny. I wasn't feeling well, but thank goodness that has passed this week.

I have actually read the next two chapters in Tarnsmen, but have yet to find the time to sit down and write them out, but they will be forthcoming. I've spent some time staying on top of the discussions and essays, and between that and going to school, being mommy, and His slave things have been settling into a pattern which does not leave a whole lot of personal time, yet I find myself fulfilled.

I actually had a pretty good vision for a dance to a song I like. Something about the freedom of prose in "dancing" online really calls to me. I am a big believer in interpretative dance, but this really goes a step further somehow. It's just a creative outlet. The entire thing is a wonderful creative outlet that I find is very nice.

Master has his operation today, and I am getting ready to give him is Valium.

Serve: Kal-da

dearest romani,

aymelek said the kal-da serve was to go to you so here is a prepared kal-da serve.

thank you for all your help,
meryl
La kajira of Jaxxon Wallace

girl reacts to a Master requiring kal-da:

/me flows over closed knees to lovingly kiss the furs before Him, a gleam to azure and emerald gaze as she backs away unobtrusively to rise to pointed toes, tawny locks and white rep sent flowing about creamy flesh as she twirls about, a measured saunter carrying her to the kitchen with a wink of sapphire flecked green over silken shoulder, a flash of a smile as she disappears into the kitchen

/me takes a moment in the kitchens, eyes alighting among the shelves to selecting a matching set that would please Him, a slight bend to her form pushes pale breasts to peek at plunging neckline while rep cloth rises upwards showing sharp lines of His kan`lara on left thigh and flash of metal from below, tawny locks flowing foreward as supple fingers tease the set from the shelves

/me rights herself, setting fluttering rep cloth to dance among the set, she admires the etched artwork of a snowy scene a large white larl prowling his domain, curve turning red lips upwards as crystalline water is added to the kettle and set to begin to heat, while she arranges the tray, making sure the rep cloth explores the rim of the bowl prior to resting admist the snow scene

/me heads for the cold room, inhaling deeply before stepping in to the frosty interior her breath escaping in the form of frost as goosebumps immeadiately claim creamy flesh and hide in draping rep, azure and emerald gaze alights on a bottle of kal-la-na, supple fingers teasing a fine wine from the racks before she selects from the bowls bits of freshly sliced larma and tospit

/me dances from the room on tiny feet, hip sliding to the left to bounce the door closed with a thump, a shiver shaking her form and bouncing golden kissed red tresses, the fruits finding their way into the kettle as she checks the heat, finding just the right time to add the ka-la-na, the distinct scent of kal-da soon permeating and drifting from the kitchen

/me deft fingers tease forth the proper spices, finding their way into the kettle and swiftly stirred with pleasure she smiles as the various pots and pans reflect her image back to her, she finally lifts the kettle from the warmth and pours forth a rich amount into the waiting mouth of the bowl before setting the kettle back to the flames should more be wished

/me settles the bowl back admist the snowy scene, supple fingers collect the tray and small measured steps carry her back to Him, a swirl in her belly as the desire to please Him draws her back to Him like flame to moth, tawny tresses flowing behind her as she flows to closed kneel before Him, dropping blue green gaze in respect as knees kiss in modesty pose

/me settles the tray to His low table, cupping her hands around the warmth of the bowl the snowy scene bright and pleasant as it is dances to her belly, drawing up across rusting white rep before the curve of red lips is placed lovingly to the side, heart pouding through her veins as she lifts the gleaming bowl up to Him reverently, lowing her head in silent offering

she wrote it in her current restricted circumstances, but it would different if she were unrestricted and permitted to speak, but only slightly so

Discussion: Motivation

What motivates you to sign on to the internet and come to IRC Gor?

Greetings Masters,
Greetings Mistresses,
Greetings fellow kajiri,

meryl admits in the beginning it was curiosity that brought her to Gor, even though it was not IRC at first. she found Gor through AOL and Ubar Luther's mailing list for His city, Delphius. she feels it was a good foundations for Gorean knowledge, but meryl always wondered if there was more to it. After awhile meryl learned that there was a group of people not just "role-playing" the situations, and meryl feels that's where the true emotional training began when she found IRC Gor.

Twists and turns, ups and downs, it just seems to flow by so swiftly through the years. She logged on for curiosity in the desire to learn more, she logged on in a sense of duty to a Home, she logged on in a sense of obligation, she logged on in a sense of hope.... then she stopped logging in at all, following her Master.

Now, meryl logs on in a sense of hope and desire to connect with people who are of the same mindset. she admits to begging not to have to log on at all, however, Master knew that the benifiets of this world that we all create in our shared vision far better than meryl did. Once she was back, and in a Home, surrounded by like minded people, safe yet held to an accountability of what she was... she laughed. She can't say if it was out of relief, joy, pleasure of being pleasing .... perhaps all of them.

With respect,

meryl

La kajira of Jaxxon Wallace

Slammed Week

The week was slammed hard. It seemed both long and short for both of us, I think.

I was allowed online but spent the evening chained to the slave ring. I am also not allowed to "speak" online, and when he has gotten me alone for some personal training, my ability to speak has been severely hindered.

I suppose it's just life's normal cycles.
It tires me right out!

Hopefully, it will slow down next week.

Discussion: Roadblocks to Slavery

One of the roadblocks, and one that meryl is experiencing now, is to be silenced to His will sans gag. That is more difficult offline, but it makes this girl think about what is about to say, and prepare best for how to say it. Slip ups happen and are dealt with accordingly, and there can be many. meryl believes it teaches self-discipline as well as tact, because she has to stop and think, "how can meryl say this in a pleasing manner?" Online, it makes her best think how to physically express herself. Without the ability to speak, meryl has to think what is the most descriptive manner to be able to convey what she is trying to say. In this, He teaches her to be mindful of physical descriptions as one must paint a picture with words, the actions of the slave's movements. Not being able to speak moves the concentration on this.

Another roadblock that can be placed on a slave are any number of restrictions or rules to do or not do something. Owners can be both mysterious at first, or direct in their intention, however it is always in teaching a slave how to surpass a problem she may have created herself with her own roadblocks. More specific examples can be making a girl a "white silk" again (in level of training) so she can go back and rethink a lot of things only with the wisdom of what she has learned so far.

Four roadblocks a slave can impose on herself:

One is fear. Actually meryl believes this is the one that causes all the others, but this girl can let fear lock her up so much she is not progressing. Fear of making mistakes, fear of well just about everything. She can start making decisions for Him because she assumes this, that, or the other. The best balm to fear is trust. She must remind herself to trust that if he wants something done, she will be informed. She must trust that if she messes up she will be properly punished and to remind herself to not futher impose self-punishments as the issues was taken care of. She must simply trust.

Another is jealousy. meryl thinks she has had little trouble with jealousy in the past, but she has always thought of jealousy in terms of others which has never been much of a problem. She has found that she can be jealous of other things like His time, His Freedom and she had never considered to be jealous of such things as a roadblock but it can be so. One way around this is to love. Dealing with the jealousy, understanding the stem of it can also go a long way. Denying it simply represses it and makes a bigger mess, but talking about it and hashing it all out can go a long way in releasing it.

Another is crutches. It can be so easy to say, "I am sorry Master I could not get that task done, because I had school, laundry, driving to the vet, extra studies, had to meet a deadline..etc," and while this can be true, starting to use it as a crutch when could have actually taken that short cut, did the laundry a little earlier... any number of things that are time management but letting it slip is a crutch. Life's monotony can slow degrade a relationship that isn't a M/s one, and it definitely can with one. One way around this is to view the day with a sense of wonder and newness. Every day is a gift, every thing is a privilege. To enjoy life, especially the little things and tasks that go in to a day, and to pay attention to time management so everything is well balanced. Enjoy life.

Another roadblock is just plain rebellion. I think slaves and people in general repress themselves over much. Women try to be the perfect ...mom, daughter, sister, mother, wife, slave... anything. The truth of the matter is humanity is messy... it's flawed, and it was made to be that way. Striving for perfection can just about drive any woman mad, be it slavery, domesticated perfection, or anything. When you repress the Id too much, there goes the biggest explosion ever! It can be called a "mid life crises" meryl supposes, but all in all it's simply repression turned rebellion. One way around this is to accept your flaws, embrace your humanity, accept gracefully His corrections, but also when given the freedom to express negative feelings to actually DO SO.

Discussion: Discipline Vs Punishment

"I do not understand, "she said, angrily, as she spoke to me about her Master and her obvious lack of understanding of what she was. I spoke four questions, listening with interest for her answer.
Do you know that you are slave?
Do you know it in the heart, and in the heat and humility of you?
Do you know it in the deepest love of you?
Perhaps you wish to be reminded that you are a slave?
The girl looked at me speaking arrogantly as she departed, "My master will never beat me." With certainty that made me smile, she repeated once more, "My master likes me, he will never beat me. He will do whatever I want."
I reminded her to not forget who is the master and who is the slave. She still insisting that her Master would never beat her, and in her Master's home, she could do as she pleased."
Days later, she came running to me, wailing, "He beat me. He beat me!" With narrowed eyes I reminded her she was in the presence of a Free Man. Swiftly she fell to her knees, putting her long hair in the dust. Her skin light and curves lovely, begging for me to forgive her.
"Kneel, " I said. She knelt. I walked about her inspecting the braiding marks visible in her flesh. "There is little doubt about it. You have been beaten."
She sobbed with little hiccups speaking, "I thought He liked me. He took away my clothes and tied me at a whipping stake on my knees!" I instructed her calmly that she would not want her clothes bloodied and her hair was thrown forward so that it would not cushion the blows and further to avoid getting blood on her hair.
It was funny really, did she think she was the only girl that ever was whipped? She was a slave and apparently this was the first full beating which she had ever been subjected to. It had not only physically punished her, and well, but she had felt it as keenly humiliating. It had not only hurt her, but had horrified and scandalized her. She had been punished before others.
"Why were you beaten?" I asked and smiled as she cried, hot tears streaming down her face, "I was displeasing." I remarked, "Be pleased that your punishment was not more severe than it was. You might have been fed to the sleens."
She would not wish to be beaten again and doubtless resolve to be a better slave. "You are only a slave," I told her, "do you expect to be displeasing with impunity? Your sense of outrage is inappropriate, I suggest you get rid of this attitude immediately lest it become the occasion of further slave discipline. Replace it with a suitable attitude of trepidation. You are only a slave."
She shuddered as I continued, "You should not feel outrage. You are only a slave. That is an emotion which would be more appropriate in a Free Woman, one save, stripped, and unjustifiably beaten as though she might be a mere slave. Beatings are the due of slaves, particularly ones which are in the least respect displeasing, as they might be of any other animal.
You are allowed to feel shame and humiliation, those are emotions which are permitted to slaves. Shame and humiliation, like chains and whips, can be useful disciplinary devices. The girl is usually swift thereafter to learn her lessons. Some girls who are not sure of their slavery and its limits will test their Master and are quickly reassured as to the existence of boundaries."
Leaving her kneeling, sobbing softly, I left her to her pain and humiliation. She would learn quickly, or not at all. It was no business of mine.
-from Blood Brothers of Gor, pages 59-73


The discussion that followed, this excerpt was an intense conversation on whether or not this described a punishment or a discipline. Personally I feel that it was a punishment that served to to teach the kajira discipline. She thought she could get away with anything she wanted because her Master liked her. I think a lot of women fall into this situation, which only gets worse if her owner does not punish her. Discipline starts to slide, and because she's liked, she's allowed to get away with just about anything. They say a strong owner, one who truely loves his slave will not let things slide and will punish/discipline they are displeased.

Another thing that was pointed out was that the slave in the story attempted to get sympathy for her beating. I had never really considered that this is normal behavior for slaves. I know it drives my owner absoltutely mad when slaves attempt to drive a wedge between Free people by trying to play the "poor me" attitude. The right and proper response though, seems to be as reflected in this story: no sympathy.

Initatory whippings were discussed. A man will whip his slave immeadiately after getting her in his collar to show there will be no question that he *will* whip her. This teaches a kajira to have self-discipline, because she does not wish to repeat the shame and humilation of a whipping that she knows will happen if she is displeasing. Punishments are just that, a tool to be used to point the kajira in the right direction again. That is not always a whipping though, but I am sure that discipline and punishments go hand in hand due to the fact that a slave is expected to learn from her punishments and modify her behavior to that which is more pleasing.

After all, if she is displeasing in any way, she may be whipped. Even on a whim if it so pleases.

Tarnsman -Chpt 2

Tarl was unconscious for the entire time that he stepped on the ship, until he awakes in a room sparsely populated. He finds that gravity is quite different, and tries to explore his surroundings. He conjectures the planet is smaller than earth and perhaps closer to the sun, because he is able to leap in a manner that suggests it. I think this chapter serves to show the setting in several different ways. He finds that he has been changed to a more roman like dress with a tunic of red. He reflects that he is like a child, knowing nothing and needing to learn everything.

At least he meets his father, Matthew Cabot, face to face. Tarl tells his father that his mother is dead, and his father remarks, "She, of all of them, I loved most." This statement I believe has been used in support on the debate of whether or not Tarl's mother was a slave. I am not sure this statement alone proves that, given that man can have several Free Companions in his life, just one at a time. Tarl is moved emotionally by his father's reaction to his mother's death and they meet and embrace. There is a strong connection between father and son here. Matthew Cabot tells Tarl that "She will be last. I had no right to let her love me," which again does not prove to me either way the status of Tarl's mother.

At this point, Tarl is thanked for bringing a handful of earth, and then Matthew insists Tarl eat something. He claps his hands and we get our first view of a slave, not to be mentioned again for yet another 20 pages. Tarl does not even recognize her as slave, though she is casually offered to Tarl for the night if he wished. He said no, unknowing the implications of the offer.

Here several facts follow:

Gor is the name of the world; it means Home Stone. Each village is built around a flat stone, which is a symbol of sovereignty. It is said even a peasant is a sovereign in his own home. The emotionality behind a Home Stone is that of a flag, and Goreans are very serious about their personal and City Home Stones. It is said that men stand when they speak of Home Stone. Where a man sets his Home Stone he claims that land for himself. Good land is protected by the swords of thestrongest owners in the vicinity. Soldiers who would cut each other down for an acre of land would stand together to protect the Home Stone of their village. He tells Tarl of his own Home Stone which encases now two handfuls of earth, which he says Tarl can have one day ...if he should live to earn a Home Stone.

Priest Kings: Matthew conjectures that they might be gods. They maintain a place in the Sardar Mountains, and it is certain death to go there. Matthew tells him that sometimes when a men are old they got to The Sacred Place never to be seen or heard from again, and Matthew suspects the Priest Kings are men. He believes that the Priest Kings have vast technical knowledge, and keep things under control on Gor by the Flame Death. Weapons, communications, and transportation is not allowed to develop, but areas such as medicine, lighting and agriculture is far beyond that of earth. They are regarded as divinities of the world, esp. by lower castes. The ship that brought Tarl is controlled remotely by them, Mathew conjectures, and these ships are called Voyages of Acquisition. They then discuss the fact that Gor itself was moved like a ship by the Priest Kings, though Tarl suggests that perhaps Gor has been hidden behind the sun since it is on the same trajectory path as earth, though the velocity would have to be adjust to keep the sun between earth and Gor. (Theory of the Sun Shield)

The chapter ends with Tarl wondering why he has been allowed to tell this tale, but guesses the Priest Kings must have some purpose in it. Though it makes little difference if you believe it or not, once earth got the technology together to go check, the Priest Kings may have already moved the planet a thousand miles away.

Discussion: Begging

I read the log on begging in discussions, here is a short summary and my thoughts:

Almost immediately, the views expressed were that slaves should beg for *all* things. Two conflicting thoughts from the slaves were that begging should be learned best under pressure and swiftly, while another felt it should be learned best by desire, for begging was what a slave does.

Even the thought of begging to ask a question was brought up. I know from personal experience that if I asked if I could ask a question every time I had a question that Master would just give me the fuzzy eyeball. There is a time and a place to beg to speak openly I think, or even to ask to speak at all, but once granted, I think it best to just get on with the talking.

I think the exception *is* silence. I could see where being silenced would reverse this whole process, and in fact he has mentioned that he will want me to be silenced by his will for some time so that I can concentrate a little bit on speech, or how I reflect -online as well.

The discussion continued with begging to approach *after* a drink had been ordered. It was well decided that this was a bit too much, and Master agrees, saying if he ordered the drink then of course he expects a girl to bring it back to him. It was also discussed about begging to enter, then entering, and *then* begging to speak and greet. Again, I think being granted entrance includes the ability to greet and speak -unless silenced. Everyone seemed to agree you should ask to PM when online - unless it was by order of business for an Op to not ask but simply do so. I know as a slave I generally ask the Free, but not other slaves. I had not considered before how that might be perceived as rude, esp. if the slave was not allowed to receive PMs. As Master told me I would be belted and silenced, I will not be able to receive PMs from anyone but a select few in the beginning, I am starting to see that I should probably start asking other slaves too.

The subject of begging *not* to do something came up, and I feel it's appropriate to beg to not have to do something for several reasons. First, it allows the Free to know I would rather not do something without me whining about it. Second, it expresses clearly my desires. Third, and the most important is they don't have to listen to me or grant my request... it just puts it out there so they know which I know Master likes to know everything and nearly every thought if phrased appropriately. I think there is a limit on what you should beg not to do, however and this should really be used sparingly for serious things -not on a whim. This was mentioned in the discussion as well.

The discussion then went into a "what to do if you are ordered to do something in contrast to your owner's wishes." I know some girls are trained to X-out of the windows if pressed on going against her owner's wishes. Master has made it clear to me that I am to be pleasing to all Free, as much as possible, even ones in life who may not know I am a slave - this is not always easy though. Still on the topic of online, if a Free wishes me to modify my actions I am to take note of their preferences and do it since Master says nearly everything online is only "window dressing," as it were. The only exceptions seem to be using me sexually for a cyber-fling when I am belted/restricted. Though Master did say that I am belted when sexually restricted and most men know how to respect that -and if there is an attempt at "picking the lock" or other some such thing and I am alone to simply X-out then. There is very little that Master feels is set in stone when it comes to online service, so there is not a lot of problems there, but I feel that yes if Master has told me specifically *not* to do a thing, then it would warrent me to beg someone that I not do so, otherwise it's all up in the air.

Begging to me is something a slave does, but without over doing it. Used sparingly when begging to not do things, it can useful for the Free to know how the girl feels about certain things, or even how her owner feels about it. A slave knows when she should beg, or when she shouldn't usually, but it takes less than a second for a Free person to glance at a girl, and with a look, let her know she should be begging at once!!

Tarnsman -Chpt 1

Other than it striking me suddenly that Tarl Cabot is British and now permanently is walking around with a hot British accent in my mind, the things that stood out to me the most were that Tarl Cabot was not exactly qualified for the position he took with the American College. I wonder if this is to show that at this stage in the series he has an earth-side view of Honor. I have heard that in the first few books Tarl is a bad example of what a Gorean is supposed to be, and maybe this shows it.

He decides to go camping during the Christmas break because he has been studying so hard to keep ahead of his British History students, for he has learned that simply being British does not seem to make you an expert on History. He borrows some camping gear from a colleugue who works in the department that he calls the "deplorable" -physical education. Something I also found humorous for a furture warrior to say. He looked at his compass and pretended to know what he was doing when he stepped into the woods pressumably to never be seen or heard from again.

He found a metal envelope when he stopped hiking for the day and was gathering wood. At first he thought it was a joke, that the collegue had placed it there and was nearby so he shouted and looked for someone until he realized he was quite alone. It had an erie blue glow, but was other was featureless, save for an indentaion of a thumb print on the back. It did not seem felixable or even with the ability to open. It ceased to glow after he held it for awhile. He ignored it for a good while, even trying to curl up in his sleeping bag and go to sleep. Yet he seemed to have a feeling of fate or destiny weighing on him, and suddenly he decided he knew exactly what to do to open it. He pressed his thumb to the center and it crinkled open, a ring dropping out and falling out unnoticed.

The letter appeared to be written by his father some 300 years before the current date, though he notes it is the same month and day, but he can not seem to figure it out since his father left when he was an infant, and his mother died when he was still young. The letter informs him that there is no choice, that the fate was decided. He should wear the ring, and then it requests that he bring with him a handfull of earth. It also instructs him to discard the letter for it will be destoyed.

He's very upset by the letter. So much so that he covers the fire, puts the letter in his pack, finds the ring and puts it in his pocket, then packs his things to leave even though it is the middle of the night. He wants to get as far away from the campsite as possible. While he was walking his pack burst into blue flames, and all was lost. He whipped out his compass determined to get the heck outta there, but found that the compass was spinning out of control. The compass spinning I thought was a direct metaphor for exactly how he was feeling. All things that were stable and supposed to point the way were gone and spinning out of control. That's when he really lost it. He yelled and took off through the woods at breakneck speeds and tried to get away. Yet, somehow, he ended right back at the camp. I really felt like this was a direct metaphor that sometimes, no matter how you try to escape your fate, some day your ship will just come in. Which it did.

Before he stepped into the ship, he knelt and gathered a handful of soil.

Weekend

The weekend just sort of flew by. I was being a brat for the most part yesterday, but he said it seemed I was just voicing his own opinions.

I told him, from listening to what he says about the Home he found, that I am less frightened. He merely smiled. So, I know there is a punishment coming for doubting him in the first place. At any rate he said I could begin my reading assignments today. I think a few years ago being busted down to the level where I would be as if I were untrained or had never been to a Gorean Home would have bothered me. Not that it would have mattered what I thought, but still.

Now, I just feel like it's a natural thing to return after so long and naturally be expected to be low on the totem pole once more. The reading assignments are ...overwhelming! Still, I look forward to the challenge. I already need to get a chapter summary out. Then spend some time with some websites. I've been allowed to request joining a kajirae mailing list. Don't know how active I can or will be, but I think surrounding myself with people of like minds will give me some added support.

My Grandmother

As directed, Master...

My parents knocked on the door then held me up so I would be the first thing she saw when she opened the door. She was so happy to see me. I think she had not seen me since I was an infant. It was the first time I remember seeing her... I still remember how happy she was.

I have so many memories of her house. Her amazing house. The great wooden table I would play under. The room stuff full of so many intricate collections: plates, salt & pepper shakers, shot glasses, stones... so many things. I would spend hours there just looking at each one. I would spend some summers there, and enjoy myself immensely.

They got away with so much back then. I was allowed to join them in the pool hall they frequented. I would play pac-man for hours! We'd be at the truck stop until 2 or 3 in the morning. I would spend my afternoons in doors watching cartoons, or wandering the acres of land getting into all manner of things.

She would make me little button monsters. Oh how I wish I still had some. I wish I knew where one was. I used to love those things and she made them by the dozens. I have been searching the house top to bottom for the last thing she ever crocheted and cursing that I can not find it. At least I still have the flower afghan.

I curse that I can not ever keep hold of things. They just drift away from me, or I simply misplace them.

Things I remember:
The smell of coffee and cigarettes -this still translates as a good smell to me.
The table legs.
The fly swatter.
Her face.
How she always ordered me french fries.
The quarters she would always give me.
Her Christmas tree. -There has never been one as beautiful since.
The warmth.

Finally, I can cry...

Thank you, Master.

Releasing...

His hugs are nice, warm... he's inviting me to release my grief, but I struggle with it. I have had so many priorities in the way that I am afraid I accidentally permanently put it "on hold."

He did assign me some tasks today, but still has said I will not be allowed into a chat room. I go back and forth on that. I long to explore with him, to be at his side, but he's right -always is!

I find I am letting go of a lot of things. I feel less worried... I can't even remember what I was worried about anymore. He assures me he has found a Home that is already within his heart. I was surprised he found one so quickly. He laughed at the look in my eyes. In fact, he found my answer to his tasks quite amusing.

I just keep walking, one step after another...

When It Rains...

It pours.

My grandmother died last night. He has given me a week for mourning and has decided the stressor of returning to online chat will wait, but in the meantime I am to concern myself only with my grief.

It's hard. I want to desperately please him and he has told me he believes to have found a Home that will make the return less ... and here I fail to find a word. Less what?

Still, I find it very hard to concentrate on my grief. I am glad for the reprise. He said he's busting me back down to white silks and we're going to be retraining, both offline and on. I feel ...good about it actually. A great deal of fear simply.... eases away thinking about it. I can't say why.

He said he has granted me freedom of expression this entire week, to cry, to scream, to throw fits, anything and everything will be accepted.

Even now, I can't really make my thoughts center on accepting her death. I think denial has set in. There was a flash of anger last night, but ever since then ...nothing. Maybe there is something wrong with me. I begged to be allowed back online and concentrate on that instead, but he refused me, saying I would not be allowed to hide my grief in words. He's right. I'd just latch on to relearning everything he wants me to know and ... let it all slide.

I'm trying...

Journey Continues

Life has settled down.

But, since it's life, fate can't seem to have that. So, without warning, without fanfare, I find myself in collar. I always knew it was a temporary thing to be out of his collar, but it was expected and sudden all at the same time. He said "so the journey continues," and I know what he means. He also said we return to our roots as well. Already panic has set in, and set in deeply.

I know I must trust him. I know that he will show me the way gently, but firmly. I just fear. I have so much fear and disdain to our "roots," that it actually saddens me. It's where it all started, where I fell so passionately for servitude; where I first found my belly.

I can't for certain I know what happened to it. All I know is gradually I became miserable there. It's still what he wants, and I obey. Naturally, I already messed up. It was minor, simply a typo, but enough to annoy him. So first day, first punishment.

First of many I am sure.

Yet, I find myself grateful for it.