The days as Master and slave roll by unremarkable; simple days filled with simple pleasures. What then to write about when nothing is wrong, nothing needs fixing, and no new great epiphany has been uncovered? Some years ago a wealthy and successful song writer lamented that now that life was so good, he no longer had material for great songs. I have become he.
But I can speak of the simple things, those little moments that as I look back on the course of the day, are beautiful little gems to be treasured. It was an ordinary evening. She, fresh from the farm and smelling of horses, paused on her way in the door to show worship. Its a simple ceremony, one I enjoy and in a small way endure, because of her job and the smell that comes with it. So for a brief moment, she is on her knees between my legs, bowed and submissive, loving her place as I love her submission. Then its off to the shower and into something appealing to the eye to prepare a drink and supper.
This evening I had no particular desire for her to please, so my slave asked if she might play her games on Xbox. I want to pause here and appreciate that question. Master, if you don’t need me, may I play? How simple a moment and yet as I reflect, how different from other life situations I have found myself in. It is grace, and love, and submission, all wrapped up in a ball that fits me so perfectly, that meets the needs of who and what I am. That simple question causes my heart to ache. How could I not love her for who and what she is?
Again and again, a life of pieces that fit so well. Later, she asked if she might turn in for the night but now I was not ready to release her. I decided on another chapter of the book we are sharing. So I ordered another chapter be read for me, before she could turn in. She trotted off dutifully, recovered the book, curled up beside me, and proceeded to read aloud. The chapter ended on a point that makes you wonder what will happen next, and I considered ordering another. But I too was growing tired, and each chapter takes about a half hour, and the outcome of the next would surely end in a similar fashion, so I allowed her the release of sleep. Hmmm as if there is ever any release.
When this thing that is my property curls up under my arm, like a kitten purring, the warmth and happiness the comes over us both, is not like some invisible force that might be imaginary, but more like a reality that can be touched and known. This thing between us is as real as a table or chair. How strange that it can not be held up to another, and shown in the same way. That you can not point to it and say “here it is, here is that thing I am talking about”.
So you see, dear readers, I have nothing to say. It is just another day of unremarkable simple pleasures. Real or unreal, the invisible things I possess, fill my life. Strange that in them, I am so unbearably happy.