That last blog fired up my memories, and my creative writing juices…
The dungeon was painted in dark colors, but warm people mingled about food and drinks that was laid out for this gathering, and on the couches and seats spread about the place. He stood, mostly alone, mostly looking down. An awkward solitary figure, painfully unsure of what he was doing there.
Everything about him screamed discomfort in this social setting. His hands were clasped in front of his waist and as people walked by, he would look up briefly, not really making eye contact. He moved constantly, trying to never be in anyone’s way, at any time. But he listened attentively all of the time, so that if he were addressed, he would not miss it.
When he did look up, it was as a beaten puppy might look up at its Master, unsure if it was forgiven yet for the thing is was still not sure it had done wrong. So too, this man seemed constantly in fear for the infraction he might break, not knowing what action he might take that might suddenly make him worthy of punishment and correction.
So it was, when a stunning Mistress, her flesh barely clad in leather that revealed every sweet curve of her body, strode across the room to approached him, he fairly trembled. I offer you, she said, my Domination this evening. Will you accept and negotiate this arrangement?
The man stammered, staring down at her boots and he fidgeted, the words struggled to form in his dry mouth. I... he stammered in a low voice… am not worthy. You might think he could now relax, having shown this Goddess that he was in fact a worm unworthy to lick her boots. But he had fallen into the most hideous mistake a new slave can make.
She narrowed eyes and it felt to him as if her gaze burned into his soul. She laid a hand on his shoulder, and then turned suddenly.. to the crowd. Excuse me.. she said in a loud voice.. The room went silent. The attention was a fire that consumed the slave and he wished that he could be permitted to simply fall to her feet and hide there. I offered this slave my Domination, she said.. and then turned again to face him, her gaze causing him to tremble. She leaned in close and in a low voice said.. And what was your response?
Her question was like a hiss escaping fangs that would tear him apart. He wished now that he had not come here this night, but the room and this Mistress demanded he speak.. I said, he croaked, I am not worthy. The Mistress turned again to the room. Can anyone here tell me, she asked, what is wrong with that statement. An older male Master spoke up.. It was never his decision to make.
Exactly! said the Mistress. She turned again to the slave who struggled not to tremble. Who are you, to tell me if you are worthy or not? That is my decision, my choice to decide who is worthy of receiving my domination. She spoke in stern tones, admonishing him in front of this crowd. Yes Mistress, he managed to say. Come, she said, come sit beside me and we will talk. The slave allowed himself to be led off. He was chastened, but seemingly happy to have survived the ordeal, and even more so to be in the company of this woman who twisted him in delicious ways.
So it is, so often with new slaves. The presumption to know what a Master or Mistress is thinking, what they might want, how to please them. Nor would this be the last time this scenario would play itself out with new actors. It is a curious thing, the way a Dominant will get inside a slave and wring out emotions, leaving only a happy and compliant pet behind. It is a thing of interest, that each gets back something they need from these exchanges. Such is the way we work.. Masters and slaves..
Carpe Diem my friends.. go find yourself.