Slaves get choices

"I just want you to take care of me!" I sob, between flogger strikes.

Taking care of myself is so much pressure, and I feel so tired, and scared of failing. I just want to rest in Master's decisions.

As the skin on my back tore open, though, that idea tore open as well.

When I take care of myself, that is him taking care of me as well. I have the skills because he taught them to me.

Remember last post, about how he's a bit of a puppetmaster, and a maze maker, and he Master's through subtle changes? That's not just about molding my character, as it turns out. He's been supporting my health and growth in other ways as well. When I'm upset and reach for my heavy ball or journal, that's because of skills and values he gave me, for example.


And here's the thing that I didn't understand until the other day: everything is more meaningful and rewarding when it's a choice. Being a slave because I feel like I have to in order to cope with life, and I need a standard of behavior because I can't make my own, isn't as good as being a slave because I actively love, respect, and admire my Master's view of life, and choose to commit to it. Serving because I'm made to isn't as much of a gift as serving out of adoration.

A  few months ago, he let me choose whether to be a slave or not. I chose to be a doll instead. I chose to build autonomy, and values, and choices the way I wanted to, though he never left and was always an influence. And now that I have that, I can give it freely, and meaningfully. And in offering, instead of needing it to be ripped from me, I am giving something that will mean more to him as well, and be an asset rather than a detriment.

This is my offering. The gifts he grew in me, that are now mine to give.

Please accept my offering, and take me as your slave again, Master?