 |
|||
|
|
I think of myself as a very dominant person. I am wild like a mustang, free and untamed. My actions and behavior are like that of the horse running unchecked across the rugged landscape. I do not need nor do I want anyone to tell me what I can and cannot do. I do not need anyone’s permission to do anything. I am independent untamed and I like being that way. No one can change me from who I am.
Except when I get around this one particular person, then it is all I can do to remain on my feet. Like an Alpha wolf he is to me, being his mate, I fall under him, all it takes is a look, he does not even need to utter a sound and I am kneeling before him, his dominance over me so strong and assured. He is a strong virile man, his dominating nature just part of his presence, people know just from being around him his strength, his power, his potency. He is also compassionate, and caring. Above all I would say he is patient and understanding.
In saying this, I admit to being his submissive. But I could never be a slave, much less a Gorean kajira.
I wrote the following, it probably is not surprise to some as I have been told I have the spirit of a kajira. And maybe it will only take the right Master to come along, the owner of my spirit.
I found it hard to get any sleep, I have been thinking on this for quite some time, several weeks in fact. I had been working on this and was finally able to put it into words.
This is part story, fear of the unknown, fear of the past, part dance, fantasy, and a bit of wishful thinking as the idea of becoming what many have said is my true spirit is very appealing to me.
This is only my second time submitting something out into the public realm so please keep that in mind when submitting a review. As you come along with me into my journey not only into BDSM but into my exploration into writing as well.
The Spirit of the Kajira
With a graceful movement she walks to the center of the room facing him. Stepping her feet slightly apart. Her body covered in her silk but still very much suggestive of her curves beneath the material. The music that she hears in her head, the beat rhythmic and strong.
Her hips beginning a movement side to side her feet moving her legs, all the while on her toes, showing her tone and strong muscles rippling beneath her skin. Moving her arms in slow waves from her sides up above her head, her wrists in fluid motion moving her hands to the silent beat that only she can hear.
She lifts her head and raises her wild turbulent eyes up to meet his gaze looking upon her as she dances, the room quiet except for the noise of her breathing and the movement of her feet on the floor. Her eyes filled with fire and rebelliousness. His eyes gazing back at her stern and uncompromising. Sitting in his chair, watching this unruly and insubordinate woman dancing before him knowing she is fighting a losing battle, not with him but with herself. .
Whipping her head around twisting with her body, spinning her silks billowing out with the sudden movements. Her shoulders pulled back her chest thrust out, her body one fluid movement after another, getting more and more wild, showing her defiance her stubbornness, dancing. Both hands above her head twisting her body, her breasts swaying sensuously from left to right moving the material of her silks.
Her chest heaving with her raw emotion, her hair swinging wildly about her face, the music in her head in an increasing pace. Too frightened to acknowledge the truth. Her mind fighting what her body wants, craves, needs. The dance in significance of that war within her. Shouting out with anger aimed not at him but at herself “NO!” the shout echoing throughout the room. She fights with herself with renewed energy she cries out feeling the desire, the need so great to submit to him.
The music changing as her body begins to win the struggle her body responding to the change of her music, her motions becoming softer and pleasing more arousing. The need stronger, coming from the depths of her soul. Her movements capturing his attention, noticing the change in movement her actions not so wild and disobedient, he whispers to her as only he can, his encouragement and patience invade her thoughts, her mind a multitude of emotions washing over her,
Her body moving around placing her feet softly in time to her own music on the floor, her head twisting looking coyly over her shoulder her blue green eyes full of spirit but compliant and beseeching his understanding of her struggles, her body smoldering creating sparks of passion. She lifts her back and arches, twisting her body around, her hips rolling to the more seductive music she hears. Her appearance more humble and meek, her manner tamer and yet full of strength
Her head rolling back exposing her fragile neck. Her hands sliding up to the side of her head lifting her soft shoulder length hair, hips undulating, lips parting her tongue seductively flicking across her teeth and lips. A slight sheen of sweat glistening off her body. The melody in her head continuing. The woman seductive now her arms a sinuous wave inviting him in accepting him, gracefully winding her arms through the air reaching, expressing her need.
Her dance coming to its conclusion her feet propelling her forward closer to him turning in graceful sensual circles, untying her closure, flipping the silks off her body, exposing all of herself to him, her breathing filled with a new fire, one of desire for him. She drifts to her knees, like a flickering strand of gleaming satin; she slides her knees wide exposing her heat to the Master, her back arching, breasts lifted high and her nipples peaked. Her head lowered, hands falling to her thighs palms facing the sky.
He remains seated watching as her rebellion finally conquered but her spirit intact as she kneels before him. He waits a few minutes just glancing at the vision before him. Then moving over to her petite form, standing directly in front of her, looking down at her vulnerable and small, reaching his hand down to her face, gently but firm he takes his fingers lifter her face to meet his gaze. “Girl are you ready to accept who you are, are you ready to admit that you are kajira?”
Tears in her eyes the inner struggle finally conquered, but still unsure of herself, afraid to speak, she slightly nods her head, her eyes pleading with him. His face still stern saying softly to her “say it, say what you are girl”. Her eyes blinking the tears falling down her face, the time come at last to declare it not only to him but herself as well. Swallowing , taking a ragged breath speaking barely above a whisper but her voice determined not to break “I am la kajira” and then in a stronger voice she claims it…”I am your kajira Master”. New tears stream down her face, tears of joy as she feels the Turian steel click into place around her slender neck.
She falls forward, caressing her Master’s boots with her lips and hair, laying at his feet elated feeling as if for the first time in her life she is finally free “Now come my kajira it is time to go home little one” he says. Rising to her feet, following in her rightful place her spirit liberated, her soul complete and blissful at hearing the words “my kajira” from her Master. Knowing only ecstasy in her heart, her submission to her Master complete.
|
|
|