them. Good. Good. Now take my foot and place it gently on your head. Very good. Now place it again on the mat, and kiss it again. Good. You may now belly back a little, humbly. I have not yet given you permission to rise, of course.'
She looked up at me, through her blond hair. There was a sort of disbelief and awe in her eyes. I think she could not understand the emotions that had gone through her, as she had performed these overt actions, understanding and internalizing their meanings.
'You may now kneel,' I said.
She did so, obediently.
I then crouched down before her, and took her by the upper arms.
Our eyes met. 'I did not know it could be like that,' she whispered.
I said nothing.
'I performed obeisance,' she said, shaken, wonderingly.
'Yes,' I said.
'I have never felt so female,' she said.
'You have not yet even begun to get in touch with your femaleness,' I said. 'You will discover that it is a wonderful thing, that it is deep and marvelous, and, I think, fathomless. A voyage of discovery lies before you, through lands of love and untold sensuous wonders. A great adventure lies before you, filled with life and meaning. In this adventure you will find your fulfillment, as what you truly are, a female, not as something else, not as something different.' 'I understand,' she whispered.
I touched her.
'Ohh,' she said, softly.
'Interesting,' I said. 'Though you are a free woman, you are rather vital, even at this stage.'
'Please do not embarrass me.' She said. 'In time,' I said, 'it is my hope that you would grow proud of your body and its responses. I do not think you will find them embarrassing then, unless perhaps, say, strapped in a slave rack, you are forced to exhibit them publicly before scornful men or contemptuous free women. I think rather then that you would come to welcome them, and to exult in them, and rejoice in them.' 'Please,' she protested.
'Slaves,' I said, 'are generally quite open, and loving about their bodies. They tend to understand themselves, and their nature, and they love it.'
'I am not a slave,' she reminded me.
'That is true,' I said.
'What are you going to do with me?' she asked.
'What do you think?' I asked her.
'Will you be kind to me?' she asked.
'Not particularly,' I said.
She looked at me, startled. Then I pressed her back, down, on her back, onto the mat.
'I am a virgin,' she whispered.
I kissed her.
'You will be kind to me, won't you?' she asked.
'Not particularly,' I said.
'This mat is hard,' she said. 'It is rough,' She squirmed a little, moving her back upon it, on its rough fibers.
'It was designed for the instruction of a slave,' I said, 'not for her comfort.' 'I am not a slave,' she smiled.
'The mat does not know that,' I said.
'It is my hope that you know it,' she smiled. 'Oh!'
'I have forgotten it,' I told her.
'Be kind!' she said. 'I am not a slave.'
'You will be treated as I please,' I said, 'and exactly so. Now be silent.' 'I have strange feelings,' she whispered. 'I feel that I should call you Master.'
'Do not do so,' I said. 'That is only for slaves.'
'Yes,' she whispered, 'a€”Master.'
'Very well,' I said. 'Oh, yes! she cried, softly.
'Never let me go,' she wept, clinging to me.
I thrust her back, gently, to the mat, disentangling her from me.
'Let me hold you,' she begged.
'Not now,' I said. 'Keep your arms at your sides.'
'In your armsa€”' she said, 'in your armsa€”!'
'It is not I,' I said. 'It could have been any man. It is rather that you were ready.'
'I am prepared to be a love slave!' she said.
'Keep your hands at your sides,' I said.
Her small hands and arms writhed at her sides. 'I want to touch you. I want to hold you!' she said.
'Keep them at your sides,' I said.
'Be my love master,' she begged.
'You are a free woman,' I reminded her.
'Please, please be my love master,' she begged.
'Doubtless he somewhere exists,' I said. 'But I am not he.'
She moaned.
'Do not be so overwhelmed,' I said. 'This is only a simple initiation into the world of the senses.'
'Simple?' she asked. 'Initiation?'
'Yes,' I said.
'I did not know there was anything in all of life like this,' she said. 'And you are not yet even a slave,' I said.
'I want my love master,' she moaned.
'Search for him,' I whispered. 'Perhaps you will find hima€”after a thousand collars.'
'Let me hold you,' she begged.
'You may do so,' I said.
She put her arms about me, pulling me toward her, that I be pressed against her softness.
'Ohh,' she said. 'You are strong again.'
'You are very beautiful,' I explained. 'You are calm now?' I said.
'Yes,' she said, 'you have calmed me.'
'A woman sometimes finds her first experience, of the sort you had before,' I said, 'before the last one, that is, one of unusual emotional impact, at least compared to what she has hitherto experienced.'
'I understand,' she said.
'So then,' I said, 'now that you are in a calm frame of mind, and are fully rational, and the experience is at some distance, what are your feelings?' I asked.
'They are quite simple,' she said.
'Yes,' I said.
'I want to be collared. I want to be branded. I want to be a slave.'
'I see,' I said.
'Do you think a woman can forget such an experience?' she asked. 'That she is stupid, that she cannot remember it in the belly of her, that she is incapable of learning from it?'
'No,' I said.
'It is what I know I am,' she said.
'I see,' I said.
'And you knew it before, didn't you?' she asked.
'Yes,' I said.
'I suppose some men are better than others at seeing the slave in a female,' she said.
'Perhaps,' I said. To be sure, some men are quite remarkable at this. Certain slavers, for example, at a
