She was my first slave, and the last one I ever loved.She opened my eyes to what it really meant to be a Gorean slave. Her utter surrender was intoxicating. It caught my soul; its smoky fingers slipped in and tangled themselves into the fabric of my consciousness.
"A man? What kind of man are you?" An uncollared slave, she scorned me when we first met. I was new to Gor, still raw and unknowing.
But she was slave, and I cared little for her scorn. I used her just the same.
Over time, her vision shifted and she came to see something that she didn't see before. Not that she knew me better, but that she knew men better. And she started loving me.
Her surrender still haunts me.
I was her world, her Master. Her family, her work, her health, her life; she laid it all at my feet.
"Master, may I yield tonight as I think of you?" She wasn't mine, yet she had already given me her body, her heat, her desire, her use, her release. It was mine to command.
"Master, my son refuses to go see my ex-husband." She was mine, and I talked with her 18-year-old son about what it means to be a man. He acted as a man and stood by his decision.
"My boyfriend and I fight all the time, Master." I forbade her to argue with her boyfriend, to raise her voice. She was slave. He ended up knocking her down the stairs. I ached because my lack of experience put her in a bad situation. She bore the brunt of my mistake, my lack of understanding that drastic change in a relationship, without communication about that change, creates fear and often anger. I've never forgotten the role of communication again.
"Master, may I have permission to marry my boyfriend? He proposed to me yesterday." Even this intimate, lifechanging, intensely personal moment was given to me. We talked about the kind of man he was, and whether she wanted this type of man raising her six children. She didn't marry him.
"You may go now." She had announced her departure without begging leave, and was being disciplined for it on her belly, at my feet. She was there for a half hour before I released her. To go pick up her kids. They waited in front of the school for her, and she waited for me without saying a word.
"Master, my back hurts so bad..." She was crying because of the pain; her pain meds hadn't kicked in yet. We talked about how she wasn't getting an operation because the doctor said it was risky. So she scheduled an appointment to see just how risky it was.
A short time later I released her.
I didn't hear from her again, ever. Except one brief note, a while later.
"I'm going in for my operation today."
Damn the day I sent her away.
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