And yet sacrifice, all by itself, can bring such joy….
But let’s be frank. Most women approach and begin slavery with sex, romance, and pleasure on the mind. They’ve had erotic fantasies of a rather unusual sort for many years, they’ve read specialty novels or seen certain movies that strongly affected them. Or maybe they knew someone who whipped his girlfriend for fun and thought that was the hottest thing they’d ever heard of. Maybe they experienced intense longing to be tied up and used or felt something deep within them twinge when they saw online personal ads from masters seeking slaves. It’s very common to find references to dominance and submission in social media these days, and, even if it is only a joke or a meme, it can still be deeply arousing if it strikes a deep chord in a female or awakens a longing. The horse that brings a woman to the doorway of slavery is mostly composed of an intense desire for taboo sex and dark, exhilarating romance. Before she crosses that portal into slavery, however, the slave must dismount and stable that powerful, driven creature, the drives and longings that brought her to this point. While intense sex has its place in these sorts of relationships, a new slave can’t always bring every raging personal desire and favorite private fantasy across the threshold and into her master’s abode with her. The fact is, these desires often will not fit: they are too big, too aggressive, too rough to be led into a place of calm, quiet, controlled beauty. Instead, a new slave quickly discovers that everything, including the sex, will, from now on, be done His Way. That’s not to say that there isn’t a lot of intense, erotic, dark sex in a female slave’s future, but that included with it will be many other things she may not have anticipated but that are equally important to her master: hard work, profound and instant obedience, learning to control her impulses, ego and self-love, emotional self-sacrifice, and much more.
As a slave learns about these new facets of her life under a man’s rule, she often grows to really appreciate these many aspects of discipline: the bars of the cage that hold her hostage. They become at least as important, if not more so, than torrid sexual episodes because living with this discipline makes her master very happy with her. Happiness over her master’s contentment entwined with and fueled by the knowledge of how she contributes to this is the primary source of joy in submission to a man, and, although it’s not exactly a secret or unanticipated, the mechanics of it are not always well understood.
While many of us know that deep, abiding love is often selfless and thinks primarily of the beloved, the willingness to sacrifice, that is, to preserve or promote the well-being, happiness, and expansion of another at one’s own expense, will often, paradoxically, bring to a person unsought, powerful feelings of joy and contentment. When someone gives up pursuits like increasing personal happiness at all costs, ego expansion or defense, possessing or controlling another, or obsessively chasing urges toward personal aggrandizement, they may notice, strangely enough, something much better creeping into the gaping void that leaving oneself behind creates. This “something better” is one of the secret joys of submission because it is often an unexpected and paradoxical byproduct of genuinely serving someone entirely out of a desire for his welfare and happiness. A lot of us, including myself, entered slavery thinking it was not going to be a particularly joyous state. My joy wasn’t exactly the point, His was. You can imagine my surprise when I discovered that there was still plentiful joy in my life amid all the punishments, hardships, correction, and steep learning curves.
These joys are secret only in the sense that they are unexpected: they aren’t what most people anticipate when contemplating the rigors of a life of selfless service. Many who carefully and realistically consider slavery to a man as a vocation also anticipate pain, fear, being scolded or corrected harshly, disappointing one’s master, and much worse. A realistic slave who has figured out that this isn’t entirely about her fulfilling a romantic fantasy expects self-sacrifice and ego reduction to hurt. Yes, these things do hurt a little (OK, sometimes even a lot), but if a subservient woman is able to embrace the difficult parts of her role fully and do her very best to be the type of servant the man whom she serves wants her to be, she may find her emptied cup starting, little by little, to fill with a heady, life-giving elixir of intense joy. Joy in witnessing his happiness, safety and contentment. Joy in bringing a smile to his lips. Joy in knowing those things she finds hard, boring, or unpleasant better his life and please him. Joy in acquiring all kinds of new and possibly unusual skills; in perfecting social graces far beyond where the ordinary female typically stops; in acquiring a discernment, an attention to detail, and a fine sense of timing that perfectly accompany a style of living that, maybe for the first time, is being led consciously, aware and alert.
And then there is the joy of seeing one’s own obese ego reduced to a trim, feminine size. Often it takes crashing repeatedly against the hard wall of a strong man’s will for a female who is still too full of herself to realize how very little she knows, how little of that is truly useful or praiseworthy, and how much she still has to learn. One of the greatest joys in serving a man is the realization of how very much he has to teach you about virtually everything in life. A slave finds a new peace in just letting things be, letting him take over everything (including all those petty details she may be used to nagging others about), not worrying what happens to her next, where she will eventually end up, or how she will get there. She now has a strong, trusted guide in life and the opportunity to just relax and let him lead. This relaxation is one of the deeper joys a woman transitioning into a slave experiences, particularly if she’s been unusually tense and insecure before. She comes to realize that as long as she is what he wants her to be and does what he says, nothing else matters—and everything is well with her world.
Such experiences of sublime joy don’t always come immediately to a female slave. It may take years before the first glimmerings start to appear. Joys of the sort described above are not things you can structure or plan. Nor can they be conjured into existence from an act of extreme will—or extreme cleverness. Experiences like this almost seem living: they have their own whims, timetables and requirements; they alight in your hand only when they sense it is safe to do so. These joys come if the slave is sincere and tries her best, but only in their own time. There is something magical about them.
There are also things (mental or emotional baggage, wrong attitudes based on false assumptions, inappropriate desires, misunderstandings, hidden needs, poor self-assessment, being unreliable, an addiction to drama or some other destructive game, etc.) that retard a female servant’s ability to experience or even become aware of such joys. If you are interested in knowing more about these things, try reading some of the other articles on the Humbled Females site. Many of them discuss these stumbling blocks in detail. To sum up all such articles in a sentence: consider that genuine joy, based in love, dedication and sacrifice, cannot grow in a dim, swampy, jealous, insecure, confused, lazy, demanding, unselfknowing but, nevertheless, very inwardly-focused “This Should Be All About Me” environment. Not only must a potential slave be highly motivated to change such aspects of herself but her master, too, has to be competent and knowledgeable enough to bring about such change, should he decide she is worth the time and trouble.
Below are some detailed descriptions of experiences and attitudes that make myself and other slaves I know of deeply happy, happier than we have ever been before. You may find a number of these experiences highly familiar: they are the cornerstones on which dedicated, loving, consensual slavery is built, brick by careful brick.
“Honesty…is such a lonely word. Everyone is so…untrue.”—Billy Joel
Telling the truth is probably the most essential and valuable quality people bring to any sort of personal relationship. Without a commitment to straightforwardness, the lies, omissions, and easy skirting around the facts tend to multiply between a couple until neither one knows what the other really thinks or even who they actually are. Each is living in an uneasy world of unreality in regards to the other, until one of them breaks the false truce, finds out something the other was hiding form them, and, in outrage, confronts their partner with their lack of “transparency.” Spying and snooping is much easier to do in these digital times where almost everybody is narcissistically obsessed with having their every thought, action, and feeling fully recorded somewhere. Because stalking, peeping, and prying on those close to us is so easy, it happens quite frequently, often with disillusioning results. It may well be that at the time Billy Joel wrote that song, it felt like “everyone was so untrue,” but the everyday, even every-hour practices in these times of direct deception or its converse, finding out what’s being kept from you, makes Joel’s era look simple, clean, and very straightforward by comparison. And yet honesty, telling the truth simply and clearly (and without weaponizing it), is essential for happy, peaceful, rewarding, long-lasting relationships.
Can you remember the time when you told your first lie? Can you remember what it felt like? I can’t remember my first one, my memory is not that good, but I do remember around the age of 4 or 5 telling my Catholic mother, when she saw that my younger sisters and I had (yes, this was my bright idea) glued our hands together with Elmer’s glue, that we were “praying.” I didn’t grasp at all why she didn’t buy that most reasonable explanation. Our first lies are pretty amateurish and often related to simple hopes or fears: we lie to get a cookie or we lie, as in my case, to avoid being scolded or punished. If we are raised well (or raised at all—a lot of parents these days are only there for children in the body, their minds and emotions are elsewhere), then we were taught there are consequences for lying. Later, when we became capable of reason, someone bothered to explain to us, if we were lucky, how the consequences of lying could be far worse than just “getting caught.” Then, as we grew older and experimented with forming our own relationships, we started to experience, once again, the various consequences of lying. Again, if we’re lucky and not congenital liars, we start to learn a little bit from the hard consequences of our young-adult lies, even if they are never found out.
Further on in life, in our most important relationships and friendships, we discover in full the decaying, debilitating effect that lying has on those important people we love or care most about…and on ourselves. Becoming another’s slave is the most important and responsible relationship role we’ll ever assume. If we drag the filthy habit of deception (whether through direct deceit or lying by omission) onto this far more sacred ground, the consequences of those lies, when eventually uncovered, might destroy us. It’s pretty hard to live with oneself if you’ve been constantly lying to the man you swore absolute fidelity, honesty, and obedience to.
I have learned from some hard experiences that honesty, particularly with one’s master, is always for the best, even if it has shocking initial results. Coming clean about everything is a part of loyal service to him. A woman is not a slave if she is not honest with her master. Instead, she’s more his enemy. I did my first master no favors by one time making him agonize for weeks that something really terrible had happened to me. I had a secret I just couldn’t tell him, and I couldn’t tell him for months–although I did tell him I had a horrible secret that I was miserable about. This worried and scared him a lot more than it did me. Should the result of your telling the truth be terrible, and he tells you that you’re finished as a slave to him, keep aware that you did the right thing in owning up to your transgression. Things work in mysterious ways and it’s quite possible that in the future you will have many reasons to be happy that you did admit the truth. There’s always hope as long as you are alive even if you have no idea where that hope might come from. Most of us, when we look back on our lives, see many places where, despite our fears for the future, we’ve received unexpected assistance when things were darkest and even second or third chances when we expected none. So, if you have lied, do not give up hope. Gird your loins, steel yourself, and just let it out: tell him. You’ll feel so much better if you do that.
“And they lived happily ever after.” —Innumerable fairy tales
Unending mutual respect and love, if not worship, that doesn’t fade with familiarity or time is the expressed and expected ideal of many contemporary modern people who fall in love. We expect when we enter a romantic relationship that this heady, intense high of meeting someone extremely attractive and compatible (but at the same time, a mysterious unknown) will last forever and that the relationship will consist of permanent, mutual adoration. No matter how many times we’ve fallen in love before, we seem to never expect that the newness will eventually wear off. And we certainly do not consider, let alone anticipate, that something even better could take its place. Hence, the average individual gets bored or angry or restless with their current partner and craves to move on… to someone new who is extremely attractive and compatible (but, at the same time, a mysterious unknown). I guess it’s to be expected that many females entering into slavery (and sometimes even their masters) believe in this happy-ending myth, as well. The potential slave, in particular, often expects either that (a) her master will adore her forever because she’s just so awesome or (b) he will adore her forever because she adores him and he will be so grateful for this that he will fall madly in love with her…even if she’s not so awesome.
These expectations about the future, while they might turn out to be at least partially true, are not are not the ideal assumptions to bring into a relationship of servitude and subservience to another’s will. The women who seem happiest and most content as slaves (and, more importantly, the ones whose masters are content with them) are, paradoxically, those who entered slavery with no conditions set, no requirements that had to be met, had no idea, even, where their next meal would come from. They required nothing from the men they served, especially not promises of permanence or pledges of romantic love. They simply wanted the chance to serve, however long or short that service might be, and trusted that he would do what was right for him, whether or not it promised any sort of security or other goodies for them. And they absolutely relished feeling this way. They didn’t want an “I’ll take care of you no matter what” romantic insurance clause. The last thing they needed was a marriage to legally seal their rights, making them capable of extracting money from him if things didn’t work out. But if he did choose to marry her for his own reasons, a sincere slave would never abuse that status to get her own way or screw him financially if she didn’t.
These females, the ones who live never knowing what their fate will be from one day to the next, are some of the happiest women that I know. They know that what is of most importance is their love for and service to their masters, both of which they tend to carefully and keep burning brightly like a small but essential campfire on a very cold Northern slope. They are too busy happily serving to worry about what might happen to them. Such females truly realize their subservient, unimportant state and even revel in it, because they craved, some for all their lives, to be treated this way. As perverse as this might sound to someone more conventionally minded, this lack of caring about one’s self and one’s destiny and the relishing of one’s unimportance are the sources of the deepest contentment a genuine slave can experience. As long as her master is happy, provided for, content, and satisfied, she is at peace and bubbling underneath with joy. She loves the fact that her needs do not matter, that everything he desires takes precedence, and that the inner reality of her life is precariously balanced in his hand. She fully accepts the fact that her master might discard her when he has no more use or desire for her. This core fact makes it absolutely clear to her that she is actually living a life of slavery, not involved in some shallow roleplay in what is really a very vanilla coupling. If one is really a slave, this is how you live “happily ever after.”
“Be content with what you have; rejoice in the way things are. When you realize there is nothing lacking, the whole world belongs to you.” —Lao Tzu
Simplification, minimalism, downsizing, not desiring more: the fact that these ideas are popping up a lot more often in Western culture at this time suggests the general population is finally wising up to what experienced consensual slaves know instinctively: that less is definitely more. It’s a wonderful feeling when what pleases you most in life is to have less around you, not more. Less objects. Less food. Less movies, apps and other stimuli. Less clothes. Less friends. Less events. Less “big ideas.” Less accomplishments. And definitely less clutter. A slave begins to love the way that the shedding off of all this heavy, heavy…stuff, be it material or immaterial, simplifies and clarifies her life. Her world becomes reduced to the essential: just enough and no more. Slowly, a learning slave begins to apply this concept of “less is more” to her master and the time he spends with her. She feels happy and grateful for what he does, she doesn’t obsess on what he doesn’t do. She longs to be with him always, but at the same time she quickly forgets or ignores the time he doesn’t spend with her.
“The best things in life are not things.” —Art Buchward
At the core of the desire for more and more of everything, material and immaterial, is, I suspect, a fear of loss, an intense insecurity. An extreme example: starving people who do not know where their next meal is coming from and who are, due to their own crazed need, suspicious that others are going to try steal their current meal, might attack food when they finally get it, wolf it down fast, almost violently, like a dog does, so that nobody else can try to take it away. This is a base survival instinct kicking in, but those who are well-nourished can also be insecure and exhibit similar behavior. Bad parenting can cause insecurity-driven greed to rise to the forefront in some children and attach itself to some pretty strange things. Insecure people tend to collect things when trying to assuage their insecurity. Their tons of possessions, overflowing their houses and stuffing their basements may look like piles of beaten up trash that a really lazy family refuses to take out, but to the insecure hoarder they represent treasures, security: what if I lose everything on the top level of my house to thieves or a hurricane? Well, I’ve still got all this fine old familiar stuff in the basement that can take its place! Security is what they crave the most and most fear losing. But when you constantly fear losing security do you ever really have it?
Some people choose to collect accolades and praise, the choicest of which they feel compelled to repeat to others to prove (really to themselves) how great or legitimate they are. Or they may collect intellectual or professional accomplishments, as that is encouraged in most societies and earns them the respect they’re always craving from others. Those following an alt-path might become experts or “personalities” in obscure social media outlets or in online gaming. The insecure may collect fads, popular ideas or movements, attitudes, political stances, fashions, and practices they think make them cooler, more awesome, or a “real” person (whatever that is). But how often are these tastes and styles simply the polar opposites of those the insecure person’s parents would have chosen? And, if so, exactly how individualistic is that?
There is no end to what the insecure collect: it doesn’t have to be things. It can be friends, pets or others who praise or seem to adore them. Or they might collect life stories: a coherent narrative that makes all those random accidents, chance encounters, ups and downs, and, to be frank, total screw-ups, seem like consciously placed elements in a complex and beautifully tiled life story that they are intentionally fashioning.
Letting go of possessions of all kinds means not only that you are capable of being content with whatever you are given by your master but it also signifies that you have the inner flexibility needed to be a slave. No matter what a serving woman thinks while in a frenzy of acquisition or when experiencing a craving, there really isn’t anything (besides him) that she “must have” or she will suffer horribly. The dismantling of the addiction to things, be they physical, mental, or emotional, involves following one’s master’s lead, taking gratefully whatever is given, and accepting, peacefully and happily, when something you request is refused or something that once was yours is taken away. Feel these diminishments as what they actually are: some pretty horrendous, heavy burdens finally being shed from your back: these heavy, heavy, heavy things and imaginary needs for things that you do not have to drag around with you anymore. You eventually understand that what you are given by your man, whatever it is, is very special, a sacred gift not to be taken for granted. Be it objects or be it daily experiences, it is your food, your sustenance, and digesting or using this sustenance to the best of your advantage without demanding more—or even demanding less (also a form of greed, as it counters what He wills)—is what good slaves do. We accept that His will for us is all that we need. Removing these unpleasant and unnecessary physical and psychic possessions from a life can take a very long time and may not be a perfectly attainable goal. But you may find over time that you come to relish giving things up, relinquishing and diminishing parts of what you formerly thought of as your “true self,” in order to please your master. The clarity and lightness of less mental and physical baggage starts to help you think more lucidly and focus more intently on your man’s goals for you.
“Gratitude is the healthiest of all human emotions. The more you express gratitude for what you have, the more likely you will have even more to express gratitude for.” —Zig Ziglar
Ah, Gratitude. It can fill a slave to the brim with joy and contentment. We’ve all felt gratitude in our lives at one time or another. We feel it more often in youth, when things are so new and fresh and when so many people around us are trying to help us succeed in life simply because we are charmingly young, innocent, and vulnerable. But as we mature and as we start feeling more confident and in control of our own destinies, not only do moments of gratitude become less frequent but our minds start to play self-congratulatory tricks. We start to perceive all good things as the natural outcome of our own efforts, talents, or planning whereas all bad outcomes are never our fault: they are either caused by others or by random accidents of fate. This “adult” way of thinking makes gratitude, an emotion that once came so easily to us in childhood, fade from consciousness, in some cases never returning. To be grateful, truly grateful, one first has to become acutely aware of the outside world, of other beings in it, and of the myriad interconnections and influences that pass between ourselves and our environment. One also has to be able to see that these “others” out there all around one are actually different lives, much like oneself, and not merely extensions of one’s own ego. This leads to the realization that one is actually just a very small piece of something enormous and deeply intertwined with it. Finally it helps if one has acquired, usually through experiencing hard times or bad luck, a practical, visceral knowledge of how very, very bad things can actually get. This rather intense level of awareness can open the door to a more honest acknowledgement of the effects your environment, including the other people all around, have on you, rather than ascribing all the things you label as “good” as due to your own marvelous qualities. While this realization is good for everybody, in slavery in particular, genuine gratitude is essential. It becomes a real possibility when the slave starts to realize, over time and usually with some astonishment, how much her master has changed her for the better.
The gratitude of a slave grows with time as she sees, again and again, how wise her master is and how his honest observations of her, as painful as they may be at times, always turn out to be correct and very helpful. Consider this: you’re with a man who is actually training you as a slave. Initially, you find his scolding shocking, his harsh words really hard to take, the way he ignores you at times as cruel and unnecessary, and the stinging crop to be deeply unpleasant, mortifying, and unfair. But over time, as you start to change and do things right, as you also start to think the way he wants you to think and become more of what he wants you to be, as you see his wisdom in disciplining and guiding you in this manner and how it slowly leads toward more pleasing service to him, you notice how very well all this works to make both his and your lives run more smoothly and peacefully. You are improving as a slave, and slowly, the adverse consequences of your former lack of attention, slip-ups, and heavy self-focus lessen. As a result, you exhibit these unattractive traits less often, which is more pleasing to him.
Stripping away the false ego can be a hard and painful process. It’s fearful to look at what might be underneath all those myriad layers of self-pride. A skilled master can take his female on this journey of honest and sometimes painful discovery but only if she obediently follows behind him and doesn’t constantly drag her feet, get distracted, or look back toward the way she once was longingly and nostalgically. She may need to learn some basic “Life 101” lessons: such as that flattery and ego-stroking are not always signs of genuine regard, that possession of a multitude of facts is not a sign of wisdom or enlightenment, particularly when one utilizes them only to impress others, and that two words of approval from her master are worth a thousand eloquent speeches of praise from anyone else. When a lot of the unpleasant underbrush of the bloated ego and false personality has been cleared away, the gratefulness starts to flow into the empty, cleared space—as long as the female hasn’t managed to delude herself that she did all of this hard work herself. If all goes well with her training, she will eventually start feeling immensely happy and deeply grateful that she’s met this wonderful man, who has, singlehandedly and despite her initial resistance, made some real, lasting, and very positive changes in her. When she contrasts her new self with how she used to be, she sees clearly that these vast improvements to her personality and changes in attitude were not of her own making and would never have happened if this man had not been interested enough to make her his slave. When a slave begins to recognize these things, she starts to feel the early pricklings of deep appreciation for her master and all he has done for her. Depending upon her upbringing, this may be the first time in her life she’s ever felt this way toward someone. She will also start to feel awe at the abilities of a man who can create such a profound transformation in her. Without his hard work she’d be on a very different life trajectory—and, due to her narcissism, likely traveling it blindly.
Not every slave has to go through this difficult and painful ego-stripping process with a master, but most people born in this age and time need at least a basic course in how to really think and care about somebody other than themselves. There comes a point in this course of education where we embrace the discipline as both necessary and welcome, rather than rejecting it as wrong or unfair. We stop resisting our master’s will in subtle ways, we don’t try to secretly control our environment, including the way we are trained, we stop trying to teach him “wisdom” about ourselves or the world in general. We abstain from all of this folly because we’ve finally learned the value of a reduced ego and we can now honestly admit we’ve never been very good at reducing it on our own.
It’s common knowledge that you cannot fill a pitcher with fresh, cool water and expect it to be drinkable if it’s already half full with something noxious: say motor oil or vinegar. The fresh, life-giving water will mix with the foul substance and make a diluted but terrible-tasting or even deadly cocktail. Instead, the pitcher must be emptied fully (and perhaps thoroughly scrubbed) before it is suitable to receive a fresh, delicious, liquid without contaminating it with its previous contents. When the ego wars are over: when a slave who is being thoroughly and properly trained stops fighting her master, stops clinging to what she used to be, stops trying to slip around his changes, and fully embraces his way of living, you could say she is emptied of the mental and emotional contents she brought to slavery. She is emptied of things she once thought absolutely essential to her sense of self and is ready to be filled with fresh, new, invigorating spirits.
Our minds can be likened to vessels or pitchers, that, since childhood, have been uncontrollably collecting impressions, experiences, ideas, attitudes, and tastes from whatever environment we were rather randomly spat out into. We had few choices about this, and what ones we had, we usually made incorrectly because it seemed more fun to take the “easy road” we saw others around us taking: becoming cool and self-important, accruing possessions and fetishizing them, collecting people who feed our egos, agree with us, or make us, by comparison, feel superior. A slave who backs away from all that Me-ness and My-ness, who can honestly admit that being around someone superior who can teach her helps her far more than the fawning of acolytes or the isolated emptiness of a snidely superior attitude toward others; a slave who begins to recognize that her possessions, her knowledge, her ideas, her attitudes, all that content she’s been filling her personal pitcher with, are in the large scheme of things not that impressive and in the personal realm not really her at all…well, that woman begins to feel an immense amount of debt toward the individual who is bringing her attitudes, thoughts, and emotions back to this basic, cleaned out, emptied, and pristine state.
Slowly, the cleansed vessel starts to fill with the joys of simple gratitude. She feels deep relief that she finally has a place in the world where she can be her real self without having to boast, lecture, posture, teach, or argue and where she can enjoy a life that has been tremendously reduced in complexity, no longer having to make tough decisions and bear (often terrible) responsibility for them. She feels joy along with a little trepidation that she can be her real self for the first time in years, rather than that phony false persona she felt she had to face the world with. She experiences happiness at how simple and easy her life has become, no longer fraught with unnecessary drama and stress. And she finds joy at watching that raw, crude ugly self she brought to her master’s table start to melt away as the original part of her, her real self, emerges. All of these experiences can (and have) made many a lucky woman cry out of relief and intense, abiding gratitude for the man who has wrought such changes in them.
“Everyone has been made for some particular work, and the desire for that work has been put in every heart.” —Rumi
Work of all sorts, work that you used to find tedious and annoying, work that is simple and not prestigious becomes fun when it is done for the man you serve. Simple, repetitive, boring, annoying activities, things we’d never do for ourselves, become genuinely interesting. It’s the doing it for him that gives the activity, whatever it is, its magic. You feel good and know you’re making the life of the one who is most important to you better. Contentment in hard, constant work, not impatiently trying to get it done as quickly as possible in order to return to more “important things,” enjoying these moments of simple labor, and anticipating his inner pleasure and comfort from your service, even if he never says a word about it, feels wonderful. But you know what feels even better, at least for a slave? It’s when he relaxes and trusts you enough to take your service for granted, just assumes the house will be clean and neat, that things left out will be picked up, that a good dinner will be on the table, the garbage taken out, and the shopping and other tedious chores done, all without his constant supervision, encouragement, scolding, praise, advice, or company being required to keep the slave at her work and motivated.
“Work is love made visible.” — Kahlil Gibran
There is a great feeling you get when you do a job well, quietly, and all on your own, without having to advertise it to the world. It’s your secret: only you and your master know what you have done. And there is joy in the actual labor, the physical moments (or non-physical, if it’s that sort of task), focusing just on the job that needs doing, paying close attention to the small details, not missing things or cutting corners, getting it done and done right. A hard-working slave contributes primarily to the betterment of her master’s life and secondarily to the betterment of herself. In the practice of honest labor, new, healthy habits are acquired and older, dysfunctional habits start to drop off.
Work, while it can seem annoying while performing the task, has so many side benefits. It grounds and centers you, helps you be in the moment rather than lost in your fantasies, teaches you attention to detail, moves you outside of the constant pursuit of pleasure that everyone seems to dive into once they quit working for the day, and helps keep you physically healthy, mentally sane, and happy because you’re connected, closely, to the real, living broader-than-broadband world, not lost in the fantasies, passions, and ridiculous foibles of those narrow, twisty, dark virtual tunnels it is so easy to get lost in. I tend to come out of a long bout of social media contact feeling soiled, unclean, unhappy or at least dissatisfied—if not outright disgusted. I come away from dusting, ironing, vacuuming, or dishwashing feeling happy (I contributed to His welfare), enjoying the change in the physical surroundings, content, more alert and “present” because I’ve been moving my body around and pumping blood to my brain, far more aware of my environment and less foggy-minded. What’s not to like about any of that?
The best joy from working, for a slave, at least, comes from her knowledge that these acts please her master and improve his life. It’s the simple joy of giving, or, as I see it, giving back to someone who has given me so very much.
“Enjoy the Silence…” —Depeche Mode
“…your own, that is” —article author
There’s growing and then there’s Growing Up. Actually, the growing up comes first. Growing up, for grown-ups, involves really learning new things, not just pretending to learn them or pretending to like to learn. It involves abandoning stale, old, unconstructive habits of thinking, acting and feeling that you simply keep around because they are familiar or comfortable. Such habits might involve intense narcissism, the tendency to throw temper tantrums or reproachful guilt trips when one doesn’t get one’s way, using tears, invented injury, or other dramas to further one’s cause, and other attempts to manipulate from the bottom.
Growing, on the other hand, cannot commence in a female until the “Growing Up Once You’re Grown Up” phase is well along and made some significant progress. A selfish, childish, petty personality cannot learn anything new; she just forcibly reshapes anything new that she encounters to fit into her own safe, comfortable belief system and preconceptions. If you are barricaded off from everything new, including impacts from your master, you cannot really learn anything, no matter how much you tell yourself that you are learning. Growing up is a complex process, and the first step begins by battling down the ego and realizing that no matter how big, how important, how smart, even how slave-like you think you are, you haven’t even taken the first tentative steps on the road to slavery until you get a tight rein on those wild horses of immense self-regard and willfulness. The real work of transforming oneself can’t begin until you do. But to rein in one’s ego is very hard. One has to be willing to see it clearly, in all its ugliness, and that can be quite painful. Most people don’t even begin to try this. Instead, they manage to convince themselves that they’ve already done all this hard work: it’s well in their past and they got the Selfless T-shirt. Such a “slave” is usually lost. But let’s say one does manage to get a handle on the incredibly difficult task of reining in one’s wild horses. What comes next?
Well, for one thing, the joys of growing. These joys are immense and immensely important compared to what one gave up.
Learning (actual learning, like you did as a child) is tremendous fun, once you realize that you don’t have to be the brightest kid on the block and always have the right answer or even contribute some witty (to you, perhaps) riposte. In fact, it is only through recognizing all that you don’t know that you can begin to learn. A slave can finally relax when she stops caring so much about what she knows or doesn’t know in comparison to others and stops worrying so much about how she appears to them or whether she can impress them. She reaches a position of peace where she just quietly and humbly pursues, to the best of her abilities, the goals she has been given to achieve. In most enslavements, whether it’s stated explicitly or not, these goals involve learning to really see yourself and what’s around you without egotism clouding one’s vision. Only then, when she sees who and what her master really is, can the slave start to feel, understand, anticipate, and serve his tastes and pleasures, rather than trying to egotistically impose her own ideas of what these should be upon him.
Asking questions and then thoughtfully and carefully listening to the answers, thinking about what you are hearing, and then asking further, follow up questions about things that interest you in what he says, taking a deep interest in what one’s Master communicates (rather than constantly planning how to show him all it is that you know) is immensely fun, relaxing, and the way in which you learn new things. What stops us, what closes our minds is often deep insecurity which, in turn, leads to egregious displays of “But just look at how much *I* know—isn’t it impressive?” Once that egotistical “full pitcher” has been emptied, however, a slave can start experience the deep joys of learning new and unexpected things from her master. Or, to put it metaphorically, she will rejoice in being filled with a sparkling elixir of far higher quality that that foul self-regarding swill she brought with her into his presence.
“Unself yourself… until you see your self as a speck of dust you cannot possibly reach that place; self could never breathe that air, so wend your way there without self. ” —Hakin Sanai
When you are completely focused on another: learning his ways, his thoughts, his desires, his attitudes, and everything else about him, you stop thinking about yourself so much. Your focus is on your wonderful, amazing master, his goals, his interests, his desires—not on what you want, your history, your brilliance, your experience, your…whatever. As you focus more and more on pleasing him and only pleasing him, you start to forget yourself. To a female who has built a shrine to her own self in her head, a heavy wall of ego around her heart, or both, forgetting her great and glorious self is usually the last thing she imagines as pleasant or desirable, unless she superficially decides it’s another mark of status she must achieve: “All the other good slaves do this ego-reduction thing so I must do it too, or I might be seen as wanting in comparison…and we certainly can’t have that!” (There’s something a bit paradoxical about that line of thought…)
Forgetting oneself, losing one’s self in another, is a slow gradual experience, something that just happens when and if the serving female’s attention becomes more and more and more and MORE focused on her master. It feels very good not to be constantly thinking about oneself, to even forget for a time that “you” exist, because you’re thinking about benefiting him all the time or you are so deeply engrossed in the tasks he has assigned to you or the valuable thoughts he is imparting to you. But how does this state of mind come about?
Initially, submissive women who wish to serve dominant men become attracted to a particular man because something about him shines brilliantly, stands out strongly against all of the ordinary around him, and this deeply intrigues them. This fascination leads to them wanting to know more about him. They may secretly stalk him online, follow him about from place to place so that they can read what he’s written, or, if he is local to them, try to go to places where he hangs out. They may even start interacting with him slightly, in public venues, virtual or real, as their inner obsession with him grows. This interaction, initiated by the smitten female, is absolutely essential. The ones who squat on their “My pussy is golden, so come begging…boy” tuffets will never hear from such a man. He tends to be so encircled by women who are intensely fascinated by him and a lot less full of themselves than Little Miss Muffet that he can scarcely see her. These interested women don’t sit on stale, boring, self-absorbed thrones; they contact him first, in some way. They show interest. That, in turn, indicates to the male that perhaps this female can be trained to realize that in dominance and submission, it’s not “all about them.” The rare woman who can do this, who can make the first approach toward a man who interests her, has at least the potential to lose herself in another. She can at least grasp in theoretical terms the concept that Someone Else matters more than great, wonderful, golden-pussy me.
The experience of serving an aware, experienced, genuinely dominant man and obeying this man’s conscious direction and orders starts to teach a female to be less self-centered. Even the most submissive of women have a tendency to focus on themselves and egotistically navel-gaze. Women are taught in so many ways that only The Self matters, that “me” and “my” and “mine” are the only important pronouns. Undoing that cultural damage, even if you are deeply submissive and have the assistance of an expert Male Coach, can take time, because a lot of this self-absorption is unconscious and not even recognized by the female as a problem. It’s just the way she is. But it isn’t the way she first started out, nor is it the way she should remain, if she wants to serve a man fully.
A wise male will coach and train his female to start losing that intense focus on herself and her needs so that she can start to serve him more. Slowly, the time she spends thinking about his pleasure and not just her own increases, and her own personal desires start to lose their urgency. There seems to be no end to how far this can progress, at least not that I’ve noticed, but it happens silently inside, without needing special props like unusual terminology, costumes, or rituals. As one’s focus changes to only thinking about what is best for the man one serves, a girl takes a certain pleasure in the fact that she is forgetting to feed her ego. She starts to think things like, “Hey, I never told him my great story about how I did this wonderful accomplishment at my job! Oh well, it’s old news now and I know what I do is incredibly boring to him, so I’ll skip it.” Or three months later, she remembers, “Oh yeah, I wanted to ask him if I could (start this blog) (buy this cute dress) (post a hot photo of myself online) (make him my favorite dish from my past even though I know he doesn’t like creole cooking) (ask him for that intriguing item I wanted) … and so on…. But I forgot! Oh well, the moment has passed, so I’ll be quiet about this one.” The things we think we want or need so badly start to fade into the background. In their place, we are overjoyed when he buys new clothes for himself, gets a special tool he wants, posts some marvelous stuff online, or achieves some important goal in his career. We celebrate those moments and downplay our own successes, as compared to his, because we know in our bones they are just not that important. We’re just doing what we were ordered to do so why make a big deal out of it?
And that is how the self-forgetting goes. I don’t know where it ends, as I am certainly not there yet. Perhaps it never ends. You can’t destroy your ego entirely—it’s needed to handle the practical, boring stuff and to help sincere females put on that false face we have to put on toward people and situations that are not understanding of or sympathetic toward what we really are—but perhaps you can slowly start to change that ego, bit by little bit. At first, when you come fresh to a master, you are full of your old life: full of experiences you want to “share” with him, knowledge you want to impart to him or impress him with, a desire to show him in every way he’s chosen a “quality” slave. Eventually, women who serve genuinely dominant males start to learn that none of this self-promotion is necessary, and, in fact, a lot of it is boorishly self-centered. A short factual list of your skills and abilities is all he needs in order to utilize them in the way that he wishes.
Most men would prefer their slaves quickly get over how impressed they are with themselves so that they can start participating fully in their master’s projects and goals. But learning to put your self on a shelf, so to speak, takes time, it doesn’t happen immediately or just because you’ve read or heard something like this and think you understand it. One has to actually experience the slow shedding of parts of your self-regard, giving up certain ego-boosts you once took for granted or were addicted to, and this is not always easy or pleasant—but it may not be as bad as you think, because you’re doing this in the presence of your God on Earth: the glorious man you worship. When you start to realize you’ve forgotten to request, for months at a time, things you used to think were absolutely essential to your functioning, well-being, health, beauty, or other you-centered projects, you are starting to forget yourself. It feels so good to do this! Shedding one’s self-interest opens the door to achieving another difficult task: remembering him: really seeing him, really listening to him, responding to what he says rather than running automatically on your own verbal script, really understanding, because you’re observing what he likes rather than imposing your likes upon him, and so on. Being able to see your master clearly, as the only important person in the room, brings further joy. You may also feel shame for past behavior: for how you tried to impose your will, your ways of doing things, your possessions, your favorite foods, books, movies, TV shows, your beauty and style, your class, your pretensions to grandeur, your this, your that on him because you secretly believed all these things connected with you are golden or certainly better than anything he might desire or suggest. But you’ve learned better now and can finally start to put that old bloated ego to a quiet, dusty rest, only bringing it down off its dark closet shelf when it’s absolutely necessary in dealing with some part of the world that is not Him.
“Relaxation means releasing all concern and tension and letting the natural order of life flow through one’s being.” —Donald Curtis
Perhaps the biggest secret joy about being a slave is you find out, despite the stress of training and punishment, despite deprivation, pain, and hard work, despite not always being able to please one’s master perfectly or control one’s egotistical desires, that one is relaxed. More relaxed than you’ve ever been in your entire adult life. Why is s this so? There are a lot of possible reasons. Perhaps all of the following play some role in this happy outcome. You finally know who you are. You finally know your role and your place in life’s tapestry. You’re doing what you’ve felt you’ve been meant to do all of your life. Your life is much simpler, less fraught with difficult decisions. You don’t have to worry about proving yourself, showing off, impressing others. All you have to do is obey your master’s orders with an open mind and heart, and you will be accepted. Your master likes and approves of the fine slave you are becoming.
A great burden of stress falls from one’s shoulders when a woman’s life is reduced and clarified into a few very simple basics and she realizes how deeply compatible she is with the way in which these cleaner, smaller aspects of her self are expressed. After a while, when a slave has undergone some training, and her obedience and constant awareness of the Him in her life is second nature, there can arise a tension-free humor and ease in relating to one’s master. This can grow between you because you finally know your place, never step outside of it, and completely relax within the bars of the cage he has built around you. You are no longer scrambling for higher ranking or regard from others, in fact, you don’t give a hoot about what others think of you anymore because you know you are right where you should be, and the one Person in the world who matters to you approves. Peace floods through your system because you know your place in the universe. This is all deeply relaxing, and, as you may have come to know, relaxation is one subtle shade away from joy.