Disciplined Love

I was barely a woman when my family brought me to live with the man who would become my master. With time I was told that I could learn to please my master and in turn earn his love. To do this, to earn this man\'s love, would be a great honor for not only myself but for my family as well. To be rejected by my master would bring shame upon all of my family. I had heard stories of women who did not please their husbands. Ungrateful wretches the lot of them. Pleasing a master would be the best choice for any young woman in my position. It is not every girl who is chosen to serve. Those who are never chosen though, because of breed or family or any other reason, arent nearly as disgraced as the women who do not please their masters. To be cast aside by a master is to be branded unworthy of love or respect by anyone, anywhere, for the rest of their miserable, worthless lives. These women are barely more than whores. Society will always shun them, ridicule them, and treat them as the filth they are.

I sit now in my master\'s bedroom, on his bed. I am kneeling, my legs tightly tucked under my, my hands resting gently on my thighs. I am waiting patiently for my master as my mother did before me and her mother before her. I wear a sheer gown of white silk with my long dark hair pulled back neatly with a ribbon, as is traditional of my first meeting with my master. Soft footsteps can be heard outside of the bedroom door. His movements are almost silent through the short hallway. I hear him pause momentarily before he opens the door. As the door slides forward my breath catches in my throat as I feel him near me. But my reaction is not one of fear for I have nothing to fear from this man. As long as I respect and obey him, he will treat me fairly. My well being will never be in question as long as I do as he asks. To question his judgement is to invite his wrath. If i do not do as he says my master will punish me in whatever way he sees fit and I will have deserved it fully. But I will trust my master and let him guide me into adulthood so that I may be worthy of a wonderful husband and fulfill my place in society. For that is the mark of a true woman.

My master is close enough that I can smell him now. His faint aftershave mixed with something strong, masculine, and intoxicatingly wonderful that I can only describe as my master\'s scent descends on me. I resist the urge to fidgit as I feel him look me over. My eyes are downcast and a white silk blindfold is tied over them as well. My mother spent years preparing me for this day. She taught me everything she could about how best to please my master. I will not let her efforts go to waste.

My master sits next to me on the bed. Although the bed is large, I still make room for him. I move slowly and take pleasure in the feeling of his eyes following my movements. My gaze remains down. I will only look at him once he allows me to do so and even then I will only meet his eyes when he gives me permission. My gaze will never be challenging or angry but always full of admiration, love and devotion. I am as respectful of my master as I am of my father and as I was of my brother before the war took him.

My master\'s fingers reach for my soft ebony curls. I do not shy away. His touch his welcome and I feel my heart beating rappidly within my breast. He has still not spoken to me. But I am not worried. My mother told me that this may be my master\'s way. Only certain men are chosen for this task. To be a master is as much a position of honor as it is to serve. Few people in this world know the loyalty, devotion, or commitment that this relationship will create. I am bound to my master much more profoundly than any husband and wife will ever know. If I please my master, my rewards will be great. Honor, riches, and a husband of my own; all will be mine in one year\'s time.

My master\'s hand leaves my hair and an unfamiliar sense of longing and sadness twists around my insides, growing ever tighter as the warmth of his fingers leaves me. His hand rests next to me on the bed. I can feel its gentle warmth against my thigh. I long to touch my master; to stroke his gingers, to show him the kidness he has given me. But I cannot. To serve is to learn discipline, patience, gratitude, loyalty and of course pleasure. By denying me his touch I yearn for it more. I want it . I crave it. I will my hands to stay plastered on top of my thighs. I will not disobey master. I cannot disobey him.

Mercifully my master does not let my torture endure. At first his touch is whisper soft, just the lightest brush of slightly calloused fingertips against the silk of my bare arm. I almost think that I have imagined it. But has his touch lingers and steadily grows in intensity I find myself falling deeper into the pleasure of it all. Unable to see from the blindfold, each touch is a surprise. He seems to be learning my body in the way I have seen the blind do. His fingers remain only on my arms but even that slight touch is enough to make me dizzy with euphoria. I am aware of my flushed cheeks and panting breath. I am also aware of the tremble of my shoulders as his fingertips brush mine. I have never felt as alive as I do this day, this moment even. My senses spark wildly around me; each picking up a new wonderful sensation that seems to give my very soul life. And then my mind focuses and all I can hear is my master\'s deep breathing. All I feel are his gentle touches and the warmth of his breath against my fiery skin. All I know is that I belong to my master from this day forth.

I sit there quietly for a few more moments, just listening intently to him. My master is a stranger to me but his touch is becomming familiar. Without words we have introduced ourselves and I am beginning to know him. Reluctantly it seems, though that may just be my imagination, my master pulls away from me. I feel his weight leave the bed next to me and I cant help the slight tremble of my chin as I hear his receding footsteps and the soft click of the door sliding back into place.

Moments pass. Long moments in which I question myself, critique myself, even doubt myself, much more than I ever have before. Perhaps I did something wrong to make my master leave me so quickly. But I know that is not the case. Somehow I have displeased my master and that thought is enough to shake me with fear. Displeasing a master is not advisable, especially so soon. A new thought soon shot through my mind like liquid fire; what if my master would send me away? I would be disgraced. I would be shunned. No man would ever want to marry me. My family would be dishonored. My mother would be heart broken. My life would be in shatters. So many thoughts. So many fears. Each possible what if leads to more wild imaginings until I am left shaking and near tears with the humiliation.

When the sound of footsteps returns to my ears again after what seems like hours later but could have been no more than a few minutes I prompty regain my composure. My eyes are still downcast but my back is straight, my hands steady on my thighs. I await my master\'s dissaproval. But instead of the soft padding of his feet on the cold floor I hear something much heavier acompanied by a soft voice that reminds me very much of the cooing of a dove. The woman\'s motherly presence sooths my fears almost instantly. She begins to tell me of my master\'s wishes. I wait with bated breath as she tells me of his smile and the happiness in his eyes as he left the room to fetch her. Finally the words I have been waiting for tumble from this woman\'s lips. My master approves of me. He is looking forward to our time together. I have pleased him. I do not attempt to stifle the smile that crosses my full lips. After a few moments the woman has my attention again. It seems that I have forgotten her in my mind wanderings of my master. The woman merely chuckles knowingly. But I know that my master will not be quite so easy on me if my mind drifts while I am in his presence. I doubt that it could ever wander from his perfection though.

The woman takes my hand and quietly explains to me that although my master does approve of me, he is reluctant to let any girl sleep in his room until they have proved themselves worthy. I know that I will prove myself. And I will do it faster than the girls before me. Until that time I am to sleep in a spare guest quarter off the kitchen hallway. The acomadations she speaks of are not nearly what I am used to but I will grow accustomed to them. It is what my master wishes and so I will comply to please him. My master only has my best interest at heart and he will teach me to live by the way that will most benefit me later in life. He will turn me into a swan of grace, beauty, intelligence and manners.