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By lissa The School of Hard Knocks Greetings Masters, Sitting here today, searching her favorite website for a recipe on how to make something, lissa started thinking, and oh how people cringe when she starts thinking. As a disclaimer, lissa must say that she is unowned. But she does live with a Gorean man, and it is his rules she conducts her life by. She also would like to say she is in no way, shape or form, knocking anyone for anything, she is just simply providing her own thoughts for your amusement or to provoke your own. She’s read and read all the sites on slavery, how to be a better slave, how to do this and that to provide a better life for your owner, etc. But lissa always walks away wondering where the reality of it is. By reality she means the everyday jobs, discussions, arguments, shopping, cooking that happens every day in everyone’s home. No where in those websites will you find a girl who will openly admit that she has days she just like to slap her Owner for one reason or another. Nowhere in those websites will you find that you don’t kneel and look pretty for hours on end, waiting to be used sexually. You also will not find helpful hints on how to cook a simple meal that will last a couple of days so he can pack it in his lunch, or how to deal with the psycho kitty that is his that you would love to give away to the neurological research of animals. She used to sit online, because for lissa that was the safest way to begin her journey, and wish to be like all those girls. You know the ones, the perfect ones, at least in lissa’s mind they were perfect. Always obedient, always observant, always everything he wanted and more. Never once stepping out of line, never once getting carried away, and come to think of it, barely finding humor in anything, or speaking. Unless, unless of course it had to do with being the perfect slave. Oh how the life of a slave was romanticized and talked about as if they were almost like porcelain dolls sitting upon a shelf. God how it was misleading. Imagine lissa’s surprise when she moved in with the Man she now lives with and a huge slap of reality came crashing upon her face. Perhaps lissa was wrong for being the very literal and anal-retentive person she was. For not being able to look outside the box and see the truth, but she would venture to guess she is not alone in that. That there are plenty of girls who are feeling exactly what lissa felt all those months ago. Thankfully though, lissa can laugh about it, and she does quite often. She can laugh at herself and her ignorance, and find a way to help people laugh with her. A girl is hoping to lend a little insight into her daily life and maybe spawn some truthfulness that has been buried within the “public persona” so many girls portray. The school of hard knocks opens the door and immediately you find that you can’t find those damn colored silks anywhere and we all kind of resemble?. Well we kind of resemble anyone else you see walking down the street. There are no visible signs of slavery, or any of those huge leather, and ringed collars. So you look further ahead of you, knowing for sure that you’re in the wrong place. Girls are to be either silked or naked, that’s how you know who is who. But the harder you look, the more you don’t see what you thought was a “way” of life. The closest thing you find to what you know is a man sitting on his sofa, remote in hand, and a girl kneeling beside him watching quietly?. For now. Just for the record, some girls ARE allowed to sit on the furniture, lissa is not. The girl looks a bit frazzled and he looks intent on his ballgame, he’s in an indifferent mood because it seems the Mariners have just shot their chance at the play-offs, and we are all wondering what the hell happened. The girl has just come home from work, pulling her 11 hours on her feet, and is taking a bit of a breather before the rest of her day begins. By the middle of her cigarette he announces that he’s hungry and she needs to start supper. So grumbling to herself, inside of her mind, she gets up and goes to the kitchen. She doesn’t prepare this elaborate, 5-star meal that would totally wipe out their food budget on ingredients. Instead she makes a simple meal that takes about 45 minutes, beginning to end. While she’s in there, she feeds the psycho kitty, so it stays out from under her feet, she loads the dishwasher with all the stuff he’s dirtied all day long (thankfully he allows her to use the dishwasher), and she ensures she’s not going to be running out of milk, eggs, bread, butter, etc. All the while she’s making small talk with him about different things, he’s half listening and answers her accordingly. It’s not a discussion about limits, or slavery as defined by the books, it’s more of a “you want corn or green beans with this, Master?” kind of discussion. Dinner finishes cooking and it’s served up, along with his non-stop coffee, and she ensures he has everything he wants before she even thinks about her own. Then after its over, it’s back to the kitchen to clean up that mess, load and start this dishwasher, clean the counters and make a fresh pot of coffee, and the whole time, the remote never left his side. And since tomorrow is her day off from work, he won’t expect her to pick up or clean the house, throw a load of laundry in, because after all, tomorrow is her day off and she can do it then. Does that sound horrid to you? It does to lissa sometimes, but this was her choice. Consensual slavery at its finest. You see, once you consent, that whole pleasure slave things goes out the window, at least until you get the kettle and mat stuff finished and you’re dog tired. Tomorrow is always filled with the things you didn’t get done the day before. Whether that is from just life stopping it, to him stopping it because he wanted you to do something else. Your day off is never your day OFF. You’re always at someone’s beck and call, regardless of his or her title. There is dinner to think about early in the morning so the meat will be thawed, there’s a house to clean, laundry to do, groceries to be bought and bills to be paid. All of which fall under your job description. His job is to tell you when he wants this done, and to write the checks for the proper things. This girl thankfully is given leeway at the grocery; she no longer has to submit a list to him for his approval. He knows that with her 150-dollar budget for the month, she’ll keep him well fed and his cabinets stocked. Sure that took a little work to do, but it is doable, and some really great meals can be made, heck he even has his sweet tooth fix whenever he wants it. The point is, its not all red-silks, kneeling, and a seven point paga serve. This is a glimpse at lissa’s life, because there isn’t enough web space available for a week of her life, let alone her life combined. For all intents and purposes lissa has tried to point out some very real and typical things that happen in the day-to-day life of a slave girl, and out of the respect it deserves from her, she’d like to say why she is here, and what compels her to stay. She is here because this is what fulfills her, and that ache that lives inside of her to make someone happy still burns as hot and bright as it ever has. She can remember when people used to tell her the road to slavery was not an easy one, and how she used to think they never told her it would be this hard. But it’s been worth it, all of it, and she’d do it over again in a minute just for that moment he smiles and touches your face, and you know that you’ve pleased him. Many girls have asked lissa how she can do this, how she can be what she is and still find happiness, and lissa can only answer with one sentence. It’s not about me, it’s about him. She hopes you’ve found the humor, love and admiration she has for the life of a slave within her words, she just likes to calls it like she sees it. She hopes everyone has a great day, but she has to run now. He’s waking up and the coffee isn’t brewed yet. (Yikes) Always, lissa Comments, questions, topic suggestions are always welcome ...please email a girl at kessia_s@yahoo.com |
