Greetings Masters and Mistresses,
greetings slaves,

Trappings

"Her garb, too, is commonly distinctive; it is usually inexpensive and brief; sometimes it is only a rag; it is designed to remind her of her lowliness; it is designed too, of course, generally, to leave little doubt as to her charms.....She is an animal, sensuous and beautiful, marked as property, and has a name only on the sufferance of her master; he need not even give her a name, if he does not wish to do so.......Accordingly, an animal and property, without even a name in her own right, she kneels before her master; she waits to be commanded." (Rogue of Gor, pp. 170)

It all started with the sale of the car Master allowed kessia to use. One knew she could survive perfectly well without a car, one used to do so very well when she was younger, so she sighed a sad goodbye to the car and stoically set out to "manage". After about a week, kessia realized she was enjoying not having a car. It made her plan her trips more carefully, she did not worry about the thing breaking or the cost of fixing it, and one was enjoying the exercise. Cleaning the car was struck off of her things to do list. Amazing. In short, it was a relief.

Thinking about how little the loss of the car bothered a girl led kessia to start thinking. She pondered, figuring out other things she had gotten used to but did not really need. One made a list, and thought about each thing and how having it had affected her. Leaning over the dining room table, one thought of girls in the books, naked but for their collars. Coming with nothing, these girls were grateful for a flour sack to make into a dress, ecstatic at the idea of cosmetics, tearful when given a piece of jewelry. In another series of books, slaves entering ’basic training’ were given plain gray shapeless dresses to wear, a towel and some soap. Later on, one of the characters was in tears because she had been given conditioner for her hair. The common idea: Trappings interfere with service.

Early on in her own training, kessia spent a week drinking water. Seven days with no coffee, no juice, no soda, no *coffee*. Master was kind enough to allow some caffeine tablets to ease withdrawal, but for the first few days all kessia could think about was what she was not allowed to have. Her only focus was missing what she had no right to in the first place. Resentment and longing were eventually shoved aside, and a girl stopped noticing what others were drinking. Her focus shifted back to serving the drinks to others, instead of concentrating on what she felt she was entitled to drink. Seven days came and went, and kessia forgot to even ask for anything other than water. One morning Master poured her a small glass of juice to go with breakfast, and kessia felt tears sting her eyes. The sweet tangy treat rolled over her tongue and filled kessia with a sense of abject gratitude that she would be allowed such a wonderful extra treat from her owner.

Trying to pick out what to wear when going out had always been a big deal for kessia. It was, she believed, necessary for her to look nice, decorating herself with trappings before leaving the house. Choosing just the right scent, just the right shoes and on and on. So, another week, Master removed everything but her white clothing and put away the make-up bag. When there are three things available to wear and two of them are dirty, choices become very simple. No need to focus on looking ’just-so’, since all a girl could do was brush her hair and be neat and clean. No fancy perfume. No eyeliner. No trappings except a hairbrush, fingers to pinch color into one’s face, and the clean smell of ivory soap. All that freed up time available to be around and be of use to her owner.

Insidiously, trappings eventually found their way back in. One found herself preening and worrying about her looks, the skin cream she really ought to have to ease up the winter dry skin, the maternity clothes she would really like because she was *tired* of wearing the same things all the time. Almost as an afterthought, one would add mentally to herself that the reason she *needed* these things was to look pretty for her Master. Yeah, right and there is this really big bridge that you can buy for only $29.99.

It is true that a girl wants to look pretty for her owner, but it is also true that he could *care* if kessia wears more than eyeliner. He hates lipstick, he hates the look of base and powder. He likes shiny clean hair and sweet clean skin. He doesn’t like cracked and bleeding fingers, but that does not necessitate fifty dollar skin cream. Simple cocoa butter cures that. Or grapeseed oil added to the bath. He likes the short tunic kessia made from a sheet. He likes her farmer preggo overalls. He likes her naked. So why did kessia think she *needed* more? One thinks it is because a person gets used to the things they have. They accommodate to them and then in order to feel *special* they have to add something new. The catch-22 is that once a person adds something, they accommodate to that and have to add a NEW thing the next time they want to show their special-ness.

Finding a way to put as much money in the bank as possible in three months drove kessia to start thinking about what was actually necessary in her life. Finding out that roughly three-quarters of the things she thought were intrinsic were actually just extras was a rude awakening. Thinking about how all of those extras impeded her servitude was shocking.

The depth of the effect revealed itself one day when kessia was called on to serve in the online venue. It had been a while, and kessia expected to be rusty, but one did expect she would be able to serve as she used to: The ’classic’ seven point serve, rife with dripping descriptions of her incomparable heat. One always used to include all the whistles and bells to make sure everyone could *see* just how happy she was to serve (not to mention show off how good she was at serving). Funny thing though, when kessia tried to do all that she just couldn’t. She read and deleted, thinking how silly she would look if she really tried to bring somebody wine while preening like that.

Slaves go online to serve and to learn. That is what kessia is there FOR. Not to show off her alabaster skin, or do anything differently than she would if the man had been sitting in the living room, waiting for wine. She typed what she would have done: Smile warmly, move as quickly as possible, trying not to be clumsy and be thankful she was allowed to be of use, and had managed to cross a room without tripping over the feet she has not seen in about a month. Oh, and hope like hell the man she was serving would see past her lacking description to the honest to god pleasure she found in being of use to him.

While he did find her serve to be hopeless, he ended up talking with kessia for some time, allowing a girl to entertain with her wits. No trappings, just plain old gratitude that he was willing to let her learn about him and be of use in his day.

All of the perfumed, soft and made up flesh in the world will not hide a bad attitude, online or off. All of the foot kissing, squirmy, trappings will not help a girl find joy in her first purpose: To serve men.

As kessia continues her quest to make her life simpler, more like the life found in the books, she leaves the slaves with some questions about the extraneous in their own lives:
What would you do if Masters rationed your adjectives? How would you show your joy in service if you were only allotted four descriptors, and less than 25 words per serve? What things are you sure you need to be a better slave? What would you do if your Master removed those things and forbid you everything but vitamins, slave gruel and water? Would you still find the same joy in service?

One hopes her words are not offensive, and wishes all well.

kessia{Sage}