Ain't too Proud to Beg

By kessia{Sage}

Whether his goal was to sell more books, augment his descriptions of female enslavement or illuminate his idea of helpless female behavior, Norman did not underestimate the appeal of a plaintive, needful female. Slaves begged for food, clothes, jewelry, sexual attention-or any other little thing they wanted, regardless of the time, place, or situation. A girl in the books begged and begged well, or she went without. Come to think of it, sometimes she went without anyway, purely because it suited the Master to deny her. Denial even in the face of excellent begging reinforced the girl's helplessness, her dependence on her Master, something that this girl has found both frightening and alluring.

For all of its appeal, begging comes hard to many of us in service, perhaps because it calls to mind images of whining children wheedling for a toy or perhaps because so many of us were taught to have pride and not be a "beggar". Pleading for what one wants opens up a crevasse of vulnerability that many find hard to take. Illusions of pride, of independence, of needlessness have a funny way of disappearing with that first whispered "Please Master". The dissipation of illusions, the defenselessness evoked by begging is frightening, the need it illuminates, terrifying. Many avoid begging as long as possible, preferring instead to go without rather than scale the wall of emotions and risk being kicked away.

Eventually though, the time comes that a girl hears "Beg for it.", removing begging from the realm of the optional and placing it firmly in the realm of the compulsory. This girl was one of those begging procrastinators, so terrified of the feelings evoked by simply thinking about begging that she went wiggy the first time she was told to beg. Yes, wiggy. Disobedient, panicked, tearful....all in an effort to avoid facing this part of herself she had neatly managed to avoid for so very long. Oh sure, she had begged for things online, but there is a world of difference between that and facing one's Master and doing it. Her knees would not even bend, she felt her jaw set and the urge to run swept over her. It was no longer about being allowed to have supper, it was a giant emotional statement that kessia found so daunting that she had to be forced to it.

That first time, looking up at Master after pleading into the salty leather of his shoe, seeing the satisfaction in his face as he listened to her choked pleas, whispered apologies and explanations of her emotional state was magnificently terrible. Being hit over the head with the magnitude of her need for him was freeing, terrifying, grand and sweet. Feeling the tears burn hot down her face as his hand skated over her head and he said "That's my good girl", releasing the last shred of resistance she had, washing away any care about being kicked away. The rush of certainty that she was where she belonged was unexpected and amazing.

Admittedly, she is still afraid of how needy she is. For most of her life, being able to meet her own needs has been a given, and a source of pride for her. Now, she has had to accept that she has an ocean of need, that seems to grow almost daily, and she can do nothing to alleviate it. All she can do with all of this naked need is welcome the rasp of the carpet against her knees, the scrape of his shoelaces against her cheek and beg.

Comments, questions, topic suggestions are always welcome ...please email a girl at kessia_s@yahoo.com

Best to all,

kessia{Sage}