That is what you want, what you have always wanted.

What you think of, lying there awake or dreaming--you are not sure which.

To exist as her object. To be used for her pleasure. To have no say--none.

How would one explain this wish to be used, to be abused, to any "normal" human being?

Don't we all desire "respect"? Isn't the very idea of respect of persons central to our entire ethical and political system? How could one possibly explain the craving, the deep need, to be used like an object in a culture that practices but also decries objectification? "No self-respecting person would want THAT!"

Well, my dear slut, Mistress does not judge. She knows and, more importantly, understands what you desire.

She understands, for example, that it is good to make you kneel naked before her, to make you beg to lick Her black high heels, to make you lay there, open and available and vulnerable, for hours on the floor at Her feet, to have you beg Her to give you the slightest amount of attention (thinking all the while of whether you are in any way worthy of having Her fuck your ass, which you are not). These things Mistress understands. And she does not judge. All she demands, requires, is your absolute submission.

* * * * *

To submit absolutely to the will of another.

Why? Why do you desire that? These are empty questions. It is what you crave, what you need. It is neither pathological nor admirable. It just is what it is. The others ("society") does not understand.  Those who appeal merely to the prurient desires, but without any understanding of what it means to serve, to need very deeply to serve Her—and to derive one's sense of self-respect from that total submission.

But Mistress understands.

Because when you are used in that way, you are special.

It is only then that you feel really alive.

Then, when She takes over your very being, possessing your body and your mind, freeing you from having to enact the fantasy of a "free subject."

This freedom of which they speak, what can it mean compared to the feeling of Her heel pressed into your chest, daring you to breathe without Her permission?

What can it mean, this freedom, compared to being at Her disposal, to do as she likes with you?

What can it mean to be free if you are not in the presence of Her, the Goddess who alone gives your miserable existence meaning?

* * * * *

To be available.

In the "position," on all fours, ass high, hoping to be fucked.

What you want. What you have always wanted.

You lie awake, dreaming of Her black stiletto heel, pressing on your ass, sliding up your ass, taking you over.

Walking on your naked body, splayed out on the floor, leaving Her marks on your flesh.

Shoved in your gaping mouth, gagging you.

Feeling the edge, where you know not whether you shall live or die, whether She will spare you, give you one more chance to please Her.

* * * * *

To be humiliated

Treated like the worthless object that you are.

To hear Her voice as it rips apart your very being.

Strips you of any pride, value, worth.

Strips you of all that you are.

Only then do you really exist.

* * * * *

To be penetrated

Force-fucked, so hard that you feel yourself split wide open and exposed to Her view.

With no respite, nowhere to hide.

That is what you want, slut. Recognize who you are, what you are.

A hole to be filled, nothing more.

This emptiness, an abyss of self-abnegation that you shamelessly expose to Her view.

* * * * *

To be suspended

Tied up, bound, hung from a simple rope, dangling there, waiting for Her touch.

Not knowing if She will come to you today, not knowing if She will grant you existence by virtue of Her very presence.

Waiting, hanging on Her every gesture, in agitated anticipation of Her voice.

Release.

* * * * *

To give yourself

Give yourself over, completely.

"Mistress."

The name sticks in your throat, threatening to destroy you, promising to save you.

Losing, yielding your will to Her.

Feeling the pleasure in the sacrifice, sensing the meaning in her arbitrary commands.

Only then are you confronted with your freedom, the contingency of your existence.

Only then are you alive to who you are.

Recognize this hole in your very being.