Service vs Suicide

The slave walks a fine line, don’t you think?

She may not wish destruction, but she must surely accept she sometimes takes to the dance-floor with it as a partner. She may not desire to be harmed or damaged, but there must be some kind of acknowledgement that, should she look over her shoulder, she may find such a beast snapping at her heels. Even those that do seek to be little more than grist to the mill, and such ones do exist as we all know, very few of them seek true oblivion but, again, it is there in threat, in a careless hand or lazy thought.

I know that whilst there are few who genuinely desire destruction, there are most certainly some who crave precisely that. Such girls tend to come in two varieties; those who understand, to some degree, why they feel as they do, and those that have no idea. They may not be numerous, though I believe the modern world is creating more and more each day, but they are there.

Milton once said ‘long is the way and hard, that out of Hell leads up to Light’ and I believe there are few of us who do not understand what those words mean on a personal level. But there is a flipside to even that coin because Hell is a personal place. For some, being slave is a refuge from life, from reality and from the sometimes unbearable burden of simply being themselves. Seeing something as heaven or hell is purely a matter of perception, as most things tend to be; one man’s meat is another man’s poison, so to speak. What others might look at and see as a blessing can be an intolerable burden to the one in possession of it.

And so sometimes what is sought is a reason to drop those burdens, to be put on a different path and made to walk it. And sometimes, even though the girl may ache to walk that path, she cannot admit to it and must be compelled to place one foot after the other. Sometimes she cannot even relinquish choice, cannot hand her destiny and fate to the man her being craves to serve and so choice must be taken from her, by whatever means necessary, in order that she embrace her true nature.

Very soon, a girl cannot function as a slave should without such stimulus, without what others would call ‘abuse’. And this shames and reduces her, both in her own eyes and the eyes of those she may trust with the truth of herself. When a mechanic relies on perception rather than justification, is it any wonder it should also be so influenced by the perception of others?

And because of this sense of rejection, the slave turns inward, locks herself and her thoughts away. And sometimes they lose the key, even to themselves, and then their mind turns on itself. The results can be anything from self-doubt to self-loathing to self-harm and every shade in between.

I believe there are many dominants who have had to deal with that mentality in another, one for whom the harshest torment and the most unrelenting sacrifice is given as willingly as a lover’s kiss. For them, such an excessive volume of thought and feeling and sensation is the only means by which the noise of simply existing can be drowned out. For them, such ferocity brings peace, like being in the eye of the hurricane; they crave that peace and so, therefore, will pay any price to achieve it. Add that into the slave’s exquisite desire to sacrifice herself to the demands of her master, and the power and control being offered can become intoxicating to him.

I think of this as ‘service or destruction’ because, to them, without the former the only choice that would bring any peace was the latter. Of course, the problem is that the more the master gives, the more they need to get the peace they crave, the familiar dilemma of any addict, any bleeding soul that finds even a moment’s peace.

But often the path that led them to Hell in the first place was just as long, just as hard. The fact is that Hell is a misstep away, a bad choice or decision sending us spinning into its unwelcome, voracious grasp. True enough but there must also be acknowledgement for self-destruction, for the desire to go to Hell because it feels preferable to Heaven. I’m sure that most of us have been called to redefine exactly what ‘rock-bottom’ means, haven’t we? Sometimes we believe we have hit our lowest ebb only to find out the floor we find ourselves on is little more than a ledge and that the void spirals down and away from us still.

Sometimes it just gets too much, doesn’t it? All that weight, all that pressure. Sometimes the only thing a slave wants to do is walk off the ledge and see just how far there is left to go. At least down there you cannot hear or see the mocking light of Heaven far above you, teasing and tormenting you.

Service, as those who know what being a slave truly demands of you, is not a commitment given lightly or easily or blindly. To serve is to give everything, without restraint or hesitation, to learn always and put that knowledge to use in serving even one fraction better. It is the endless quest to create perfection for the one she serves because he and only he is worth such labours.

His desires and needs consume her, fill her, often replacing or evolving her own. From that comes the fallacy that the slave serves blindly. Whilst I have heard many submissives protest that they have thoughts of their own, can make their own decisions, I have yet to hear a true slave say such a thing. Intelligence, desire, fascination and an endless desire to improve are pre-requisites for the role and no man who wishes a slave would want one that comes without such things. It’s ironic that those who say such things are usually the first to join the swollen line of hypocrites, giving their service on a whim and a prayer and then lamenting the manner in which they were treated.

But devotion has a price. As she takes his wants and dreams and hopes, learning of them and learning to provide them, so he takes her care and well-being into his hands and they become symbiotic. One is lost without the other and while ostensibly they each have their place, they are in truth on a more even footing than most will ever know. Without the other, they are truly lost. Again, the common ‘not a doormat’ laments of the clueless is revealed for the idiocy it is when compared to such a depth of relationship.

But where does self-destruction come into this glass-fragile idyllic world? Where does the need to leap from the ledge and plunge into the fathomless depths fit? We know it’s there; some of us have felt it and probably more of us than would admit it.

How does a master love a girl who will not love herself? How does he keep safe a girl who has no regard for her own well-being? How does he value a girl that sees herself as worthless? How does he build up a girl who seeks to be nothing but ashes in a shell? It’s not that she is prepared to accept such an outcome or that she believes it necessary even; it is simply that she wants it, needs it and, in her world, often deserves it.

It is a truth that the ones most vulnerable to damage usually find themselves in the hands of those who seek to do damage. Whilst they may find themselves in the care of one who would do well by them, such a girl is usually beyond their understanding. They cannot take joy from a girl that doesn’t show it or feel it; such a mindset cannot be trained or disciplined, improved or enlightened. The will to learn isn’t there because what is there to learn for such a girl? Her answer will be ‘yes’; she seems to serve blindly but in reality her eyes are wide, wide open. Just ask, or even better demand, and she will provide it, willing and aware.

And what usually happens to the master when he finds such a creature is that he feels inspired beyond himself. He thrills at the thoughts she inspires in him, the manner in which she easily brings forth the beast inside him, the beast that is inside every man. She becomes meat to the red-eyed beast within him and inspires an almost primordial sense of power, power that he knows is irredeemable and cruel and corrupt.

And so he usually seeks to bathe in that power, to wield it and benefit from it. He reverts back to the ‘see, want, take’ mentality of the savage and such a base and basic thing is intoxicating to the domesticated modern mind. It is as taboo as it is delicious.

So she feeds and nourishes him and her reward is simply that he feasts upon her, mentally and physically. She is who and what he desires and that is all she needs to know in order to crave to sate his ever-increasing hunger and thirst. The more she offers then the more he demands and the more he demands then the more she offers. Round and round, the snake eating its own tail.

Service or destruction? And consider that sometimes they can become interchangeable, that it isn’t so much ‘one or the other’ but ‘one and the other’. She will fall and she will fall hard and she will fall for him, only for him, always for him. She will do so with a breathless passion as destructive as it is addictive as it is profound. And there, in that place, she will look at him and see that just as he has demanded of her in her serving him, so she has demanded of him every time she provided for him.

Because sometimes it is the blackest of mirrors that give the clearest reflection.