To be her thing.
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, Maitresse 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 Maitresse understands. And she does not judge. All she demands, requires, is your absolute submission.
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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. But neither do those who write their BDSM stories on this site, 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 Maitresse 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?
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