Little Ruminations on BDSM – Being called a “Fake”

In my BDSM life no four words piss me off more than these.

“So, you’re a fake.”

These are usually used when, while getting to know someone, I talk about how I don’t go to munches or fet-nights. I mean, don’t get me wrong I used to. In my twenties. When I was younger, and everything was new and exciting. But it’s not anymore.

These days I hunger for the BDSM home life. A good meal, a roaring fire, a great movie on the telly, cuddled into my Miss, my pet cuddled up to me.

I find joy in BDSM being subtle. A glance that shows what I want. The look that shows what they need.

My hope is not to only gratify my base desires (no matter how fun they are), but to also show my pet that she is loved, adored, wanted, safe, protected.

So no I’m not interested in going to a fetish club.  After all when I have got a femme-sub…

I don’t get off on training my sub in public, it’s a private act, between, her and I.

I don’t enjoy being surround by a crowd of horny people slobbering over me, my Miss, my pet.

I don’t enjoy watching people who haven’t a clue, showing off, and only revealing, (to those who know what they’re doing), that they actually haven’t a clue.

Hell I don’t like going to bars in the evening. Bars, you know where you sit, and drink socially. Why in the fuck would I, someone who is to say the least a home-bird, want, or be comfortable sharing the single most intimate part of my love life with total strangers?

Why should I have to?

Well I don’t, and I won’t. When I again have a pet, if I ever again have a pet, she will be loved, adored, wanted, safe, protected, and her submission treasured. I don’t need to prove that I’m real to anyone but my Miss, and her.

And you know what, if you have a problem with that, fuck you! The only thing fake about me is my hair color!

(End rant! Guess what was said to me this week?)

A transgirls letters to Satan Claws. 2011.

There came a night when Amanda Harper finally suffered that personality split which had been so long threatened by her rather odd psyche. But rather than all three personalities fighting for control, or walking out onto the street to orchestrate a revolution, leading to her inevitable advancement to the title of Empress of Mankind. They instead decided to each write a letter to Satan Claws. These are the transcripts of those letters, which have been preserved as a terrible warning to the future.

(Satan Claws, for those without a true understand of how our world works, is a six-foot tall anthropomorphic vixen. She took over responsibility from Santa Claus for rewarding the transgirls, futagirls, and kinky people of the world for being very, very naughty about 20 years ago. Frankly Santa needed the help, after the centuries of trying to make sense of what the less vanilla parts of society considered naughty or nice in the end caused him to have a minor nervous breakdown.)

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Letter 1: Slavegirl Amanda.

Dear Satan Claws,

I’ve been a very good girl this year. I did all my chores with a minimum of grumbling, and I only told my Mistress that she “hits like a girl!” a few dozen times. I’ve made sure to dress in lots of short skirts, tight tops, and lots of very heavy, skanky eye make-up, just to make my Mistress happy, of course. I’ve done my best to be obedient, polite, charming, and appropriately slutty. And I like to think I’ve made my Mistress proud of me. Apart maybe from when I dressed up in that onesy, and insisted on calling her “Mommy.” But I think the spanking I got from her more than wipes out any naughtiness from that situation.

In short I’ve been a really good slavegirl, and I think I deserve a reward.

So for XXX-Mas I’d like a shiny new steel slave collar, because Vanilla Amanda may have eaten too much chocolate this year, and she’s made my old one just a little snug.  I’d like a pretty new corset to wear for my Mistress, to make her smile. I’d also like a new tattoo somewhere on my body. And if you could have a word with the kinky-stork I’d like my Mistress Carnelian to find a pretty, submissive, obedient, and not completely sex obsessed  slaveboy to make her happier. Though admittedly the last one might be a bit of a stretch in Ireland, even for you.

Thank you in advance,

Slavegirl Amanda.

P.S. I’ll make sure to leave out a snort of that latex flavoured vodka you liked so much last year, and the customary extra strong condoms for you to use with the ponyboys, and ponygirls who pull your sleigh when you’ve finished work.

Letter 2: Miss Amanda.

With respects to, and for the attention of Satan Claws,

Right, I know that snivelling wretch Slavegirl Amanda already sent you a letter, and that since we inhabit the same body we’re only getting one present. So you can just ignore her. Come on we’re both dominas here. We both know how the world works. We get the goodies, and the pets get to play with them if we’re ever done.

Now I’ve been a very naughty lesbian domina this year. I spent the Summer making lots of men walk face first into lampposts by wearing low-cut tops, and the good type of slutty make-up. I purposely replied to only the first message, and then completely ignored hundreds of return online messages from men on dating websites, thus adding immeasurably to the average level of male frustration in the world. I wrote some pretty good extreme BDSM erotica (see attached file). I didn’t pine over every single  submissive woman I met on the street, I only pined after the one of those this year. I made sure I was ravishing, and worshipable whenever I left the house. And most importantly I was a viciously protective force of nature for any and all submissives who needed me to be.

So let’s be clear on this, I was the good type of naughty. I deserve that my demands met. So make sure they are, or it’ll be your furry arse over my knee, and I won’t use any of the gentle stuff on it.

1: I want you to stop Vanilla Amanda from eating all the chocolate on Earth. Seriously, just stop her, I want to have a definable a waistline again.

2: I want a thrice goddess damned little one of my own to possess, and lovingly abuse. This BDSM drought better damn well stop, or there’s gonna be trouble.

3: Leather. Lots, of, leather!

4: A futagirl of my own. That bastard Dimitrys has filled my mind with his characters Peach and Meryl for years now, and now I want one of my own. Come on fair’s fair. I could easily point one out to you. if you need a hint of what I like…

5: I demand that Slavegirl Amanda be moved to a more appropriate body, ie any other body. Her whining worry about Mistress Carnelian is really getting on my tits.

6: Oh, failing that could you just give her Mistress Carnelian that slaveboy. It’d make her smile, and Slavegirl Amanda considerably less annoying.

Thank you in advance,

Miss Amanda.

P.S. I hope you found a good use for the Deep Heat coated cactus I left out for you last year. But of course if you don’t bring me what I want this year, well, I’m sure that you know where you can shove it.

Letter 3: Vanilla Amanda.

My dearest Satan Claws,

I’m not going to try and pretend that I’ve been good or bad naughty this year. I know that there’s no damn use trying to convince you, not with that system of surveillance satellites you have in orbit. Or with the way you have every futagirl’s phone tapped, email hacked, and snail-mail preread. Or for that matter when I know for a fact that you’ve had GPS tracking devices secretly installed somewhere in all of our bodies. No I’ll just say that this year I was me, but good and hard.

I’m not going to ask for physical gifts. I have everything I want. But what I would like to ask for is to not be known as Vanilla Amanda anymore. I’m not frikkin’ vanilla. For frik sake, I’m a male-to-hermaphrodite dominant, who chooses to submit. How goddess damned vanilla could I actually be? Even the most vanilla parts of my personality demand to be clothed in designer leather, and latex.  So could you please, please tell those other two pains that share my mind to stop calling me Vanilla? After all chocolate is far more my flavour.

So that’s all I want, although if you were to…insist on giving a reward to me I’d love that tattoo Slavegirl Amanda mentioned. The futagirl Miss Amanda mentioned would be welcomed with open leg…well anyway, and seriously our Mistress Carnelian could really use an actually good slaveboy.

Your servant,

Amanda, not Vanilla Amanda, just plain ole Amanda.

P.S. I’d watch out for that vodka the Slavegirl’s planning to leave out for you. She has lustful, calculating look on her face the whole time. So I’m pretty sure she’s been slipping roofies into it.

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Satan Claws looked up from the trio of letters on her desk and rolled her eyes. “Every damned year!” standing up off of the slaveboy who had been providing the service of being her seat, she grabbed her leather great-coat, and headed for the door. “Oi Claus you fat, bearded bastard. Letters on my desk, you can deal with them this year you git. I’ve had enough of that weirdo, I’m going for a drink.”

BDSM how it could/should be – The language barrier.

In my life, like virtually all BDSM folk, I spend most of my time in the vanilla world, and only some in the BDSM one. Flickering back and forth between being Amanda, to being Lady Harper with relative ease. However over the years I’ve come to realise that one of the barriers which stand in the way of the vanilla world truly understanding the nature of our relationships, is language.

I’m not speaking here of the in-house terminology we use to describe specific acts, flogging, caning, clamping, cupping etc. There are plenty of vanilla world subcultures who have their own languages, just listen to the average rock climber speak about their sporting life some day. Rather I am referring to the words we use in affection between each other, in what are for us nothing more than loving day-to-day relationships.

Just think about it. We speak with affection, respect, and often enough both love and awe about our slaves. However the vanilla world associates that word most readily with humanities history of forced enslavement. With human beings bought, sold, and worked to death. The same word. A vastly different meaning, and leading to a profound miscommunication. After all how to explain that our slaves are our most treasured companions, lovers, and possessions? How to explain that they choose to be ours, and that, despite what the title may imply in a historical context, they retain amongst other things the right to walk away. How to explain any of that when the same word has two such radically different meanings for the two cultures?

But  I believe these miscommunications occur most frequently when we dominants use our own personal pet names for our submissive equals. While the vanilla world has all sorts of acceptable terms of endearment which transfer freely between the communities like sweetheart, hunny, and darling, vanilla people often tend to be very unaccepting of the other words we often use. Words which are perfectly normal expressions of love in our life, but which come with an extra-large heap of baggage in the vanilla world. For example, when I witness a loving dominant call their slave “My little whore.”, what I coming from the same lifestyle hear is, “my loving partner.” A vanilla person with little, or no BDSM knowledge however is far more likely to hear in this nothing more than verbal abuse. A term of loving endearment in one world, a potentially grave insult in the other.

In my own life I have had a slavegirl who I often called “My pretty little slut.” In the vanilla world I would have likely been looked at with disgust for calling her this. But to me I was telling her I loved her, I respected her, I adored her, and was thanking her for choosing to be mine. I was telling her that to me she was beautiful. I was referring to her ability to make herself seem small whenever she felt the need to, this despite being well over six feet tall. I was thanking her for the knots she would, willingly, and enthusiastically put herself into to please me. And yet, to the world I spend most of my time walking through, I was being verbally abusive to a woman I loved deeply.

Miscommunication, tarnishes our way of living in love to the rest of the world around us. Paints those of us who live proudly as dominants as heartless, unloving, abusive, or all too often at best cold. Paints those of us who are submissive as doormats, damaged, abused, broken, or takes the literal vanilla world meaning of slut, or whore, and then simply applies it directly.

It’s easy to see why this happens. When you come right down to it words quite simply are powerful tools. The right word in the right ear at the right moment, and the world is saved. Disaster is averted.

But the thing is, words don’t belong to just one group. They don’t belong only to the majority. They belong to everyone, and they do evolve with time. They can be taken from one group who use a word for hatred, and turned by the takers into an expression of purest love.

This of course does not exist only between the BDSM/vanilla worlds. Anyone who lives what is perceived to be an “alternative” lifestyle will often run into this. Some poly people, myself included, speak proudly of being in love with multiple partners, slutty if you will. It’s just a word. It fits pretty well in the discussion. It can be said with pride, but when said with the wrong inflection it can be a damning commentary on another human beings chosen way to live their life. The same can be true of those who work in the adult entertainment industries, those who write some of the more, shall we say interesting commercially successful erotica. Are you seeing a pattern?

Those who exist in a vanilla world often do not understand those who simply can’t share that life. Those who in another age would have probably been considered of loose sexual character. Sometimes this lack of understanding has its source in fear, sometimes it comes from pure unreasoned bigotry. But in most cases I believe it’s down to the lack of a truly shared language.

Most, if not all of the alternative communities share a common trait, they’re seen by the outside world purely in a sexual context. Not for the loving environments that they can be, and often are. After all surely the world is a better place, that there are people in it who melt when their lover cups their chin, and before kissing them speak softly into their ear the words, “I love my little whore.”

Now if only we could get the word out to the vanilla world that sometimes their most unpleasant terms, can be turned into the sweetest most romantic words that can ever be uttered. That like the beauty in a piece of music, the words of love are ultimately interpreted by the heart of the listener.

BDSM How it could/should be – The Mistress Alone.

Sometimes it happens. No screw that. Usually it happens. The Mistress finds herself unworshipped, and undesired. What in any other sort of life would be simply called, alone. But a Mistress can’t be simply alone. Usually my BDSM articles are kind of generalised advice, based on a lifetimes worth of personal observations. Then towards the end I use a story from my life to put what I’ve been writing about into a nice simple to understand context.  Usually. Not this time.  This article is purely about what I am experiencing right now. About having been someones world, then suddenly not.  About being a Mistress alone, and let me tell you this to begin with, it’s horrific.

Where to begin, when there’s no clear beginning…with a description I guess. I am Amanda Harper. See me there? That’s right I’m the nearly six-foot tall, buxom, busty girl with the facial piercing, the tattoo and the hair that was blue, but is now purple. I’m 33 and all of my adult life I’ve believed two things more strongly than almost anything else. No-one loves more deeply than a good Mistress, except maybe, just maybe a good Slavegirl, or a parent but that’s sort of obvious.

I don’t value money, or things.  They’re just a way of keeping score. And they can be taken away from you. I believe we only truly own two things, our bodies and our feelings. Well bodies start to depreciate pretty much from day one, but feelings, they’re valuable, precious, priceless even. So you won’t be at all surprised to hear that love is the most important thing in the world to me.

I love a woman. An amazing woman. She’s quite a bit older than me, and she saved my life. Literally, saved my life. When we met I had just started to transition. I was malnourished, emotionally shattered, lost, and scared. Surrounded by friends, but still alone. That woman gave me a home, home is where you’re loved without condition. She would one day become my Mistress, some day I hope to be collared by her. Belonging to her gives me the anchor that lets me turn my emotional bow into the currents that would otherwise capsize me, taking me down, probably never to recover. Belonging to her makes me feel what I hope every good Slavegirl feels, lovingly valued.

But my submission to my love is only half of who I am. There’s my other half.

I was loved by a woman. An amazing woman. She wasn’t all that much older than me and I have to believe I saved her life. When we met she needed someone to show her how to live long enough to achieve her life’s dream. She was lost, and scared. She one day became my slavegirl, leashed though never collared. Her belonging to me made me feel what I think every good Mistress truly wishes for, loving fulfillment. Then we ended, our relationship had run its course, her life’s dream had been achieved, and it was now time for her to move on and live her life.

It happens. It’s life. It fucking sucks.

So I am now simply Amanda Harper, slavegirl.  The Mistress has been packed away until she’s needed again, if she is ever needed again. Maybe it’s better this way. No potential for hassle for my Mistress from my submissive, no disruptions to life. But it still feels very much like some of the colors have been removed from the world.

I’m two people, in everything. I’m Amanda the woman, while also being Amanda the hermaphrodite. I’m Amanda the slavegirl, but I’m also Amanda the dominant, even if that aspect has been folded up and put aside for a time. When I deny part of who I am, the world around me starts to dull, echo, life stops being quite so vibrant. I’ve come to terms with that part of life, after all it’s impossible for life to always be filled with vibrancy and adventure.

I love being a good Slavegirl. That’s what my Mistress deserves and it makes us both happy. But I’m starting to desperately miss the time when my dominant side was loved by someone. Not least because in my BDSM philosophy a Mistress without a submissive is just a girl with some very odd skill-sets. Very, very odd in some cases.

So some of you are wondering why I don’t just go out and grab a new Slavegirl. Well, while submissive people, are frankly, dime a dozen. Good submissives are rare. Slaves are rarer still and good slaves are like chicken teeth. Add in often being house bound due to seemingly unending ill-health and…well you have heart-break, that never seems to end, with no end in sight.

The Mistress alone. The title of this article is a lie. There’s no Mistress alone here. Just a Slavegirl who dreams of again someday being something else, a loving Mistress as well as an adoring Slavegirl. But that’s something I, or any dominant without a submissive, might never get to be again. So instead it’s time for the girding of loins and embracing all the other joys life provides.

Cupcakes anyone?

BDSM how it could/should be – The War at Home.

In my previous two posts “The Good Mistress” and “The Good Slavegirl” we’ve covered a lot of ground. But at the most basic level, we have learned that slavegirls are submissive and pretty obviously serve Mistresses, who are dominant and equally obviously, like to be served. But we haven’t really touched on how exactly do they live?

As it always does Hollywood provides an answer. It is patently obvious that the Mistress spends her entire day, dressed from head to toe in sexy leather or latex outfits. Existing to be waited on hand and foot by an equally provocatively though usually, far more minimally dressed slavegirl. The slavegirl of course, lives totally at the whim of the Mistress, who she worships and adores above all others. Oh and of course they are openly living this leather clad life for all and sundry to see. After all, to hell with what the neighbours think.

Bloody Hollywood. Somehow they always manage to mix dramatically unequal measures of accuracy with U.S. military intelligence grade inaccuracy. From our previous explorations of this lifestyle by now one thing should be quite obvious. That being, yes of course the average slavegirl and especially the really good ones do live to serve their Mistress and make her happiness their central concern. But that is about as close to the Hollywood image as reality usually approaches.

The reality of Dominant/submissive (D/s) couples, is that the ones that work really well are usually almost invisible to the rest of the world. There I’ve said it, letting slip the greatest secret of the BDSM lifestyle. It’s not always about shock and awe, it’s actually far more often about subtlety.

Take a walk down any street in your capital city, indeed any city. Guess what? In all likelihood you will have from time to time, walked straight past a D/s couple and never known it. Real life D/s couples keep the leather, latex, whips, chains and leashes for their private life. After all aside from anything else, in reality most people do care what the neighbours think.

So on the street our D/s couple will usually look just like any other couple. There probably are a few tells, little signs to let you know that they are in fact in a power exchange relationship. If you know what to look for that is. A subtle piece of jewellery around the submissives neck, perhaps with a lock integrated into it. Or an anklet that can only be removed by a key or in extremis by amputation. Perhaps a well designed and drawn tattoo, that in its own totally unsubtle but subtle way announces one of the pair to be a Mistress or a slavegirl. Maybe the slavegirl permanently walks a half step behind her Mistress, thus declaring to those who can read the signs, that the woman before her is She who rules her universe.

That’s the thing about D/s couples who take their path seriously. They value subtlety for a simple reason. Anyone trying to maintain the hardcore 24/7 dominance and submission of Hollywood’s fevered, testosterone poisoned imagination will quickly burn out and drift apart.

Of course that describes how our D/s couple might act in public. Walking down the street, on their way to do those mundane things every couple has to do. Shop for groceries, return a DVD, buy an extra tub of strawberry flavoured lube. How they live at home, when they’re safely behind closed doors can be a very different story.

At home never doubt that the Mistress will rule to roost in the most definitive way. The slavegirl may get to make minor decisions but it’s the Mistress who will decide if there’s redecorating to do. If a new car is needed. If the playroom, with its dark red walls and all the lovely leather toys for hitting people in deliciously naughty ways needs to be cleaned, from floor to ceiling with a toothbrush. At home all that careful subtlety often slips away for hours at a time.

But that does not mean that their life at home will be disproportionately hard for the slavegirl. Most D/s couples, contrary to the popular image, will share the day-to-day housework. After all everyone has an area where they excel and some people, even the very best of slavegirls will have things they physically can’t do. Never think, that just because a slavegirl has given away control of the major areas of her life to someone she adores, that she has been transformed by an act dark sexual magic, into some kind of mere drudge. Useful for nothing more than housework and sex.

What does the Mistress bring to the table? She provides her slavegirl with emotional and physical security, making it possible for the slavegirl to be the person she dreams of being. The Mistress also provides the sure and certain knowledge that someone in the world values her slavegirl above rubies or gold. She gives the slavegirl the benefit of her experience of the world. She gives the slavegirl unending encouragement to achieve anything she dreams of. Though the last two are in the healthiest of D/s relationships, very much a two-way thing.

As a couple they probably do play with pretty leather toys. Yes and the slavegirl probably ends up bound, gagged, bruised and strap-oned a couple of times each week. But equally they will definitely curl up on the couch and watch telly together. Listen to music together. Go to the cinema, their favourite bars and clubs together. They are kinky lovers, but most of all they are each of them a partner to one another.

The thing about D/s couples that work well together is that they are almost always Dominant and submissive equals. Neither the lesser to the other.

I will illustrate with a little information from my own life (this won’t be a constant theme in these posts. But where I can best explain through my own experience I will). I am a Mistress, I think that’s pretty clear by now to everyone who reads my blog. However, most might not realise that I am also a slavegirl. My Mistress is a wonderful older woman, who I simply cannot imagine not submitting to. We are a D/s couple. However we are also extremely good partners. Dominant and submissive equals.

We share the housework. We share caring for our doggy. We look after one another when we feel bad in any way and we always listen to what the other has to say. So what makes us different from vanilla couples? Simply that I have chosen to take my Mistresses direction when it pertains to anything vitally important in our lives.

To give a very relevant example, I am an easily encouraged but very ethical slut. I love women and fall for them, with the same subtle grace as an elephant tumbling off a cliff. Of course this means that I sometimes make really, truly awful errors of judgement. At least where hot, pierced and tattooed bisexual girls are concerned. So long ago my Mistress and I agreed that she would have a veto over my…extra-curricular activities. Not because she is jealous, after all she dates men whenever she wants to and undoubtedly, will have other slaves both male and female again before too long. But this rule came into being because she hates it when my heart is broken.

That makes two of us.

So at the end of this what have we learned? Simply that the D/s partnerships that will last the tests of time, are the ones that are on a slow boil. After all in reality once you’ve experienced it who really wants to spend all day everyday wrapped in latex, that stuff can give you a real killer wedgie and talk about body odour. Yuck.

BDSM how it could/should be – The Good Slavegirl

In the first post in this series of blogs I spoke about some of the aspects that go into turning a dominant woman into a good Mistress. In this issue it’s time to turn the table right around and speak about what it takes and what it means to be a good slave. As before the terms I use in these articles are not hardened definitions and should be used more as a guide to your own experience. The simple fact being that every person who enters the world of kink always reinvent it to some degree to suit themselves.

The image most people have of a Slavegirl probably starts and ends with a beautiful young woman, she’s wearing anything from a flawlessly pressed skirt suit (very short skirt with stockings and no panties of course) to a skin-tight latex catsuit. Can’t you see her now? Kneeling at her Mistresses side. The Mistress holding a leash that connects to the Slavegirl’s collar. You can add to this image that the Slavegirl has a rapacious sexual appetite, wants to be displayed publicly in the most humiliating ways and wants nothing more from life than to be serving at her Mistresses whims.

In reality for many real life Slavegirls being in that position is their idea of Heaven on Earth and is often precisely where they aspire to be. And strangely the public image of what being a slavegirl actually contains some elements of the truth. Though in reality Slavegirls come in every age group and every body type imaginable. They usually find the reality of waiting on their Mistresses every whim 24/7 in the Hollywood fashion boring as hell. Oh and the really good ones are rarely all that young.

One of the symbols of submission a handmade slavegirl's leash, complete with the heart string she tugs on.

But regardless the image above does almost nothing to fill in the blanks of  what goes into the making of a Slavegirl. Or more to the point what makes a Slavegirl into a truly good example of the breed.

Being a Slavegirl rather obviously starts from a mentality of submissiveness. The concept of submissiveness gets a an awful lot of bad press. It’s seen as being weak, bendable, pliable, easily led. Being submissive is usually seen as somehow lesser than being dominant. And yes sometimes for some people being submissive in nature is a bad, even dangerous thing. Just think of any victim of abuse who finds themselves accepting it all as simply their lot in life. This is unfortunately a very realistic example of the dangerous side of being a submissive individual.

However in the BDSM context the stronger member of any Dominant/submissive (D/s) pairing will usually be the submissive, the Slave.

Strength is very much at the heart of what makes a good Slavegirl. It takes immense strength of character and even greater strength of will to freely accept the orders of another. To do her Mistresses bidding even when what she may want could well be the very last thing the Slavegirl wants. It takes strength of will to accept and endure a punishment when it is deserved. More still to accept that when the punishment is over that the issue which led to it is now in the past and dead. But it also takes strength for the Slavegirl to stay with her Mistress even when life for one reason or another isn’t so much fun knowing full well that she can leave whenever she wishes.

A Slavegirl has to be brave. Courageous almost to a fault in some ways. If as a Slavegirl you are lucky enough to have met a good Mistress she is going to spend a great deal of time training you. While often that training will be composed of simpler things like learning her perception of proper table manners, it will also sometimes involve doing things that are physically difficult, even painful. Sometimes that training will involve skirting the very edges of a Slavegirls phobias with the intent of helping her to find a safe way past the fears which limit her as a person. Even mundane acts (in a BDSM sense) such as being flogged or caned can take immense courage. A lot the first time but even more so later when the Slavegirl knows precisely what is to come.

A good Slavegirl contrary to what most people might think, including unfortunately a great many Dominants, needs to be a bit mouthy. The little mouse of a girl who sits in silence when she is challenged will seldom be a good Slavegirl. Though in time with caring guidance she may well grow into one. When she has accepted a collar from her Mistress she then becomes her Mistresses greatest partisan. She really should be expected to stand up for her Mistress when needed even when doing so scares her.

From all of this what can we work out? The Slavegirl is of course submissive but she is a person with a strong core, she should be brave and be loud enough to speak up when it’s needed. As her Mistresses property she should, indeed must keep her Mistresses wishes foremost in her mind during her day to day living. As her Mistresses partisan she should be the first to defend her Mistresses reputation and honour.

But these merely describe a common garden variety Slavegirl, what is it that turns the common into the exceptional?

A short story will perhaps illustrate what is needed. A Mistress and Slavegirl with whom I was once acquainted moved to Canada to get married and settle down. Shortly after they decided to adopt an at the time unborn baby. This baby was still snug in the womb of a woman who in addition to having no immediate family of her own was also in the late stages of a terminal illness.

The day arrived when the baby was to come home and the Slavegirl, due to the Mistresses work schedule had to go alone to the hospital to take their new child home. When she arrived the babies biological mother was saying a very tearful final goodbye to her baby girl.

Well to cut a long story short the Slavegirl rang her Mistress and after lambasting her for ten minutes she took both the baby and her mother home.

That Slavegirl and that story is a wonderful example of what makes the difference. Of what makes a Slavegirl a truly good Slavegirl.

From it you can see that while a Slavegirl thinks of her Mistress and her BDSM family (her Mistress and  slave-sisters/brothers where applicable) a good Slavegirl’s thoughts go beyond that. She has the moral strength to do what’s right even if it means going toe to toe with her Mistress when she knows she has to. She has the personal strength to stand by her decisions and is honourable in her dealings with those she can lend aid to.

To me being the Good Slavegirl is much like being a Good Mistress. It’s a way of viewing the world and your place in it. Yes a Good Slavegirl, indeed any Slavegirl will be part lover, part confidant, part handmaid and often enough a living breathing sex toy to boot. But the Good Slavegirl, the one every domina worth her salt dreams of owning is also an honourable, ethical creature. The submissive woman whom you could willingly entrust the fate of a world to, because you know in the end she will act in the best interests of all and make you only prouder to be the possessor of her submissive soul.