I asked Master THE QUESTION tonight. The one that every slave at one time or another wants desperately to ask and always thinks about, but very rarely puts into words:
‘What would happen if I didn’t want to be a slave anymore?’
I already knew the answer, but I just wanted to see whether the answer had changed at all in the past three plus years.
‘You’d be leaving this house.’
Nope. It definitely appears that three years of sharing a life together hasn’t changed what Master wants one iota.
Which is comforting in some ways and disturbing in others. Comforting, in that I really need him to be a rock for me as far as this is concerned now because I’m kind of teetering on a cliff and disturbing, in that a part of me was hoping he was ready to move on and do the ‘normal’ thing.
I’m really ambivalent about things right now. If I was religious, I’d say that I was having a crisis of faith, but I’m not, so the only thing I can say is that thinking about this stuff while deeply in the middle of plague time is a very, very bad idea.
I often think about what I’d be doing if I had never gone down this slavery path. I wonder if I would be happy. I wonder if I would be wondering what things were like on the other side. I wonder if my life would be less complicated had I never gone looking for ‘kidnapping’ stories on the net when I was bored on a particularly low Friday night which got me into this in the first place.
I guess I’m at that age where you start to think about things. You think about whether you should be doing what everyone else is doing i.e. buying a house, settling down, starting a family, because you’re still young enough that you could start again, but too old to wait any longer.
I’ll admit I felt a sort of warm glow being back with my family doing the ‘normal stuff’. I even enjoyed the child-minding duties I did and I really didn’t miss my slavery one iota. Of course, I wasn’t away from it for that long that I felt the loss and, of course, I was wearing my collar and rings and talking to Master 2 or 3 times a day, everyday so there wasn’t anything to miss anyway.
I think about my future all the time. I think about the sobering fact that this can’t last forever and I wonder what will happen when I’m older and it’s too late to do anything else.
I don’t know the answer to any of my questions and I don’t know which ‘side of the fence’ I belong on. I don’t know whether the other side is better than the one I’m on now, or whether the other side will always look better no matter which side I’m on.
All I know is the now and the fact that I am a slave.
That’s what I am.