Compulsion

originally posted June 15, 2005

I wonder sometimes what compels people.

What compels a fellow to dismiss another man’s discipline of a slave? You cut their rations to hone their focus, to remind them of their place, and another fellow feeds them. He decides he knows what is best. Does he think his coddling really helps her? Does he not understand that I will starve the bitch if necessary? If I gained but one glimmer, one sliver of a notion that she encouraged him to break her discipline, I would do just that.

What of the fellow who soothes and reassures a slave that he respects her personhood, that the collar means nothing to him? That she needn’t defer or bow to him? Does he think his petting and cooing does her any good? Does he not know that I will increase the strength of her binds, that I will not tolerate the slightest lapse of her discipline after he is gone? Does he not know how difficult it will be for her to resume the exacting measure of obedience I require?

I understand that fellows enjoy women, even slave women, for more than their bodies. It can be stimulating just to speak with them and listen to their thoughts and ideas. I know, too, that women are manipulative beasts and will push the boundaries of their discipline if they think for a moment no one is watching. Does anyone think, truly, that I do not tend the women collared at the throat to my ever-lengthening chain?

It goes beyond even slaves.

How does a fellow ever get to the point of raising his hand to another fellow’s free companion? At best, I would think, you might bind a recalcitrant free woman and leave her discipline to the man she is contracted to. If there is any fellow out there who believes I am hesitant to lay the kurt to the Lady Jenny’s ass, they are sorely mistaken. No matter how hard another fellow strikes or kicks her, she fears far more what I will do to her if I am displeased. At least she’d better. She has been beaten or restrained as much or more than any slave on my chain and it will continue to be that way each and every time she steps out of line. She knows it and respects it. Her indulgences are scarcely more than the slaves I own. She was not even born on this world, but she respects her place. A part of her, I suspect, is grateful that I keep her in line. With or without the ‘help’ of others, I will continue to do so.

As for my business, I worked hard to let a woman called Trinidad achieve a profitable, if modest success before snatching it away from her. I’ve continued to work hard to build upon and improve what she’s started. It is mine now. By contract and by tireless, continued effort, it is mine. I do not wonder, in this regard, what compels people to try and take it.

I simply will not let them.