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So I was reading one of the bonus short stories included in the kindle edition of The Marketplace and I was once again struck by the author's ability to so fully express the pain and intense emotion of the unowned slave. I was also struck by the insight she offered into the master's mindset.
When I am not in service, it is sometimes excruciating to see others in service. The need to be of service, to be useful, can be overwhelming. It can also be desperately lonely and sad. I serve when and where I can to fill that hole, but part of my soul is still out there in the dark when I am not in service.
My best friend knows both my pain and his own. He is, as Grendel is in the short story, aware of the value of the service of the slave he has held from time to time. And as Grendel knows about himself and his ability to be the owner Chris needs, my best friend knows he is not the owner I need. It is a horrible place for both slave and master. To know that at any one moment, both could be what the other needs, but for the string of moments a lifetime is made of, neither is right for the other.
I know that The Marketplace is fiction...and unattainable fantasy. I'm not delusional. What I am is hopeful. Hopeful that some day I'll once again know the peace of a collar, the love in service, the blessing of being owned. I hope that these last few years have taught me to be a better servant. I hope I have learned that no part of who I am is to be withheld from an owner, including my sadism and skills as a top. I hope I have come to a place in my life where the ruthless obedience I live by can be used judiciously by an owner and cherished for the soul-bearing nature of such obedience.
For now, though, the lump in my throat tells me that I am still seeking that right owner and that my soul will not rest until I find the right situation, the right owner. Until then, I will keep working, keep learning, keep serving the community as I can.
When I am not in service, it is sometimes excruciating to see others in service. The need to be of service, to be useful, can be overwhelming. It can also be desperately lonely and sad. I serve when and where I can to fill that hole, but part of my soul is still out there in the dark when I am not in service.
My best friend knows both my pain and his own. He is, as Grendel is in the short story, aware of the value of the service of the slave he has held from time to time. And as Grendel knows about himself and his ability to be the owner Chris needs, my best friend knows he is not the owner I need. It is a horrible place for both slave and master. To know that at any one moment, both could be what the other needs, but for the string of moments a lifetime is made of, neither is right for the other.
I know that The Marketplace is fiction...and unattainable fantasy. I'm not delusional. What I am is hopeful. Hopeful that some day I'll once again know the peace of a collar, the love in service, the blessing of being owned. I hope that these last few years have taught me to be a better servant. I hope I have learned that no part of who I am is to be withheld from an owner, including my sadism and skills as a top. I hope I have come to a place in my life where the ruthless obedience I live by can be used judiciously by an owner and cherished for the soul-bearing nature of such obedience.
For now, though, the lump in my throat tells me that I am still seeking that right owner and that my soul will not rest until I find the right situation, the right owner. Until then, I will keep working, keep learning, keep serving the community as I can.
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