First

There is a violent storm brewing in the center of my brain. I am discontent. I am tired of being that slave. My heart pounds in my chest to remind me I am still alive but often I feel like a cardboard cut out of my former self. I have been allowing myself to be blind to the idea of truly being Mastered. Sure I am a slave. I serve, I beg, I fuck, hell I even dance. But I am not Mastered. Im tired. I pissed off and frankly I feel a little violent. I want to lash out and men and demand they recognize me for who and what I am. I want to be known as the slave Kamaria. The woman who wooed the judges at the dance contest at the Se'Kara fair and won first place along with another slave. Tied.. though told by several persons who watched that Mine was better. The passion that inspired that dance.. I want to be known for it! I am tired of being that fuckin slave. The one people feel is safe because I kneel quietly in the corner and say " yes Master " and " Thank you Master " and beg to serve and such. I dont want to be safe. I want to be cherished and fought for and relished. I want to be owned, and not by a man that leaves me in the care of another so he can collect money while I wallow in wait. I hate it! I wish you could understand how frustrating it is. He told me he loved me and sent me to serve in a paga den and disapeared. I am so used to this.. I am sick. I look around myself. I see what it seamed to be like for others and it makes me want to kill something. It's stupid to be angry. But even the man who rents me has no idea who I am or what I feel. What I want or need. How I should be trained or treated. He lets me run wild. I cant understand it. I won. I danced my ass off ( Thanks Hazel! ) and I won.. but there was no one to revel in my victory with. The night I won.. I went to my furs in camp and cried. Every day since.. not one word from the one who rents me, the ones I share a camp with, no one. Fuck it. I give up.

differences and sameness.

I have been in the possession of Zeb Bronson for many many moons now. I am just a rented slave for the use of his den, being as my owner is busy flying back and forth between the Voltai and Ar near constantly. More often then not I am sent out into Ar with some form of advertizement attached to my body to bring clients to his den. It has been a long time since I have seen my owner. It as been an even longer time since I have felt like someone, instead of somewhere's slave. I have been on Gor for sooo long, I can hardly remember my village as the Scribe likes to call it. The short excursion to my former planet with Zeb and the two women I call my friends, Skirt and Madeline was not to the earth I remember. In the end.... I had a nervous break down of sorts and begged to be returned to Gor. Call it Stockholm syndrome.. call it what you like.. I didnt fit in at the former village any longer. Speaking of the Scribe. I think he has noticed my antsiness. In all these years I have known him. His and my relationship has been a kind of hands off respectful observance of eachother. An occasional serve of food and an often long distance appericiation of the man. I suppose I would call him friend if a Man and a slave could legitimately be such, he looks out for me I think, and I him if called for. Well resently I have been more so drawn to seek his company. I think because in some place inside of me I think he is safe. Not safe in a " i wont kill you or beat you for being an idiot, slave" kind of way but I do not think he is interested in me outside of our occasional meetings and I will never love someone like I do Tarm. Not even Mallick has that much love from me and I love him, very much.. just in a different way. Reguardless.. The Scribe owns Madeline.. and I would not want to impede on the perfection of their bond. Sure.. I serve the Scribe with as much favor as many men I enjoy serving.. knowing I dont have to worry. I am losing my point here.. He has noticed I think. His focus on me when I am at his feet seams to be more focused. One night he even kept me in his at his feet even after Madeline arrived. I was nervous. I didnt want her to be unhappy with me. Im sure she could understand though.. the draw to want to be near her owner. He told me if I needed it I could come to his home and sleep if I needed to. He didnt turn me away when I arrived at his door. I slept three nights inside of the house, a comfortable enough mat given me near a warm fire. I have yet to thank him properly. I will have to think of a way. It seams we, the girls of the den and Zeb are going to the fair. I will ask Zeb if he will enter me into the dance contest. Maybe I could win.. or at least Maybe place in the top three.... <>

back in the saddle again

It was all so quick... one day I met him in the falls park, and a little over a hand later, I was his slave. I was amazed to find out that he had me investigated and followed in thee time between the time we ment and the time he chased me down in the gardens and had me stripped. Things have been a wirlwind of experiences ever since, the collaring, the first use in 20 years... the beating with a switch. I have not seen a man like him in 20 years. I am affraid alot of the time, but it is exciting too. He is a man that knows what he wants and will do what he must to get it. I only hope I can commit to his collar the devotion I had for Tarm.. he would expect nothing else.

memories...

     Half of me.. wants to forget about you..

the other half thinks that is the worst thing that I can do.

And I dont know... dont know which side is right...

but I have listened to some people tell me

they have waited such a long time for something..

 they say two days is such a long time...

but I have waited five years for this

and now something has gone terrible wrong.

You say that you know what I mean..

but that's impossible..

I was so damned close

but now its gone and I dont know what to do...

 

      I have these moments sometimes where the presence of My former Master is soo close it is like his spirit has reached out and gently touched my face. I miss him like breathing half the time.. and the other half the time I can see nothing but his face everywhere I turn. The apartment seams cramped all of a sudden, the city too close.. I feel a wanderlust coming on but I do not have the money to hire someone to escort me to  Thassa to take that trip to saite it. I wish I could find something to take the pain away. Something... someone.. who knows. Sometimes I think slavery is the answer.. I mean at least in the collar with the proper handling one feels like they have a reason or purpose.. here.. and now.. I feel as if I am hanging my ass out of a car window and waiting for something to snatch me out and take me away. God do I miss cars..

Blue paint... and BlueBells.

   I went to the market this evening to pay my rent and the broker made mention that the fire headed fishmonger was seen in Ar. I do hope he does not come and evict me from the apartment already... I have done so much to make it like home. I just painted the oposite wall from the yellow one a almost lavender blue to give the room more of a sunlight and sky kind of look. The blue and yello wlook good together. WHite is sooo sterile... like a hospital.. in a rual jungle village in Guatamala I once nursed at when I was about to join the nunnery... Anyway... very pretty. I suppose once the buds that will soon become flowers bloom they will look nice against the wall on the small table I purchased in a vase. The place is so girly.. even with all these slave rings all over the place. I had a dream the third day I was here that I was chained there whilst sleeping... I woke up in a sweat. How scary that could be. Anyway.. more painting and shopping. I wonder what it would be like to be chained here in my little apartment... Uuggh it gives me the shivers just thinking about it. Perhaps if I see Naka and the fishmonger.. I will ask her when the fishmonger is not looking...

Girlie wiles

     The apartment is looking more and more like home, and I can tell you that living in such a place, and being who I am makes life interesting. Who would of thought, like I said before, that a former Earth Girl who was destined for the Nunnery, aquitized to Gor and enslaved, forced into freedom and left to her own devices would be living in the district of the central cylinder in Ar. I painted one wall in the main room a soft yellow hue to better reflect the sun when it comes through the window and liven up the place a bit. I was sure to pay the rent first to make sure it was out of the way. I do not need the fishmonger to come back when he chooses to do so and find the apartment redone, but no rent paid. The yellow wall was added, and so too was my flower box. The plants are germinating and small sprouts have come through the top soil. I wonder how much longer until I have pretty flowers to place in vases around the place. I wish they had star gazers on Gor. The smell alone from one flower is enough to fill a whole room with its lovely scent. I need now to go to the market... after all this work... Im hungry. I will write more as I renovate.

Flowers

     I am not  born Gorean, and in all these years of having been brought here... I only knew the name of one flower.. and that was the talander. So when I went to pick the seeds of flowers this afternoon.. I was clueless as to what ones I liked by name. Some flowers that are indiginous to Gor are the same as certain flowers on earth. So in my own rekoning.. I planted some 4 O'clocks, Blue Bonnets, Marigolds, and Poppys in my window box. I would never claim to be a carpenter by any means but growing up on that farm in Ireland I did learn a little bit about swining a hammer. So outside of my rented kitchen window now hangs a wooden box full of dirt and seeds awaiting the suns rays to help in the germination of some pretty little flowers. As a slave I knew only two things. You slice open a larma or wear a talander in your hair if you wanna get laid by your Master... I wonder what the names and purposes of these flowers are. I wish I had friends that I could ask these simple questions without seeming " Barbarian " or " Ignorant " Anyway... Im looking forward to them... I think the white paint can use a little color. I hope the fishmonger doesnt mind I placed the flower box outside his window.