A Slave's Love Notes

[Praefectus Praetorio]

Is my Slave my Pet?
Is it demeaning to refer to your slavegirl as your pet?

My Pets
I have had several dogs as pets in my life.
I swear I could not care for another living being more than I cared for those pets.
I rejoiced to train them with care and patience and firm discipline.
What was it that I taught my pets? How to please me. And they loved the lessons.
Because they wanted with all their hearts to please me.
I expected them to obey my commands, and they reveled in doing so.
I cared for them with a selfless passion. I strove day-by-day to do what was best for them.

My Slavegirl
I care for her as much as I could care for any living being.
I train her with care and patience, and firm discipline.
She learns to please me. She wishes with all her heart to please me.
I expect her obedience, and she rejoices at giving it.
I care for her with a selfless passion. I shall always do what is best for her.

My Slave is my Pet. And that expression validates my love for her.

 

[Praefectus Praetorio]

My Kneeling Slavegirl

My slavegirl comes to me, kneeling, naked, blindfolded, vulnerable.
She is not in pain; the carpet is soft; the temperature is comfortable.
Yet my slavegirl shivers.
She crouches with her arms defensive. She is afraid.
The fear she has is not born in this moment or this place or this position.
She carries the fear deep in her soul.
It is a nameless, enervating fear from long ago.
It grips her heart and mind and shakes her very being like a dog shakes a playtoy.
That is why she has come to me.
That is why my slavegirl is naked, blindfolded, kneeling before me.
She craves safety; she craves release; she craves peace.
I can give her all this. I can rout that primal fear.
I can free her with my whip.

 

[Praefectus Praetorio]

One of my Favorite Poses

We call it Usage. The slave may be used for mounting from behind. Or she may be used for pain: knees very wide but ankles crossed, very exposed and very vulnerable.

I ordered you to it, slave, and you fell to the hard slate floor instantly.
I left you there and went to my study. Comfortable in my reading chair, I read a bit of The Brothers Karamazov. It always seems to fire my sadist passion uniquely.
I had a wee dram of Whisky. It relaxes my body and frees my imagination. Not a lot; I need to concentrate. I read without purpose or time. The time will come on its own.
Thirty-eight minutes later, it is time. Wearing only my robe, cinched at the waist by a soft rope, I return to the dungeon.

You have not moved. Not a millimeter. I have strictly ordered that. But you do it from devotion and obedience, not fear. The fear is there independently. What follows will not be punishment for wrong; it will be pain for pain’s sake.

I take my short single-tail. The whip bites so deliciously painfully while rarely breaking your flawless skin.

I walk around, surveying my slave. I snap the whip loudly in the air. You flinch. Ever so slightly, but you do. I smile. I treasure my slave.
The whip snakes around, cutting through the air, swinging forward to impact the offered skin of the back, the tip wrapping around to kiss a breast!

You do not cry; only a small intake of breath. The cries will come.

 

[Praefectus Praetorio]

Good Girl Bad Girl

That is a funny meme, but, unfortunately, it is too short and facile for such weighty words.

Good Girl. Bad Girl. Those words are so laden with meaning and innuendo! So pregnant with memories from the past and lusts of the future.
As a child, every girl learns responses, emotions for those words. Good means satisfaction and praise; bad means censure and impended punishment.
For the grown slavegirl, those childhood memories linger deep in her soul. However, for the adult, they are layered over with more immediate and explicit meaning.
Good signals her Master’s acceptance and approval. He values his slave and recognizes her submission and will to obey. She has pleased him.
Bad means her Master’s rejection and disapproval. His slave has disappointed him and broken the bond of service that he expects. She has displeased him.
When a slavegirl hears Good Girl, she feels the joy of accomplishment, the pride of service, and affection of her Master.
When a slavegirl hears Bad Girl, she feels the sorrow of disappointing her Master, the shame failure, and the fear and the excitement at the inevitable punishment to follow.

“Good Girl,” “Bad Girl.” Words almost as fraught with meaning for the slave girl as “Love” and “Heart” are. Which of these does she most desire to hear? That is the slavegirl’s preference. That shows where her desire lies.

 

[Loinclothslave]

View attachment 8788466-27
You are on the floor before me –
I have not ordered it - you have offered it.

You are naked, stripped of all covering –
I have not ordered it – you want to expose yourself.

You have offered your body for my lash –
I have not ordered it – you crave the kiss of the leather.

You beg for my instructions –
I have not ordered it – you must wait for it.

You are my slave, my property, my treasure –
I have not ordered you – your obedience is your free gift to me!

{D} That one got me wet hot!

Just wonderful, this slave also loves presenting itself in such a way. While fantasising about forced slavery, this slave offers itself in total supplication from an action of its own free will. That is the consensual part of my c/NC enslavement - it is an act of loving submission

 

[Loinclothslave]

Wow! Where’s this thread been hiding?


And I thought Slave Diary was good, then I read love notes! Far out, so many stirring vignettes about the utter beauty of my type of slavery!

I’ll be sharing some of those amazing words with my Mistress/wife…

Thank you, I’ve bookmarked this thread, and will be back!

 

[Praefectus Praetorio]

With great effort (and even greater luck) I found the little paean to a Slave's life that was posted on Friday and then erased in the great @Barbaria1 crash of this last weekend.

A Slave's Life

The slave girl arises before the light of dawn – as she does every day.
Before all else, she practices – practices her exercises and postures for submission.
She must begin her chores – her daily chores to serve her Master.
The bare necessities for herself – the proverbial minimum to keep body and soul together.

She comes before her Master on her knees – she is filled with wonder and gratitude.
She confesses her faults and shortcoming – begging for the appropriate correction.
He may acknowledge, he may correct or nothing – she doesn’t demand or expect.

Without delay, she returns to her labours – these are her life, her desire, her fulfillment.
It is for her master that she labours – for him, for his family, for his friends.
The slave has a meaning in life – to serve her master in all things is that meaning.
By Midday she has sweated and strained - her labour for the day is far far from complete.
By the cook-stove, by the spindle, by the copy-desk – then out to the dusty fields.
It is her joy, whatever Master requires - be it back-breaking labour or quiet meditation

She willingly receives her chastisement – sometimes mild, sometimes almost unbearable.
The pain torments her body - enduring it frees her soul.
Sometimes the punishment is well deserved – other times, she knows not the cause.
These welts are the gifts of her master – gifts she treasures as signs that he values her.

Even as the others relax in the fading evening - the slave girl labours on.
She must do her work, she must serve her master – and her work is never done.
The slave girl takes to her thin straw mat – she eats her crusts of food and sips a thin brew.
She falls asleep dreaming – dreaming of serving her master better on the morrow.

Thus the life of the slave girl – the never-ending, never-changing cycle of her submission.
And then, one night, most tired and sorest ever – she goes to bed.
Dreams don’t come, service to her master does not appear – slave girl starts up in a panic!

There, by her mat stands her Master, his face a heavenly glow, his arms outstretched.

Her Lord said to her,
“Well done, thou good and faithful servant. Enter thou into the joy of thy Lord.”​

 

[Praefectus Praetorio]

With great effort (and even greater luck) I found the little paean to a Slave's life that was posted on Friday and then erased in the great @Barbaria1 crash of this last weekend.

View attachment 1046322
A Slave's Life

The slave girl arises before the light of dawn – as she does every day.
Before all else, she practices – practices her exercises and postures for submission.
She must begin her chores – her daily chores to serve her Master.
The bare necessities for herself – the proverbial minimum to keep body and soul together.

She comes before her Master on her knees – she is filled with wonder and gratitude.
She confesses her faults and shortcoming – begging for the appropriate correction.
He may acknowledge, he may correct or nothing – she doesn’t demand or expect.

Without delay, she returns to her labours – these are her life, her desire, her fulfillment.
It is for her master that she labours – for him, for his family, for his friends.
The slave has a meaning in life – to serve her master in all things is that meaning.
By Midday she has sweated and strained - her labour for the day is far far from complete.
By the cook-stove, by the spindle, by the copy-desk – then out to the dusty fields.
It is her joy, whatever Master requires - be it back-breaking labour or quiet meditation

She willingly receives her chastisement – sometimes mild, sometimes almost unbearable.
The pain torments her body - enduring it frees her soul.
Sometimes the punishment is well deserved – other times, she knows not the cause.
These welts are the gifts of her master – gifts she treasures as signs that he values her.

Even as the others relax in the fading evening - the slave girl labours on.
She must do her work, she must serve her master – and her work is never done.
The slave girl takes to her thin straw mat – she eats her crusts of food and sips a thin brew.
She falls asleep dreaming – dreaming of serving her master better on the morrow.

Thus the life of the slave girl – the never-ending, never-changing cycle of her submission.
And then, one night, most tired and sorest ever – she goes to bed.
Dreams don’t come, service to her master does not appear – slave girl starts up in a panic!

There, by her mat stands her Master, his face a heavenly glow, his arms outstretched.

Her Lord said to her,
“Well done, thou good and faithful servant. Enter thou into the joy of thy Lord.”​

Those with precise memory might note a few words are off. It is the best I can do. If you do recall such, let me know so I may correct my humble efforts.

Every writer must remember the words of the Roman poet Catullus when describing the words that a girl whispers to her lover:

in ventō et rapidā scrībere oportet aquā.
It is fitting to be written on the wind and on fast-flowing water​

 

[NewUser]

Those with precise memory might note a few words are off. It is the best I can do. If you do recall such, let me know so I may correct my humble efforts.

Every writer must remember the words of the Roman poet Catullus when describing the words that a girl whispers to her lover:

in ventō et rapidā scrībere oportet aquā.
It is fitting to be written on the wind and on fast-flowing water​

But first I would curse
Catullus is also ideal for this - the beginning of the 16th verse
Pedicabo ego vos et irrumabo

 

[Loinclothslave]

With great effort (and even greater luck) I found the little paean to a Slave's life that was posted on Friday and then erased in the great @Barbaria1 crash of this last weekend.

View attachment 1046322
A Slave's Life

The slave girl arises before the light of dawn – as she does every day.
Before all else, she practices – practices her exercises and postures for submission.
She must begin her chores – her daily chores to serve her Master.
The bare necessities for herself – the proverbial minimum to keep body and soul together.

She comes before her Master on her knees – she is filled with wonder and gratitude.
She confesses her faults and shortcoming – begging for the appropriate correction.
He may acknowledge, he may correct or nothing – she doesn’t demand or expect.

Without delay, she returns to her labours – these are her life, her desire, her fulfillment.
It is for her master that she labours – for him, for his family, for his friends.
The slave has a meaning in life – to serve her master in all things is that meaning.
By Midday she has sweated and strained - her labour for the day is far far from complete.
By the cook-stove, by the spindle, by the copy-desk – then out to the dusty fields.
It is her joy, whatever Master requires - be it back-breaking labour or quiet meditation

She willingly receives her chastisement – sometimes mild, sometimes almost unbearable.
The pain torments her body - enduring it frees her soul.
Sometimes the punishment is well deserved – other times, she knows not the cause.
These welts are the gifts of her master – gifts she treasures as signs that he values her.

Even as the others relax in the fading evening - the slave girl labours on.
She must do her work, she must serve her master – and her work is never done.
The slave girl takes to her thin straw mat – she eats her crusts of food and sips a thin brew.
She falls asleep dreaming – dreaming of serving her master better on the morrow.

Thus the life of the slave girl – the never-ending, never-changing cycle of her submission.
And then, one night, most tired and sorest ever – she goes to bed.
Dreams don’t come, service to her master does not appear – slave girl starts up in a panic!

There, by her mat stands her Master, his face a heavenly glow, his arms outstretched.

Her Lord said to her,
“Well done, thou good and faithful servant. Enter thou into the joy of thy Lord.”​

This poem moved this slave so much, touching it’s slave soul. This is so powerful to it that this slave hesitates to sully the words by commenting in it’s inadequate slave language.

The poem conveys beautiful slavery, like dina, this slave aspires to be the perfect slave, feeling Master’s love through His loving whip! Of course this slave fails to reach the high ideal, but strives to achieve it. Failing perfection is, of course, this slave’s fault. It knows it deserves punishment for that, and accepts that in humble submission and patience.

The beauty of the poem is capturing a true consensual slave’s heart’s desire. The human fragility plus the intense need to serve and suffer for a beloved Owner. This slave cannot explain why it desires this life so much, it only knows it has always needed it’s slavery. It is fortunate to have a taste of slavery and wishes it could be a better slave.

Thank you, @Praefectus Praetorio for finding such beautiful words that speaks to this slave’s perverted lowly soul…

And this slave apologises for not finding it’s lost words, it’s previous reply was superior. Imperfection infects every cell of this slave, it can only beg for forgiveness and hope for punishment as a slave must.

 

[Praefectus Praetorio]

Those with precise memory might note a few words are off. It is the best I can do. If you do recall such, let me know so I may correct my humble efforts.

Every writer must remember the words of the Roman poet Catullus when describing the words that a girl whispers to her lover:

in ventō et rapidā scrībere oportet aquā.
It is fitting to be written on the wind and on fast-flowing water​

This poem moved this slave so much, touching it’s slave soul. This is so powerful to it that this slave hesitates to sully the words by commenting in it’s inadequate slave language.

The poem conveys beautiful slavery, like dina, this slave aspires to be the perfect slave, feeling Master’s love through His loving whip! Of course this slave fails to reach the high ideal, but strives to achieve it. Failing perfection is, of course, this slave’s fault. It knows it deserves punishment for that, and accepts that in humble submission and patience.

The beauty of the poem is capturing a true consensual slave’s heart’s desire. The human fragility plus the intense need to serve and suffer for a beloved Owner. This slave cannot explain why it desires this life so much, it only knows it has always needed it’s slavery. It is fortunate to have a taste of slavery and wishes it could be a better slave.

Thank you, @Praefectus Praetorio for finding such beautiful it’s that speaks to this slave’s perverted lowly soul..

And this slave apologises for not finding it’s lost words, it’s previous reply was better. Imperfection infects every cell of this slave, it can only apologise as a slave must.

I believe that Dina had a short, but very sweet reaction to the poem, somewhat like, (though far better than) this:

[D] Thank you, Master. That touches ma soul. A ken A's no nearly as guid a slave as that. But A lang to be!

 

[Praefectus Praetorio]

Slave

Do you come to me on your knees, hoping I would be distracted by your beauty?
Do you crawl to me on your belly, hoping your submission will forgive the darkness in your soul?
Do you plead in that soft feminine voice, hoping I shall take pity on a bad little girl?
Do you cry tears of fear to show your remorse?
Do you grovel on the ground, begging for mercy?

Your errors must be corrected, slave.
Your sins will be punished, slave.
Your soul must be purged of thoughts of rebellion, slave.
Your disobedience must be met with harsh chastisement, slave.

I must show you again, the lesson of the whip!
​

[D] Yes master! I deserve the whip

 

[Loinclothslave]

dina’s Master has done it again. What slave wouldn’t feel the inherent power in these words? Just change two words and this is also a perfect note from this slave’s Owner… it would love such a note and would respond just as dina has.

Thank you, Sir!

 

[Praefectus Praetorio]

This image speaks to me in so many ways.

The lovely, open-ended mystery of the girl -
What is she wearing?
What does she want?
Who will wield the whip?

Good Morning, Darling -that might express so many marvelous things!
Love, Caring, Impatience, Lust, Hunger, Domination, Submissiveness?

A Blank Canvas.
An image that lacks all the specific anchors that our minds need to process.
Therefore, our imagination must fill in the missing pieces.
That is what makes it exciting!

My Love for you, Dina, is a blank canvas this morning,
The New Day is a blank canvas for us both.
Together, let's fill them in beautifully with our special, wicked imaginations!
{M}
​

[D] Thank you, Master. I'd love to!

 

[Loinclothslave]

That image speaks to me in a rather different way! That’s Mistress, and I’m the blank canvas! Great poem!

 

[Praefectus Praetorio]

To those who don't understand it - it is sex.
To those who only know how to abuse it - it is sex.
To those with no real interest in it - it is a way to have sex.
But, to the truly committed dominant or submissive,
It is not a lifestyle about sex.
It is a mental AND a physical discipline.
It can challenge you as you never have been challenged before.
It can call on you to sacrifice more than you ever thought it possible to surrender.
It is a way to enlightenment, a way to self-actualization.
It is a philosophy and a way of thinking.
It is a way to get in touch with your deepest and darkest desires.
It allows the most satisfying fulfillment.
And it can be red-hot, teeth-rattling, mind-blowing, scream-inducing -
SEX!
​

[D] - Master, you have made slavery like that for me (especially the last line!). Thank you.

 

[Praefectus Praetorio]

How I wish I were there to start your day right, Dina!
You know that
I respect you.
Care about you
Love to take care of you
And give you a red and painful bottom!
And I wish you a good day.
- Master​

 

[Praefectus Praetorio]

Dina,
Remember that scene we talked about last week?
The one we worried about how the neighbors might call the police?
I think I've found the answer.

Maybe when I get home from this trip - if you've been a bad little girl!
-Master​

[D] Awwww! I'm going to be very, very bad!

 

[Praefectus Praetorio]

I shall tie you, naked, spread on your bed.
I shall blindfold you, cutting off all vision, all light
I shall touch your fetching body, your feminine curves
I shall orchestrate a symphony of sensations on your glowing, hot skin
Then I shall stroke your soft hair, curl your locks gently in my fingers
I shall use my breath to tease your skin.
Then
And only then, when you are panting with uncontrollable desire,
Will I grab the whip!
​

Yes. Please, master.

 

[Loinclothslave]

I shall tie you, naked, spread on your bed.
I shall blindfold you, cutting off all vision, all light
I shall touch your fetching body, your feminine curves
I shall orchestrate a symphony of sensations on your glowing, hot skin
Then I shall stroke your soft hair, curl your locks gently in my fingers
I shall use my breath to tease your skin.
Then View attachment 1053373
And only then, when you are panting with uncontrollable desire,
Will I grab the whip!
​

Yes. Please, master.

A wonderful slave’s dream!

Any slave could Only say “yes” to this! Dripping, sweaty, smoking hot! May I “borrow” this one?