The following story was sent to me by my Master. The author is unknown.

The Four Gifts

she kneels before her Masters feet and looks into His eyes
searching for the truth she needs as she vows Him her life. Four
packages lay on the floor, all wrapped. she reaches low to place
the first in the lap of the One she adores. Opened as quickly as
He had won it, He views her heart inside. It is yours My love,
and has been since the day you helped Me to your side.

The second gift is smaller. The paper is silver gilt. Tis just
my mind, she whispers, to do with as You will.

The third one, small and compact, white paper, small white bow.
she watches as He opens and whispers... and now you own my soul.


she bends to pick the last gift up and trembles as she holds it.
Small tears of love run down her face. This gift has been the
hardest. He smiles at her and reaches and watches the gift
dissolve. "Master, love," she whispers, "This gift is more than
just my love. It can't be held. It can't be wrapped. The gift is
my submission."

Heart, mind, soul and submission are indeed the gifts of the slave to her Master. Master and I discussed why the gift of submission disappeared. I think perhaps it is because it is, indeed, the hardest. It is one that requires continued effort on the slave’s part to keep perfected. And it cannot be “held”. It cannot be taken or required. It can only be freely given.

Since I started my foray into bdsm, I have met some interesting people, including some interesting Dominants. I first registered on a bdsm site, and as is common when one registers on such a site, I received a flurry of attention for a while. I was contacted by many who would call themselves "masters".

First of all, there were the players and wannabes. They wanted to hook up for sex, plain and simple. Some already had wives or girlfriends. Some offered to perhaps “train” me if I were worthy. I was very lonely at the time, but I did not take any of these men up on their offers.

Then there were what I would call the “real Dominants”. When they asked what I wanted and I told them, many honestly said, “I am not what you are looking for.” But they went on to advise me about the wannabes and fakers out there. What they said rang true, especially since there was nothing in it to be gained by them. They were simply offering advice.

Then there was the Dom that used me. He didn’t want me, yet wanted to control me. Although I did listen to his advice at times, he made it clear I was not for him. He found someone else. But he still wished to advise me, and tell me what to do, even after I got a Master of my own. Such a Dom wishes to control all.

Perhaps I am a strange sub. I have submitted to Master Bennet. Other Doms are, frankly, of minimal importance to me. When choosing whether to submit or not, the choice is quite easy. I submit to my Master. To other Doms? Naw. I don’t want to play. I may talk. I may listen and then make up my own mind.

At this point, Master Bennet is my focus. All others are just that-others.

Helicopter parents is the term for parents of college students who insist on hovering around. They stay very involved in their children’s lives and even try to run things into the college years. No more of the good old days when you dropped your kid off at college and waved goodbye.

I have determined NOT to be a helicopter parent. Surprisingly enough, the college has not made that any easier. When the students had orientation day, the parents had meetings as well. I listened to about an hour of officials telling about campus security and counceling available to the students, and college history, etc, etc, etc. I didn’t go to the afternoon round of meetings. Some of the information was interesting, but I thought it was stuff my KID needed to know. I suppose they wanted to insure us parents that they could be trusted with our sons and daughters, but if I didn’t trust them, I would probably have tried to talk my son into a different school. It is okay to let the children grow up. No, it is VITAL to let them grow up. And they can’t do that if we are always right on top of them. They need their space. If college isn’t the time for that space, then when is?

I have been working in a school district for 10 years. I had a key chain that I wore around my neck that held my school keys. It had the school name on it, and it worked very well.

But things changed this year. I now work for two different school districts. I put away the key chain. I refuse to wear the colors of one school while at another. I refuse to play favorites (unless my son is playing…). I put the key chain away.

Some may think this is a small point, but I think it’s important. I want to be involved with the kids I work with, the people I serve. They are important to me. To continue to use that key chain would have sent a message to the one school district that they would not as important. I don’t believe that, and I won’t present myself that way. Symbols are important. I have replaced that key chain with one from the college that my oldest son now attends.

I have another symbol that I wear. It is my collar. I wear it daily, although no one but my Master and I understand its significance. But I wear it always without fail. Why? Because symbols are important.

50 minutes of activity a day is my Master’s order. The other day I could not do that. My schedule was to work literally from 8:00 am until 12:00 am. I did try to walk when I could, but I only squeezed in about 30 minutes while on the job.

Master was understanding. He knew I had done my best. He suggested a pedometer. I have one (somewhere). I think he and I should discuss this further. I have heard that people who take 10,000 steps a day are generally healthy. Perhaps this could be a goal. Master and I also discussed ways I could get in extra walking, like parking the car at the far end of the parking lot so I would walk further.

However, even with these ideas, I am still making it my goal to do 50 minutes a day. I know there will be times when it will be impossible, but I want to make sure that I don’t use that as an excuse to not do all I can to comply with my Master’s orders. In truth, he only wants what’s good for me, what makes me better and stronger.

The next day (after the one where I could only walk 30 minutes) I moved my son into a college dorm. I am quite happy with his choice. The only thing I don’t like about the campus is that it is very hilly.There were a lot of steps on the outside of the buildings, just walking from the parking lot to the dorm itself. Add that to the fact that my son’s room is on the 4th floor, and you have a lot of steps. I am a bit impatient with elevators, so I took the stairs most of the time. I noticed that I was not breathing any harder than my athletic sons after climbing all of those stairs.

Thank you, Master, for pushing me to make me healthy and strong.