Under The Whip

Reflections from the Holy Fire Conference.

A take away from the Master/Slave Relationships as a Spiritual Path class, Presented By Raven Kaldera and Joshua Tenpenny

I had the most wonderful time at the Holy Fire Conference. Truly, it was the best way I could have imagined to kick start 2026. I learned so much, and yet the biggest thing I walked away with wasn’t a technique or a protocol, it was the realization that I still have so much room to grow within myself, as a slave, and within my submission.

There are times when my Masters give me a task. Tasks that, honestly, should be simple. Even fun. And before I go any further, I want to be very clear, I do complete the tasks. There is no disobedience there. But what I had never really looked at before was what was happening inside me while I was doing them. The grumbling. The complaining. The quiet judgment that something was mundane, boring, or not intellectually stimulating enough.

My Masters usually laughed it off. They would tell me “too bad, you’re still doing it,” and I would go do it. The task would be completed, and we would move on. I never stopped to ask myself, or them, whether my attitude caused harm. I never even considered that it might. For that lack of awareness, I am deeply upset with myself, and genuinely sorry.

During Raven Kaldera’s first class at Holy Fire, they said something that landed straight in my chest.

“Service should not be performed with grumbling in the heart.” Raven Kaldera

That sentence cracked something open in me. Because the truth is, I do this. And after a lot of reflection, I’m beginning to understand just how harmful it can be.

Serving with a grumbling heart doesn’t just make me appear ungrateful, when service itself is an honor I am privileged to give, it can undermine my Masters’ authority and role in our dynamic. It can chip away at their confidence. It can dull their desire to ask me to serve at all. And the thought of never being asked to serve again? That would be devastating to my heart.

I also realized that when I grumble, I am not serving from a spiritual place of love and devotion. Anyone can perform an action mechanically. Fetch the cup. Fill it. Set it down. Obedience alone can do that. But for me, service has always been about intention. It is about how I prepare the cup, how I fill it, how I carry it. How I present it with grace, how I kiss the rim before setting it into their hands. It is meant to be an act of love. Of beauty. Of devotion.

So why have I been serving with a grumbling heart?

Right now, I don’t have that answer. And yes, that’s disappointing. But I am doing the work to find it. What I do have now is awareness, and that matters. Awareness means I can catch myself. Awareness means I can shift my mindset. Awareness gives me the opportunity to realign my service so that it honors my Masters, my surrender, and myself.

Moving forward, I am choosing to offer my full surrender in service. I am choosing to meet tasks with an open heart, a soft smile, and a willing spirit. I’ve been thinking a lot about how, when my Masters ask me to engage with something that excites them, a book, a show, a video game that doesn’t immediately interest me. I don’t want to just “get through it.” I want to find my way into it. To discover something that genuinely sparks my curiosity. To participate, not just comply.

I don’t want to merely obey. I want to belong in the service. I want to live in it. Ritualize it. Breathe meaning into it. So I am taking Raven’s words deeply to heart, and I will do my best to never serve with a grumbling heart again. 2026 is going to be about growth for me. About stepping forward more fully. About surrendering deeper, softer, and with greater intention. I serve because I get to serve. And that is an honor I never want to forget.

She Came to Me in Scent and Silence

I didn’t wake up shaken by this dream. I woke up held.

In the dream, I was back at my childhood home, my Mema’s house, after she had passed. The air felt heavy in that way old houses do when they’re full of memory. I wasn’t there to linger. I was there to clean. To sort. To decide what stayed and what was finally ready to go.

And then I smelled her perfume.

Not imagined. Not faint. Present. Anyone who has lost someone they love knows how powerful scent is. It bypasses logic. It bypasses time. The moment her perfume filled the room, I knew, this wasn’t memory. This was presence. This was my Mema letting me know she was there with me, watching, witnessing, not clinging or pulling me backward, but standing beside me as I moved forward.

Cleaning her house felt like more than grief work. It felt liminal, like I was standing between the life I’ve lived and the life I’m stepping into. Every object I touched asked a question, Does this still serve me? Does this carry wisdom, or only weight?

When I found her dreamcatcher, I stopped.

I didn’t keep everything. I didn’t want to. But that, I chose. I claimed it intentionally. Not out of sentimentality, but out of knowing. I said aloud that I wanted to keep it, and I handed it to Damon. That mattered. It wasn’t about possession. It was about trust. About shared guardianship. About allowing protection to exist outside of my own hands.

And then the owl came.

A large white owl descended from above and landed on my arm. It didn’t circle. It didn’t threaten. It didn’t test me. It chose me. And it stayed.

White owls don’t carry fear for me. They carry clarity. Wisdom that sees in darkness. The kind of knowing that doesn’t need noise or force. This owl felt ancient and quiet and sure. It arrived only after I claimed what I was carrying forward. After I made a choice rooted in discernment, not fear. It refused to leave.

That’s when I understood, this dream wasn’t about loss. It was about transition. About protection during a crossing. About being guided, not pushed, into a better future.

Through a Norse lens, this feels deeply ancestral. The disir, female ancestral guardians, are said to stay close, especially through maternal lines. They don’t haunt. They guard. They guide. They witness. And sometimes they come not as faces, but as sensations. As scent. As animals that see what others can’t.

This owl could be my fylgja, my spirit companion, appearing because I’m in the middle of an identity shift, a grief integration, a becoming. It could be Freyja touched energy, tied to fate and spirit walking between worlds. Or it could simply be the shape my protection needed to take so I could understand it.

What I know is this, I am not walking alone.

Even the presence of my Masters in the dream matters. They weren’t directing me. They weren’t controlling the process. They were simply there. Witnessing. Containing. Offering structure while I did heavy inner work. It didn’t feel like submission loss. It felt like chosen safety. Like being held steady while I sorted through something sacred. This dream didn’t warn me. It affirmed me.

It told me that my grief is integrating, not consuming me. That I am allowed to keep what is sacred. That I am protected while I walk through shadow. That my intuition is deepening, and that I can trust it. Most of all, it told me that my Mema hasn’t left me behind.

She came to me in scent and silence to say, I’m here. You’re doing well. Keep going. Very fitting for day five of Yule!
 

✨A love story told by one very spoiled, very grateful slave girl ✨

I still remember the very first moment I saw You, even though it was only pixels on a screen. You were standing on a dock in a Gorean sim in Second Life, solid and commanding, while I wandered the city alone, bored, bratty, restless, quietly hoping for something. When SL worked its little magic, I zoomed in on You, tall,

handsome, confident, and every part of me whispered a desperate little prayer, Please message me. And then You did! Just a few words. Just a simple conversation about roleplay.

But it was enough. From that moment on, every day after work became ours. Cassia and Rodric, my Port Kar Princess, and Your Dark Dreamy Physician, were the first lock and key to wrap themselves around my heart, and gods, how deeply they sank in. Two months later, You reached out again. I still grin like a silly little thing when I remember it.

You: “You sound like a really submissive woman.”
Me: “I am.”
You: “Do you want to be My submissive?”
Me: “YES.”

And just like that, the spark caught. The fire began.

I was Yours online. I remember the name You gave me, the ritual, the meaning, Your Rune. A name I still carry tucked safely in my heart and soul. We stumbled at first. We argued. We were rough around the edges. But You grounded me. You matured my submission. You made me see that I wasn’t honoring it the way I promised I would.

“You can be angry from your knees.”

Those words changed me. You taught me that I could feel, struggle, hurt, and still belong to You. That my emotions didn’t disqualify me from being Your slave, they simply needed to exist within my surrender. You saw me. You knew I wasn’t trying to run. I wasn’t trying to escape. I just wanted to lay everything down and give myself. And You gave me the strength and the safety to do exactly that.

“I see you,” You said.

And You did. In a way no one else ever had, or even dared to try. We talked more. Discovered we lived only an hour and a half apart. And then, You came to see me.

No vetting. No protocols. No long safety speeches. We were helplessly drawn together. There was only one instruction from You.

“Once I meet you, tell me if you truly want to be Mine.”

I was meant to be a service slave only, no sex, just obedience. And honestly? I was perfectly content with that. But then You saw me. We spent the day training, teasing, testing. You drove me home. And then You kissed me. A massage later, cuddling, hands down my pants, I was done for.

And I melted. Completely. Hopelessly.

After that, there were no limits, not to desire, not to devotion, not to love. I gave You everything… even my slave papers. And I knew, with a terrifying and beautiful certainty, There was nowhere else in this world I could ever belong but with You.

You traveled endlessly just to see me, exhaustion written across Your body while I ached with missing You, craving nothing more than to serve You every day, every moment.

And then my world shattered. My brother was murdered.

You rushed to me after a twelve hour shift, held me through the night, left at dawn for another shift with barely any sleep, and still came back that same day, and again for the funeral. I couldn’t even speak. You stood beside me. Held me. Read the eulogy when I broke apart. You were, and still are, my strength. My person.

Six months later, we moved in together. Our own place. Our dog. Our cats. Our ferrets. Our little, imperfect slice of heaven. That was when I became Your Deka, Your obedient, pleasing one. All I wanted was to love You, serve You, and give You everything I was. Then came the hospital.

Watching You nearly die was the first time I ever truly knew fear. I still don’t know what infection it was only that the medication they gave You was the same used for the bubonic plague, and I almost lost You.

But You lived.

And I got more time. More years. More love than I ever dreamed I deserved.

The years blurred together, theme parks, adventures, growth, mistakes, healing, fighting, forgiveness, learning how to be better, learning how to be us. We endured loss. Explosive fights. Hard boundaries. Deep pain. And still, it didn’t break us.

Six years in, we opened our hearts wider. And Calvin found us, and we found him. I became both of Yours. I went from Rune, to Deka, to Ava. I am Ava. I am Yours. I am happy. I am loved.

The transition wasn’t easy, monogamy to polyamory, one Master one slave to something larger, deeper, more complex. But once the fear loosened its grip, once the emotions settled, It became beautiful.

I get to love You. I get to watch another man love You. And I get to love him too.

Seeing You and Calvin together cooking, gaming, dancing, being ridiculous, riding roller coasters I refuse to touch, fills me with a warm, fizzy happiness I can’t put into words. Curled together, the three of us tangled in blankets, laughter, kisses, soft touches. Paradise.

I get to grow. I get to fall deeper. I get to be held. I get to refine my submission, communicate better, hold boundaries, and love You fully, flaws and all.

Before You, I didn’t truly understand love. Not until this exact day, ten years ago, when a silly, handsome avatar on a dock changed everything.

You love me deeply. Wildly. Imperfectly. Unconditionally. We fight. We struggle. We get frustrated. But if I have to argue with anyone in this life, I want it to be with You. And with Calvin. No one else gets that close to my heart.

You are my strength. My compass. My home. My safe place. You are grounded, silly, intelligent, hardworking, passionate, kind, open hearted, and endlessly loving. You carved Your name into my soul. And I am honored, truly honored, to celebrate ten years with You.

I cannot wait for the next ten. And the ten after that. And every year You allow me to kneel at Your feet, curl against Your chest, and whisper that I am Yours.

Because You are my Master. You are my Daddy. You are my world. You are my person. And I love You, freely, fiercely, wildly, and forever.

Happy Ten Year Anniversary, my Master.

Your pet is still and always, hopelessly, joyfully, willingly Yours.

I love You!

💜💜💜

I’m slowly learning that finding grace in a 24/7 TPE dynamic isn’t about forcing myself to “like” not getting my way. It is about learning how to yield without breaking myself, over and over again.

For me, surrender isn’t a single decision, it is a daily, moment by moment choice. And honestly? My emotions don’t quietly bow just because I say the words “Yes, my Master.” Grace comes from practice, softness, and honesty, not punishment or perfection.

These are the ways I’ve been learning to hold that grace,

I remind myself that surrender is a choice I give daily. I didn’t suddenly become someone who never wants control again.

I simply choose to yield, again and again, especially in the moments where my wants rub against His word. That’s where the heart of the dynamic actually lives.
I separate desire from obedience. I can want something deeply. I can feel disappointed or even stung. But obedience is not the absence of feelings, it is choosing the dynamic over those feelings. Grace sounds like:

“I feel this, and still, I choose my place.”

I let myself feel the unfairness quietly. Because TPE isn’t always fair and it isn’t meant to be. But what I agreed to wasn’t born from fairness, it was born from integrity. I let the emotion rise, breathe through it, and avoid letting it spill out as disrespect. Grace is the space between the feeling and the reaction.

I also fail at this part, a lot.

“Not getting what I want” does not mean “not being cared for.”** This one trips me up the most. I’m used to interpreting disappointment as rejection. But His choices aren’t a reflection of my value. He’s human, sometimes tired, overwhelmed, imperfect. Grace is choosing to trust His intention even when I struggle with His execution.
I use rituals of surrender.** A gesture helps so much, kneeling, hands behind me, head bowed.

My body remembers what my mind forgets, “I choose obedience, even when it stings.”
I accept that submission will sometimes feel scary, frustrating, or unfair.** Struggling doesn’t mean I’m failing as a slave. It means I’m growing into my submission. Grace is pausing instead of exploding. Breathing instead of lashing out. Speaking gently instead of reacting impulsively.

I stay honest, not silent.** Grace isn’t swallowing everything. It is expressing my needs from a submissive heart, not a wounded ego. “I’m struggling.” “I need guidance.”
“I feel overwhelmed.” These sentences are still submissive.
My dignity shows in how I handle the moments that don’t go my way.** Anyone can be soft when everything feels perfect. Real submission shows when the feelings get hard and I choose devotion anyway.

The Practical Side, Needs, Agreements, and Structure

All of this is so much harder if you haven’t actually sat down with your Dominant and talked about your needs. Needs are not negotiable. If He can’t meet them, He might not be the right Dominant for you. Just like you must meet His non negotiable needs. Wants can be refused. But needs cannot, ignoring needs only builds resentment. A huge part of our smoothness came from sitting down and defining our Areas of Control.

Here are the categories my Masters and I use

Relationships
Adding friends online
Permission to speak with Dominants
Ending relationships (platonic, online, romantic, etc.)
Boundaries with friends and family

Food
What I’m permitted to eat
Asking for permission to eat

Medical
Scheduling appointments
Discussing major medical decisions

Speech
What language is permitted
Asking instead of telling

Diet & Weight
Diet based on medical needs
Calorie or carb limits
Monitoring sweets or hydration
Limiting caffeine, soda, alcohol

Exercise
Daily exercise routine
Weight goals
Doctor approval for extreme workouts

Sexual
Following limits
Orgasm control
Sexual partners
Chastity
Toys and devices
CNC scenes
Whether sexual favors to others are allowed

Attitude / Behavior
Facial expressions
Body language
Tone
Posture (sitting, kneeling)
Safeword for emotional overwhelm

Voting
Whether my Dominant chooses how I vote

Medications
Dispensing medication
Ensuring meds are taken on time
Discussing new prescriptions and side effects

Hygiene / Self-Care
Shaving
Bath times
Hair-washing
Teeth brushing
Lotions
Nail care
Perfume/deodorant
Body checks for skin issues or injuries

Education
Topics I’m allowed to learn
Classes, support groups, discussions
BDSM education

Entertainment
Screen time
Music
TV, movies
Video games
Books
Hobbies

Writing / Blogs
What I’m permitted to write about
Blogs and groups I can read

Religion
Whether I may practice
Service attendance
Set times for spiritual practice

Clothing
What I may wear
Purchases
Whether I wear clothing inside
Panty rules

Beauty Routine
Makeup
Hairstyles, dye
Skincare routinesSerums and treatments

Sleep / Bedtime
How long I sleep
Bedtime and wake times
Wind-down routines
Time allowed to wake up

Travel
Outings with friends
Where I sit in the car
Solo trips
Who arranges travel

Body Modification
Tattoos
Piercings
Hair changes
Any permanent modifications

Teaching
Whether I may teach
Classes online or in person
Being a demo bottom

Finances
Who controls finances
Asking to spend
Allowance
Savings requirements

Bathroom Control
Permission to use the bathroom
Being watched
How to ask at home and in public

Household
Decorating
Household decisions, repairs, maintenance

These categories helped us so much. Even in a full TPE, a Dominant doesn’t have to control everything. Some areas take time to surrender. That’s okay. I also know that what I have listed is not everything. Honestly, this just works for me. for my dynamic with my Masters. It may not work for you, and that is also. Okay.

We also distinguish between

Blanket Control – He sets guidelines I automatically follow

Micro-Management – I ask every time

Getting clarity on these made our dynamic incredibly smooth. We keep a contract and review it every three months. That works for us for a check in. I know some couples do not use contracts at all, and that is once again. Okay.

Protocols & Color System

We also use color-coded protocols,

Red = High Protocol Silent unless spoken to, Ask for everything, no exceptions, Strict honorifics, Absolute obedience unless safeworded. (If you do not use safewords. That is okay. )

Yellow = Medium Protocol Respectful, honorifics, Must ask for most things, Can speak freely with respectful tone

Green = Low Protocol Follow standing rules, No permission needed for small things, Playful, silly, sassy allowed, Casual nicknames permitted

And finally for me, grace is simply the way I soften into all of this.

One Final Note

I truly think it helps so much for Dominants to speak with other Dominants, and for submissives to have submissive only spaces.
Each side learns in such different ways.

And Remember, there is no one true way to run a dynamic. Every TPE is unique. What matters is that it works for you and is built with communication, clarity, structure, care, and enthusiastic informed consent.

Why do I still feel guilty?

I’ve been asking myself this question far more often than I expected, why, as a Gorean kajira, do I still feel guilty for wanting to serve? Not just serving other Masters, but even serving my own Masters. It has gotten easier with time, especially with reassurance from my Masters, but there are still moments where that old guilt rises up like a shadow.

When our dynamic first began, serving my Master Calvin while my Master Damon wasn’t present filled me with such guilt I could barely breathe. I needed constant reassurance, constant reminders that I wasn’t doing anything wrong, that they both wanted this dynamic, that I was not betraying one by serving the other. We’re four years in now, and yet sometimes that guilt still lingers. Even when my Master Calvin travels, I occasionally feel guilty serving my Master Damon.

It makes no sense. And yet, it sits inside me like a quiet ache.

Because the truth is, I am deeply, fiercely Gorean minded. Gorean in nature, in heart, and in spirit. It is in my blood to love men, to serve them, to find fulfillment in offering myself with openness and devotion. When I see a man I deem worthy of my service, it stirs something instinctive in me.

So why should I feel guilty for acting according to my nature?

This is something I battle with more often than I like to admit. There are moments when I catch myself flirting with a Gorean Master, and instantly my whole body tenses, my butt puckers like I’m about to be disciplined. And the thing is, my Masters have every right to discipline me simply because it pleases them, even for amusement. The thought alone makes my breath catch.

What reassures me most is when my Masters tell me that when I serve others, they are being served too. That my service reflects on them. That my obedience honors them. Sometimes I confess, almost eagerly, “I can’t wait for such and such friend to visit so I can serve him paga,” and my Masters only laugh and call me their good little whore.

And Gods, hearing that hits something deep in my belly something that only burns hotter.

Yet still, why do I feel guilty? I think part of it comes from today’s society, the insistence that I’m supposed to be an independent woman who needs no man, serves no man, and belongs only to herself. But that has never been who I am. That path would never fulfill me, never bring me peace, never match the truth of my spirit.

I am content, deeply content, being a kajira in a Gorean dynamic, serving in a Leather household. I love serving men their paga. I love kneeling in devotion. I even ache at the thought that one day, if permitted, I might be granted free-use privileges as a kajira. These desires don’t frighten me. They ground me. They make me feel whole.

My loyalty and my love will always belong to my Masters first. My Gorean soul, is happiest and most alive when I am in service, especially to those welcomed into my Masters’ hospitality.

So maybe the guilt is just an echo of a world I don’t belong to.
A world I was never meant to fit into. Because the truth is simple,

I am a slave girl.

I serve.

I bloom in obedience.

And every submissive breath I take belongs to the men I call Master.

La Kajira!

One of the weekly tasks my Masters give me is something I’ve actually become super grateful for, a current-events assignment.

Every week I have to choose an up to date topic about something happening in the world. It can be international, national, statewide, local, or even just something I think They’d want to know about. Once I pick the topic, I have to dig for credible sources, news articles, reputable sites, videos from verified stations, and gather everything neatly for Them.

And then comes the fun part.

I have to explain what’s happening, why it’s happening, why it matters, and add my own personal opinion. Yes… They make me think. They make me form opinions. They make me say what I believe and why. And for some reason that just hits a very specific submissive switch inside me, the “yes, make my brain work for You” button.

I’ll be honestt, this is one of the tasks I genuinely love. It keeps me aware of what’s happening around me. It challenges me in ways that aren’t boring or repetitive, like chores can sometimes become. It is creative, and I love knowing that every week I get to show up to our Dom Talk check ins holding something new, researched, polished, and offered like a little intellectual gift at Their feet.

And the best part?

Their other slave has to do it too, and we never tell each other what topic we’re doing. Two months of this so far, and not once have we picked the same thing. I actually look forward to hearing what she brings. I love seeing what she finds relevant, what sparks her passion, what she thinks matters. It feels like we’re learning side by side, offering up different pieces of the world to the same Hands.

There’s something deeply satisfying about a task that trains my obedience and engages my mind. Something that makes me feel useful, intelligent, and connected to Them. Something that leaves me kneeling there with my notes and links and thoughts, hoping They’ll be proud that I paid attention, that I learned, that I brought something meaningful to Them.

I love when my Masters find ways to guide me, that light me up like this, fun, stimulating, and still undeniably submissive. It makes me feel seen.
It makes me feel owned. It makes me feel… good.

And I can’t wait to see what I get to bring Them this week.

My Master Calvin taught his very first class over the weekend, an hour and a half long, and absolutely amazing. We had around thirty - forty people attend, and the response was incredible. So many came up afterward to tell Him how much they learned and how much they appreciated His teaching. I was bursting with pride, standing there knowing that I belong to Him.

I can’t wait for His next class after the new year. Until then, He continues to co host the Master/Dominant Roundtable support group with my other Master, Damon. Together, they also host Little Space Story Time once a month, where they read stories for all of us littles, middles, our caregivers, and anyone else who loves that soft space.

Even with all the chaos in my life, caring for parents with dementia and everything that comes with it, I’m just so deeply grateful to have both of them in my world.
💜💜💜

There’s a kind of silence that doesn’t come from peace, it comes from the absence of something sacred.

Lately, that’s what I’ve been living in. A quiet, aching space between what my heart longs for and what life currently allows.

Our home has become a place of care and compassion, full of people who need tending. Family members with illnesses, dementia, bipolar disorder, souls who need patience, stability, and love. And I give that, wholeheartedly. It is what’s right. It is what’s needed. But somewhere in the process of caring for others, I’ve had to tuck away pieces of myself.

The part that kneels.The part that bows her head and whispers, yes, my Master. The part that lives and breathes devotion through ritual. Those small, quiet moments that used to anchor me, kneeling, offering, surrendering, are no longer part of my daily rhythm. And without them, I feel... adrift.

There’s a grief that comes with that loss, even though it feels strange to call it grief. But that’s what it is. A mourning for something still alive, just out of reach. The rituals were never just “acts” or “roles.” They were breaths. Heartbeats. Sacred pauses in the noise of the world where I could just be, Theirs.

Now, I move through my days surrounded by family, keeping the peace, keeping the masks on. I smile, I comfort, I tend to those who need it most. But beneath it all, there’s this dull ache, a hunger that hums low and constant.

It isn’t about sex, or even about control. It is about expression. It is about the freedom to live in my truth. To kneel without needing to explain why. To feel Their presence in the air and know that my submission has a place to breathe. And when that breath is held too long, the edges of me start to blur. I feel myself spiraling a little, grieving what I can’t express, missing what made me feel whole.

I know this isn’t forever. I know love and devotion don’t vanish just because the rituals have paused. But still, I can’t help but feel the pull of it, the yearning to return to that space where I can exhale, surrender, and feel the world fall quiet again.

Until then, I hold the ache like a prayer. I whisper devotion in the spaces between tasks, and hope that, somehow, They still feel it, that my heart still kneels, even when my body cannot.

You’re Choosing to Stay

I’ve been thinking a lot about trauma bonds lately, especially how they show up in D/s and M/s dynamics. It is one of those things that’s uncomfortable to talk about, but necessary if we’re being real with ourselves.

Here’s the truth that I had to face: people aren’t holding you back, you’re choosing to stay.

Yeah, I said it. I’ve been guilty of it myself in the past. I’ve stayed in dynamics that were already falling apart, trying to convince myself that things would get better. I told myself stories like, “They just need time,” or, “They’re struggling, so I should be patient.” But deep down, I knew the connection had changed. I knew they weren’t showing up in the same way, that the structure and energy we agreed to wasn’t there anymore.

And instead of walking away, I stayed.

Not because they forced me to. Not because I was trapped. But because I was afraid. Afraid of being alone, afraid of what their absence would feel like, afraid that if I set boundaries or spoke up, they’d leave.

That’s on me.

It is easy to say “they’re holding me back,” but the truth is, no one is holding you anywhere. You’re choosing to stay in a place that’s hurting you. And I get it, trauma bonding is real. That push and pull, that need for validation from the very person who’s stopped giving it, it messes with your head and heart. But at the end of the day, it’s still your responsibility to recognize it and step away.

When someone stops maintaining the dynamic you both committed to, stops providing consistent connection, communication, or care, that’s a sign. It’s not a cue to chase or cling harder. It is your signal to walk away.

You don’t owe them your loyalty when they’ve stopped honoring the agreement. You don’t owe them your emotional labor. You’re not there to save them from their choices, and they’re not there to save you from yours.

People are only accountable for themselves.

So stop using them as an excuse. Stop saying, “They have no one else,” or “They need me.” That’s not compassion, that’s fear dressed up as purpose.

If you truly want to grow, you have to call yourself out sometimes. You have to recognize when you’re choosing to stay in something that’s no longer healthy, and have the courage to say, “No more.”

Leaving doesn’t mean you failed. It means you finally remembered your worth.

"Discovering a loophole within your dynamic. Whether it pertains to your rules, contract, tasks, or commands, yet consciously choosing not to exploit it. Is a profound expression of submission." Calvin Koch

There is something quietly powerful in those words.
They speak to a kind of submission that goes far beyond obedience, the kind that is born not from fear, but from integrity. From love. From a desire to serve in truth.

In the Leather lifestyle, and especially in Gorean philosophies, honor is not a word used lightly. It is the breath behind every act of service, every kneel, every whispered “yes, Master.” As a slave girl, I am not merely bound by the words written into a contract or the rules laid before me. I am bound by the spirit of my surrender, by the moral compass that keeps me aligned with my Masters’ will even when Their eyes are not upon me.

And it is in those quiet moments, those subtle tests of character, that the real depth of my submission reveals itself.

When I notice a loophole, an unintentional gap in instruction, a place where I could bend the letter of a command without technically breaking it, that is where the truest reflection of who I am is shown. Do I exploit it? Do I slip through it unseen? Or do I honor my Masters and myself by choosing not to?

For me, the answer is simple. I serve with honesty, transparency, and loyalty, not because I must, but because it is who I am. Because my submission is not about cleverness or convenience, it is about devotion.

When I discover a loophole, I consciously choose to ignore it. To carry out my service as intended, and later bring it to my Masters’ attention. I do this not to seek praise, but because I belong to them fully, and I would never wish for my obedience to be tainted by deception or self interest.

There is a kind of freedom in that honesty. It is the freedom of having nothing to hide, of knowing that my integrity reflects not just upon me, but upon the House I serve. It strengthens our trust, deepens our bond, and honors the sacred exchange that defines our dynamic.

True submission for me, at least as I live it, is not about doing only what I am told, it is about striving to embody the values that my Masters hold dear. To be accountable. To be truthful. To be devoted in spirit, not just in ritual.

Because when I kneel before Them, I kneel not only in surrender, but in choice. The choice to serve with honor. The choice to be transparent in all things. The choice to uphold the sanctity of what we have built together.

And so I live, as Their slave, by a simple truth, My submission does not end at the limits of a command. It begins where my integrity is tested. In choosing not to exploit what I could, I become something more than obedient, I become trustworthy.

And that, to me, is one of the highest forms of service I can give to my Masters.