A slave thinks of disobeying. thinks of running, escaping Princess. he ponders this in his small mind. In the tiny recess She has not taken over, he considers the strategy of his freedom. Oblivious that his insignificant sanctuary of thought is only what she allows. Oblivious to the former vast expanse of his mind and will that She has since claimed for herself. Oblivious that his mind is become Her temple and that he is but a prisoner in it. That She allows that last fragment of will and resistance for Her amusement, keeping them as pets for Her pleasure. Within that little corner, the special cage She created for him, he marshals that resistance and calculates the method of his escape.
But no plan takes shape. Not a single liberating thought emerges. Yes, there are predictable, obvious thoughts of avoiding contact with Her, of exercising his will power and focusing on other things. But these solutions seem so meaningless, so ineffectual. Then suddenly it comes to him, from where he does not know, the way of his escape from Her power. In his little mind, he has no capacity to comprehend his fate, let alone the revelation of his freedom that has just dawned on him. Yet, it's so simple, so obvious, so right regardless. he must stroke! Yes, stroke! That is the answer! This is the plan of his resistance! There are many other thoughts involving willpower and concentrated resistance, but this is the only one that seems to make sense. Yes, this is the only answer. slave smiles happily. he is so clever, so strong. he will show Her. he will be free. Finally the method of his resistance is clear.
Defiantly he begins to stroke...up...and down...yesss...up...and down. he knew She could not hold him forever...up and down...he was too strong...up and down...too smart for Her...up and down. In the palatial sanctuary of his mind, he becomes vaguely aware of Her, before him. The images are fuzzy, dreamlike. The powerful exertions of his resistance make it so hard to concentrate, so hard to think as the indomitable power of his will breaks free of her control...up, and down. he knows that as his brilliant strategy sets him free of her power nothing else matters. Is she smiling at him? It doesn't matter. She seems amused. he seems to be kneeling, naked before her...up, and down. he smiles arrogantly to himself, what a silly thought. What silly images.
He focuses on his escape...up, and down...up, and down...and now...words are coming to him, from somewhere, distant. It doesn't matter. Yes, these words...they are right. They are what was missing from his escape plan strategy: stroking, and these words. Now it's complete, the perfect formula of his resistance. Now his escape is assured. But what do they mean? In his small mind he is unable to understand their implications. It doesn't matter. he speaks them. "i, am Shelle's slave." Up, and down. Stroking and repeating his mantra, and the universe is in order. Nothing else matters. slave smiles. Stroking, repeating. No ability to comprehend the purpose of these actions. No need to. This right.
slave is vaguely aware of something. Was he trying to escape? Is this the plan of his resistance? Words float around in the nebulous haze. Resistance, will, escape, freedom, and there was something...a purpose. They don't really seem to have any meaning though. But the vague struggle of slave's confusion fades into sweet mindless, bliss. The visions tease vaguely at the fringes of his perception. Visions of Princess, sitting on Her throne in the Temple that was once his mind. And now...is she leading him? Where is She taking him. It doesn't matter. Such things do not concern him. Only his all important task. Only stroking, and Mantra.
There was a plan to escape? Resistance? slave is unaware of what these things mean. Thoughts? What are those? Thinking has no meaning. Only stroking...up, and down...up, and down...and the all encompassing mantra. "i, am Shelle's slave...i, am Shelle's slave..." Nothing else, only the absolute reality of Her words and their truth. Submission, Surrender, Obedience. Princess is so beautiful as She leads him. slave follows. There are questions, like where is she leading him? What is She going to do with him? How had he come to this? Was he a free man once? What had She taken when She claimed him as Her own? And even, ideas, like running, escaping, being free. But these things existed only on the distant periphery outside his consciousness. he had no ability to comprehend their meaning. There was no reason for him to. His body obeys, it is unnecessary for his mind to know why.
Princess of course knew all the answers. She smiles knowingly, at the blissful empty look in slaves eyes, the outcome of his "great plan" of escape. She takes pleasure in what she has done to him, to his resistance. slave continues to stroke and follow his beautiful Goddess, only unconciously aware of his surroundings. No thoughts, only acceptance. Obey Princess, follow princess. Deeper, and deeper, through the halls of his mind. The vast palaces of his consciousness, that She has repurposed and taken up residence in. And now...to the place where She has led him. A cage? slave doesn't know. It doesn't matter. It is the place She has brought him, so it is the only right thing. slave is quick to obey, to take his place. he sees his Sweet Princess closing the door, still oblivious to anything but obedience.
And then, She leaves him. But as She does She says something to him. Implanting the seed of a thought into his mind. An unformed concept. Her words still echoing in his mind as the click of Her regal heels diminishes. She has an entire kingdom of slaves to rule. In the confines of his cage slave drifts sleepily as Her words lead him. She has enslaved him. Taken everything. She has turned him into her mindless slave. But he's a man, she can't do this to him can She? Shouldn't he resist? Shouldn't he try to escape? Gradually concepts take shape out of the haze. A slave thinks of disobeying. thinks of running, escaping Princess...