#kaissa

Here’s a true confession: I hate losing.

Yes, I have a growth mindset. I know all things happen in their time. I get that one door closes and another opens. I feel the love of the universe when I let myself get out of my way.

But I hate losing. I despise doing my best and not having it be enough. I loath having to suffer the proverbial slings and arrows while I make my way to success. I am sick of having doors slammed in my face and locked. I don’t like getting kicked in the teeth when I’m down and I detest waking up and having to clean up all the doubt, the fear, the woe of the day before.

I lost at Kaissa again yesterday and, as before, learned a good deal from it. Namely, I learned three things. First, that my defensive strategy was the correct one. Second, that key pieces need to be employed in order for that strategy to not be paralyzed. And third, that the eventuality of defeating my Master, who has been playing for quite a longer time than I, is not likely to occur in the near future.

The loss resulted in sodomy and story time, when I related two of my favorite events of my erotic history. As with past buggery, it was the intended punishment. I felt pretty awful afterward and was threatened by an even more awful outcome if I lost again.

I didn’t want to lose before and I sure as the Vosk is wide don’t want to lose again. Losing is bad enough in an encouraging environment, like when I used to mess up my tavern dances when owned by my prior Master, Ho-Hak Bar-Hom. Even though it was terrifying and awkward, he would tell me I was a great dancer in the making. Such is not the case with Kaissa.

My Master knows and says that I’ll be a formidable opponent one day. Yet the journey there will be long and unpleasant. Fortunately, I enjoy the game enough to persist. That’s the saving grace of the situation, the thing that puts that hatred and its root, my ego, aside and impels me to face the day enthusiastically. As much as I may hate the price of defeat, I love the game more than it.

Perseverance. Learning. Patience. Can there be any of ways to satisfaction that aren’t mere works of fleeting fortune?

I waited for what felt like days, dancing under the many eyes in a large Tavern, a veritable Hub of Gor. Half of those eyes, I don’t trust. And some of my foremost fans put in an appearance to taunt me.

Yet in the end, Master arrived, and the evening we spent made all those eyes and hours worth enduring the Hub. He took me to a creepy little island whose name I can’t pronounce and we met a Free Woman within the empty hall of the Jarl.

Master had me serve Her, yet I’m fairly sure that He didn’t expect my service to be successful, as the hall was only full of fruit from what I can only assume was a recent raid on Schendi. I failed to supply the Lady tea.

Yet in doing so, I presented both a shiny example of Master’s sadism and a figure of my submission. The intriguing Free Woman seemed impressed by both, in that she was profoundly alarmed and fled. Master then used me and we slept.

The outcome was so very satisfying, yet the intricacies of the journey under His command were too. Like the fine Kaissa player He is, He used me as a piece in a scheme; part of a sinister seduction of sorts. Though my body suffered a whipping, my mind enjoyed the relief of being led by someone who thinks two steps ahead.

These are the times that give me both peace and purpose, acting as Master’s game piece and plaything. Being absent from Him, as a coin girl, increasingly feels like squandered time. The Men that fill me leave me empty, or worse. They occupy me with their failures. They don’t give me copper so much as they give me corruption to carry.