I will become a self of my former shell.

Zeira, hound. She/her

[begrudgedhound]

Mistress is my better. I am not human, but perhaps neither is She: whereas I am lesser, She is something greater. Even in my position, I have my pride; I wouldn't serve just anyone, it has to be Her. She has remade me to serve Her, words and actions have served as Her surgical tools to change me forever, and it happened before I even had any clue, dumb dog that I am.

Handler performs Her role with such an elegance that it seems as natural to Her as breath itself; I can't tell if this is the result of a tireless practice and discipline or if She was simply born divine. I don't think a Handler can be made the way one of us can. A Handler is a beacon for all the feelings a Hound can have, desire, devotion, fury. Even a Hound scorned, angry at their Handler, cannot resist the siren's call to heel, the Handler redirecting the dog's rage to serve Her interests. She can toy with its obsession and twist it to Her benefit, and it is Her right to do so.

I expect Mistress to be firm with me, to challenge me and correct me when I am out of line. I want Her to offer me salvation from confusion and to direct me on how to serve Her. I expect Her to treat me as a weapon, a tool to use as She needs or wishes, I'm not human, I belong to Her as a loyal dog: She made me Hers. She can use me as She pleases, I can deal with things She needn't dirty Her hands with and I would do so happily, I will fight in Her stead so She never has to. She enables me to embrace the animal I am, so long as it serves Her interests. She is not just a superior, She is the only person to have my reverence, not just taking it as some officer would, but reshaping me so that it was always Hers to have. No one else could do that to me.

I can only serve Her.

[begrudgedhound]

I was able to best 2 other hounds where my Handler could see this weekend, yet I feel unsatisfied, and more importantly, She is unsatisfied with me. I proved my strength and cunning, but my struggle showed my weakness too, I came out on top in the first fight, but it was a dirty scrap, a desperate fight against something bigger. In the second match, my victory was far beyond being assured, I was fighting a runt, this could easily have been its execution, there was no contest and I instead became the tool of another Handler to put Her dog in its place. To the dismay of my Mistress, I played right into Her hands. I disappointed Her, nothing I had done was worthy of reward.

I have failed Her this time, also. I couldnt even complete a simple exercise without displaying to Her my thoughtlessness, I was made to pledge my obedience to Her once more. She made me angry and pointed out my glaring flaws, She even offered me the chance to leave Her, but I could never. I need Her guiding hand. I'm a dumb dog that could never make it on its own, She helped me understand that. I need Her. And I need to stop being a fucking disappointment.

I must sharpen my mind if I am to please Her, temper my strength with an intellect befitting Her dog. I will do better.

[the-fallen-eidolon]

There is so much warmth and love inside my heart but the cold steel around it keeps it all inside of me

[cassadism]

An interesting undercurrent in some kink dynamics is one of record keeping. When managing a submissive, it might help to keep at least some notes: the things that they like, the things they don't, and a few notable connections they might have built with others that you can build upon.

Natural skill may allow you to flow around them, pulling on their strings and manipulating them as you please, but true dominance of a subject requires at least a little bit of observation and planning. Commitment to a plan often requires writing it down, so that you don't forget the direction you have chosen to travel in the middle of your journey: you might still detour if an attraction presents itself but in general, planning may assist you in preventing accidentally cementing things in your submissives that you may have to train out of them.

And thus the solution: record keeping. A little book of secrets presents an alluring target for a brat, and convinces more obedient submissives that you are serious about your desires for them. A dominant that keeps notes is a dominant who can build an air of mystique: 'what does She write in that little book?' 'it is about me?' 'what has She planned for me?' and so on.

For an additional bit of fun, have your submissive write their own notes to you: their own thoughts about the play you are doing, and logging their own desires and ideas. In these little reports you can learn more about them too, and what they hope to get from you. They will provide you with all the information you need to manipulate them to your heart's content. Review them whenever you are in need of inspiration, and you will find that all you need to know is always within your grasp.

[begrudgedhound]

Started keeping records of my own.

[begrudgedhound]

The truth of what I am is unravelling what I knew I was.

I thought I was above them, I brushed off and fought against the insistent cries that I was like them. I thought I was better but let myself be humbled by a mere two of them, a worse performance than that of my now houndmate.

I knew myself to be strong, I couldn't lose. If I were to lose, I couldn't be myself anymore. I'm fierce and unbeatable and yet I was beaten. What am I now then?

I pushed this aside at first, clinging to the scraps of my identity as I was debriefed. She forced me to confront reality and showed me what I was. She compelled me to admit what I had come to realise. I am a hound. I hate this truth. I can't stand it, being one of those filthy dogs. But when I saw my shame I could refute it no longer, I look, act and sound like them. I fight like them, my houndmate may as well have been a mirror to myself.

So this is who I am, and I need to own it. I will become unbeatable again, as a gnashing, snarling monster. I will shed my shame and bear my teeth in anger, my hands becoming my claws to tear and maul my enemies: to reach my peak I must accept the beast's burden, not allow my disgust to reject it. Next time I will not be muzzled.