First meeting with my Lord.

Master Vaquero summoned me to his house.

I, a good orphaned bitch, alone, didn't notify anyone. No one had to know. From before, everything had been agreed upon as it should be: from that day on, I would cease to belong to myself. I would be his pet.

Upon arrival, he locked the door with a key. The dry sound of the metal pierced my chest. He cracked his fingers, slowly, like someone calling something that already belonged to him. He indicated for me to kneel. I obeyed.

He placed the collar around my neck: the symbol. The limit. The sweet sentence. Afterwards, he gave me a new name, one that didn't carry any past: Kaiser.

He ordered me to lower my head. His boots were there, firm, immovable. I licked them. In that instant, my mind and emotions were stretched to the limit, like a rope on the verge of breaking. Everything in me was awake, alert, exposed.

Holding me by the leash, he took me to his quarters. The dragging wasn't physical: it was internal. There, the adoration continued. The soles, the dust, the weight of his presence over me. Each correction was clear, precise; each error had consequences, three belt strokes for each error. I quickly learned to measure my words, not to cross limits that didn't belong to me.

Then he showed me my corner. A plate on the floor. My place. He told me that with time, there would be more: a cage, a defined space to wait. To exist only when he decided.

That afternoon, there was everything. He played with me and with my anxiety, with my silences and my hunger to belong. He reminded me, without saying it, how deeply orphaned I am. How easy it is to surrender when someone names your void.

Now I wait.

I wait for soon having more encounters with Master.

I wait, in my corner, with the collar still marking who I am.