People often ask me what I understand by expecting obedience from my slaves. Well that is easy to tell. Obedience means serving me without expecting any reward. Because the service carries the reward in itself. It is the reward. Serving Me without asking or questioning any of My orders. Anticipating them. Fulfilling them to the best of My slaves abilities. And also beyond that. I do not fulfil other peoples wishes. I expect my own wishes to be fulfilled. Not everybody will truly understand this concept and meaning of obedience. Only very few people will be able to follow that. My slaves do. Like frank.
Just recently I had told him by mail that I was going to Zurich the following week, gave him the flight number and told him that I would need a driver there. Not more than that. It was an e-mail of three lines only. I hardly ever write more than that to him. Even though I know, or rather because I know, how much he craves for words from me. he is a real addict to my words. But I do not have to write more. Because he always immediately understands what I tell him.
Arriving in Zurich I could see him already from far in the Arrivals hall. Standing there and waiting for Me. He is a rather tall and slim guy so he is easy to be made out in a crowd of people. As I had hoped he was wearing a chauffeur’s uniform complete with a cap and everything. I had not said anything about that, but this it what I mean. Even though My slaves are so different from Me they have to be able to know My thoughts. They have to anticipate My wishes. That I expect a perfect chauffeur when I need a driver. frank did. This is why I choose him for service.
From far I could already see and feel his nervousness and trembling anticipation. I could smell his ardent craving in My nose. He lives about an hour flight away from Zurich so I assume he also came by plane. I do not know. And I do not care. The only thing that interested Me was that he was standing there, ready and eager to serve Me.
Even though I had long made him out in the waiting crowd I did not show any sign of recognition. Why should I? I saw how his face was lit like by shining light when he first saw Me. I know that seeing Me always strikes him like lightning. Especially when I am clad into black leather from head to toe like I was in Zurich. I had chosen the bolero jacket he once had ordered for Me. I know how much he loves that and this is why I choosed that. A reason of course I would never ever let him know. He stared at My heels when I approached him. I noticed with satisfaction that he obeyed to the rule not to look into my face without being granted permission.
Passing him, I did not stop my steps. The staccato of the metal high heels was easy to hear even through the noisy airport hall. I passed him without slowing down. The only thing I did was letting go my trolley when passing him. No need to turn around and look whether he had grabbed that and followed. Of course he had.
Half a step behind me and on My left side, like I had taught him during our first meeting Bucharest, he followed Me through the catacombs of Zurich airport. When W/we had reached the car park, he gave me subtle directions where to go for the car. These were the first words that were spoken at all. Low voice, respectful, beginning every sentence with the words “Va rog” and ending it with “Stapana”.
We reached the car. A black Mercedes S-Class. Leather seats. Obviously a rather expensive rental car. Adequate means of transportation. He opened the back door for me and I got into the car without hesitation. Before closing the door he paused just for a fraction of a second. I know that he had hoped he would be allowed to kiss my feet for reception. But no, no, no. Not today. He stowed my trolley carefully in the trunk, sat down in the front and started the engine.
“Where may I bring You Mistress?”
His eyes looked for mine in the rear view mirror. So eager for contact. I saw the begging in his eyes. But again I did not show any mercy. The little piece of paper with the address thrown carelessly from the back landed on the front seat. I looked out of the side window. The big limousine gently started. Minutes later W/we had become part of the Zurich rush hour traffic. So far i had not addressed him with a single word. I knew that his apparent calmness was nothing but false front. His mind was utter turmoil. Time to tighten strings.