The Master of Gor

<p>It is said that life reserves unexpected disconcerting sometimes unacceptable nuances; it is our choice to grasp them make them our own accept them for what they are showing a courage that often does not belong to us.<br>I as a soul who is afraid of herself to the point of hiding every disturbance she feels in her body when it does not meet the standards of a normal romantic relationship accepted these nuances.<br>That ethereal character I used to dream next to me during the imaginary scenes experienced in solitude in my old room when I was still a teenager and worried about pleasing someone always accompanied me in the years to come.<br>He would materialize and with every order he gave me I obeyed always waiting for that wave that from my lower belly grew grew until I felt the joy the long-awaited pleasure.<br>Then harried I would hide every object every fetish used because eventually I would be so ashamed that I would be crushed by it.<br>The ropes the gag and the belts were evidence of my deviance of my diversity useful only to grow an urge that I wanted to erase but instead fed.<br>Once the scene was over I was back to being that simple sensitive little girl so affable polite reserved collecting praise for school compliments for her sharp intelligence and much affection from her parents.<br>So what was wrong with her? Why did I need to do those things to prepare those scenes? Maybe it was pleasure calling me or maybe it was the need to feel bad to transgress the many rules imposed and thus to seek punishment at all costs.<br>Now I've figured it out and I want to tell you my name is Vera Cornwell and this is my story.</p>