Night Nine - The Weight of obedience

[RJK79]

By the ninth night, Robby had begun to realize that obedience was not a command but a state of being. Mistress no longer needed to raise her voice or even gesture; a look from her carried enough power to steady his breath.

When he entered, the room was silent except for the ticking of a clock. Mistress pointed to the center of the floor. “Kneel,” she said. The single word carried both comfort and warning.

He did.

“Obedience,” she said, pacing slowly around him, “is not about ***. It is about trust. You will learn to wait, to listen, to respond not from impulse but from discipline.”

The lesson that night was repetition—commands given, actions performed, again and again until his thoughts stopped racing ahead. Each task was simple—standing, kneeling, turning, pausing—but every gesture was measured against her silence. The absence of praise became its own form of focus.

When she finally spoke, her tone softened. “Control of the self is the highest service you can offer,” she said. “When you hold back your own urges, you create space for my direction.”

Robby understood then that obedience wasn’t submission through weakness—it was deliberate restraint, an active choice to yield. The discipline he’d built over the past nights now became purpose.

Mistress stepped closer, studying him. “Perfection is not about pleasing me once,” she said quietly. “It is about being ready—body and mind—to please without being told.”

She left him in silence, the weight of those words settling over him like a vow. In that stillness, Robby felt something new take root: calm, clarity, and the steady pulse of unwavering loyalty.

[Al****]

You're a great writer. I'm already hooked..

[DH****]

Okay, I really feel how submission equates to power in this dynamic - I need to explore this, thank-you. What I mean to say is, I'd already stretched my mind most of the way, and this was just a nail in a coffin in a universe where corpses?
All go the same way Yoda's did. 🚀