She
She was on her knees so: her knees were spread apart--as wide apart as they
could comfortably go. Her hand rested, relaxed, on her thighs, the palms
turned up and the fingers slightly curled in. She was naked and her long
brown hair flowed from her bowed head, past her shoulders and rested lightly
on her small breasts, just reaching her tawny brown nipples. Her eyes were
open and she saw the smooth tile floor between her knees. She was aware of,
but did not see, the orange flickering flames in the fireplace behind her and
slightly to the right; she felt their warmth on her back. Her master was
seated in front of her, just a few metres away, but she could not see him
without shifting her gaze--and she had been instructed to gaze only at a
point between her knees and that she did.
From time to time he rose and walked past her to the large oak bookcase.
Sometimes, as he did so, or as he returned, he would tussle her hair, or
touch her shoulder.
She felt a warmth deep inside knowing that she was near him. At the beginning
of their relationship she had ached so much to show him how much she wanted
to please. She had ached to serve him. She had ached to please him. He found
great joy in her and in the dedication and skill with which she performed the
tasks and duties he assigned her. One of the greatest, and one of the hardest
to do, was that which she did now. She knew that from time to time as she
knelt he would look up from his reading and smile with the knowledge that she
belonged to him so deeply. She knew that it was just as important a task to
remain kneeling just so as were any of the other tasks.
She was alert, for he regularly called on her, while she knelt, to fetch him
sometimes a drink, sometimes a book, or pen or paper. She had learnt though,
to let her mind wander while, at the same time, still being able to "snap
back" when he spoke to her.
She thought of other nights like this. It wasn't always that she was required
to kneel so, but it was always his favourite position for her when he studied
or read. He was very careful with her, always making sure that he gave her
some task or other to perform so that she did not suffer from the hardness of
the tiles or stiffness in her muscles. She had not been aware at first, but
after so much time with him she realized that not ALL the tasks were for him
but that some were simply to have her move and give her the chance to
stretch.
Many nights she would be dressed in jeans and a T-shirt. She would cook for
him, eat at the table with him, then wash up and perform any other chores
before returning to him and curling up at his feet.
They were partners, friends, lovers and master and slave. When the needs of
the outside world interfered they would talk as partners, equals, and arrange
whatever needed arranging. Then they would return to their own, real,
relationship.
Her needs as a submissive had brought them together. He was strong,
intelligent, caring and funny. Most importantly though, he saw and understood
the depth of her need, the necessity of it to her feeling of "completeness",
and had gently, but firmly, drawn aside the curtains of defensiveness and
brought out the slave in her. With him she could be herself.
She had sought symbols to reassure herself. She had her collar, her leash,
her high-heels, her cuffs and her chain. Over time, though, these things had
lost their importance to her--except for her collar. She was under no orders
to wear it or carry it with her, but it was always in her handbag. Sometimes,
in quiet times, or in stressful moments at the office, she would take out her
collar and place it around her neck. Immediately she would feel his warmth
and his strength flow into her. He had given her confidence in herself. He
had let her be herself, and in that she had found faith in herself. The
collar reminded her, in a way, of these feelings and brought her back into
focus.
Most nights she slept on a mat near his bed. After love-making she often
hoped that he would fall asleep before ordering her onto her mat for the
night. She loved to sleep next to him and reacted to it as a sort of furtive
pleasure. It didn't happen often and in her heart she knew that it should
not. Her place was at his feet, on her mat, not beside him.
He was strong and decisive. His orders to her were always clear, always
imperative and always without doubt. When she failed him it tore her heart.
He was there to be her strength when she needed it. He was there to firm and
confirm her resolve. He was there to punish her when she needed it.
Sometimes she did not realize that she needed punishment. Sometimes she
resented it, but always, later, when she reflected on it, she realized that
he had been right. It wasn't that there was any doubt in her mind that it was
his right to beat her or punish her as he wished for whatever reason or lack
of reason. It was just that sometimes she did not see as he did, she thought
that the punishment would not be positive for her and for them both... but
invariably it was.
His harshest punishment was when he would not let her serve him. At these
times she felt truly bereft--lost and without her anchor. It had happened
seldom and had always served to reinforce her belief and knowledge that she
truly NEEDED him.
At times, semi-regularly, he would beat her. Although she never looked
forward to the pain or the tears or the anguish the sessions somehow served
to discharge her restlessness and made it easier to focus, easier to serve
him. She did not know how he knew when she needed it. She had not realized
that she had EVER needed it. But she knew now that she did. And she was glad
that he did also and that he dealt with it.
She was his slave. Each day still she could look into her heart and soul and
see the deepening of the attachment to him. It was her heart and soul which
made her a slave. It was his strength, his character, his determination and
his love which made her HIS slave, HIS prisoner and HIS love.
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