Trust
is a slow-woven web
M.J.
Journey's End
As the train rolled across the Bulgarian plain towards Varna on the Black Sea coast I thought about how easily I had become accustomed to its constant movement. This is what sailors experience, I thought, a constant rolling. 'Sea legs' were real, and dry land something that had to be learned about again after a long voyage. Our journey had not been so long, of course, but it had been filled with incident and adventure and would soon enough be over. What then?
I was soon to get an inkling of this.
"Hurtle, my sub, I have been very pleased with you on this trip." My Mistress had said nothing for over an hour and I sat up and paid attention.
"You have served me with great care. You have entered into our nightly games readily."
I admit, I did allow myself a small flush of pride when I heard these words.
"Have you ever been to a slave auction, Hurtle?"
"No Mistress. Never. I am aware they exist."
"They do indeed, my sub. And we will have the pleasure of participating in one in Istanbul. A very prestigious event with Mistresses and Masters from all over Europe and the Middle East."
"It will be an honour to attend with you, My Mistress."
She looked at me then, with those sparkling dark eyes, a smile playing around her mouth.
"You know, you would fetch a very good price, Hurtle, with your obedience and loyalty, and your physical attributes..."
I blushed again, and as I looked at My Mistress I felt as if her eyes were penetrating right into the heart of my being. Love for her welled up in me and I was filled with a profound trust in her. She was My Mistress, my Ruler, my Domme. I knew I would do anything she asked of me, knowing her love and care for me was like a deep well. And I trusted her intelligence and her experience in this world of kink - her choices and decisions were always taken with care and diligence. And executed with flare. As her sub, I was blessed.
If it was her wish that I be auctioned, then she would have good reason for this, and I would stand proudly as her sub and go willingly with whoever chose me. For she was inside me now, and whatever befell me, wherever I went, I would wear her collar, like a leash, in the depths of my mind.
When she turned away to the window I saw that we were passing through Varna and I glimpsed the sea and the beaches and the throng of gaily dressed holiday makers and tourists.
We followed the coast for many miles and were once again lost in our own thoughts. This flat, fertile countryside was the ancient Thracian plain, purported by some to be the birthplace of Dionysius, the god of wine, music and ecstatic dance.
My Mistress and I talked about him for a time and wondered if, in the course of his rites, he had ever felt the sting of the lash on his flesh and taken pleasure from it. We suspected he did.
We arrived at the Sirkeci Terminal in the dark, having eaten our last meal on board - both of us had chosen the sturgeon - and I felt a pang, almost of loss, to be leaving this most romantic of trains.
