four- the past
Our conversations became more and more frequent. Gradually, there came a time when i felt unfulfilled going to bed at night, unless i had heard His voice.
He told me stories which fascinated me endlessly, stories of dominance and submission, Masters and slaves. Bedtime tales that sent me into sleep fantasizing myself into the seduction of each one. The fantasies were based on touch and sound alone, because i still had no face to go with that oh-so-powerful voice. Still, they were the most compelling fantasies i had ever experienced. My faceless Master.
Other conversations were what i referred to as 'The Sexual Inquisition.' Rapid-fire, relentless questions about what turned me on, what didn't, what frightened me, what enticed me. i could never quite decide if he was only trying to find my boundaries, or to divine where they were weakest, where they might be flexed, pushed, or broken altogether.
He discovered that i had been spanked. That i had enjoyed the experience, but longed to take it further. That my marriage had been seven years of sex-by-numbers, and i had been made to feel unwanted, and very far from sexy. That my last relationship before marriage - six months during my senior year of high school - had been with a woman, and that i yearned to try it again. That i loved oral, was very frightened by anal, and had very large, and extremely sensitive breasts.
It was almost as if He was meticulously mapping out His sexual conquest of me, physically and mentally. In retrospect, i'm certain that is EXACTLY what He did. And it wasn't like i was only playing along, either. No, i felt compelled to answer, not only honestly, but thoughtfully. He delved into every corner of my deepest, darkest, most secret self. i suppose it could have felt invasive, but it never did. i wanted to open up those doors for Him, to allow Him into my essence. It felt like He belonged there. It felt like i had been left wanting in His absence.
five - the present
He is gone again, but His breath lingers on my throat, His taste on my tongue. Much of the tension i felt has drained away. i have given in to the whole experience, feeling as though i were adrift on a raft, being swept away on the tide. It is the calm acceptance of inevitability.
The slightest caress of cold steel on my collarbone pulls me back into awareness with an almost audible SNAP! It takes my mind a breathless moment to register what my body already knows:
He is holding a knife, just beneath that spot on my throat where the lifeblood pulses under the delicate skin.
We have discussed this. i admitted that i may like to try it, yet He has caught me entirely unprepared.
His fingers grasp the neck of His tank, the one He has given to me to wear, and the knife slices through the fabric with a titillating rasp. A delicious shudder envelopes me. Then, the knife is gone, and He grasps the slightly ragged edges of the cut fabric , ripping them apart until my breasts are fully exposed to the air, and His mercy.
