Drip

she was beautifully bare, bound by thick, leafy vines which curled around her ankles and her wrists to spread her limbs wide and taut. The vines then snaked all around the big massive boulder which had been chiseled down with great care to have a flat surface upon which she could rest. A pillow of petals representing seemingly all colors of the rainbow cushioned her barren head.

In the dim light of the awakening day, as the first calls of the birds wafted on the eastern breeze, she shuddered, tugging gently and sensually against the vines which confined her to her prone position atop the chiseled block of stone. The subtle chill of the air still held a trace of the recent winter and a scant scent of the rain which had graced the landscape during the night.

her pale skin was testimony to her interior nature, for years taught to serve in her capacity as a maid and as a toy for the men who visited her Master's manor. Despite the secluded area of this secluded planet in this nearly-forgotten region of the galaxy, although only He would see her most of the time, she was more than content to spend the majority of her life indoors, especially during the cold, cold winters, when every source of heat within the mansion still could not dispel the slightest of chills which would harden her nipples to thick points upon her breasts.

Yet, here she was, enjoying a rare excursion to the hilltop to the north of the mansion. The semi-sentient vines had been trained well, well enough that they retained their knowledge despite her absence during the lengthy period of bone-chilling cold. The spongy texture of the bluish-green plants felt at once strange yet familiar encircled around her wrists and her ankles. As she pulled against them and reveled in her captivity, the gentle scented breeze arousing her soul, the vines countered with enough force to hold her firmly in place yet with enough slack that she clearly would not be able to escape without her Master's assistance.

That single drip seemed to cling to the edge of the candle, unwilling to escape the source of its warmth and plunge downward to grace her writhing bound figure. her smoky eyes half-clouded by the lust which always simmered deep within her and boiled in His presence, she gazed up at the candle, at that single small point of melted wax, that nearly-unnoticeable bulge of red which stubbornly remained with its melted counterparts.

Red: His color. He was like a god to her, so red was fittingly appropriate. To be marked with red or made red by Him was an incredible honor. It made her feel owned to be marked in such a manner; it made her feel as if He had claimed her by placing His red seal upon her flesh.

Yet, it was only a symbol, for His true claim had been placed upon her heart so many years earlier, during her escape from a life of true bondage, when her body was used and abused not for pleasure, but because she was low-born.

He had met her in using her. she had been so thoroughly broken by the Others that she could barely will herself to go through the motions of even feigning enjoyment of the act, and suddenly, something within Him had changed, His eyes softened, and instead of being just sex, it was suddenly something more.

He had saved her, in more ways than one. He returned often, specifically requesting her services. Unlike the Others who were High-born, He took His time with her, slowly nudging her out of her permanent despair and carefully extracting the woman locked within her feminine shell, and for the first time in her life, the pleasures of the flesh truly became pleasurable for her.

His gentle teaching had not gone unnoticed, for she overheard the Others commenting that she had become more sensual as she was used, her actions more enticing, making it harder and harder for the Other Men to hold back when embedded within her body. she took a secret pride in those praises, and while she still resented being used by most of the Others, she awoke each morning wishing that He would return and request her services again that day.

her low-born comrades had also overheard those praises. Jealousies arose quickly. her interactions with her sisters placed an unexpected stress upon her. The lashings she received from their tongues were even worse than the lashings she received from the Others.

...yet He did not lash her in any way for nearly two full seasons, and when He did, He did it not out of aggression or anger, but to show her that even pain could bring her pleasure. With each marking He bestowed upon her flesh, she felt the lick of desire, even though He used the same implements many of the Others had used upon her. When He restrained her, it was done with slow and deliberate care, with a reverence rarely ever afforded to a low-born person such as herself. Whenever He touched her or struck her or sheathed Himself inside her, it was clear that He felt pride simply in her.

He did not see her birthclass. He saw her as a person, and in that, she saw Him not as a High-born Man, but as Someone who truly deserved her respect: the one thing she had never given Anyone before Him.

The single drip held furiously to the candle by the thinnest thread of heated red wax. her eyes widened as her back arched, willing her heart to rise from her chest to embrace the symbol of His possession - a possession of her body, of her heart, of her soul.

The tenuousness of her existence had been nearly at a snapping point. The jealousies of her low-born sisters intensified as they overheard the praises of the Others in reference to her acceptance of pain. Through Him, she had found a way to find solace in her narrow existence. Through Him, she had found her true place in life, and her sisters recognized this and were envious because they had yet to find such a place.

Yet, she overheard. He was not immune to being the target of jealousies, for He used her exclusively, and had paid a dear price to ensure that no Other Man could use her. There were several plots afoot to eliminate Him, and as He drove Himself ever closer to her heart, she clutched Him tightly, whispering of her knowledge as she gripped Him fiercely, shedding tears at the thought that He could be torn from life, torn from her. He was the one thing she truly possessed, yet He was clearly much more than a mere "thing."

Two nights later, as her sisters slept, He had come for her, wisking her away in an elaborate clandestine manner which she still could not completely comprehend. her final vision of her home planet was of the big orb on the monitor, her former homeland growing smaller and smaller as the ordnance aimed at His small starship finally ceased.

He had won freedom - not for her and not for Him, but for T/them.

It took several standard years to find this small Earthesque planet on the outer fringes of the galaxy. While this region of space had been charted, there was little to support T/them here, but that also meant that there would be little interest in anyone exacting revenge for the daring escape.

Over time, others of like mind from across the galaxy arrived, creating their own lots of seclusion from the dictates of the ununderstanding. T/theirs became a world devoted to the pleasures of Dominance and submission, rather than the social dictates galactically associated with such roles.

...and as the vines held firm, as she hissed loudly through her clenched teeth, a single drop of scalding red wax fell between her breasts and further warmed her heart with His love.