Majic Cont...

Release

Oasis stood in front of her mirror examining the fading marks left by the many attending her trial. Caressing them softly with her fingertips, she really only wanted them to stay. It had been two weeks since she had returned home.

The punishment’s final ten of the cane landed from Philippe’s own hand. He took his turn very slowly, drawing out the remainder, often times tracing his fingers along her back, or between her legs before each stroke. He wanted more and more to hear her deepening cries, could almost feel them, touching her skin. In his mind he kept hearing her say "Je t’aime Philippe" over and over. The last he delivered with no measured force, but knew it to be terrible, hearing her cries of agony.

The giant, with the last, took the cane from Philippe not expressing a word. Oasis lay very limp across the bent table, whimpering from the pain. She tried very hard to control this, but could not. When Philippe released her bindings, and held her close to him, she could only cry uncontrollably.

"Je t’aime Oasis," he whispered softly, slowly rocking her back and forth, stroking her hair and face gently. His desire was to have her away from all of this. Helping her, he let Marcus guide them to his car. Entering the car, he laid her across the seat, her head in his lap, continuously stroking her. He could feel her slowly emerge from her state of release, as she responded to his touch.

Oasis tried to speak, but could only entwine her fingers with his, gripping them as tightly as she could. When she released them, he pulled her more tightly to him in a suffocating embrace. She could feel his need to posses her through it. It occurred to her right then, if she never took another breath, it would not matter, as long as she was held by him.

"I love you Philippe," she whispered pulling away from him slightly, and searching his face. As he kissed her deeply, she could feel the parts of herself become one with him. When he only held her again, she could not feel any difference in their breath, or heartbeat. Her bottom hurt terribly, but even the throb coursing through her there, seemed in time with the rhythm they shared.

Lost in her thoughts she did not hear Philippe come in. When she felt him caress these same marks, she jumped slightly in surprise. In his other arm he held a foiled box to him. It was oblong and fairly wide, and looked like a gift. Seeing this reflection in the mirror, Oasis turned quickly to look up at him with eyes full of anticipation. Gifts were not a rarity, but each time he brought her one, she felt an immense pleasure in his thoughtfulness. Looking at him, she felt a little uncertain with his gaze. Usually there was an expression of his own pleasure seeing her excitement, but today his face bore only a thoughtful questioning glance.

"Open it my love. I found it on your doorstep when I came in," he said, with a touch of reproach in his voice.

She took the box from him tentatively, and kneeled on the floor to open it. Intrigued as she was, she was still unnerved by his expression. Carefully she untied the bow binding the foil lid to the box. Pushing the lid away, Oasis gasped in surprise , as the contents revealed an incredible evening gown. Oasis stared dumbfound at the beautiful contents. The olive green color, the silky material, the design, all in perfect line with her tastes. She knew just by looking, the gown would fit perfectly. Raising her eyes to Philippe, she sought to find the words to tell him what an exquisite gift this was. Any words forthcoming were lost, as he strode out of the room.

Oasis followed his back out the door with her eyes. There was no question in her mind now, this gift was not from him. Though for practicality this was not something she would buy, but the perfection of her taste being so represented, she had to wonder who else would know her well enough to send her such a thing.

Impatient to try the dress on, Oasis knew it would be better to wait. Taking one more greedy glance in the box, regrettably, she returned the foil lid, and put the gift aside to find Philippe. She found him at the front door signing for another delivery. Stopping just short of the door, she tried to see what it was. Had she been clothed, there would have been no hesitation at all. She almost laughed imagining the expression from this delivery person were she just to walk up and nonchalantly take the package. She could imagine him to be a very young and naïve boy, maybe just out of school. His expression would be complete shock at first, but then something else. Desire, interest, pure lust of her? Knowing it would most likely be all three, she felt a twinge of satisfaction, and an arousal of her own. Seeing Philippe’s rigid stance, head bowed slightly from behind, she decided to head for the shower. Give him a chance to calm from these surprise gifts, and give her a chance to cool this arousal from her imagination. Surprise encounters would just have to wait, at least she thought.

Closing the door, Philippe opened the jeweler’s box. He traced his finger along the delicate lines of the choker. Though the mixture of stones were cool to his touch, inside he felt an alarming heat rise, thoughtfully spreading through his entire body. He pulled the choker from the box, holding it at each end, eyeing it like an enemy, trying to reason the attack. Imagining this around Oasis’ neck, he could envision it being a jeweled collar, a perfect accessory for the evening gown, an elegant but quiet reminder of her ownership. Rational thought wanted to know the origination of these gifts, irrational jealousy brought the spreading heat to a central point. Oasis had gained the admiration of another, his conclusion, she would also gain the feel of his jealousy. Choker in hand, he followed her path to the shower.

Oasis did not just shower, she bathed in the caresses of the water over her body. Her soft expressions, and exhaled breathes of contentment were always enough to arouse him, even just to hear. He knew by the sound she was making, she was rinsing her hair. In his mind, he could see the water, the soap, cascading down the curve of her back, between the soft mounds of her marked bottom. He had not meant to shower with her, but to even see this image in his mind, he wanted to have his hands amidst his waterfall.

Oasis knew he was in the room with her. She had thought many times, he could be thousands of miles away from her, and she would still feel his presence. The water was soothing to her, but she burned with curiosity about what was delivered. Knowing better than to ask, she continued her shower ritual. Hearing the slight swish of the curtain, she smiled, eyes closed against any renegade soap falling around her. She felt a cool hardness brush against her nipple, forcing her eyes to open, to see what it was. Glancing down, she saw the choker wrapped in his fingers brushing one, then the other of her nipples, bringing them even more erect from the sensation. The rose gold contrasted in winking bleeps with the water and his skin. Even more striking were the alternating colors of green, red, and amber. No longer burning with curiosity, she tilted her head back against the water, enjoying the way he used this gift on her body. Feeling him trace the stones up to her neck, with eyes closed, she lifted her hair to allow him access. She felt him attach the clasp securely, the metal lay against her skin, warm, but not too tightly. Softly, she felt him trace the choker along her neck with his fingertips. She burned to move against him, her desire, the anticipation of his touch, brought her to madness sometimes. Raising her own hands to caress along his arm, she felt them pushed back abruptly.

"Please Philippe, let me touch you, let me caress you too," she pleaded, sounding very childlike, her voice diminished in his rebuff. When he did not respond in voice, or continued caress, she stayed as still as her quivering body would allow, and let him inspect her, without further attempts to sway him. She knew from the set of his face, the expression in his eyes, passivity would gain her more.

Elegance, beauty, words that formed in his mind touching her skin against this intrusion from another. He felt her delight of such gifts, and wanted to punish her for it. Rational thought seemed to mock him. It did not matter, her delight came from his touch. Methodically he placed one finger under the metal against her throat. Feeling her swallow to adjust, he knew she could feel the pressure there. Slowly turning his finger, he grasped her throat, and pushed her back against the water until he heard sputters of breath, then pulled her forward again. She opened her eyes.

"Good," he thought, there was uncertainty there.

Again he pushed her into the water, willing her to fight against this suffocation. Something, to give him more reason to punish her, other than his own jealousy. His inner request being granted when he felt her begin to struggle, her hands going around his lower arm in her silent plea. Pulling her down to her knees by this finger, under the provoking collar, she barely had time to breathe once, before her mouth was opened, and again denied breath. He could see her expression beneath the cascade of water. Her face a kaleidoscope, as he held her there. The water above them, her mouth filled with him. When she pulled at this jeweled collar he gave her a small reprieve before beginning again, slowly cutting her air. Feeling her throat constrict against him over and over, his moment of pleasure reached, only when seeing her eyes open beneath the water, this shower giving her face the river of tears he so often desired.

"Stay," his only command when he left the shower, left her to enjoy her new gift. As he dried himself and dressed, there was at least some satisfaction to hear her gasps for breath and choking sobs.

"Maitre," Oasis whispered knowing he would not stay.

She stayed so as he left her, kneeled, her head bowed against the shower spray. The tears were her own, not created by 21st century plumbing. Trying to breath normally again, she bent her head back taking a bit of water into her mouth to ease her aching throat. Even after swallowing this, she tasted Philippe there. Her thoughts were not of how much she loved his taste, but of why he was being so cruel to her for something she had no control over. This choker burned her. There was no more excitement left in anticipation to know of such gifts. The water was turning cold against her back, and feet. She only hoped Philippe would allow her to get out of it soon. When she felt herself shiver involuntarily against the cold, she closed her eyes and tried to envision something with warmth, something that would take her away from this cold feeling, the water and his.

All Monsters Are Not Green

And more came…..

An invasion of flowers, so pungent, Oasis wanted to open all the windows to get some reprieve. The first and most elaborate came while she was still in the shower. Intercepted by Philippe, this intruder finally known to him.

"Stefan Von Straud," Philippe spat in his mind. He should have guessed. A long time acquaintance going back as far, as the first years away from home, in school. Even then, a rivalry so open, there was not competition if one or the other were not involved. He gazed at the written script of the attached note. So precise and clean this writing, still the arrogance remembered. When studies took them to different goals in life, there at least, was a parting to soothe the seams in the lives around them, that always seemed to be aggravated. Stefan chose the arts, while Philippe chose the more intellectual aspects of learning. Two sides so different, but both learned with a passion to match each other. Philippe out of his own enjoyment of the opera, had followed Stefan’s success, their paths to occasionally meet, in gatherings such in the manner of Sir Blackheart’s style. Though he had not seen Stefan at Oasis’ trial, he knew the entire event had been orchestrated, and designed by him. Stefan had always had the ability to turn the objectionable into a tasteful production. The demand for his elaborate work, was known all over the world. Philippe felt this intrusion into his life, as only an instigation of past times.

Oasis sat coolly on the sofa watching her beloved reading this note over and over. Having been allowed out of her shower, she moved her feet along the rug, and rubbed her hands together trying to invoke more feeling to them. She did not understand the waves of emotion that passed over Philippe’s face while reading. With what she felt as disregard, he flipped the note to her.

"Do as you wish," he almost growled, and left her sitting in confusion, as he walked out the door.

From lack of understanding, her first thought and response could have been, "I will!" but she had been with Philippe long enough to know, it was more wise to proceed with caution in one’s actions. Taking reign on her impetuous nature, she calmly sat the note alongside the table, taking great pains to focus on more mundane activities. Her first objective was to find a covering for her chilled body. Gaining the entrance to her closet, she pulled the door open finding her robes hanging from the back. The first, a bare silk wrap, she touched briefly enjoying the feel to her fingertips, but chose the last in the row. A very worn and well used terry robe, frayed along the elbows, something she had gained from her endearing Mam, something she could always feel the arms of comfort in when she wore it. Donning this around her, she smelled the age in it, even though it had surely been washed a thousand and one times. Wisdom, warmth, serenity, all the comforts of Mam, filled her heart. She felt she could now go forward, the robe around her, a shield for her. The very first and foremost in her mind, in her senses…..do something with these flowers!

Walking back from her bedroom, the cloying mix of scents assaulted her. Oasis appreciated the beauty of flowers, all kinds of them. Her gardens of summer were magnificent, her ability to tease and grow, a gift. This barrage of her senses came more from smelling the inevitable and underlying death that would come from these cut stems. If God gave her rights to command the season’s, she would choose only the Spring for birth, and the Summer for continuous growth. Fall and Winter would never have been known to mankind. Finding the envelope the note came in, Oasis called the florist to come back, and with further instruction, deliver the buds to the local charity hospice. An expected heckle ensued about the charges to do this, but with a grand smile, Oasis instructed them to charge it back to the sender. She felt a small satisfaction knowing, this person that seemed to anger her Master, would at least know how she treated his gifts.

One of these gifts still burned her throat. Quickly she removed it, setting it on the table in front of her, glaring at it, as it glared back at her. Drawing her knees to her, she placed her feet at the edge of the chair, and gently caressed Philippe’s chain around her ankle. She wanted him to come back. Just to feel his claim to her, she wore so proudly, her body felt the intense desire for him. This token brought more feeling than any hard stones could ever do.

"Mon Philippe, mon Amour, mon Maitre….," she whispered, "J’ai besoin de toi." She did not want to do as she wished, but wanted what he wished. With an exasperated sigh, she decided to read this note. Gingerly, as if it would bite, she unfolded the paper and read.

Der schöne Oasis,

So often I work with beautiful girls, but none who could bring the universe to me as you showed this night I saw you. May I say? My eyes have never seen such heaven, nor my heart such regret to see this universe leave with my old comrade. It has not been often I envy his possessions, but you I would posses.

Join me Oasis for the opening of my next production, "Songs of the Soul". If you must, you may bring him, but I would prefer to see your face flush with excitement over my work, rather than his proximity. You will have a private balcony for you, and your guests if you wish. I regret, I can not be there for your arrival, but will join you at some point during the intermission.

Wear my gifts, my tokens for you. They will pale against the essence you present, but the colors around your throat should make you feel quite at ease. Will you be my possession, just for one night?

Ich erwarte Sie,

Stefan

It was cold, or was it? Oasis shivered in her Mam’s robe, the hairs along her arm raised, even to the nape or her neck. In one small moment, she went from one beloved, to a mere belonging. True, it was only one persons perception of her, but to have it named so boldly, could it be true? She felt the emotions pass along her face, and knew she must look as Philippe had while reading this, even if the emotions were different. An inner question could bring so many doubts, could also bring so many more questions.

"A possession?" she asked herself. "I am much more, you foolish inept man, and Master will show you, I know he will!" she hissed, pointedly to the most elaborate bouquet. The anger felt good, like fire igniting her blood. The melancholy question forgotten, this old friend of a feeling embraced. Quickly before the florist arrived, Oasis put her arms around these stems and lifted them from the vase, barely feeling the water trailing to her feet, and soaking her robe. The vase unbalanced, tipped like a drunken sailor, before falling sideways to the table and breaking, sending shards of glass onto and into the skin of her legs not covered by the robe. She winced only slightly, feeling tiny pricks on her bare toes, as she walked to her balcony with her laden arms. She watched after dumping them over the side. Her head felt a dizzy giddiness seeing each one touch the ground.

"A funeral for flowers," she thought, "I wonder if I should send people?"

Possessions

Days had passed, the choker and gown sat in the floor of her closet looking abandoned and lost. That morning while choosing her clothes for work, her foot accidentally kicked the lid, allowing her a glance once more of the gown. She had wanted to ignore these intrusions, but seeing the exposure brought back all of her feelings. She had not responded to this invitation, even though it was less than a week before the performance. Her feelings balanced between confusion and anger, because Philippe had been true to his words. He had not come by, had not phoned, he was letting her make up her own mind.

"Damn! I should have thrown these over the side too!" she said, with exasperation, and a slam of the door, making the door mirror warble uncertainly. Remembering how the glass shattered just from the vase, she put her hand to the mirror to steady it, and keep it in place. Seeing her reflection, arm up palm out, she thought of one word. Stop! It was a good sign. Stop this worry, stop this uncertainty.

Tracing her reflection with her fingertip, she felt a coldness pass along this finger to her spirit. Her finger reached her reflected shoulder, and continued to the place her physical heart would beat. Pressing this finger to the glass, until her nail was white underneath, Oasis thought her reflection looked like a backwards, one finger, pledge of allegiance over her heart.

"I pledge allegiance, to mon Maitre, who has not called or spoken for days…." She spoke trying to be solemn. Her laughter broke her reverie of cold. Seeing her laughter reflected, it was contagious, until she had to leave this mirrored person and dress, or be late for work. Her eyes were still moist from trying to stop, this utter foolishness of herself felt. Locking the front door behind her, she thought, "No reply to an invitation, is as good as saying, no ."