Tears Of Sadness Tears Of Joy

It was a nice graduation ceremony – longer than I would have personally liked, but still interesting nonetheless. The featured speaker was particularly funny, relating her own college experiences and how they had helped to shape the next twenty-five years of her life. Throughout the ceremony, My eyes kept returning to you, My sweet, sexy, slave-in-training, your wavy, fire-red hair seeming to tumble out from underneath your black cap and flow over the shoulders of your matching black gown.

Following the ceremony, when I found you at last among the massive throng in the beautiful oak grove, I saw you heartily giving your former roommate a long, tearful hug. From a distance, I took a picture, unbeknownst to you both, then slipped the digital camera back inside My jacket before finally approaching just as Cheryl walked away to meet with her family.

I kissed away several tears from your face as you clutched Me, elation and sadness mixing within you. I knew those feelings quite well, having graduated Myself eight years earlier. When it was clear that you were ready, W/we returned to the car, driving out of the city to a favorite cozy restaurant in Amish country where few others from the university would likely appear following the graduation ceremony.

*****

That night, W/we celebrated your graduation in a very special way, the very same way that W/we had discussed frequently over the past year of your service to Me.

It was a beautiful night, seemingly special-ordered for O/our specific purposes. The few clouds which had lurked across the sky during the day had dissipated, providing a clear, unfettered view of the billions of stars far above. From beyond the distant mountains, the moon rose slowly, full and large and initially rather orange as it cast its mesmerizing glow upon the landscape. Only at this time did you finally emerge from the house.

Carefully, you glided across the dewy grass. Certainly, the black heels did not make the trek from back porch to clothesline very easy for you, yet you handled yourself with grace and dignity. Without a doubt, you looked stunning, even radiant, your smile quite visible in the whitening moonlight. I stood at one end of the clothesline, awaiting your arrival with eager anticipation, dressed in My black formalwear and standing beside a small portable table lined with the various items W/we would need.

Once you were within reach, I extended a hand to you and drew you toward Me. The kiss was long and soft, sensual and respectful. Despite the clothing, the feel of your soft breasts pressing against Me aroused My desire for you, yet I was somehow able to find the willpower to hold Myself in check, for the night was definitely about not Me, but you.

"Are you ready, little one?" I finally queried with a whisper to your ear.

"Yes, Master," you replied, the anticipation evident in your voice, "i am ready."

"In position," I instructed as I released you. I then turned My attention to the table, picking up a pair of thick leather cuffs lined with fake fur – your favorite cuffs due to the softness of the false fur. Turning back to you, I saw that you already stood with your back to the end post of the clothesline, your arms stretched out before you. Slowly, lovingly, I placed a cuff around each wrist, ensuring the snuggest possible fit as I buckled each cuff securely into position.

"Are you nervous?" I asked quietly.

"Just a little, Sir," you replied honestly. "I always am, but just a little."

"Good. That's a healthy nervousness." I lifted a cuffed wrist, attaching it to a short chain soldered to one end of the clothesline's crossbar. "And, your nervousness actually adds to your sexiness and your beauty when you're restrained and struggling."

"Thank you, Sir," you replied as I secured your other cuffed wrist in the same manner.

Now unable to escape without My assistance, you looked up at Me with those big blue-green eyes, eyes which portrayed nervousness and anticipation and love all at once. Those eyes closed for a few seconds as I caressed your pale cheek and then placed a gentle kiss upon the bridge of your small nose.

Turning back to the small table, I picked up the digital camera and retreated. The moon had risen higher, further brightening the entire scene. Over the next ten minutes, I took a number of pictures of you, a beautiful young graduate bound in the moonlight. For some pictures, you deliberately posed for the camera; for others, you struggled nicely to produce some "action shots."

At last, I placed the camera back on the table, then picked up the butcher knife. Not surprisingly, your eyes widened, and I could hear a nearly-imperceptible gasp escape your tiny lips. Keeping My expression stern, I approached you, and you shrunk back against the support pole of the clothesline. I knew that despite O/our discussion, your reaction was genuine, for W/we had never previously used knifeplay, and I knew that deep in your mind, you were thinking back on the stabbing death of your father when you were barely ten years old.

With the flat of the blade pressed against a breast, My stern gaze held your eyes captive. In those long seconds, you held your breath, fighting to remain still yet still shuddering with nervousness and fear. I pressed the blade against you with more force, sliding the non-cutting edge up your chest and across to descend your other breast.

At last, your chest heaved as you loudly sucked in the much-needed cool nighttime air. your body began to tremble, as fear flashed brightly in your eyes. Slowly, I retracted the knife, replacing its touch with that of My free hand, fondling the just-abandoned breast with all the delicate care and romance of foreplay. I watched as your mind and body both slowly calmed from the fear, even though the knife remained at My side and your gaze resolutely never broke contact with My eyes.

I kissed you, slowly, gently, sensuously, knowing that this simple, pleasant gesture would further calm you. your arms pulled at the bonds; I smiled, knowing how much you enjoy simply wrapping your arms around Me. Then, I knelt before you.

Slowly, I sliced open the black gown. I heard you mutter something under your breath, and knew that the fear was returning to you. Yet, nonetheless, I slowly worked up your body, irregularly slicing open the formal black garment. I was all too aware of your trembling, partially due to the exposure of your body to the cool night air, partially due to the fact that I was using a butcher knife in such close proximity to you – something I never do, even when preparing a special, well-deserved meal for you.

As I sliced My way up your body, the initial tatters of the formal graduation gown fluttered to the ground. In addition to the black heels, the beautiful black thigh-high stockings you wore were exposed to My gaze, and I paused for a moment to slide a hand across the sheer material.

Standing, I placed the knife back upon the small table and again took the digital camera. Stepping back, I took several more pictures of you. The expression on your face was actually one of relief, quite a counterpoint to the partially-decimated gown worn by a stunning young woman secured in the moonlight to an endpost of a clothesline and unable to free herself.

I soon stood before you again – no camera, no knife. Instead, My hands became the "weapons of choice" as, continuing the work begun by the butcher knife, I further shredded the graduation gown. Looking down, I watched as your garter belt and thong were exposed to My view, then looked back up into your eyes to find that the nervousness and fear had finally been dispelled, replaced instead by love and desire. I continued to tear the black gown, working ever further up your body, at last exposing your sheer black see-through bra and watching your nipples tighten even more in the cool night air.

In time, the gown was completely bisected, attached to your body only by the sleeves. I had to admit that you looked breathtaking: black heels, black stockings, black garter belt, black bra, decimated black gown, and black graduation cap. Stepping back again, I retrieved the camera from the small table and took yet more pictures of you.

At last, the time had come. I set the digital camera back upon the table and opened the long, thin box. I could feel your eyes upon Me as I revealed the silver waist chain. Carefully, I unfolded it from its "resting" position within the box and held it before you, allowing you to see it in the bright moonlight. The waist chain itself could very well have been a real chain, simply miniaturized, with letter charms spelling out the designation "slave meatball-head," indicating both your new status as a full-fledged slave and My anime-inspired pet name for you.

I smiled as I knelt before you, applying the waist chain with diligent care as you began to cry. This was the second time you had cried that day, but this time there were no tears of sadness, only tears of joy. In the morning, you had graduated from college after four grueling years; in the evening, you had graduated to a new status while also beginning your desired training in knifeplay.

With the tears still trickling down your cheeks, I picked up the digital camera one final time and took several more pictures of you, the waist chain and the letter charms sparkling in the brilliant moonlight. The pictures of the two graduation ceremonies would become one of My favorite slideshow-screensavers of you – for your beauty, of course, but especially for the dual milestones represented in the images from that significant day and night.