Offering
You sat on the soft cushion of the window seat – the one that was built into the great bay window of your bedroom. You were trembling and you didn't know why.
The moonlight poured in those tall bay windows – the windows that overlooked the frozen garden below – and it flowed over the deep sills behind the built-in window seats. The light gently illuminated the table there and the crystal vase of white roses; and it fell into your hands resting, cupped on the table-top. The rich, summer color of your fingers and palms seemed to hold the gentle light. And you smiled.
As you looked around across the deep carpet, the fire was low in your marble fireplace. The one candle burned on the bed-table where you had lit it. The covers on your bed were folded back. The room was warm.
You turned away, and leaned toward the window and watched the trees swaying in the night winter wind, casting their moon-shadows on the snowy ground. The frigid air outside reached its chill through the glass to your cheek. The grandmother moon had called to your young heart. You would obey.
"Very good, Little One." That inner whisper – the voice you had come to think of as your companion – the sisterly presence you shared your room with. "I am with you tonight." You felt her touch your heart, the way she does – a tender caress. You inhaled deeply and leaned your head back. Blissful.
You stood, and taking a solitary rose out of the vase, you positioned it on the table there – snow white. Crossing the room, you opened the bed table drawer and found your stack of fine lace handkerchiefs there. You placed one of the squares of delicate fabric under your pillow.
Walking around your bed, you paused. You put your hand on the heavy glass doorknob and hesitated, looking at your hand – feeling the moment. Then you grinned and turned the knob, opening the door to the adjoining room – my room – our room. I sat there in the high-backed chair, reading.
I looked up and smiled at you. Your dark eyes sparkled in the reading-light. You leaned and reached across me and turned it off. You knew you were giving me a view of your breasts as your robe opened slightly. Righting yourself again, without a word, you took my hand and lead me into the inviting darkness of your room.
Over its threshold, you let go of my hand by your bed and stepped away from me so I could watch as you slowly, luxuriously undid the silk belt that held your robe together. You stood, looking up at me, watching as I took in the sight – the vision of loveliness – the young lady offering herself to her older lover; to the man that adores her – and, as you now thought, to her master.
You though to yourself – in my voice, "Such a good pet." The thought aroused you.
You opened the robe slowly, revealing the soft form of your breasts, shoulders, and neck. Your curly hair cascaded over your shoulder. Your heart was pounding inside. Your nipples had become erect.
You were watching my face intently and you saw the delight and the hunger in my eyes. I smiled and your heart ignited. You gasped. How could it be – this new life you found?
Sitting across from me at breakfast in that little café near campus – laughing together when we met for lunch at the Student Center – it seemed so normal – as if it had always been this way. Sometimes, when old fears leaped out of nowhere and cast their shadows across your eyes, you would text me and the shadows would dissipate with my reply. The days before we met seemed a lifetime away. How could it be?
Sometimes, when you felt overwhelmed by everything, when you felt angry and defiant, you tried not to belong to me. Sometimes you told yourself you would run away from everything; from school, from your friends, from me. Sometimes you thought maybe you should be on your own. You would go somewhere that nobody knew you and you would start all over again. Free.
But then you'd realize that you were on your own. This was your choice. You had found the home you always wanted, but didn't know you were looking for. You already had run away. You belonged to me now like the ocean and land belong together. Yes – and so I belonged to you too. As it had always, always been. Timeless.
You felt your pussy moisten – an instinctive reaction. You gasped again. So it was a choice and involuntary too. Like a moth to a flame. You needed this. You couldn't resist it. And there was a kind of wild freedom in it. Freedom in the context of our mutual possession. How could it be?
You were accustomed to being the smartest person in the room. Growing up, you always had been. Even now, in college, although you were surrounded by brilliant people, you took it for granted sometimes – you learned so quickly and easily. But here with me, it was different than it had ever been. You had found a mate – and a playmate. Your flashes of brilliance were met with my steady hand. I always seemed to understand you – sometimes better than you understood yourself.
You felt like you were growing up so fast. You could feel how you were no longer a girl – you had become very-much the young woman. The very challenges of being together had changed you. You slowly inhaled. You knew I could see your mind and that was thrilling.
You knew that I was patient. You often felt me watching you with a sort-of steady consideration – a kind of reserved observation. It made you feel seen and understood – and exposed. You shivered. Your pussy moistened more again. Yes, you knew that I was waiting until you were ready. Well – you were ready now.
Your robe fell to the floor. You slowly turned around – away from me. You wanted to show me what was mine.
You were lovely and you felt it under my gaze. Your curly hair cascaded over your shoulders. Your warm skin drank in the candle light, returning the highlights and depths of shadow that defined your form. Gentle curves stretching across your skeleton; your vertebrae and ribs just showing beneath the flesh. There, as you flexed your neck to look back at me over your right shoulder, was your scapula floating in its tendons' grasp. And there was your waist as it curved above your pelvis' wings. The valentine of your coccyx just above the fold between your hips inviting me to explore what lay between. All in good time.
I stepped to you, behind you, and you leaned against me, craning your neck back and up, parting your lips for the kiss I gave you. My mouth was hot and urgent, but controlled, waiting – waiting for just the right moment to press my attack. You felt weak in the knees. I felt your shudder.
I slid my hands from high on your back down to your waist and gripped you. I held you there as I kissed and nibbled your right shoulder. You lifted your hand and played with my hair – soft, so fine, blonde.
Suddenly, you wanted to tell me everything. You longed to say all that was in your heart and on your mind. How worried you had been about school, about your life. But now, as I held you so tight and so safe, the words came out, a whisper: "My Shujin,"and you breathed my name and you nibbled my ear and you felt my strong hands take control of you, sliding up your sides and around you and gripping your breasts. You gasped. I pinched your nipples – just right – just the way you often long for it; and you moaned softly.
So I firmly turned you around to face me and I held you against my chest. I pulled your head back by your hair and I kissed you tenderly – then hard – then so gentle it was like a Luna Moth's wings fluttering against your mouth.
You swallowed and blinked hard – that adorable way you do. "I love you," I said softly.
