by Hawkwind
(5/16/01)
Master, gone from my house, says to me, "Masturbate for me, slave. Do it later, not now. I want to be able to be thinking of you, when you do it." And so, he gives me time...gives that part of me that is so eager to serve him fully time to plot and consider...
Later...full darkness, no visible moon. I go up to his room, still with most of his furniture in it. The only light in his room, now that he is gone, is the candle that I have kept burning on his altar. The altar is made up of elements of his and mine -- my chalice, his blade, my stones, his incense holder, our candle. My collar. I keep the altar up, for him, for us -- to hold energy, hold a sense of his presence here, to give him the knowledge that he is honoring the powers, while he lives where he cannot do it openly. Dipping my fingers in the water, I touch my forehead, between my breasts, my navel, and just above the joining of my legs. I find I am humming softly, and I smile -- he hums when he works around his altar. I find the incense, labeled "awareness," and the small white candle to transfer the flame. I seek awareness this night -- an awareness of his love for me, of his desire for my submission; awareness of his presence in my life despite the geographical distance; awareness of his immediate presence, here, now, as he is with me always as my master, as I do this thing he has commanded.
Sitting on his bed for a bit, I hum softly, finding a sequence of notes that seem to want to continue, as I hold the incense stick gently. When my skin is tingling, I stand and place the incense in its holder. I caress the stones lightly, feeling their smoothness, their roughness, their individuality, their commonality. I take up the small candle and light it from the large one, and then light the incense from it. Leaning over it, I wave my hand to waft the smoke into my face, saying "awareness" softly, breathing out completely before breathing in again.
Standing, I start to blow the candle out, but stop. Watching, fascinated by flame as always, I see the wax in its melt, drawing up the wick. Tilting the candle, it beads, round bulging liquid. I hold it over one breast and wait for the drop. I try to hold it high, so it doesn't hurt me, but I also laugh at myself, and gasp, flinching, as it drops onto me. Whimpering softly, I hold the other breast up, and let one drop of wax fall onto it also. I blow the candle out quickly, knowing I would be unable to have the control to do this any more. My glance falls on my collar, sitting on the altar. He did not say to put it on. Then again, he didn't say not to. I touch it, and feel my heart pulling toward it. Taking it up, I kiss the lock, and the chain, and I kneel. I loop it around my neck, and hook the lock through the end-rings -- not locking it, I don't have that permission. I have just my need, to feel owned.
Opening my eyes again, I see his knife -- his athame. The blade that has scored my skin with his mark. I take it up and sit back on my heels. On each thigh, just above the knee, I scratch his mark, his initial, his rune, over and over till I can see the white line on my skin in even the dim light. No blood -- I know I am allowed no blood. Suddenly dizzy, I look up -- a tingling on my skin, a sense of heat near me, a presence. Oh my. Well, I did ask for one. I stand, breathing more deeply, and focus on my assignment -- to masturbate for my master.
I stroke the knife blade along my skin -- the flat part, around my breasts. I use the edge to peel the wax from my breasts, the stinging heat renewed. I drop the small bits of wax into the large candle, offering to the gods. Trailing the blade around again, the flat strokes across my nipples, and each one gets the point, pushing inward, till I gasp and can't press any more. I check -- no blood. Master would be displeased. I can feel the wetness inside me, the quivering melting feeling -- submission and arousal and need, all the same now.
The knife strokes, almost of its own will, tip trailing along around my body. I remember vividly an online scene, where Master laid me down and sliced into my skin, runes...pain...necessity...wholeness...above my breasts, and my sex. Tip trailing up my side, hard, I scratch "pain" over my right breast. Scratching across, "joy" is over my left breast. Around that breast, down my side, the tip blazes pain and joy..."necessity" is scratched into the skin above my fur. The knife trails up, between my breasts, up to my neck, flat across my neck, almost struggling to turn the edge. Whimpering softly, I whisper "Yours, Master." The knife strokes slowly till the point is at my windpipe, and starts to move up...the tip pushing from below, pushing upward feather soft. My head tilts back, and I feel the knife-tip pushing all the way up to my chin, truly feeling like some other hand is holding it. When my head is as far back as I can put it, and the blade as far up, it trails down again, stopping between my breasts. Scratched there, over my heart, "wholeness"...Master's mark.
Shivering, I stand there -- my whole body is trembly, my skin alive. I stroke the blade down my body, as I step back and sit down on the bed. Leaning back, I push the hilt into my cunt, feeling how wet it is, how aroused, how ready I am for my master's attention. Turning the blade so it is flat between my thighs, and as far in as possible, I lay back and reach into the toybag for the clothespins. I can find three -- one wooden one on each nipple, holding the nipples up, and one nasty plastic one with teeth on the tip of my right nipple. I whimper, loudly, hearing yes...hurt for me in my head. I groan and turn on the vibrator, pushing it against my clit. I hear myself say, "No. You can't come. You. Are. Denied." I squirm, writhing, feeling the knife inside me, feeling, suddenly, that it was the blade I put in...hearing, It would turn if he wanted it...turn and cut you, blood flowing for his pleasure. I moan, repeating, "turn and cut...cut me, cut me." As I feel the flood, the wave breaking over me, I scream "Master!" and hear Yes! come for me!, and I do, crying out "Master!" again as I hit higher, come harder, bucking across the bed, the vibrator falling out of my hand, away from my clit.
I take the clothespins off quickly, gasping and spasming again with each one. After the spasms subside, I slowly, carefully, take the knife out -- finding that it was, indeed, the hilt that was inside me. I lick it clean, then wash it, and replace it on the altar. I take off my collar, kissing it as well, and replace it on the altar. And then I take my teddy bear that Master gave me before he left, and go downstairs to the rest of my life.
