| [past events] |
[26 Feb 2004|11:18am] |
She was always good at that, had a natural eye for it, for how much pressure to apply and where to apply it, for choosing the best spot, just below the nipple, along one hip, the inside of the thigh.
"One more," he murmured.
"Yes, Master." Because he likes to hear it, because of course she will obey him.
The last time she was unable to comply with his orders she was left naked and chained for days, without the privilege of his voice, his orders, his boots. And that was a long time ago. Not a punishment, but a lesson.
The young man tied on the bed gasped when the blade drew arabesques on his skin. He was beautiful, she thought.
Then Master ordered her out of the room and she waited outside, hands and forehead on the floor, listening to the muffled sounds, getting wet.
~
The woman was laughing out loud, a crystal clear laugh like rippling waves. Master was in the kitchen. The woman was on the phone.
"I’ll be there tonight. I just need to collect a new acquisition and I’ll be on my way."
Master came out of the kitchen with drinks. "To celebrate," he said.
They both looked at the slave kneeling near the big black leather sofa, dressed with bruises and mottled skin, her hands and forehead flat on the floor.
"Very good with her tongue," the woman said, sipping at her Marguerita. "And a very firm hand, too."
"She likes bourbon," Master said. "I forgot to add it to her list." The woman dug a small bundle of papers from her purse so that he could add the information.
He stood in front of her when she was dressed and ready to go, waiting near the door. He smiled. "You’re a very good girl, Jenn."
She could look at him, then, because he has used her name and she was not his slave anymore. She smiled too. "I’ll make you proud."
"I know you will. Have fun."
The woman coughed discreetly. Jenn picked up her only suitcase, the rest of her belongings ready to be picked up the day after. "Yes, Mistress?"
"Put your suitcase in the back. You’re driving."
"Yes, Mistress." Without looking back, she followed her orders, feeling his hands on her body, his teeth, his nails, his come, his cock and each and every cut, bruise and mark he had ever given her, his voice and his eyes, his body heavy on hers, the rhythm of his heartbeat and her blanket on the floor.
Her new contract was temporary, so he has decided before giving her away.
She was going to be free.
She was going to have fun.
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[26 Feb 2004|11:18am] |
I took a long walk on the beach yesterday.
I love my new house, my villa, as I call it. All painted wood and light colours, the air and the space of it, the pillows I’ve scattered around, the huge brass king-size bed upstairs, the cellar room with the cross and my knives...and the beach, right outside the window, even more light and more space, the seagulls and the waves and the night breeze.
I took a long walk on the beach yesterday. Moving has been a good idea. I left my shoes inside, barefoot on the wet sand, sat on the borders between ocean and earth, stretched down, looking upwards at the sky slowly darkening.
Bunched up my skirt around my waist, suspended between two worlds, my legs spread, the waves lapping at me..
..have you ever made love with the ocean?
Have you ever closed your eyes and listened to its voice, a raw, soft rumbling of water, salted, as cold as you’re hot, hard for it and impatient, your wetness and its wetness, but you have to wait and wait because the ocean doesn’t change its rhythm for you, and so you spread your thighs more, your fists behind you back, clenching your cunt and praying for the ocean to kiss you once more, once again, just once, please, cold and wet and again and again, a most merciless lover, ignoring your pleading, its touch so indifferent and yet you burn for it.
I took a long walk on the beach yesterday. My legs were weak afterward and I was wet.
I love my new house.
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[22 Feb 2004|08:34pm] |
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Test entry
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