SHE: a story
16 March 1998
She was on her knees so: her knees were spread apart--as wide apart as
they could comfortably go. Her hand rested, relaxed, on her thighs, the
palms turned up and the fingers slightly curled in. She was naked and her
long brown hair flowed from her bowed head, past her shoulders and
rested lightly on her small breasts, just reaching her tawny brown
nipples. Her eyes were open and she saw the smooth tile floor between
her knees. She was aware of, but did not see, the orange flickering
flames in the fireplace behind her and slightly to the right; she felt
their warmth on her back. Her master was seated in front of her, just a
few metres away, but she could not see him without shifting her
gaze--and she had been instructed to gaze only at a point between her
knees and that she did.
From time to time he rose and walked past her to the large oak bookcase.
Sometimes, as he did so, or as he returned, he would tussle her hair, or
touch her shoulder.
She felt a warmth deep inside knowing that she was near him. At the
beginning of their relationship she had ached so much to show him how
much she wanted to please. She had ached to serve him. She had ached to
please him. He found great joy in her and in the dedication and skill
with which she performed the tasks and duties he assigned her. One of
the greatest, and one of the hardest to do, was that which she did now.
She knew that from time to time as she knelt he would look up from his
reading and smile with the knowledge that she belonged to him so deeply.
She knew that it was just as important a task to remain kneeling just so
as were any of the other tasks.
She was alert, for he regularly called on her, while she knelt, to fetch
him sometimes a drink, sometimes a book, or pen or paper. She had learnt
though, to let her mind wander while, at the same time, still being able
to "snap back" when he spoke to her.
She thought of other nights like this. It wasn't always that she was
required to kneel so, but it was always his favourite position for her
when he studied or read. He was very careful with her, always making
sure that he gave her some task or other to perform so that she did not
suffer from the hardness of the tiles or stiffness in her muscles. She
had not been aware at first, but after so much time with him she
realized that not ALL the tasks were for him but that some were simply
to have her move and give her the chance to stretch.
Many nights she would be dressed in jeans and a T-shirt. She would cook
for him, eat at the table with him, then wash up and perform any other
chores before returning to him and curling up at his feet.
They were partners, friends, lovers and master and slave. When the needs
of the outside world interfered they would talk as partners, equals, and
arrange whatever needed arranging. Then they would return to their own,
real, relationship.
Her needs as a submissive had brought them together. He was strong,
intelligent, caring and funny. Most importantly though, he saw and
understood the depth of her need, the necessity of it to her feeling of
"completeness", and had gently, but firmly, drawn aside the curtains of
defensiveness and brought out the slave in her. With him she could be
herself.
She had sought symbols to reassure herself. She had her collar, her
leash, her high-heels, her cuffs and her chain. Over time, though, these
things had lost their importance to her--except for her collar. She was
under no orders to wear it or carry it with her, but it was always in
her handbag. Sometimes, in quiet times, or in stressful moments at the
office, she would take out her collar and place it around her neck.
Immediately she would feel his warmth and his strength flow into her. He
had given her confidence in herself. He had let her be herself, and in
that she had found faith in herself. The collar reminded her, in a way,
of these feelings and brought her back into focus.
Most nights she slept on a mat near his bed. After love-making she often
hoped that he would fall asleep before ordering her onto her mat for the
night. She loved to sleep next to him and reacted to it as a sort of
furtive pleasure. It didn't happen often and in her heart she knew that
it should not. Her place was at his feet, on her mat, not beside him.
He was strong and decisive. His orders to her were always clear, always
imperative and always without doubt. When she failed him it tore her
heart. He was there to be her strength when she needed it. He was there
to firm and confirm her resolve. He was there to punish her when she
needed it.
Sometimes she did not realize that she needed punishment. Sometimes she
resented it, but always, later, when she reflected on it, she realized
that he had been right. It wasn't that there was any doubt in her mind
that it was his right to beat her or punish her as he wished for
whatever reason or lack of reason. It was just that sometimes she did
not see as he did, she thought that the punishment would not be positive
for her and for them both... but invariably it was.
His harshest punishment was when he would not let her serve him. At
these times she felt truly bereft--lost and without her anchor. It had
happened seldom and had always served to reinforce her belief and
knowledge that she truly NEEDED him.
At times, semi-regularly, he would beat her. Although she never looked
forward to the pain or the tears or the anguish the sessions somehow
served to discharge her restlessness and made it easier to focus, easier
to serve him. She did not know how he knew when she needed it. She had
not realized that she had EVER needed it. But she knew now that she did.
And she was glad that he did also and that he dealt with it.
She was his slave. Each day still she could look into her heart and soul
and see the deepening of the attachment to him. It was her heart and
soul which made her a slave. It was his strength, his character, his
determination and his love which made her HIS slave, HIS prisoner and
HIS love.
Peter
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