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Presents
Dark Eden Copyright 2005 by Rene.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication can be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior permission of the author. This material is presented as adult entertainment and is not intended for any person under the age of eighteen years. While every precaution has been taken in the preparation of this book, the author assumes no responsibilities for errors or omissions, or for damages resulting from the use of information contained herein. All characters and descriptions are purely fictitious.
COFFEE KLATCH
I had showered again. Feeling a little revitalized by the mundane activity. I was now very hungry for food and I was surprised that the next place she took me to was a small kitchen. A simple supper awaiting me of salad and a sandwich. I was beyond grateful for this courtesy. She must have realized that I had come immediately from work without having time to eat.
"Traci, thank you so much. I wasn't sure how I was going to be able to concentrate on the next ordeal without some food. My stomach growling at the wrong moment would ruin the mood."
She laughed at the relief in my tone. The quips falling easily from my tongue.
"How did you know that you could speak in here?"
I shrugged and dug in. Speaking softly through the food.
"It just seemed logical. The bathrooms are clear, except for the bath chamber and you did not make me kneel or eat from a dish on the floor, so I figured we were in a cool room."
She nodded at my logic. Sitting next to me.
"Jon's pretty impressed by you."
I grinned impishly. Chewing carefully.
"He's half in love with your diary. Almost couldn't put it down."
She smiled, asking another question that had me blushing softly.
"You liked being a man in my bed?"
I told her about High School and slipping into the `role.'
"Is that how you do everything? By slipping into a role?"
She appeared truly interested, so I told her the truth.
"I try to put myself into a place were I can feel, but not become emotionally involved."
I ate a piece of buttered bread with obvious enjoyment.
"Emotion is an almost useless endeavor as far as I can see. When you allow that part of your spirit to rule your life it just seems to clutter up everything. I don't like disarray, so I avoid it."
She appeared surprised by my answer, so I elaborated.
"I slept with one of my friends one time. It was wonderful and we enjoyed it immensely. It was so much better than with a lover, because we both needed it and wanted it to be good because we would be seeing each other afterwards. I was able to keep my perspective, but he couldn't. He changed and I didn't appreciate it. He lost sight of what was truly important."
She cocked her head.
"What was important?"
Traci was curious about what I would say. The interest shining in her eyes.
"The physical was important, not the emotional flotsam that guides almost everyone in the world. I was into the release. He wanted the depth. We were all but diametrically opposed on ever opinion that we had."
"How do you feel about Love?"
How was I to answer, she obviously loved Jon, but who in this world did I love? Was there anybody? Janie? Mary? My closest friends? I `loved' Adam, for his cruelty and his beauty. Was that really love? I shrugged again.
"I don't have any love. In the last five years, since my divorce. I have loved no one. I was afraid to end up in another abusive relationship, so I avoided lovers."
"Your husband beat you?"
I nodded grinning, knowing what she was going to say.
"Why do you do this? How can you stand it? How can you stand us?"
"Blue."
She looked surprised.
"That's it, right there. I read this book one time that talked about the differences between literal and ritualized violence. I like to be subjected to pain. I get off on it, but when I tell a lover that I want it. They make me feel like a freak, or some kind of deviant. In the `normal' world. I have to marry someone that beats me bloody to get what I can get here safely. The service you do here is vital. This is the difference between rape and making discordant music between two consenting adults. A rapist doesn't get you off; he treats you like a toilet."
She almost smiled at the analogy.
"Don't you miss emotion?"
I almost shuddered in distaste. Why would I want to feel someone hurting me, or making me do the dishes, or making me feel like an idiot? It just made me sad.
"The last real emotion that I felt was anger and that was just before I broke my ex-husbands nose and told him to get out. I'm encased in ice and I'm almost afraid of what would happen if I thawed. I like you. I liked watching you orgasm under me. I enjoy sucking cock and screwing. I enjoyed making love with Jon and having him hold me, but that was a rare occurrence. I don't know why I suddenly couldn't stand the aloneness any more. Why I had to reach out for something more than the sterile little world I lived in, but I had too. I did it and I agreed to three months. I'm a very cold, clinical woman. It's what makes me a success in the world of business, but it's also what makes me such a miserable failure as a human being."
She shook her head sadly.
"Don't be sad. I'm basically a good person. I have some people in my life that I do care for. All women and I think I'm a good friend. I'm dependable, loyal. I can keep a secret. I'm good to my family. I read voraciously. I'm quick on my feet and I spend a lot of my time laughing." I finished up, wiping my hands on the napkin set out for me.
"I just wanted more and came here to look for it."
I drank the water provided for me in quick gulps. I followed her lead when she stood back up. Going down the hallway behind her.
TOOLS OF THE TRADE: HARD LESSONS
"Pick one." Jon said, slowly.
His eyes watching me closely. Sitting in a blue velvet wingback chair. His legs were crossed and his hands draped over the carved armrests loosely.
"Pick the one you would like me to use on you, if I allow it."
He motioned for me to stand up. I was as graceful as my rubbery legs would allow. Striving for some kind of dignity in this new place. The punishment room.
It was as all the other rooms in this house. Warm enough to be naked in yet opulent enough to catch your eye. This place was blue. The carpets, the flowered wallpapered walls and the dark plush leather furniture. It had a Victorian feel to it. Lace curtains on the walls. A low functional bench in the heart of the room. Subtly frightening in its covert elegance.
I went to the cabinet that Adam had opened and looked inside. There was every kind of whip, crop, quirt and paddle, in the neatly ordered recesses. It was astonishingly awesome. I could practically feel my fingers twitch in apprehensive anticipation. Something to use on me, well let's see. I immediately disregarded the crops and quirts. They are only good on one spot and I couldn't take any more welts on the inside of my thighs. They were sore enough, in all the right places, just as they were. The paddles were more a connoisseur type of thing and I was not one of them. If someone was going to warm my buns I prefer they do it over the knee, using their big hard hands. I had no idea how to use the bullwhip, so I passed them over as well. It was the multi-tailed cats that I looked at. They were true works of Art. All black, but the variety of shapes, hefts and lengths, was astonishing. Every single shape that I could think of was in that cupboard. I reached for one and turned around to Jon smiling shyly.
"Can I try it on the pole, Master? It will help with my decision."
He nodded, amused at my eagerness. I reached for one that I knew would be perfect. Twenty-inch tails of half- inch by quarter-inch black leather. Weighted at the head end. I held it in my hand, running the tails through my suddenly shaking fingers. Swinging it over the floor to check the sweep of the cordings. Nice, easily the finest piece of its kind that I had ever held. Neatly sewn, with no rough edges so it could be used for penetration.
I kept my eyes on the sway of the straps and wandered leisurely towards the marble pole in an erotic fog. My eyes blazing with concentration and forbidden passion. I let it build lazily inside me. Sighting my swing on the thick dark column. I took a deep breath and let my passions explode from me in sudden violence. My arm swinging effortlessly. The heavy sound a persuasively powerful reverberation up my arm, well into my shoulder. It landed with a solid snapping crack. Nice even heft and fluid motion. Not too stiff, but not too much slack either. It would sting like a son-of-a-bitch, but not leave real deep marks. I swung it again and liked the feel of it. I liked it a lot. I came back to where I had been before and quickly made my decision. I turned back to Jon falling gracefully to my knees. My entire demeanor respectful. My hands suddenly quaking with frank intimidation. I held it out to him. Jon took it from my hands.
"Is this what you've chosen?"
I licked my suddenly dry lips. Hoping to generate some moisture in my mouth so my tongue would move unimpeded against my teeth. I nodded and spoke.
"Yes, Master." I said easily.
His face whimsically inquisitive as he asked me;
"Why?"
I blushed with mortification. Surely he already knew, why? Did he have to hear me say it? He was waiting for my response.
"It is heavy enough to hurt without leaving welts."
I felt my voice go soft. Painful to be so exposed before both of them.
"So you can beat me longer, Master."
He reached over to touch my breasts, lightly. Making them swell with craving under his hands. Heaving with the search for air.
"I could leave welts on you with this, Anne."
I listened to his gentle, confident voice. Cowering near his boots with fear. I answered in a pitifully small voice.
"If you so wish it, Master."
He pulled his hands away from me. I almost moaned.
"Why did you pass up the other things? The quirts, the crops?"
Don't make me explain that. Not in front of Adam. It would bring to light too much of me, make me too naked. To visibly exposed.
"Explain to me, now."
He did want me too.
"The quirts and crops are for the insides of the thighs, and across the buttocks. I am sore already on those places, and wished to avoid punishment to them. The paddles, never feel as good as the Master, or Mistress', hand. The bullwhips have the potential to do emergency room level damage. They terrify me, Master."
I twisted my hands together in desperation. Miserably aware that I was showing my true soul openly with my words and it made me very uncomfortable.
"I have no wish to be hurt so severely it will transcend the pleasure I get from the lash. I do not want to ruin the experience."
I fell into a distressed uneasy silence. Waiting for his response to my words.
"Pick out a quirt, a crop, a paddle, and a bullwhip."
No! My heart cried out inside me, but went I do it slowly. Procrastinating in wretched foreboding. Looking at the selection in the cabinet. I had no idea what to look for in those things. I had never really had them used on me. They had always been picked out by Rob. I went pale and stood before the doors in alarm. Teardrops forming on my lashes. I did not know what to do. My uncertainty a palpable feeling in the air. I did not look at either of my tormentors, but I gulped thickly around the knot of terror in my throat to grab the first things my fingers fell on. Turning to rest my forehead on the floor before Jon in mute obedience to his command. Hands above my head, offering him the instruments of suffering he would use to torture me. His hands removing the items from my nerveless fingers.
"So hard for you to obey me, willingly. You put-off whatever you find distasteful. Anything that terrifies you, or excites you, beyond what you consider acceptable. You did not take the same care in choosing these things as you did the other. You will be corrected for that."
I whimpered, keeping my head near the floor. Crouching near the soft black gloss of his boots. I felt his toe press on the back of my neck, forcing my head to the carpet.
"I want instant obedience without hesitation. You are not giving it to me willingly and quite obviously need a lesson in it. Adam put her on the bench. Legs up."
I did not resist Adam's taking me to the bench, nor him tying my legs almost straight up from my hips. Did not protest the wide belt he buckled at my waist holding me tight to the bench. I kept my eyes at the level of his belt or below. Feeling handles at my hips that I clutched for support.
Ignoring the sympathetic noises he was making as he tied me. I was not afraid really. I had been tied before. All part of the head trip right? Jon bent over me and laid the things on a table beside me. His eyes were hard.
"There is nothing on this earth that will make me angrier at you, Anne. Than any show of open reluctance. Procrastination is a form of rebellion and I cannot allow you, or any other slave I deal with, to consider it respectful or proper."
Across the room I saw Adam taking off his shirt. The well-muscled chest with its thatch of dark curly hair revealed for viewing as he laid the garment over a dark blue velvet chair. Adam touched the inside of my thighs. My legs growing rapidly uncomfortable as they hung over me.
"You will learn what it means to rebel and it is a hard lesson."
Grief flooded me, as I realized I was in a lot of trouble.
"I will expect to only have to treat you this way once, Anne."
He stood up and turned to Adam. Voice flinty, imperturbable.
"Beat her until she says her safe-word." I went cold. "If she makes it at least fifteen minutes, make her come and put her in your bed. Anything less, clean her up and send her home."
Fifteen minutes? I bit my tongue to keep from begging.
"Pay particular attention to the insides of her thighs. I want to see some welts in the morning."
I tried to still the hammering in my chest. Tried to catch some easy breaths, because I was hyperventilating badly. Beat me until I said my safe-word? Send me home? I had been that bad?
Rebellion will not be tolerated, that was in the rules for me to see. It was something I knew by heart and not scrambling to do as he bid was considered rebellion? I saw Adam swinging the door closed behind Jon and realized that we were alone. He turned back to me, smiling.
"I knew that you would get the beating. You had to blow it on your first day here. Balky little Prima Donna. I don't know which I'll like more. If you make it, or if you fail, so I can go back to being on my knees."
That explained a lot about his hostile attitude. He was jealous of my lowly status. I kept my mouth shut prudently.
"Close your eyes, bitch. Prepare yourself to speak in less than five minutes."
I stiffened and growled. It sounded like words and the words were `fuck you.' He laughed, picking up the small quirt and tapping his leather-clad leg suggestively.
"Same to you."
I clenched my jaw and closed my eyes as he swung the little quirt at the soft inner part of my thigh. I jumped at the sudden agony. It had no effect; Adam just continued his work methodically. Ignoring the little signs of discomfort and the inevitable tears of remorse. Ignoring even the louder cries that he tore from my burning lungs. All the things that I had done in the past to stop the pain, tempt a master to give in and pleasure me. Checking the burgeoning moisture between my open thighs whenever he changed to the whip, or the paddle, or the cat.
He stood over me, after I did not know how long. Stroking the fiery redness and pinching the pulsing welts. My face crimson, my legs quivering with submissive softness. Eyes hot and head aching with unshed tears. Head rolling helplessly on the bench. My hands holding the bars by my waist so hard my knuckles were bloodless white with strain.
It was a litany in my head, over and over. A chorus inside me. `I would never, ever, do what ever I had done to anger Jon again, promise. Just, please, don't make me say my safe-word. Anything but that.' Adam made sure that I was watching him and very deliberately picked up the second-to-last thing he had to use on my insulted, wounded, excited body. He picked up the Bullwhip. I moaned out loud with terror.
I was in Hell. Adam was the devil and he followed Jon's instructions to the letter. Ignoring anything I did that was not what he was instructed to respond too. Giving me bare seconds to catch my breath, before starting in again on some new horrible punishment. He very deliberately swung the whip. It hit the already sore flesh of my inner thigh, making me call out. Arching into the tight bonds. Every single stroke he laid on me with it, made me cry, groan, moan, or beg him to stop. `Please, stop.' I would not use my safe-word. Not now, not ever, if I could help it. He kept going until I was so sore that the lightest touch of his fingers would cause me pain. The slightest brush, much less continuing blows of the hard braided leather. He stopped suddenly, and looked down at me.
"You will say it. I have no desire to be in your place and Jon told me to make you say it."
I shook my head and swallowed a sob. He looked down at me for a long moment, and then walked away. Coming back with a bamboo cane. "Say it."
My chin quivered, but I shook my head.
"Last chance."
He said, a bead of sweat falling from his forehead to land on my stomach.
"No, Handler. I will not. I have been rebellious, defiant. Unwilling to please any but myself, but I will not say it."
That was going to be impossible and he knew it.
"Okay, brace yourself."
I felt liquid fire across my buttocks. The whistling scream of bamboo slashing the air, before the cutting impact on my shrinking skin. I lasted exactly four strokes without fighting the bonds for release actively. Ten before screaming out in extremis. Broken by his determination. His voracious tenacity.
"BLUE! BLUE!"
Adam immediately stopped his movement in midswing. I collapsed in on myself, shattered and sobbing. So very sorry I would be leaving here. I had failed utterly. Pulling deep shuddering breaths into my lungs to weep them out brokenheartedly. The sudden quiet stillness of the room painful. Adam threw the cane, across the room and knelt over me. I turned my face into my shoulder, not looking at him. Not wanting to see his triumph at my expense. The warm room was quiet but for the noises I was making. I was absolutely miserable.
Instead of releasing my body in order to send me home. He knelt between my spread thighs and dipped his tongue inside my opening. Stunning me. His mouth bathing my wet stormy cleft. Plunging deeply inside the moist folds and pushing his nose against my clitoris until a wave of tremors shook me. Assaulting my senses with sudden heat. Unexpected impetuous need flowing over me. Need made all the more bitingly tender by the soreness of my inner thighs. His soft dark hair harsh upon my skin. The rapid flow of scorching inflammation over my body inexplicably arousing. I clutched his head in desperately shaking hands. Feeling it curl around my wet fingers as craving gripped the core of my body. A pinnacle of voluptuous sensuality, like nothing I had ever known before, had been reached. Its culmination rolled over me. Stretched my taxed body to its limits and tore a deep-throated cry from my throat. Unable to move. His thick hair brushing painfully against the sore spots on my legs. His large hands holding my sweaty hips to the bench with an even relentless efficiency. Neither my hands, nor my desperate movements, could dislodge him from my trembling grotto. Panic made me try futilely to do so, but it was hopeless. I felt my overflowing climax exclusively in the deep valley between my legs. Body taut, breath held rigidly behind clenched, aching teeth. Fingers in spasm. My heart trying to beat its way from my chest. Experiencing for the very first time. The annihilating drama of Le Petit Morte. The Little Death, in my supreme affliction. Pain rolling through me and over me. Pushing me farther than I had ever been before in pleasure. I couldn't take it. `It's too much!' I fainted, falling into blessed, merciful darkness.
The sudden limpness of my body must have alerted Adam to the fact that something was wrong with the person beneath him. I couldn't see for a couple of moments and my face was white. Feeling a queer whirling in my head. It was a momentary thing, but very strange for me. I had never ever in my life done anything even remotely like it.
"Annie?"
I felt hands on my face touching me and knew that my arms moved weakly to feel them.
"Are you okay?"
I clutched at his shoulders, wrapping my arms around him. Realizing that in the few seconds that I had been woozy, my legs had been quick-released.
There was some comfort in that and in the strong arms wrapped around my weak body. I started breathing again. Heart-pounding.
"Are you okay?" Adam asked again, insistently.
"Yes, Handler." I said as I took a deep breath. "Thank you for taking the time to correct me."
He hugged me in relief and I could hear him chuckle deep in his chest. His big hand cradling my head against the thatch of thick dark hair on his sweaty chest. I closed my eyes and rested against him for a few luscious moments. When Adam moved away to stand up, he swung me into his well-muscled arms. I tried to protest, but he silenced me with a small assertive noise.
"You're not going to start arguing with me now, are you?"
His voice was warm. I shook my head and kept my arms around his neck.
"No, Handler." I lay quietly in his arms, wondering at the fact that he did not strain under my weight. Carrying me as easily as one would a child. I did not know where we were going, but did not ask. I was amazingly calm. I had made it through one of the worst ordeals that I had ever encountered. I had not broken until after the allotted fifteen minutes. There was some twisted pride in that fact. `How had I done it? Why had I done it?' There was an interesting question. Why? One of the most fascinating questions I could ask about myself. I was a responsible businessperson. I did not feel like a freak or anything. I just felt alive and tingly. Awash with sensuality. Was the only reason I was here because for so long I had been dead inside, and now I felt alive?
How, was easy. I had picked up a paper, dialed a number and met the most stimulating people that I had met in a long time. Was it that I simply refused to be held prisoner by the morality of other people? Was that it? Was it an act of ultimate rebellion? A safe outlet for the darker side of me that tormented me so completely?
I was too tired and too sore, to think about these things for very long. They were questions of personal philosophy that I would have to ponder over an evening when I had some solitude. Time enough for that later.
Adam came to a door on the third floor and opened it. A bedroom done in deepest forest green, but it looked lived in. There were books on the shelves and the spread was ruffled. A desk had paperwork and files on it. A computer, scanner, printer arrangement beside it on a lower stand. A closet in the corner, partially open, had suits in it. Nice suits of silk wool blend that shone with the fine quality of the fabric. How intriguing. He lay me on the bed and secured my hands above me by one single bond. I looked like I was praying, but I was comfortable. He tucked the spread around me and went over to the closet. I watched him taking off his clothes with interest. I had never seen him naked. Just partially revealed by the open fly of his pants and if what that revealed was any indication. I was in for a treat.
"Close your eyes, and rest, Anne. You'll see enough of me tomorrow." He smiled when he said it.
The pillow crunched under my head, as I rested on my side. I felt him crawl into bed next to me. His big warm body against mine. A creeping lassitude stole over me. Created by his warmth, and the softness of the bed. I sighed, and let it flow over me. He started speaking quietly into my ear. Asking me a question so unusual I came almost completely awake.
"Do you hate me?"
NIGHT TALK
"Do you hate me?" Adam asked again in his velvet soft voice.
I had been half-asleep, comfortably bound by the wrists to the headboard. Lazily relaxed in the after-midnight gloom. I could barely keep my eyes open. His question surprised me. He pressed tight against my back, one hand spread against my stomach. Fingers unfolded, radiating heat. I snuggled my buttocks backwards to rest on his manhood. Nice to cuddle for a change.
"Did you want me too?"
I could feel his organ stirring, stiffening near the back of my thighs.
"No, but I wondered." His fingers pressed against the raised marks on my skin. Waking them so they pulsed faintly. "Why don't you?" Mild tone, and innocently curious.
"Let's see." I quipped. "You're gorgeous, sensuous, hung like a pony, and you have a good solid swing in your strap. A strap, I might add, that you like to use on my cowering slave body."
He laughed, and pressed nearer.
"Why should I hate you, Adam? You were doing what you were told to do. The same as I was. I would have to hate Jon, and I cannot hate him."
"Do I scare you?"
His timbre was hoarse, raw sounding. As if these questions had been bothering him for most of the night, but he did not know how to express them. They were to intimate.
"You're supposed to scare me. That's the point. I said `blue and you stopped. How scared can I really be?"
Adam's hands roamed over me, as if checking to see the extent of the damage he had done to me. Lazy pressure, calming.
"You are not like some of the people that we've had here."
He sounded almost amazed. Why?
"How do you mean? I'm older?"
That low smoky laugh from deep in his chest again.
"You smiled in the middle of a scene. Do you know how rare that is? You spend all of your time wide-awake, and not caught up in some romantic fantasy of love in chains." I liked the way he put that even if he wasn't speaking about me.
"If I didn't enjoy this. Why would I be here? This isn't like going to a movie, and thinking that Brad Pitt looks a little off-color. I can't really walk away when I'm tied to the table."
I was a little puzzled. What else would bring someone here?
"Some people come, because they feel they deserve nothing better than punishment. They feel it more every time they climax. You don't, do you?"
I shuddered with sadness.
"How terrible for them."
I meant that in the deepest sense.
"I look on the strap, most of the time, as a reward. It's the same even when it's meant as punishment or I cry. If I really fuck... OOPS...screw-up. I get sent away, and I won't be punished so wonderfully anymore."
I tried to put my thoughts together in a coherent way, so they would be easy to understand.
"Literal violence is a terrible, soul-killing thing. I had that."
A small sympathetic noise came from him. I pushed that memory away.
"Maybe at one time I did too, but it's not that way now."
"How is it now?"
He sounded like he really wanted to know, resting his cheek on mine. The feel of masculine beard, and male smells, floating over me in indolent circles.
"Now, it's just sensation. I had a boyfriend that did this kind of thing. Never far enough or long enough. Some kind of one orgasm rule with him. I had been so straight, and when he left me I never thought that I would miss it as much as I did."
I could feel my eyebrows knit together in a little frown.
"It was frustrating to go on a normal date, and try to ask for this? You ever try to explain this to a Catholic?"
He laughed outright at that picture, and I knew he understood.
"I'm scary enough to most men, because of the brain in my head, without a whip in my hand. Rob, for whatever reason, saw this inside me, and brought it to the light. I just cannot go back. Frankly, I don't really want too."
Adam's hand moved to the backs of my thighs, and explored the deep valley between them. My voice fell to a whisper.
"I can hide it, or enjoy it. I don't want to feel like an outlaw because I like this."
I moaned under the pressure of his palm on the inside of my leg.
"There's no reason too, as long as you can find other players."
I bent my knee to give him access, and felt two long thick fingers move into me from behind. I tried to remain still.
"Hmm." He murmured, and his organ pressed upwards on my back.
"I did promise you something exotic tonight, didn't I?"
Yes, he had. How kind of him to remember. I gave him a ritualized answer to his words.
"Yes, Handler. If it is your wish to continue. I will gratefully submit to your attentions."
He moved up, and back so I could roll over onto my stomach. My bound hands together before me. I relaxed on my arms, and waited with my knees bent. He fondled my back, silently. Reaching over me to the nightstand. I knew basically what he was reaching for, so I did not watch.
"Have you ever done this before?" He asked.
A thick semi-solid mass started to melt between my butt cheeks. His fingers following the moist path.
"Not in a long time handler, but the mistress opened me there earlier with a phallus."
I felt a small twinge of embarrassed fear. Adam was much larger than that toy. His fingers felt larger than the phallus had.
"You like it though, don't you?"
His voice was lower, and more demanding. I felt his thumbs in me, and the slippery lubricant being worked deep by his fingers. I groaned, as sympathetic wetness seeped from my vagina to run down my thighs. His fingers sure, and delicate, and gentle.
"Yes, Adam... Handler. I do."
I could feel the tension growing in my jaw, as he rose behind me. One of his hands open on my lower back, and the other guiding his penis to the tight opening of my anus. I tried to remember how to do this. Feeling the pressure he was exerting to unseal my flesh becoming overtly uncomfortable. The organ being angled down, and into me, even as I tensed.
"You make your own pain here, Anne. You are resisting me."
`I've forgotten!' My mind screamed.
"Open yourself to me. I really have no desire to rape you right now."
I bore down, and felt the tight little ring expanding around his hot hard meat. The hand on my back was joined by another. Both sliding over to the sides of my waist to grip my hips.
"Here it comes, Annie."
He whispered the customary warning.
"It only hurts for a moment."
Then Adam entered me smoothly. Stretching me impossibly wide to accommodate his organ with the familiar burning ache that accompanied any anal penetration. He was in, and I felt the incredibly strong muscles back there trying in vain to expel him. Making him groan with pleasure. Holding unto me hard with his hands. He started to move in me then, pumping me. Soft in, quicker out, the rhythm that told me he knew what he was doing. That this was familiar territory for him. I wouldn't be injured, but I would be opened. He started to speak, and I realized suddenly that the words were as important to him as the actions. The cries, and groans, part of the intoxication for him. I let myself go, as his voice primed the orgasm threatening to flow over me.
"This is one of the most intimate ways to examine a slave. They create their own pain. This requires absolute compliance, and absolute resilience."
I believed him.
"Does it hurt good yet?" He asked.
I shook my head, around the tightly clenched teeth in my mouth. He grabbed my breasts with his hands, and kneaded them. Leaning his weight on my back until my legs quivered.
"I don't know how much more I can take." I ground out, and the words worked on him, he moved rougher, and meaner.
"You can't take it?"
I shook my head.
"If you really can't stand it, do not want me in you, then use those tight little muscles to keep me out. Your weakness is why I prefer men for this really. They can take more, and harder."
I gripped the bars of the headboard. Pulling close, taunting him over my shoulder with a playful little growl. I pushed back hard towards him, and felt every last inch of him slide into me painfully, deliciously. Filling me to bursting. He laughed, a low menacing sound.
"Hold still. You want to be cored like a man?"
I nodded, and kept my eyes closed. "You think you can take it?"
I nodded, and groaned loudly. My hands curled tightly to the bed for support. He took a hold of my knees, and laid me flat on the bed. Legs wide for access, his body following mine down.
"You want to be fucked in the ass, little novice? You got it."
His excitement came through his every word and the quivering touch of his thighs on mine. The fact that he was so excited knocked my own excitement up a notch. Fever pitch and poignantly degrading to have to beg to be fucked harder. My perineum was pulled taut, and the little muscles grew hard because my legs were flat against the bed. I grumbled deep in my throat from the discomfort. He spoke into my ear, and his tone meant business.
"Do not cry out. I don't want to hear it. You asked for this. Now, all I want from you is your orgasm."
I let a tear roll from my moist eyes, down my cheek. He ground into me, as every part of my nether regions tightened with the friction. He was practically grunting with the force he had to use to get back inside me, when he pulled the flesh out of the opening. My legs shook with spasm, convulsive movements of tired aching muscles. Muscles struggling towards climax one last time. His flesh inside me burned with a fiery gentle pain. My breath shortened. My clitoris pulsed in tempo to my fast, panting breaths. I was going to come, and in my depleted state it was going to be agony. Adam started to speak to me, hands moving on every part of me he could reach from behind. Clutching at me, pulling me near. Fingers rough.
"You're ass is so tight, and you're so close to coming. I can feel it."
He was absolutely right, and he knew it. Talking dirty to me, rough like he would talk to another man.
"You're tighter than a man. I feel your need in my organ."
Adam shoved his hand under my hips. Urging my body to crest under his prodding. Fingers handling my clit, and I rose up against his weight a mere inch to give him access to the suffering knot of desire at the top of my cleft.
"It hurts, I know it does, and you're so good for taking it this way."
Sweet caress on the back of my hair. The unexpected tenderness shot adrenaline into my sex.
"You're going to come with it. Boil over, and flow with it. I'm going to watch you come, and it's going to be soon."
He pumped faster, and the excruciating pleasure reached a new peak for me. I groaned, and cried out with it. His finger taking my clitoris and pinching it gently, until I exploded. Lifting up to my knees and giving him free access. Eyes closed, head back. Mindlessly making incoherent animal noises. Feeling him in me. Achingly, impossibly hard. Filling me, and leaving me empty He was so hot, so cruel and full. I put my head between my arms, and silenced the bestial scream of joy-filled torment that his spasmodic thrusting climax tore from my hoarse throat, by biting the bedspread until my jaws ached. That wasn't what Adam wanted. He twisted his hands in my hair. Pulling my head up high so he could hear my agony. Forcing his penis harder into me. Drilling me with his organ. Churning against me until every last bit of his orgasm, was released into the condom he wore to ream me. Slowly Adam collapsed on top of me, pressing me into his bed. His breathing a harsh rasp in my ear. Long fingers tightly grasping my damp skin. The abrupt hard jerks of his organ slowing to twitches in my now loose anus. He whispered against me.
"Jesus Christ, Girl. Jesus Christ."
I didn't really understand what he meant by that, but before I went to sleep cuddled next to him in his bed. I realized something. I felt just about the same way.
MORNING MEALS
"Come in, Anne."
That was Jon, answering my tentative knock. Waiting in much the same pose that Adam had been in. I approached him quickly and kissed his bare feet in obeisance. I felt his hands in my hair, smoothing it quietly.
"Stand up and show me the insides of your thighs."
I immediately spread my legs before him as far as I could. It was not enough for him and he ordered me to assume a more revealing pose.
"Put one of your legs on the edge of the bed beside me."
I did so immediately. Suitably desperate to please him. I couldn't take another beating like last nights. He looked at the dark purple welts and appeared satisfied that I had been duly chastened.
"Did you learn anything?"
A question.
"Yes, Master." I started slowly. "I learned that I could take more than I thought I could."
He nodded in understanding. That must have been what I was supposed to learn, because he did not press me for more.
"Come then, let's start the day."
He had me kneel before him and provide the same service to him that I had for Adam. His fingers harder than Adam's as he gripped my hair. Holding me up against him until my body screamed for air and tears fell from my eyes in slow crystalline trails.
"Good girl, catch your breath and go do Traci."
Traci too? I didn't hesitate, even though my pulse went up quite a bit more than it had been. I was just having a hard time figuring out why I was so reluctant to be with her. `Only when you have to think about it. You do it willingly enough when you have too.' There was that voice again. I knelt next to her on the other side of the bed. My face looking down at her smooth thighs and gently dimpled knees. I took a deep breath and waited. Traci surprised me with her actions.
She touched my face first, as she readied herself for service. Wiping the remnants of moisture she found there with a tenderness I did not expect. She spread her legs around me on the edge of the bed. I swallowed convulsively and struggled to control my emotions. It wasn't that I did not like Traci, just not that way. I closed my eyes and did it. Rendered unwilling ministrations to her heated little mouth until she quivered with subdued release against my face. Hands in my mussed-hair and tangling within it. I gave her a couple of other little attentions that I knew I liked during oral sex. A finger inside her wet cleft and deeply burying my tongue well into her as I was doing her.
In my heterosexual uncertainty, I did what I knew was more than she wanted so as not to stint her. I liked her enough to want her to fully enjoy my presence. She had a slave, and I, a Master. My ambivalence was not really any of her concern. It was Jon's. He would notice, even as I hoped he would not.
I kept my head down near her feet when I was finished. Hoping to hide my true feelings from her. She touched my bent head and spoke sadly.
"It's too bad you don't really like to do that, Anne. You have a natural talent for it."
I gasped, sharply at her perception. Speaking out of turn. Looking up at her face.
"I beg forgiveness for any perceived reluctance on my part, Mistress. It is the sad truth that our society has conditioned most of us to feel that same sex union is perverted or deviant. I want to please you, Mistress. I will work very hard on my attitude. Your perception of my prejudice is accurate. I beg your forgiveness if I have not satisfied you or offended you in any way."
I hung my head in shame and clutched at her feet. `Was I really so easily read, as that? Was I to have no secrets here?'
"When one is raised like that, Anne. The problem will disappear with time and determined effort." She bent down and took my arms.
"It is however something that we will have to diligently apply ourselves too."
I whimpered at the coldness in her tone. I held my breath and waited. Dreading what she was going to say, knowing what it was.
"Why will you be punished?"
"For speaking out of turn, without being spoken too. Looking the Mistress in the face, and most harshly, for my uncontrollable bigotry against making love to a woman."
She appeared satisfied at my answer. Jon spoke to me.
"Over her knee and after the punishment, you can try again to satisfy her."
One of the hardest things I had ever done was lay myself over her lap and put my hands on the ivory satin coverlet on the bed before me. Closing my eyes. She was doing something to her hands that I could only feel over my back. Was she getting a paddle? Where was Jon? `Oh, please. I'm so sore already.' I knew that I would not get any mercy even if I asked for it. I had made too large a mistake.
When her left hand touched my neck, I knew what she had been doing. She had been putting on leather gloves to protect her soft hands. Jon spoke coldly, over my back.
"Give her ten for each offense. Five more each, if she tries to get away, or covers herself. If you get tired, let me know and I'll get you a paddle." Traci responded to his words positively. Speaking to me quietly, in rigid control of her tone.
"If you come against the bed, or on my lap. I will know and the punishment will be doubled."
I didn't think I could take sixty, but my mouth was so dry I knew I couldn't speak. I knew that I had to and my voice cracked when I did.
"Yes, Mistress." I said, swallowing convulsively around a new-formed lump in my throat.
She started suddenly. The first hard blows almost brought me right off the bed with the heaving pain of it. I curled my fingers into the bedspread to keep from throwing my hands over my backside to protect it from the torturous beating. I bit my lip and started to cry softly into the bedspread. Silently sorry, not to have disappointed, but that I was being beaten for it. `I did not deserve this. I couldn't help it!'
It was maybe halfway through it when something happened inside my head. Beyond the fire blooming between my legs and the wetness seeping unto the naked lap of Traci as she punished me. My body responding as it always did to pain with passion. `I had been wrong not to be with her completely.' The thought stunned me, profoundly. You're also wrong to feel you do not deserve to be punished for your lapse.' I had displeased and the voice I heard in my heart was the voice of the slave I was willingly becoming.
I had let my passions be ruled by an out-dated, restricting platitude that had no place in the life I was leading now. What a fool I had been! I had determined that it was okay to be with a man, but not okay to be with a woman. `Why the hell not?' I wasn't married to anyone, so if I was going to run my life by normal morality. I was technically some kind of sinner against the will of God, Right? Destined for the fiery burning torments of Hell. If that was the case, I may as well go for some good reason.
Not because I sat on a fence for months, afraid to enjoy anything new to me. If this was how I was going to act. I had no place here with these sexual adventurers. I was filled with remorse. I deserved the punishment cross. I was getting off so easily I cried with real pain. Spirit pain this time. She finished the punishment and I felt myself becoming the man/woman that had been in her bed yesterday. Wondering if I should give a name to this new facet of my personality. Maybe Alex. That was nicely androgynous. I went to my knees, eyes ablaze with desire for the taste of her. The feel of her. Trying to control the tears that flowed from me so readily. I took a hold of her knees and opened them with animal abandon. Putting my tear-stained face at the apex of her thighs. I proceeded to drive her out of her mind with my tongue. Hungrily, greedily. I was eating her sex with an abandon that surprised me with its intensity. She bucked frantically and ground her hips against me. Vainly trying to push my face from her clit, away from her drenched quivering opening. Not a chance. I was on her for the long haul.
Using every trick that had ever been used on me in my life. Circles, flicks, sucking, biting nibbles. I made her crazy with sex. I heard Jon coming quietly to kneel behind her supporting her shoulders. His hands catching hers to still them. Murmuring into her ear, telling her to enjoy herself. She, groaning in reaction, fighting my tongue for command of her soul, getting tenser and tenser under me. I put my arms around her thighs and held on for the ride. Working her harder than I had worked any man with my mouth in my life. I put all that I had into this simple act of oral intimacy. Vowing that I would make her climax as no one in her life had ever made her climax. It would be soon too. I could sense it. When Traci came. It was thunderous, shattering. Her orgasm rocked her almost pushing me over the edge of passion the tiny mouth convulsing under mine in earth-shaking completion. Jon's hands holding her closely when she collapsed back unto the bed. A wet, trembling mess really. Her temblor visible all over her still quaking body. I pulled back, suddenly concerned. Had I injured her? I looked up at Jon. My eyes wide. I mouthed without sound.
`Did I hurt her?'
He smiled, shaking his head. I grinned and dropped my eyes. Hoping he would forgive that small slip of my slave-like demeanor. I kept my face down, until he asked me formally.
"What have you learned?"
I had to work for a moment to be able to phrase it the right way. The thoughts barely coherent. I managed it with difficulty.
"I've learned that I cannot afford to run my life by out-dated platitudes and bias rules of society. I am a pleasure slave, Master."
I stiffened with pride at that.
"What pleases you pleases me, as well."
I paused, addressing Traci respectfully.
"Thank you for taking the time to correct me, Mistress. I hope my service pleased you." I felt hands on my head and looked up slightly. Not enough to get into trouble, however, just about breast level.
"You were adequately skilled."
She sounded slightly amused, but her voice still quavered. I took some small pride in that.
"Go on back to Adam for your breakfast."
I nodded and scurried away on my knees. Finding the door and heading back to Adam's room.
I had managed to conquer one prejudice, but what about all the others? My list had several other things on it. What about those? I didn't want to think about those. I knocked on Adam's door and waited for him to invite me in. His voice called for me softly and I went in on all fours gingerly. My knees almost raw from the carpet.
"You've been punished?"
His voice was filled with a disappointment that wrenched at my soul. Hurting me terribly. Worse than any physical blows could.
"Yes, Handler, for bigotry."
He stood before me and I put my head on the floor by his feet. He was waiting. I knew that I had to keep explaining.
"I was not unwilling, Handler, but my reluctance to be with a woman was obvious to my Mistress. She corrected me and I was granted the opportunity to make up for my transgression."
He chuckled.
"I heard that part of it."
I kept my face down to hide the smile. She had been pretty loud.
"Well, enough, as long as it does not happen again. Terry is nowhere near as forgiving as Traci and he'll be here this weekend. You balk on him and he'll be on you until he draws blood."
I shivered, and kept my head down. Cowering at his feet the perfect picture of abject humility.
"Come on then. Time for breakfast."
I followed him out and wondered what he meant. `Who the hell was Terry?' I shivered with fear and put it out of mind. I was too caught up in right now to think about later.
BREAKFAST
The kitchen was a safe room and I could walk in there unless specifically ordered not too. It was a relief to be upright again and I stretched some of my kinked muscles. It was also one of the places where I could ask questions about things. I intended to make full use of it. I looked around at the modern efficiency in the white tile and older accents. Nicely blended from the old-fashioned to the new. A big butcher-block table in the center of the room. White ceramic tile floor. Stainless steel sink.
"Do you cook?" Adam asked me.
I laughed at how typically male that sounded. He grinned.
"Is that a yes, or a no?"
I said `Yes,' and he pointed to the refrigerator, seating himself at the table.
"Make enough for four, slave."
"Yes, Handler."
I opened the door and found a plethora of food. They had fresh vegetables, eggs and quick-to-make croissants. I applied myself to the preparing of food and watched Adam with the corner of my eye. He was magnificent.
"You can ask questions, if you want."
He said and I kept going with breakfast. Finding spices over the stove. Including Saffron, amazing.
"If you do not ask anything of me. You will be the first in history."
I smiled, turning quickly red.
"Any question that I've had so far has been answered in time. Why ask for answers that will be provided, or become clear in that same span?"
He leaned over the block and rested his face on his right hand.
"Surely there is something you do not understand?"
His eyes bored right into mine and they saw more than I wanted them to. I was sure. I had questions, but they were not about what I had been through. I could understand those things. All became clear by some method, or the other, either during or after the ordeal itself. I wanted to know the practical details, so I started in.
"How did the scope of this become so big? He grinned and started talking about the networking involved. It was fascinating. Almost a corporate structure. They had every type of personnel that they would ever need hooked into their business. Lawyers, Doctors ...Like the one I was going to go too... Plumbers, workers of all kinds. Craftsmen. They did as they wanted to the slaves, once a month, providing service when it was necessary.
"Even the Doctor?"
He laughed at the shock that was easily heard in my voice. "Doctors have desires too and I for one would rather have him come here for something outlandish than to prey upon someone unwilling. His wife is grateful that he comes here. She knows we're safe. I pleasured her the last time she was here."
I asked if he was a slave and he responded openly.
"I want to be a Master, but no-one ever starts out on top. You have to know how far to go. Slave, then Handler, then Master. You, my dear, are at the bottom of the food chain."
That wasn't how I felt about it so I said something that startled him.
"Not really. My cooperation is vital and I can stop the action with a word."
He looked surprised.
"You knew that I had my eyes open. Did you think that even in pain-filled extremis, I would forget that I could stop my torment?"
He shrugged slightly.
"I like pain."
A slow smile spread across his handsome face. I found four plates and silverware. Laying them out.
"How did you feel when you realized that pain made you orgasm?"
How profoundly embarrassing. That was the most personal of questions. I flushed crimson.
"I felt ashamed that my body had betrayed me in such a way. Rob was whipping me in the most intimate way and I climaxed. Hell, I damn near set the bed on fire."
I set his plate before him, a sprig of parsley on the side, neatly. Presentation is everything.
"It was easily the first overwhelming experience in my life. I was stunned, shocked horrified. I became convinced that I was mentally ill, sought counseling. The works."
He looked surprised.
"Rob was very practical about it and that, at least, helped. We were to be married and I was everything that he desired. Why would I want to be cured when it would mean I would lose his Love?" The sneer in my words clearly audible. He asked me what had happened, after he swallowed a mouthful of food. I answered with the truth.
"I topped him one night and he couldn't take it. He balked and I lost respect for him. I was better than he was, more graceful, more committed."
I laughed and ate some of the eggs.
"I could take more pain, enjoy it more. I positively courted punishment, because nothing he did could affect me any more. I had tested his mettle and found it lacking. We broke up not to long after."
We were interrupted by the appearance of Jon and Traci in the kitchen. I smiled and set their plates before them courteously.
They tasted the fare and complimented me on it. I knew then that I would be cooking on the weekends now, at least for breakfast. They all appeared to be satisfied. Sipping coffee that I had made at the end of the meal. The conversation light and brisk. Quick retorts, airy laughter. Nice to be somewhere my sense of humor was appreciated for a change. Jon watching me closely, as he had been all weekend.
"We have a full day planned and need to get a move on. Clean up and meet us in the study." He said.
Traci stood up from the table. I had put the dishes in the dishwasher, as we were finished with them. One of my personal habits, so there was no mess in the Kitchen. I watched them walk out the door and waited for Adam to tell me what to do. I did not have to wait for very long.
THE STUDY
Adam cleaned me up after breakfast as thoroughly as he had done before. Brushing and braiding my hair carefully. Letting me care for my teeth and skin. At the end of the neatening process. Adam had me stand while he put leather cuffs on my wrists and ankles. A soft leather collar around my neck. Just for the look as it didn't have any hooks or eyes.
When he was finished he led me to Jon's Study and left me on my knees just inside the door. The study was a very modern place. I could see the computer screen and the keyboard. Pale blue carpet and masculine looking pinstripe wallpaper. Two large file cabinets and several long locking cabinets of pale-whitewashed oak. I waited patiently, noting the enormous beveled mirror behind the desk. The comfortable leather chairs of white to the sides of the desk. It looked like an interview room, that's what it was.
I knew when I looked up at Jon that I wasn't dealing with `Jon' anymore. I was dealing with the Master. I greeted him as such by laying my face on his feet and kissing the toe of his finely polished boots. Another day of lessons. Quick frisson of fear. "Come here, stand up." He said.
He backed to the clear space in front of his desk and waited for me to do as I was told to do.
"Put your hands up over your head so I can fasten them above you."
When I raised them up, Jon fastened them quickly, until I felt the strain in my shoulders, as they were pulled taut very high above my head. "Hips forward, legs spread."
He clipped my ankles as well. I was held immobile. I kept my eyes straight ahead and caught sight of myself in the mirror before me. The longhaired slave hanging behind his oak desk.
I was more than amazed by what I saw. I saw a slave hanging there. Bruised, welted, obedient. Waiting calmly for instruction. He spoke when he saw where my gaze was.
"Keep looking at yourself and answer my questions."
His tone brooked no refusal.
"I read your diary. How do you feel about that?"
I spoke quietly about how frightened I was of his knowledge of me. Explaining, carefully respectful, that some fantasies are not meant to be reality. Anymore than some people are meant to be dominant, or submissive. It was a matter of degree and my diary was really out there.
"Your diary is very detailed and concise. You've been thinking of bondage for many years, yet waited until now to seek it out. Why?"
He came up behind me and put his hands on my waist lightly. I felt his breath on my neck, hot. There was desire in my heart but my freshly cleansed body was dry. I spoke slowly. Finding the paradox of dryness and desire intoxicating. If he kept touching me. I wouldn't be parched for very long.
"I did not want anyone to think less of me, Master. I desired what was not considered normal and yearned to lose myself in this life. My diary contains my thoughts as well. I was looking over a precipice that I was very afraid to go over."
He laughed at the imagery, and seemed to understand what I was saying. He started speaking again.
"There are many levels of sensation. Infinite types and variations. You learn very quickly, but you retain many of the prejudices that go with modern society and we must rid you forcibly of those."
He grabbed some clamps from the desk before him and put them unto my nipples snugly. Taking two more and fixing them even tighter to the dry folds of flesh between my legs. The chains an irritating reminder of my lowly position.
"We are especially vigorous on your first weekend here. The safe-word ordeal last night was a test. One you did remarkably well on. I was very proud of you."
I was melting at the tenderness of his tone.
"I wish to find the levels of discomfort that you function best at. Be they deeper, or constant, pain. Where is the place you suffer most enjoyably? Finding this place is the challenge. You seem to have many facets and to be very versatile. This may, or may not, be good for you."
He pulled on the chains gently.
"I will give you to many others and let you watch other slaves take the punishments to be inflicted on you."
What a dazzling idea. I could see that watching what was to come could be devastating.
"I do not have time for specialty work and prefer to merely observe the reactions created by the specialists. I leave the doing to the true experts and it networks favors I can call on."
Adam had explained some of this. Masters that like to do one particular activity would come and do you. They either paid Jon, or simply had the use of the slave. It was like the doctor. They traded services.
"I would however like to have Traci do some body piercing on you. Are you agreeable to this?"
I explained that he could do it anywhere but my clitoris or my tongue. The tongue was too visible and the clitoris was much too dangerous. He nodded and explained that tonight I was going to have to watch Terry play with Adam, and then it would be my turn. I was going to be introduced to the other members of the group. All present tonight would be able to make use of me. Neat.
There would be several other Masters, Mistresses and slaves in attendance. Saturday was a social day at this place. The regular night for spectacle. What it really meant was that it was a party. I was part of the show.
I asked what would happened if I ran into any of these people in real life. Jon laughed and told me to do whatever they told me to do, or bear the consequences the next weekend. Great,' and then he said that nobody would ever ask me to get naked during a business lunch, but they might ask to meet me afterwards for some slap and tickle.' Jesus, this guy killed me and I couldn't even laugh at his words. I knew that he could see the amusement shining in my eyes. That seemed to make him happy. He went behind his desk and sat down. Making notes on the computer with quick urgent fingers. I was trying to wait patiently, but fidgeted because of the growing discomfort in my arms. When he asked me if I was uncomfortable I answered ritualistically. So he would know that the answer was yes.
"As long as it pleases you, Master."
He laughed, as he came over to me and lowered my arms, just a bit.
"Bearing up well tonight will please me more. This is like nothing you have ever seen. You will have to help Adam prepare you, and you, him."
That was part of the task ahead, he explained. I would have to learn to take care of other slaves and my Owners as well. I had plenty to learn and little time to learn it in.
He buzzed for Adam and by the time the Handler appeared, my shoulders were on fire. Jon let them down completely. I had barely the strength to let them fall from the ceiling to my sides. I followed Adam on my knees. When we arrived at the bath chamber, I let him massage the ache out of my arms. He left the clamps on me for the longest time. Removing them only when he went to put me in the bath.
THE LIBRARY
They put me in the library for the better part of the day. The library was like nothing that I had ever seen before. Shelf after shelf of books on Erotica and social science. Remarkably enough, plenty of the books I had already read. I recognized authors from my childhood and my college years. Several Authors that I had read in my search for autoerotic literature. Pat Califia, Laura Antoniou, Sara Adamson and Anne Rice, in her various guises. The S/M Classics, including the Devil himself. The Marquis De Sade, and his counterpart, Sacher-Masoch, AKA. Venus in Furs. I picked up a reference manual that I hadn't seen before and settled in to read. Fascinating stuff that set my pulse to pounding and raised my blood pressure. I looked over at the desk across the way and noticed my journal sitting there. I put down the book that I was reading and went to it. It was lying in shaft of golden light. The dusty blue cover almost glowing. I sat down at the desk and opened it to where I left off. My mind starting to wander. There was a heavy gold pen next to the book and I picked it up to twirl it around in my fingers. I let my mind wander for a moment, and then I started to write.