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Message-ID: <34855asstr$1011510605@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: "celia batau" <pinataheart@bigplanet.com>
Cache-Post-Path: news2.bigplanet.com!unknown@1cust224.tnt16.lax3.temp.da.uu.net
Subject: {ASSM} Milagritos {celia batau} (MF bdsm nc? tort)
Date: Sun, 20 Jan 2002 02:10:05 -0500
Path: assm.asstr-mirror.org!not-for-mail
Approved: <assm@asstr-mirror.org>
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories
Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d

hi everyone!

here is a new story. :) it's a little bit experimental, so we hope it makes
sense. :)

note: copyright 2001 celia batau. you may copy this story for personal use
so long as the author's name and this note are retained. permission to copy,
distribute, or display this work is not given to any website which charges
access to it. permission to copy, distribute, or display this work is given
to "no charge" websites with written consent of author.

this story was edited by Sam I am. yay Sam!

If you like this story or have any comments, please email us at
pinataheart@bigplanet.com.

enjoy!

-cb

Milagritos

celia batau, (C)2002

My garden. Dandelion soft. Dandelion sharp. I let my fingers sweep along the
base, brushing away the loose dirt, pulling clean the lines of mortar
between the bricks where my little plant grows. Little mystery. Little
treasure. My only possession this little lover of mine who is always here
for me. Whispers when I'm curled tight. Who soothes me when the belt marks
ache. Gives me company during the long hours we're alone.

--

My Master is here for me again.

The sun is low and we're in shadow. The door is closed. I'm back again in a
world two meters wide and four meters long. I don't open my eyes until he
lightly taps my thigh with his foot. I look up at him. I try to smile. Good
little girl. Happy property.

"Welcome me."

Up on my knees. Lips, tongue, and teeth find the button to his pants. Chain
from my collar cold down my back. Toes rub against the cement as I bite the
zipper and pull. Little Master greets me. Hard. Excited. I kiss him. Let him
know I care. Lick beneath. Ignore the smell. Lick my lips. Take him in.

Hands in my hair. Concentrate, girl, don't make him mad. Too large, but I've
learned a lot. Taste how soft. Taste how hard. Breathe. A little more. Don't
breathe. A little more. Swallow. Swallow.

Roughly he pushes me back. Turns me around and kicks my feet apart as far as
the short chain allows. I wait while he undresses then slides in behind me.
I reach for his softened member and coax it while his arms reach around to
caress my breasts. Padlocks on my wrists bite into my bottom as he squeezes
me against him. Kisses on my neck. Breath in my ear. Little Master grows
again and slips from my fingers as his owner eases me forward. Leans me out.
My long hair wrapped around his fist. Panic. My arms lift up. Pain. His
other hand grabs a cuff, pushes my arms up my back. I lean forward more.

I cry out. Head bent back. Spine curved. Thighs burning to keep my balance.
But I'm already wet. Somehow I'm ready for him, and he pushes in. Feet fight
to stay on the cement. He retreats. Again my Master impales me and then
holds me there. I cough. My head aches. My shoulders ache.

"Do you like this?"

"Yes."

"Do you love me?"

I scream.

"Do you love me?"

He pulls my hair. I can't answer. He begins to thrust. Harder so my whole
body is bouncing. His legs on short chain keep my airborne feet from rising.
I am just a rhythm now, and through the pain I see light as I slip closer
and closer to the edge. Someone is screaming. My hands ball into fists.
Closer. Wonderful beautiful closer. I explode.

He lets me down. The cement is cool against my cheek. I smile. One more step
to my shallow grave.

--

I was a woman once. A woman with goals. Before my Master took me. Before I
started looking inward instead of outward.

--

My arms are lifted high and I stretch. My toes touch the floor, but my
Master has pushed thumbtacks into the balls of my feet. I hang from the
ceiling. My Master, good Master, who hold the needles, waits for me to
settle down.

"Kick me and you'll regret it."

Holding a needle in his fingers, he flicks a lighter and holds the flame
under the tip. I watch the end glow. Then I close my eyes as he puts his
mouth over my right nipple. Sucks on it. And lets go to tug at it a moment
before holding it still.

The needle burns through. I jerk back. I scream as all my weight pulls at my
wrists. But I don't kick. Tears dripping down my face, I can't help but
watch as he removes the needle and inserts a shiny metal ring. I whimper. I
don't like it, but I suffer a matching ring on my left as well.

"Good girl."

I am a good girl. I am. Please, Master, take them out. I can't stop crying.
He kisses my tummy. Kisses lower. Puts a hand between my thighs and guides
it up. Only my face is wet. He rubs. Gently. I cry. He starts to soothe me
with nice words, words I like to hear. About how good I am. About how I
please him. His voice is strong, yet light, as his fingers work their magic
across my most delicate place.

My nipples throb. My wrists hurt. My feet hurt. But I'll feel better as long
as he keeps touching me like that. Yes. He lifts my thighs onto his
shoulders. His nose is in my hair. He lifts me again, and his hands hold my
bottom as his mouth continues what his fingers started. I can feel his body
strain as he laps me. In and out and along. If only his penis were inside me
and not his tongue. I ask for more. I don't care about the rings. No, don't
take you're tongue away. Please. More. Please. I want more.

I scream. High and loud. My legs kick. I swing from the ceiling. Everything
is gone in the flash of pain burning between my legs. The needle. It's
pushed through my clitoris.

--

Tiny spider. Naked like me. This is morning so you are good luck. I turn on
my side and watch her crawl down the wall. Lying in the light from the
window, I am safe from her. My good luck charm.

--

Carefully I shuffle toward to wall until the chain pulls me short. When I
stand I can see the wide beautiful desert through the metal grating of the
window. I can see the line of slight rolling mountains beyond. Freedom.

No neighbors. No dogs barking. I can't see a road from my window, but I can
hear my Master's truck. I saw it once. Old white with a red and yellow
license plate.

When I look outside I remember my Master's words. His promise to let me go
when I'm good enough. When I've pleased him enough. I dream of all the
places I'll go. I dream of clothes and food and people. I don't dream of the
shallow hole and a layer of dirt. I never do.

--

With a hand, he brushes my hair up from my neck. This is a quiet moment.
With quiet kisses. Gentle curious fingers exploring sensitive areas. It's
like a dream. A dream with toys buried inside me. Little wires to little
boxes. I almost don't mind as he wraps the rope around my waist. Ties the
loose ends to the spreader bar, forcing me to kneel, forcing me to sit on
the bar between my spread feet. Next comes more rope around my elbows.
Around my wrists. Then tying one end of a long rope to that, he threads the
rope between my legs and up through the waist rope, leaving the rest coiled
on the floor.

With a kiss he pushes the ball between my teeth and locks it behind my head.
My eyes follow the leather blindfold until it covers my vision and I'm left
with my breathing and the sounds of my Master's movements. Carefully, he
lays me back on my arms, and I feel a tug on the long rope. It pulls against
the waist rope, digs between my legs. Soon I am lifted up until I'm balanced
on my head and tortured knees. I push my hands down to ease the pinching but
it doesn't help.

"Shh," my master tells me, "Quiet." I can't. It hurts too much. I'm going to
break. But I adjust. I bend myself back, push up with my head and my knees
to ease the rope. Slowly he moves his fingers over me. It calms me that he's
still near. I can't breathe. My feet feel funny. And I can't call out to
him. Beg him to stop. But I can moan.

He puts a hand to my chest. "Shh."

Touches. Kisses. In wet little lines along my body. I concentrate on that.
Focus on that instead of the pain. I force myself to feel each one, remember
each one and connect them in constellations across my skin.

I gasp. That's not a kiss. I shake to remove the clothespin, but it holds
tight. One kiss. One clothespin. Another kiss. Another clothespin. In this
way my Master decorates me. The sharp pain burns in little dots, momentarily
overwhelming the pain of the rest of my body. I begin to sob. I can't help
it. He finally stops, but I can't. The pain won't lessen, and even the
lightheadedness I begin to feel won't make it go away.

"Goodnight," he whispers.

I hear the door close behind him.

--

I pray to the Virgin to make me obedient. I pray to the saints to guide me
on this path. I pray to the tiny birds that fly over my Master's roof for
escape. And I pray to my dandelion for his patience.

--

This is my last day. I can feel it. I let my thoughts float out over the
desert to the place where my Master's promise will be kept. And I wonder if
the sun will be warm for me there, too. Will I feel the wind against my
skin. The dried twigs and rocks. Or will I feel nothing.

At dusk my Master opens the door. I rise to my knees. He has a gift for me.
Gently, he removes the metal rings and replaces them with rough hooks
through the piercings. Shiny red globes. Christmas ornaments. I look at
them, then up to his smiling face. He is happy. So I am happy.

My Master lifts me to my feet and checks the locks on the cuffs holding my
wrists behind my back. I'm standing straight. Feet apart. He changes the
short chain between my ankles with one slightly longer and then leaves the
room. I shift my weight from foot to foot while I wait. Too nervous to stand
still.

When he returns, he leads me out of the room and through his house. I
stumble as my feet touch the carpet and he steadies me. Eyes wide, I stare
at everything. I've never been allowed out of my room before, and I am
certain this night is special. That this will be my last night.

In his bedroom, my Master stands me at the foot of his bed. This is where my
Master sleeps. It has been so long since I knew a bed. Such a long time to
sleep on cold cement that I don't even begin to think that I'll have this
pleasure tonight. My master takes a glass from a dressing table and holds it
to my lips. Wine. Greedy, I drink as much as I can while the rest spills
over my breasts. He laughs while I lick my lips.

The wine in my empty stomach hits my head quickly. Unlocking my wristcuffs,
he places me down on his bed. The covers feel so soft against my back. I
stretch my arms along its surface. I close my eyes and sink into the
feeling. Too soon he grabs a wrist and ties it to the headboard. My other
wrist follows and so do my feet, leaving me spread out before him. Leaning
over me, he kisses me. Then undressed, he climbs onto the bed.

"Do you love me?"

He begins with slow caresses. From my throat to the lines of my ribs. From
my courser hair down the insides of my legs to my toes. He examines
everything. Touches everything. He explores me completely, occasionally
tapping one of the ornaments to watch the smile spread across my face. I
tell myself I'm dreaming. He feels so good. If I'm dreaming then everything
is ok. There's no tomorrow. No promises. No questions of love. I'm safe
under my sheets. No rings in my nipples. No Master pushing into me. Only my
fingers. Only me pushing myself against my hands. Only my own hot breath
under the sheets. The cuffs don't bite. No mouth on my breast. No tongue
teasing the rings. No squeezing him inside me. No lifting my hips as we rock
together. The pressure building, the sweat between us. His hands against my
sides as the heat blooms through me.

--

Morning. No bonds. I pull the sheets off of my face. I'm alone. Reaching
across the mattress, I feel for his warmth. I wait a moment listening for
him, but there's no sound.

"Master?"

No one answers. Indecisive, I look around the room noticing each item as if
it were a clue to what I should do. Finally, I slip from the bed. And bare
feet on bare carpet, I walk to the doorway. Empty Hall. Empty Kitchen.
Cautiously I find the livingroom.

"Master?"

The house is empty. The sudden feeling of freedom seems so strange. I almost
want the bindings back. But I see the front door, and my feet carry me
forward. My hand hesitates at the knob. My mind is overflowing with
conflicting thoughts and fears. I shudder. I don't know what this means. I
don't know what anything means anymore. I almost don't move forward. I
almost turn around and run to my room. But I can't. There are wide open
spaces for me. That was the promise.

I turn the knob and step out onto the porch. No old truck. Just a yard full
of Dandelions.

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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