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From: Hammon Wry <Hammonwry@SPAMTRAPyahoo.com>
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Subject: {ASSM} Learning her: part 7
Date: Sat,  7 Dec 2002 19:10:05 -0500
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Learning her: part 7

(C) E. Howe  2002
All rights reserved

What can I say of that night?  Or the days that followed?  I'd rather 
send you home with your imaginings intact.   But I know that you will 
clamber for details, asking in the most polite ways, of course.    But
even if you didn't, I'd see the questions in your eyes.  

I mentioned that I was assaulted by the smell of the room.  I could 
smell my old life in there.  The perfume I wore, the sachets in the 
dresser.  The scent of lavender used to rinse my sheets in the old 
manner.  

I could smell the fustiness of the rug beneath me.  Add to that the
must of sex, the scent of lust.  For some reason, my sense of smell
was sharp, keen, and each scent, aroma, fragrance, odor was sharp like
knives.  Each called to old memories.  The sun of a summer's afternoon
as a child, running along the clothes lines, my muddy hands leaving
black marks on the drying sheets.  The spanking I got for it later,
and the tears that ensued. 

The first time I rode a male slave's cock on my bed, as he lay tied to
the posts, and having to move my hair from beneath my ass, rubbing it 
along his chest instead.  

The whipping of a maid for dropping and spilling the round box of 
scented talcum powder on the rug, and seeing her red ass in the air.  
Her panties around her ankles, weeping at her shame and clumsiness, 
and crying "I won't do it again, please, I won't be so clumsy, please,
I'm sorry, so sorry..."

That same maid on her knees, slowly scenting my body with the glass 
rod from my perfume bottle, behind my knees, the tops of my thighs in 
the folds at my hips, the dimples at the small of my back.

As these scenes flashed through my mind, I felt them melt away.  The 
here and now reasserted itself, and I was lost in this moment.
Utterly.  The scents in this room would forever point back to this
moment, this minute eternity, this small bit of forever. 

She pulled me to the bed.  I followed, no longer aware of myself.   I 
was only Hers.  I could not see beyond her feet before me.  I
followed, blind to everything else.   We stopped.  I felt her hand
under my shoulder, and felt my torso being lifted up. 

I arose.  I kept my eyes downcast.  She took my chin, and raised my 
face.  Still I was afraid to look up.  I felt her finger stroke up my
face, and curve beneath my eye.  Then it tapped lightly at the temple,
and drew back, and she tapped herself on the same spot.  I was looking
in her eyes. 

Her face was serene.  I saw a smile play across her lips briefly, full
of irony.   She broke her gaze from my eyes, and I saw her hand reach
for my head.  She stroked my hair back, and then ran a finger over the
edge of my ear.  I shuddered at this tenderness.   

She made a motion to indicate that I should turn away from her, and I 
did so.  I was at the edge of my bed.  Warm down comforters covered 
it, their shells a heavy, tight woven cotton.  I was glad of that to
come later.  She patted the bed in front of me, and I arose, a bit,
enough to lay face down on it, my hips and legs supported by my toes,
calves off the floor and knees bent.  I kept my legs together. 

I could feel her doing something with my hair.  She was tying it to
one of the posts at the foot of the bed!  I shook.  I was terrified.
She slapped my ass, hard, and I jerked.  My head was yanked back by
the end of my own tether.  I think a whimper escaped my lips.   She
patted further up, and I complied by crawling like an embarrassed
animal onto my own bed.  She guided my hips and turned me to face the
foot of the bed on all fours.  My arms shook again.  She went away, to
my closet. I could hear the sound of my dresser drawers opening and
closing.  I counted the drawers, and when she reached the 6th one
down, it did not close.  She found my accoutrements.  I heard the
sounds of my toys being shifted, moved around.  I shuddered.  Oh,
please, what ever gods are listening, please... I head a voice inside
my mind:  "Please, what?  Please no, or please yes?"  I was so
startled, I gasped.  It was the only sound.  She had stopped
rummaging.  I held my breath a bit longer.  Nothing.  I let it go, and
heard her remove several items.  

She returned to the bed, and I could see her arms full of toys.  My
toys.  All my favorites were there.  She dropped them, willy-nilly on
the bed.  I held still, waiting.  Please, yes.  Please, yes,
indeed...I ached. 

She stopped.  I had a mental image of her seeing my ass, my legs, and 
the rope braid of my hair tieing to the bed.  "Yes.  Yes.  I will ease
your ache, and be the author of a thousand more.  Yes."

She seemed to have made her choice.  I heard the jingle of D-rings,
and the soft susurration of leather.  I recognized the sound.  I
almost spent my passion.  My harness.  My own harness!  Ah to be
penetrated with my own toy, held on by my own harness on the hips of
this slave.  I could feel my center open, my cunt arouse.  Again, I
saw myself from her eyes, and I felt a wave of want.  It felt
different, alien, not-me.  I was feeling her reactions!  

Preposterous, you say?  Perhaps.  I may have imagined it.  But since 
that time, I have often felt the same thing.  A fleeting glimpse into
the feelings and perspective of my submissive.  It did not happen
before her.  Call me mad.  But which of you will challenge my control
of my slaves?  No?  I thought not.  

There are those who have tried to lure my slaves away, and have been 
outright refused.  I have no fear of loosing my slaves to another
Master or Madam.  I know the secret now, you see.  

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