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X-ASSTR-Original-Date: Fri, 3 Jan 2003 08:06:01 -0800 (PST)
Subject: {ASSM} Blood In The Snow Of Raven Rock (MF, MFF, Mdom, cons, bd, sm, sad, rough, caution)
Date: Fri, 3 Jan 2003 19:10:03 -0500
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<1st attachment, "bloodin.txt" begin>
Author: slaveAel and PlanetDweller
Title: Blood In The Snow Of Raven Rock
Universe: slaveAel
Summary: An online slave in training makes the decision to become
part of her Master's real-life world, and is consensually
branded, scarred, and initiated into his world of heavy BDSM
Keywords: MF, MFF, bd, sm, sad, cons, rom, Mdom, humil, rough
Blood In The Snow Of Raven Rock
by
slaveAel,
an alter ego and nom de plume for author PlanetDweller
Copyright (C) 2000, slaveAel and PlanetDweller.
(MF, heavy BDSM, knifeplay, bloodwork, branding, scarification,
edgework, outdoor activities, caution, consensual)
Yes, I don't deny that my heart was going all a' pitter-patter as
the faint smell of jet fumes left my nostrils as I made my way up
the flexiramp to exit at Gate 3 in Terminal "A' at RDU airport.
It was fluttering and racing not from being in love, for I truly
wasn't in love with my Master, loved him and his subwife yes, but
wasn't "in" love. It wasn't going the proverbial ninety miles a
minute from fear either, even though I knew before the weekend
was over that my life would truly be in his hands and hopefully
he would accept me as his forever. Instead if was from sheer
unbridled anticipation, fantasizing about the hopeful unknown.
"Great to meet you finally, Jen!" he nearly shouted in my ear as
his large and longish arms surrounded my tall for a broad five
ten frame, his six foot four height towering over me as we hugged
a deep and sincere hug of friendship, his wife almost my size
joining in as well.
"Great to meet you in real life too, finally, my...Master" I
whispered loudly back to him as a fellow passenger nosingly
overheared my comment as she scooted close by past us but not
before shooting us a look of envious disgust as her walking pace
increased.
"Nam' ", as he likes to be called, his nom de e-plume being
Namaste Master, and I had met online when I responded to one of
his general posts in the alt.sadistic Usenet group, exactly what
about I don't remember, and being new and curious about the BDSM
lifestyle had offered myself to him as a cyber and chat and phone
slave. Over the course of the next few months we had become
friends as well as teacher and student and Master and Slave. His
subwife Cathy didn't mind at all, they having an open and
different kind of marriage than most, she even participating
sometimes during our chatroom and voice-phone training sessions.
My poetic thoughts and affections could wax infinitely about all
his positive and even some of his more interesting negatively
balancing attributes, but let's just say that he thinks
different, acts different, eats different, talks different,
writes different, and now in my arms my nose next to his face as
we friendly hug and kiss even smells different than any man I've
ever known.
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++
The ride from the airport to his modest home in west Raleigh took
forty-five minutes to go the six miles, the infamous traffic on
I-40 that he told me about being as bad as the time I went on a
business trip to Chicago and got caught on the infamous
Eisenhower Expressway in the middle of rush hour there too. A
light dusting of half-melted snow glistened like so much h2o'd
bleached beachsand through the edge of the veil of deep woods
that '40 tunneled through. Easing off the eightlane up the
offramp and down Harrison Avenue, my Master made noises about
eating dinner first before going to the house, taking me on a
quick tour of what was left of "old Cary".
The three of us ate dinner at the Outback steakhouse in Cary.
Conversation between he and I was lively but not forced on any
and every topic we could think of, except the most obvious one
that has brought me a thousand miles from Kansas City to my
Master. My fellow Subbie interjected this thought or that
observation from time to time appropriately, but kept her
presence pretty much lowkeyed in the background despite sitting
snuggled next to me in the highbacked booth. Subwife orders her
steak medium, and I medium rare, but Nam' steps in and tells the
waiter with polite domination that "she'll have hers rare; put it
on the grille just long enough to warm it, but make sure it's
left good and bloody" the waiter looking surprised by his command
but scribbling it down on his order pad anyway.
That evening my Master tied me and SubCathy up and did some mild
scenes with us, but nothing wild, nothing extravagant like we
would have on the morrow. He seemed to take devlish delight in
nipple clipping both myself and Cathy together as we knelt wrists
tied behind respective backs sitting across from each other,
little luv brushes across our backs with a birch rod bundle
making us pull back from each other stretching our nipples and
breasts out loopingly horizontally as we did.
SubCathy ran to the grocery store as a fairly heavy downfall of
snow began, fearful that we might be snowed in without a way to
get necessary supplies later that weekend. "Don't worry, Slave
Jen..." my Master informed me as he took slow delights with me in
our momentary privacy by lightly caning me as I knelt over his
lap my pinkish tampon string hanging evidenced of similar color
to my redding backside as his dominating mastery of me continued
"...it's been very warm and sunny for the past two days, the
roadsurfaces are too warm for the snow to stick, we'll still be
able to have our outing tomorrow..."
The front door then bedroom door creaked open as Cathy came in to
our, my Master's and my, playtime. She had been gone for over two
hours, obviously trying to give us a little privacy. She was
sweet. I hoped to become as practiced and thoughtful a' slave to
my shared Master and friend as she was to her husband and Master
too.
Blindfold being folded over and around my eyes as my body lay
prone on the rough cotton fabric sheets my face buried in a
pillow pushing the scarf being used as a gag deeper into my mouth
restricting my air supply my wrists and ankles stretched taught
to the four posts of the modern manufactured Colonial-style tubed
waterbed my fellow Sub, Cathy, switched for a second as her bare
hand layed into my openly splayed cunt as my Master shoved his
condom-covered cock deep inside my ass while working my heaving
shoulderblades with a taming touch of his birchrod bundle. Tying
us together in a peapod sixty-nine, Master worked whatever hole
of either of us he wished with his cock as his leathered riding
crop popped and stung whatever fleshmounds caught his sweetly
wicked eye whether that flesh be breast or buttock or back or
legs. Dimutaed but not spent we three slept as Master and Slaves
should, equals but different, different in our chosen roles but
not in our respect or love for each other.
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++
SubCathy kissed me full on the lips good-bye as my Master Namaste
and I walked down the flagstone walk to his car and our destiny.
I shook and shuddered this time not from rushing anticipation but
from real creeping fear. As much as I thought I knew about him
and even after a good night's play session, our relationship in a
couple of hours was going to go from that of play to very, very
drop-dead serious. Always be careful what you want, for you just
might get it, especially if you work hard for months and months
for it.
Our backpack full of supplies and accouterments bounced off the
backseat and onto the floorboard as his oldish Taurus wagon
jostled along the rough two lane blacktop country road towards
the entrance to Raven Rock State Park. Being a total masochist
and painpig and hurtslut but not an exhibitionist I had expressed
some misgivings about doing my initiation on public land in a
state-owned public park, but Nam' had poo-pooed my fears telling
me that Raven Rock Park was huge and that he knew most every
square inch of it having gone there way before it was even a park
and not to sweat it that he knew of a perfectly totally private
place for us. A park ranger drove up behind us as we waited
having gotten there a few minutes before opening time, unlocking
the huge Masterlock and welcoming us on in.
My new L. L. Bean hiking boots quickly accumulated a corona of
snow and ice on their bottoms and around their edges as my back
ached from its gearload and my uterus protested my cycle and my
eyes hurt from the glare of the deepwoods snowblanket as Nam'
spun us off the marked path and up and down a couple of steep
ravines and further along a deer trail that only he and not even
the deer could see. My right ankle finding an old stumphole that
had been camouflaged by the fresh layer of pristine snow that
fell just hours before, my heart and desires and fanatsies all
snapped with the same sound as what sounded like my ankle
breaking like a dried old twig. I screamed.
"Nammy!!!..." I cried I mean I literally cried calling out to him
in my special pet name that only I was permitted to call my
Master "...I think I've broken my ankle...damn it to hell!!!"
"Let me take a look..." he said as his pack dropped to the ground
and my one-fiftyish weight dropped with no ceremony atop it, his
hands unlacing my boot and examining and poking and proding my
limb which still shone light ropemarks from the night before
"...nope, no bruising, no swelling much, no bones sticking
through, you probably just sprained it a little...here, that's
the noise you heard, silliest JenSlave of mine..." he chuckling
as an old but thick freshly broken twig was fished out of the
shallow old hole that once held a tallish tree "...c'mon, we
don't have much further to go...you'll be alright...c'mon,
we....you have come too far not to complete your journey now".
Placing my arm on his broad shoulders we sauntered through these
woods he apparently knew so well, busting our way through a
thicket of short Christmas-type spruce trees until we came to a
roundish clearing about sixty yards in diameter, two lone oak
trees about six feet apart each about two feet around at their
trunks being in the almost exact center of the circle. Kinda
five or six feet in front of them was an old fireplace ring on
the ground made from loosely assembled fist-sized to
basketball-sized rocks, a dark pile of old ashes in the middle of
the fire ring shading the white snow above them gray. To either
side of the firering and almost parallel to the two oak trees
were two faerie stools made from three or four oblong riverstones
with flattened surfaces, large and sturdy enough for someone to
sit on. The site was old but recently used site for ritual
purposes. The thoughts of what kind of ritual purposes raced
through my mind. Surely my Master wasn't involved in evil
rituals, not the non-consensual or truly evil ones at least.
"It's time, Slave Jen...it's time..." he barked to me "...drop
your pack and be very, very still".
Angular rays and shadows pierced the forest deep as the morning
sun continued its routine rise above the North Carolina
countryside. My Master fumbled the stuff he needed out of the
packs initially, going off for a few moments to find some decent
firewood. The cold started to peek through my skisuit as I stood
motionless in the level chill, but I didn't dare break command
and move even to shuffle my feet to keep them warm, an
involuntary shiver from the cold and from anticipation catching
his notice as he built and lit a teepee-style fire above the old
patch of snow-covered ashes.
The heat from the building fire felt kind to my skin as Master
began shedding my clothes after I pulled my boots off, my ankle
still sore but feeling much better now. Leaving me in bra and
panties only between the trees having let me put my socks and
boots back on to keep my tootsies from being frostbit, Master
then dug out from his pack and fiddled with a portable CD player
and set of battery-powered speakers for a moment, sounds of a
Gregorian chant album eeeking tinny from the tiny speakers softly
but loud enough to mask over choruses of noises I knew would be
coming soon fromth mine lips.
My southern European Italian and Greek ancestry thin blood made
me shiver in the equivalent of northern European cold.
"Are you ready, my Slave Jen...are you ready for the last step of
your first beginning, your new life as my total and complete
slave?..."
"Yes, Master...I am...I am ready..." noises were made as our eyes
sought each other out, his gaze fixing so deeply upon mine that
all doubt left seconds ago was now gone as his hands roughly
pulled my bra and panties off me, his hands slapping my tits and
ass and wherever he wished as he wished.
"Then kneel and kiss, then."
I knelt naked in the snow and kissed his boots as he knelt over
me and slapped my ass as hard as he could leverage. Touching my
shoulder to lift me up as ropes and cuffs came forth I soon found
myself war-eagled between the two sacred oak trees, wrists bound
and arms pulled taught upwards, ankles bound and legs spread open
wide horizontally towards the trunks of the trees. The yellow and
orange flames of the fire moments before now wimpering down to
red-hot coals, waves of heat shimmering and shattering the
holographic cold that surrounded me. Eyes open my mouth was
partially closed with a shaped leather gag with air holes punched
in the front. My Master's hands roughly slapped at my breasts,
hitting them much harder than I thought he would have but glad
that he did, before moving around to my ass and open cunt, his
roughened skin peeling into my softer with an untamed force.
Then "thheeewwwhacckkk!!!" as a cat o'nine tails found my nakedly
exposed back from nowhere. I hadn't seen the whip come out of any
of the packs before feeling it. Making a show of it, Master
dipped the dangles into the sticking snow for a few seconds
between each stroke to my front too, taking great delight as my
eyes widened and screams of very real pain and delightful dread
hiccupped forth from the deepest part of my soul to my mouth, my
screams being orchestrated to the timing of the chants coming
from CD player's external speakers, a perfect harmony of pain and
pleasure.
He didn't hold back. I didn't want him to. The love I felt for my
Master I know had to show throw the windows to my soul of my eyes
as my body convulsed and thrashed from the continuing rain of
blows to all parts of my naked putrid flesh save my very nice and
pedicured feet protected by my Bean boots thank you very much.
Trickles of blood started oozing from dermal abrasions on my tits
and stomach and back, cold freezing their runnings in place on my
pinkening pale flesh.
Rockets of pain shot through my very soul when Master then
started caning my breasts and butt and back. Sideways flicking my
nipples with short punchy swipes, hitting anglely enough not peel
them off but hard enough to send pure bolts of pain through them
to the center of my brain, I know I had to have passed out for a
moment as Master got a look of concern on his face and went over
to the packs to fumble through them.
An ammonia cap being broken under my nose bringing me back to
consciousness, he continued his initial workover of me with a
large studded paddle. Hitting my forced tied pussy square with
it, I couldn't help but pee myself after the blow, the blow
sending such a mixed measure of pleasure and pain. He just smiled
and laughed at my temporary incontinence as he threw something
atop the coals its handle hanging over the perimeter rocks that
contained them as he approached me closer, removing the gag which
had muffled my screams so effectively.
In his hand was a scalpel, it's new disposable blade glinting in
the rays of the rising sun which now shone closer overhead. "Are
you ready, Slave Jen, to become my property, my Slave for life,
once and for all, for all eternity?"
"Yes, Master...YES!!!..." I shouted and hissed at him in reply
"...do it, do it now!!!"...make me your Slave, mark me, brand me,
do it now!"
His day old unshaven beard broken highlighted how without
misogyny his heart felt, his smile of love and devotion to me,
his Slave, just melting my heart. While he enjoyed all we had
done and would do, it had been me initially and not him that had
brought up the subject after he made a passing reference to it in
one of our past cyber training times together.
"Kiss and suck the blood of your Master first, Slave!" he
commanded me as in one motion he pricked a main artery in his
wrist with his new scalpel, a squirt of blood geysering towards
my face as he held it an inch away from my mouth. I searched his
eyes for pain but didn't see any. He had simply willed his body
and soul to me with one decisive flick of the edge without fear.
The thin streamed of heart-forced blood tasted so sweet in my
mouth. I sucked and sucked it's nourishing and metamorphosing
nutrients into the deepest recesses of places I didn't want to
acknowledge even existed even then. As I sucked, extreme clotting
took place way too quickly for an ordinary human but then again
my Master wasn't ordinary by any stretch of the imagination, and
the font of my change stopped for a second.
His well-wielded scalpel then knifeplayed all over my body,
gingerslicing me just enough to leave traces and ever so slightly
open the top layer of my skin up in places but not often or deep
enough to where it would leave permanent scars after a week or
two of healing. Healing. That's what my Master was doing to me
and the epiphany of it hit me like the ton of proverbial bricks,
he was healing me, healing my wounded soul.
His hand roughly mauled my open cunt and pulled my saturated
tampon out. Using it like a Renaissance master artist, the
essence of my feminine being was collaged over the base color of
the strokes of his scalpelplay, its salty chemistry stinging my
deliwounds more bitterly than the capillarial blood than
initially ran from underneath them. My mouth opened up and
screamed a scream of rebirth. His mouth found mine as he kissed
me deeply, his arms pulling me to him before pulling back and
shoving my wiped but still fresh-soaked tampon in my mouth. Our
eyes not breaking contact, I chewed on the blood-soaked rayon in
act of both perfect defiance and perfect submission. A long
couple of yards away from me, the shaft of branding iron was
turning from black to grey as its designhead became white atop
the yellow-orange of the glowing coals. Nam' tugging the string I
released my oral grip on my feminine appliance Master tossed it
to the edge of the open circle in the deep woods of our power and
soul exchange like so much superflouy, his mouth finding mine
once again before leaning back away from me once more, with a
"it's time, Slave, it IS time..,"
On my reddened and nicked and knifeworked chest, more
specifically the front to left side of my left breast, a
practiced hand drew "my" design" with razor-pointed felt tip pen,
the design of my Master's symbol of ownership of me, a design so
special and sacred to me that I dare not speak of it even now
except in the most general of terms. The red-dotted scalpel being
waved before my eyes I was hypnotized by its cobra charm. Master
broke his gaze to focus on the task at hand. Breaking my skin and
muscle as it broke whatever remained of my free will, the
slipstream edge of the blade carved into my titflesh like a metal
jetstream parting the old me from the new me. Miscellaneous
torrents of blood poured from my designwound, the smell of fresh
blood mingling with the smell of old menstrual blood from the
woundpainting I had received just a moment prior.
As the scalpel continued its paring of the dead part of my soul
from the newly born entity of it, I didn't scream. I don't know
why, but I just didn't. Master Namaste searched my eyes for
reasons why for a moment and finding none continued finishing up
his edgeplay claiming of me.
Going over to the firering, he scooped some damp cold ashes out
from one side of the old fireplace. Shoving them under my nose
for me to smell, they stunk of cold and bitter and funky. I
didn't react. I didn't react until he smeared the ancient
darkening substance into my open claiming body design, a scream I
know my dearest mother in Kansas City who would have fainted at
best if not had a heart attack at worse if she knew I was giving
my body and soul totally to my new Master in such a way as this
might have heard from its raw volume, the acidity and impurity
of the old and wise ashes giving a new purity of purpose to my
life as I screamed and screamed and screamed until oxotosis and
carbon dioxide build up in my system finally took place and made
me lose my breath, Nam' just smiling a sweet smile of knowing he
had done his job all too well.
Before I could recovere fully, he darted over to the firering and
came back with the white-hot brand. He had told me earlier that
the hotter the brand was at time of placement the better it would
be for me, since a third degree burn was a third degree burn and
the quicker the brand was on and off my flesh the better it would
be for me, but even after having his mark of ownership carved and
sooted into my left breast I still wasn't ready for this.
"No!!!...please, Master, NOOOO!!!.." I screamed so loudly from my
diaphragm and third chakra that again my bladder released and a
chug of stomach acid rose up to my throat but it was too late.
Vain spasms were made as I pulled what little slack there was in
the ropes that bound me between the companion trees that had been
my witnesses to my eternal transformation. The faint smell of
burned flesh whiffed to my nostrils as the searing brand cooled
itself on the outside flank of my right asscheek. A few loose
flakes of happy snow fell from the apogee of the sky as melting
fingers of frozen precipitation plunged from branches nearby
their whiff whiff and plop plop on the crusted woodsfloor echoing
happy murmurings within my heart. As my life's ether broke free
of my earthly shell and slammed through the walls that surrounded
my Master's heart, my consciousness faded as the pain from the
sizzling emblazone began its rushing trickle towards my medulla.
Silence. Silence in my mind. Silence in the sentry woods that
surrounded our sacred space. Silence from my Master. Only my own
heart beat to keep time to the rhythm of my new life. Slowly my
pulse hydrauliced my eyelids open to reveal the sight of my
Master Namaste. The sun was three-quarters to the west, two or
three hours or more having passed since my passing out from the
finishing pain of the brand, the last mark of Nam's ownership
beguiling this humble painslut's ultimate realization. My bonds
were gone as Master cradled me close to him as he held my naked
and bleeding body bleeding both from my untamponed cunt and the
superficial knifeplay peelscratches that he had given earlier as
we lay close on the hardish frozen ground wrapped Indian-style in
an old blanket. The scarification device on my left breast and my
still smelly of firedestroyed flesh on my right buttcheek pulsed
with an unsyncopated dissonance. Master's lips melted to mine as
my trickling bleeding cunt melted to his probing fingers as I
shivered from the cold and my total submission and he from his
heating passion and total dominance of every earthly molecule of
my body.
Tears flowed from the corners of my eyes. Not from the pain of my
new birth for that felt pleasant if not ecstatic but from the
pain of an old life and self given up for the past promise and
now realized reality of the presentness of my total loss of
innocence.
A large hand gently popping both my ash-filled scar of identity
and my new blistered brand of possession, Master urged me to my
feet and pile of clothes so that we could scurry out of our
voluntary confinement of altered universe and back home to
Raleigh where I would eventually assume my role as co-Sub and
wife to my Master and his primary. As I half-staggered out of the
main trail of Raven Rock State Park holding on to my Master for
balance still drunk with my endorphin rush from the purest pain
sources happily received, the park ranger that had let us in that
morning ushered us out locking the gate behind us but not before
his nose twitched picking up the bloodhound scenttrail of blood
and burned flesh that shed off my healing body and healed soul
giving us a curious but harmless look as the sun set below the
trees and my future rose above my Master.
+++++++++++++++++++
This story may be freely archived and distributed by anyone for
any reason, provided: 1) the story remains verbatim intact as
written, 2) full credit of the author is maintained, and 3) the
email address of the author(s), PlanetDweller@yahoo.com, and this
copyright permissions trailer also remains with the
story...Copyright 2000 by slaveAel and PlanetDweller.
Mailto: PlanetDweller@yahoo.com
-30-
Please visit my complete online author's archive at:
http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/PlanetDweller/www
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