Did You ever realise...? (3)
kesriel's profile
Posted by kesriel on Sun 27 Feb 05, 9:50 PM to kesriel's blog.
i sit upon the carpeted floor of the downstairs coffee shop, the lights are dimmed and the candlelight flickers longs shadows against the darkly painted walls that are sprinkled liberally with erotic art that i try desperately to avoid looking at. my legs are crossed, ankles tucked beneath my calves, toes curling tightly as i hear another set of boots upon the spiral staircase; my fingers tighten their grip about the wide base of the tea cup and i catch the softness of my lower lip between my teeth, nibbling nervously as i await Your presence.
i bow my head quickly as the Gentleman Owner nods His greeting and i try to crawl back a little further into the shadowed corner, hugging the tea cup more closely as i sip the warm fluid slowly letting it filter through my body still chilled from the snowy day. i turn my wrist and check again the time…just as i hear the first tap of Your cane against the step and an instant later, Your laughter as You joke with Another.
That anticipation, even only hours after hearing Your voice, still thrills me, warms me, frightens me with its intensity.
Unfolding my limbs to stand before You as You step down the stairs, my hands are trembling as i place the cup upon its saucer and i clutch them quickly behind my back curling my fingernails into my palms. You can have no idea what it feels like to know the affection that You allow me when You touch Your lips to mine in greeting, i hold myself still, when all i wish is to curve my body against Yours, to slip my arms around Your neck…and to beg You to hold me, just a moment, to know that i can feel Your heartbeat against my breast, to feel the heat of Your breath brush across my cheek and to allow myself an instant to revel within the closeness that You permit me.
Others have joined U/us, wonderful Ladies that sparkle, joking, smiling, laughing with You. Every now and again i uncurl myself and clear an emptied teapot from the table, or pour a little more milk and tea into Your cup. i am content within my silence, just to watch You with Them, to hear the laughter that surrounds Them and the warmth of Their company. As i learn a little more about the “scene” within London, as i meet Others within Your company, without exception i have found only kindness, only understanding and acceptance.
You lead U/us to the London Munch and i blink away the feathered touch of snow that lays an instant upon my lashes, brushing them against the warmth of my cheeks it feels like tears that trace across my skin. my nerves increase as W/we enter the room and i try to catch Your eye a moment to beg You permit me slip away to change, without words You nod Your head and i quickly draw away from the already crowding room to run blindly through the public areas trying not to see or be seen.
The cubicles are empty and i lock the door upon the farthest one and change from the clothing of my business day. As i lace the corset in deepest vibrant purple more tightly i feel the constriction ease my soul. It is not the dark uniform of navy skirts and jackets that are my reality, the neat black court shoes, the crisp white silk blouses that are demanded by the City's code of acceptable business dress do not bring me the comfort of conformity. It is that clothing that seems to strangle me, that seeks only to define me as an alien within a foreign world. i am content within the inconspicuousness of such clothing, but it brings me no comfort. i hear Others looking forward to “dressing up” for an evening. But in my reality, the clothes of my day are “dressing up” for they only mimic Others, they only comply to the requirement of Another's rules, they do not allow me freedom to serve.
my hands are trembling badly as i tug more closely the binds that hold the corset in restriction about my body. i tug the skirts folds a little lower and ease the chiffon blouse a little more in discretion of décolleté. i dare not look at myself in the large mirror and only gloss a little more shimmer across lips that i have nervously bitten to dryness and hurry through the public house, trying to see only the floor and steps beneath my feet, never to meet eye contact.
i try to slip into the farthest most corner but it is impossible not to touch Others as i beg Them forgive me for interrupting Their conversations, i try to scan across the faces, not to seek eye contact with Another, only to find You…but You are buried amongst the mass of People Who gather within this room, Their voices raised in laughter…so i stay where i am…content to stand alone…just watching…listening to Others. i offer my apologies to Those Who enquire as to whether i am alright. Please know that i am quite comfortable to be alone…to be silent….it does not cause me discomfort. i knew that if You wanted me, You would find me….or call me to Your side.
As i stand here i feel as though a quietness seeps into me, a stillness that can not be touched or seen…and my mind begins the daydreams that i try to hide from as i wait for You to want me. i dream of feeling Your fingers span my wrists, of holding them still beneath Your weight. i dream of feeling the sound of Your voice whispering Your commands as the sting of Your whip lashes across my back. i dream of feeling Your hand curling into a fist in my hair to wrench back my head as i hang from Your chains. i dream of feeling the scratch of Your fingernails across the softness of my breast, of feeling the sharp pain that Your fingers pinch against the taut erect nipple that hardens beneath Your touch. i dream of feeling that burning focus that You draw from me that eliminates the rest of the world from sight or sound until all i can feel is You. i dream of feeling You wrap me in Your arms, of hearing Your breath slow again, of feeling Your seed spilling from my body, the wetness mingling hot with my own as it drains from me.
i can not say this to You…i can not ask You…i dare not even beg…
i can only write these words
You can not realise the need that fills me with its emptiness when i am alone. i survive, i exist, i work and go through each hour within each day but i do not come alive until i am with You.
i want to bring Your morning tea to You before You wake…to watch You as Your day dawns…to brush my hands across Your still sleeping form.
i want to lay out the instruments of Your torture…to crawl to You on my hands and knees and beg You to allow me to feel the pain that You permit me. i want to know the pleasure You gain from hearing my cries…from tasting my tears…and knowing that through such pain…You release me, You set me free.
i ache to please You. It physically hurts me.
i can not explain, there are no words.
When You bind me…when You restrain me…You allow me freedom
When You hurt me, with the flogger, the cane, the crop or whip…with Your hands or teeth…You permit me pleasure
When You stifle my cries, my tears, my breath with Your hand…then You can not hear the screams inside my mind that beg You not to take Your presence from me
When You trace Your fingertips across the faint marks that Your torment leaves across the pale skin of my back…i can only weep because they will fade to nothingness
And i would wear Your mark with pride…that You considered me sufficiently worthy to bear such.
You call me to You.
You understand my discomfort and find a corner within the presence of Others where You would be free to socialise and i could, in essence, hide behind You.
Through the noise and laughter there is a calmness that i can feel through the strength of Your touch and i silently slip to kneel at Your feet. As Your hand releases mine i crouch a little lower, feeling the breeze from the opened window chill across my back, my fingers stroke across the hem of Your trousers, across the shine of Your shoe and i remain there. Knelt at Your feet.
i hear Others speaking with You though i can not discern there words, i see Other feet come into my peripheral vision and i shut my eyes.
Time passes…and i feel the touch of Your fingers once or twice stroke through my hair.
And it is enough
kes
Replies
27 Feb 05, 10:21 PM
Jezzebelle
UK, 10 yrs
 |
kesriel wrote:
i sit upon the carpeted floor of the downstairs coffee shop, the lights are dimmed and the candlelight flickers longs shadows against the darkly painted walls that are sprinkled liberally with erotic art that i try desperately to avoid looking at. my legs are crossed, ankles tucked beneath my calves, toes curling tightly as i hear another set of boots upon the spiral staircase; my fingers tighten their grip about the wide base of the tea cup and i catch the softness of my lower lip between my teeth, nibbling nervously as i await Your presence.
i bow my head quickly as the Gentleman Owner nods His greeting and i try to crawl back a little further into the shadowed corner, hugging the tea cup more closely as i sip the warm fluid slowly letting it filter through my body still chilled from the snowy day. i turn my wrist and check again the time…just as i hear the first tap of Your cane against the step and an instant later, Your laughter as You joke with Another.
That anticipation, even only hours after hearing Your voice, still thrills me, warms me, frightens me with its intensity.
Unfolding my limbs to stand before You as You step down the stairs, my hands are trembling as i place the cup upon its saucer and i clutch them quickly behind my back curling my fingernails into my palms. You can have no idea what it feels like to know the affection that You allow me when You touch Your lips to mine in greeting, i hold myself still, when all i wish is to curve my body against Yours, to slip my arms around Your neck…and to beg You to hold me, just a moment, to know that i can feel Your heartbeat against my breast, to feel the heat of Your breath brush across my cheek and to allow myself an instant to revel within the closeness that You permit me.
Others have joined U/us, wonderful Ladies that sparkle, joking, smiling, laughing with You. Every now and again i uncurl myself and clear an emptied teapot from the table, or pour a little more milk and tea into Your cup. i am content within my silence, just to watch You with Them, to hear the laughter that surrounds Them and the warmth of Their company. As i learn a little more about the “scene” within London, as i meet Others within Your company, without exception i have found only kindness, only understanding and acceptance.
You lead U/us to the London Munch and i blink away the feathered touch of snow that lays an instant upon my lashes, brushing them against the warmth of my cheeks it feels like tears that trace across my skin. my nerves increase as W/we enter the room and i try to catch Your eye a moment to beg You permit me slip away to change, without words You nod Your head and i quickly draw away from the already crowding room to run blindly through the public areas trying not to see or be seen.
The cubicles are empty and i lock the door upon the farthest one and change from the clothing of my business day. As i lace the corset in deepest vibrant purple more tightly i feel the constriction ease my soul. It is not the dark uniform of navy skirts and jackets that are my reality, the neat black court shoes, the crisp white silk blouses that are demanded by the City's code of acceptable business dress do not bring me the comfort of conformity. It is that clothing that seems to strangle me, that seeks only to define me as an alien within a foreign world. i am content within the inconspicuousness of such clothing, but it brings me no comfort. i hear Others looking forward to “dressing up” for an evening. But in my reality, the clothes of my day are “dressing up” for they only mimic Others, they only comply to the requirement of Another's rules, they do not allow me freedom to serve.
my hands are trembling badly as i tug more closely the binds that hold the corset in restriction about my body. i tug the skirts folds a little lower and ease the chiffon blouse a little more in discretion of décolleté. i dare not look at myself in the large mirror and only gloss a little more shimmer across lips that i have nervously bitten to dryness and hurry through the public house, trying to see only the floor and steps beneath my feet, never to meet eye contact.
i try to slip into the farthest most corner but it is impossible not to touch Others as i beg Them forgive me for interrupting Their conversations, i try to scan across the faces, not to seek eye contact with Another, only to find You…but You are buried amongst the mass of People Who gather within this room, Their voices raised in laughter…so i stay where i am…content to stand alone…just watching…listening to Others. i offer my apologies to Those Who enquire as to whether i am alright. Please know that i am quite comfortable to be alone…to be silent….it does not cause me discomfort. i knew that if You wanted me, You would find me….or call me to Your side.
As i stand here i feel as though a quietness seeps into me, a stillness that can not be touched or seen…and my mind begins the daydreams that i try to hide from as i wait for You to want me. i dream of feeling Your fingers span my wrists, of holding them still beneath Your weight. i dream of feeling the sound of Your voice whispering Your commands as the sting of Your whip lashes across my back. i dream of feeling Your hand curling into a fist in my hair to wrench back my head as i hang from Your chains. i dream of feeling the scratch of Your fingernails across the softness of my breast, of feeling the sharp pain that Your fingers pinch against the taut erect nipple that hardens beneath Your touch. i dream of feeling that burning focus that You draw from me that eliminates the rest of the world from sight or sound until all i can feel is You. i dream of feeling You wrap me in Your arms, of hearing Your breath slow again, of feeling Your seed spilling from my body, the wetness mingling hot with my own as it drains from me.
i can not say this to You…i can not ask You…i dare not even beg…
i can only write these words
You can not realise the need that fills me with its emptiness when i am alone. i survive, i exist, i work and go through each hour within each day but i do not come alive until i am with You.
i want to bring Your morning tea to You before You wake…to watch You as Your day dawns…to brush my hands across Your still sleeping form.
i want to lay out the instruments of Your torture…to crawl to You on my hands and knees and beg You to allow me to feel the pain that You permit me. i want to know the pleasure You gain from hearing my cries…from tasting my tears…and knowing that through such pain…You release me, You set me free.
i ache to please You. It physically hurts me.
i can not explain, there are no words.
When You bind me…when You restrain me…You allow me freedom
When You hurt me, with the flogger, the cane, the crop or whip…with Your hands or teeth…You permit me pleasure
When You stifle my cries, my tears, my breath with Your hand…then You can not hear the screams inside my mind that beg You not to take Your presence from me
When You trace Your fingertips across the faint marks that Your torment leaves across the pale skin of my back…i can only weep because they will fade to nothingness
And i would wear Your mark with pride…that You considered me sufficiently worthy to bear such.
You call me to You.
You understand my discomfort and find a corner within the presence of Others where You would be free to socialise and i could, in essence, hide behind You.
Through the noise and laughter there is a calmness that i can feel through the strength of Your touch and i silently slip to kneel at Your feet. As Your hand releases mine i crouch a little lower, feeling the breeze from the opened window chill across my back, my fingers stroke across the hem of Your trousers, across the shine of Your shoe and i remain there. Knelt at Your feet.
i hear Others speaking with You though i can not discern there words, i see Other feet come into my peripheral vision and i shut my eyes.
Time passes…and i feel the touch of Your fingers once or twice stroke through my hair.
And it is enough
kes
|
You write so beautifully, so emotive...
He is a lucky man to illicit such feeling and emotion from you.
J Before any word leaves your mouth it must be approved by the three gatekeepers.
The first will ask: "Is it true?" The second will ask: "Is it necessary?" The third will ask: "Is it kind?"
Anon
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27 Feb 05, 11:30 PM
aeoni
UK(CO), 7 yrs
|
Jezzebelle wrote:
kesriel wrote:
i sit upon the carpeted floor of the downstairs coffee shop, the lights are dimmed and the candlelight flickers longs shadows against the darkly painted walls that are sprinkled liberally with erotic art that i try desperately to avoid looking at. my legs are crossed, ankles tucked beneath my calves, toes curling tightly as i hear another set of boots upon the spiral staircase; my fingers tighten their grip about the wide base of the tea cup and i catch the softness of my lower lip between my teeth, nibbling nervously as i await Your presence.
i bow my head quickly as the Gentleman Owner nods His greeting and i try to crawl back a little further into the shadowed corner, hugging the tea cup more closely as i sip the warm fluid slowly letting it filter through my body still chilled from the snowy day. i turn my wrist and check again the time…just as i hear the first tap of Your cane against the step and an instant later, Your laughter as You joke with Another.
That anticipation, even only hours after hearing Your voice, still thrills me, warms me, frightens me with its intensity.
Unfolding my limbs to stand before You as You step down the stairs, my hands are trembling as i place the cup upon its saucer and i clutch them quickly behind my back curling my fingernails into my palms. You can have no idea what it feels like to know the affection that You allow me when You touch Your lips to mine in greeting, i hold myself still, when all i wish is to curve my body against Yours, to slip my arms around Your neck…and to beg You to hold me, just a moment, to know that i can feel Your heartbeat against my breast, to feel the heat of Your breath brush across my cheek and to allow myself an instant to revel within the closeness that You permit me.
Others have joined U/us, wonderful Ladies that sparkle, joking, smiling, laughing with You. Every now and again i uncurl myself and clear an emptied teapot from the table, or pour a little more milk and tea into Your cup. i am content within my silence, just to watch You with Them, to hear the laughter that surrounds Them and the warmth of Their company. As i learn a little more about the “scene” within London, as i meet Others within Your company, without exception i have found only kindness, only understanding and acceptance.
You lead U/us to the London Munch and i blink away the feathered touch of snow that lays an instant upon my lashes, brushing them against the warmth of my cheeks it feels like tears that trace across my skin. my nerves increase as W/we enter the room and i try to catch Your eye a moment to beg You permit me slip away to change, without words You nod Your head and i quickly draw away from the already crowding room to run blindly through the public areas trying not to see or be seen.
The cubicles are empty and i lock the door upon the farthest one and change from the clothing of my business day. As i lace the corset in deepest vibrant purple more tightly i feel the constriction ease my soul. It is not the dark uniform of navy skirts and jackets that are my reality, the neat black court shoes, the crisp white silk blouses that are demanded by the City's code of acceptable business dress do not bring me the comfort of conformity. It is that clothing that seems to strangle me, that seeks only to define me as an alien within a foreign world. i am content within the inconspicuousness of such clothing, but it brings me no comfort. i hear Others looking forward to “dressing up” for an evening. But in my reality, the clothes of my day are “dressing up” for they only mimic Others, they only comply to the requirement of Another's rules, they do not allow me freedom to serve.
my hands are trembling badly as i tug more closely the binds that hold the corset in restriction about my body. i tug the skirts folds a little lower and ease the chiffon blouse a little more in discretion of décolleté. i dare not look at myself in the large mirror and only gloss a little more shimmer across lips that i have nervously bitten to dryness and hurry through the public house, trying to see only the floor and steps beneath my feet, never to meet eye contact.
i try to slip into the farthest most corner but it is impossible not to touch Others as i beg Them forgive me for interrupting Their conversations, i try to scan across the faces, not to seek eye contact with Another, only to find You…but You are buried amongst the mass of People Who gather within this room, Their voices raised in laughter…so i stay where i am…content to stand alone…just watching…listening to Others. i offer my apologies to Those Who enquire as to whether i am alright. Please know that i am quite comfortable to be alone…to be silent….it does not cause me discomfort. i knew that if You wanted me, You would find me….or call me to Your side.
As i stand here i feel as though a quietness seeps into me, a stillness that can not be touched or seen…and my mind begins the daydreams that i try to hide from as i wait for You to want me. i dream of feeling Your fingers span my wrists, of holding them still beneath Your weight. i dream of feeling the sound of Your voice whispering Your commands as the sting of Your whip lashes across my back. i dream of feeling Your hand curling into a fist in my hair to wrench back my head as i hang from Your chains. i dream of feeling the scratch of Your fingernails across the softness of my breast, of feeling the sharp pain that Your fingers pinch against the taut erect nipple that hardens beneath Your touch. i dream of feeling that burning focus that You draw from me that eliminates the rest of the world from sight or sound until all i can feel is You. i dream of feeling You wrap me in Your arms, of hearing Your breath slow again, of feeling Your seed spilling from my body, the wetness mingling hot with my own as it drains from me.
i can not say this to You…i can not ask You…i dare not even beg…
i can only write these words
You can not realise the need that fills me with its emptiness when i am alone. i survive, i exist, i work and go through each hour within each day but i do not come alive until i am with You.
i want to bring Your morning tea to You before You wake…to watch You as Your day dawns…to brush my hands across Your still sleeping form.
i want to lay out the instruments of Your torture…to crawl to You on my hands and knees and beg You to allow me to feel the pain that You permit me. i want to know the pleasure You gain from hearing my cries…from tasting my tears…and knowing that through such pain…You release me, You set me free.
i ache to please You. It physically hurts me.
i can not explain, there are no words.
When You bind me…when You restrain me…You allow me freedom
When You hurt me, with the flogger, the cane, the crop or whip…with Your hands or teeth…You permit me pleasure
When You stifle my cries, my tears, my breath with Your hand…then You can not hear the screams inside my mind that beg You not to take Your presence from me
When You trace Your fingertips across the faint marks that Your torment leaves across the pale skin of my back…i can only weep because they will fade to nothingness
And i would wear Your mark with pride…that You considered me sufficiently worthy to bear such.
You call me to You.
You understand my discomfort and find a corner within the presence of Others where You would be free to socialise and i could, in essence, hide behind You.
Through the noise and laughter there is a calmness that i can feel through the strength of Your touch and i silently slip to kneel at Your feet. As Your hand releases mine i crouch a little lower, feeling the breeze from the opened window chill across my back, my fingers stroke across the hem of Your trousers, across the shine of Your shoe and i remain there. Knelt at Your feet.
i hear Others speaking with You though i can not discern there words, i see Other feet come into my peripheral vision and i shut my eyes.
Time passes…and i feel the touch of Your fingers once or twice stroke through my hair.
And it is enough
kes
|
You write so beautifully, so emotive...
He is a lucky man to illicit such feeling and emotion from you.
J
|
|
28 Feb 05, 12:16 AM
Flogher
UK(RM), 9 yrs
|
He is a lucky man to illicit such feeling and emotion from you.
|
For once I am lost for words. Flogher + kes - I cane, I whip, she cuddles
east London munch - first Friday in every month: http://groups.yahoo.com/group/eastlondonmunch/
Edited 28 Feb 05, 12:17 AM by Flogher
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