Bobby Goren listened to the tumbler click into place as he turned the key, still not quite sure how he�d been taken to this point. The day started with an interrogation- a perp with weak alibi and a weaker will broken by a simple timeline reestablishment-, coffee, paperwork� and then a call. Another case, a murder, a long night ahead, and Alex had asked him for a favor. A simple favor. And he, like the grinning dope he tended to be in regards to his partner, had said yes. And now here he stood, unlocking her front door, entering the privacy of her home for the first time feeling unwelcome.
The soft scent of flowers wafted across his senses as the door opened silently. With the flick of a switch, her living room was bathed in soft lamplight. �Just an overnight bag� she says, he thought as he closed the door behind him. This was going to be interesting.
The scent followed him like a little lost puppy, and as he scanned the room, he found the source. A rather modest bouquet of baby�s breath stood in a delicate crystal vase on her desk across the room. The scent followed close behind as he moved through her home, making his way to the familiar sections he tended to inhabit when he was here.
Her kitchen was much as it always was. Pictures and postcards hung by magnets on the fridge. The dishes were clean and in the cupboards; nothing in the sink. The counter was spotless, and even her morning coffee cup was on the drying board. The pictures were all of family and friends, though none of him. He didn�t mind; he wasn�t too keen on his own picture to begin with. There were also no pictures of other men, which brought him a certain level of inner satisfaction. At least that way, he liked to tell himself, there would be no negative influences into their partnership.
Coming back to the task at hand, he strode through her living room and down the hall, making sure not to even acknowledge her bedroom door.
He clicked on the light with a slight trepidation. Women�s bathrooms had always bothered him. Every woman he�d ever gone out with had made her bathroom into a mini-salon, complete with hair care products, face creams, make-up, brushes, combs and who the heck knows what else. It never struck him as odd really, it just seemed�superfluous. How could any woman hate her appearance so much that she would seek to alter it so profoundly?
Alex�s bathroom was almost the polar opposite. Oh sure, she had shampoo and conditioner in the shower and a small container of moisturizer on the counter, but mostly it was just her hair brush, toothbrush and a single hair barrette he�d seen her use once or twice at work, especially during a windy day. He found a suitable travel bag beneath the sink and picked up her needed things absently, smiling to himself.
He moved to the at last unavoidable bedroom door, uncertain whether or not he would truly have to enter. Not that he didn�t want to by any means, it just seemed wrong. She wasn�t there to lead him in. She wasn�t there to� He pushed that thought aside as he stepped over the threshold. He was an adult. He could handle this.
Or not, he thought as he took that single step back and instead went for the clean laundry basket just inside her door. He would get what he needed from here instead.
He moved quickly down the hall, trying to fight the flush he knew was creeping up his neck. He made his way back into her living room, his keen eyes drawn immediately to her desk again. Something about those flowers attracted him. Simple baby�s breath, and yet it called to him, beckoning him closer.
His gaze paused over the desktop, glancing over the discarded Vogue magazine, the little bits of paper, the case files. He even moved a few to see what she�d been doing at home. Good grief, what was he doing? Here Alex had simply asked him to go by her apartment and pick up a small overnight bag, and he was snooping! Bobby chuckled to himself as he continued his �investigation�. She didn�t expect him not to, did she?
He opened the top drawer and took a quick look. Nothing special, just pens and pencils and post-its. Nothing really interesting. He closed the drawer, or at least he tried. Something was caught. He pushed the drawer in a couple times, but it wouldn�t go back in all the way. The drawer would come out completely, but it wouldn�t close. He slipped a hand into the top of the half-closed drawer to find the offensive object, and he hit what felt like a book. A book? He hadn�t seen any kind of book in the drawer. After much finagling, he managed to work the object free, and as he removed it, sure enough, it was indeed a book. It was small, almost like a diary or journal. It was leather bound and embossed with an intricate Celtic knot. Part of him wanted to open it, but he wasn�t about to invade her privacy that much.
As he moved to return the book to its hiding place, two small sheets of paper slipped from the inner cover, both slightly pink and scented with wild roses. The scent filled his nostrils long before he bent to retrieve them, but when he opened the first to read it, his heart stopped.
My Dear Master,
As you commanded, I am addressing my likes and dislikes, as far being a slave. I have had a great deal of experience from my previous Mistress, but there are still several areas I would like to explore. I have arranged the information so it is easier to understand. I do hope it is helpful to you, Sir.
1. Rope Bondage: I do enjoy rope bondage, but only in certain positions, and usually only using woven, not braided, nylon rope, 1� thick. This lets me stay tied up for hours in complete comfort, so that I may enjoy my tortures. I enjoy being tied into kneeling, sitting, and standing positions with legs apart, together, or free to walk. I also enjoy being tied to objects, such as tables, wooden horses, and whipping benches, however these positions I cannot remain in for more than 2 hours at any given time, or I will begin cramping.
2. Whipping: As I am sure you�ve already have surmised, I enjoy being whipped. I have a moderate threshold for pain, but usually once the skin is split, I hit my limit. I have had riding crops, cat-o-nine-tails, and full 8-foot bullwhips used on me, and all are fine if you would like to experiment with them. The 8-foot bullwhip was not used by my Mistress, but the Dom she was training, who had experience with it. He was very good, but he used a bit too much force and split flesh in three hits. It did feel wonderful, but he was asked never to do it again after I could not lie on my back or sit comfortably for almost 2 weeks.
3. Full Domination: My definition of full domination goes beyond the bedroom. Menial tasks, being commanded outside of foreplay, as it were. Conditional servitude as well as certain types of humiliation are fine, as long as there is no violence involved. Violence is controlled at all times, is consensual at all times, and is confined to privacy, though not necessarily to the bedroom. Name-calling is fine, as well as leashes in public.
4. Giving Baths: I enjoy the bathing of the ones I serve immensely. Washing hair, washing skin, and tending to the desires of my Master means more to me than most anything else. I feel as though I can cleanse my Master of his sorrows and his daily stress as the water runs over his skin.
5. Knife Play: I do enjoy it very much, but I prefer it to be done only with those I trust completely, and those who know precisely what they are doing.
6. Hair Pulling: I like this only under certain circumstances. When I am on my knees and my Master is behind and above me, and pulling my head back, that I love. I do like having my ponytail pulled on, but pigtails make good handholds as well. I have even been pulled on a leash by my hair, and as long as it holds tight to the majority of my hair, it�s fine.
His heart had obviously starting beating again, because it was imitating machine gun fire in his chest. What on earth was this? A joke? Satire? Could this somehow be real�? Bobby kept reading, unsure what he truly wanted the answer to be.
1. Photos: any photos that are taken of me in any positions, compromising or otherwise, are to be kept private. No one other than those I designate may see any photos of myself that pass between us. No exceptions whatsoever. This is one subject I do stand firm on.
The thought of Alex is such tantalizingly provocative situations frozen on paper brought a new ache to very unpartner-oriented parts of him. Bobby read on as he tried desperately not to let his arousal show, but for once his body could not be denied in regards to his partner.
1. Suspension: I have never been fully suspended before. I have been tied upwards so that my arms were above my head, but my feet never stopped touching the ground.
2. Latex and Gas-Mask Bondage: I have never been masked, bagged or worn full body suits of latex or plastic. The only bondage that could even qualify under this category that I have experienced happened in college in the dorm room of a very trusted friend. He wrapped me completely in Syran wrap, from head to toe. He wrapped each leg separately, then together, placed latex gloves over my hands then proceeded to wrap my arms. He wrapped my torso, letting Mistress play as he went along. When he was done, he took several Polaroid pictures for posterity, of which I received one.
Bobby had to consciously stop himself from rummaging further into the book for that photo. Instead he reached down and adjusted the steadily growing pressure in his groin.
I hope that aids in your understanding of my experiences as well as my tastes. As far as my suspension, that happened when I was in 8th grade. I refused to tell on a friend who blew up the gym teacher�s car. The same gym teacher who had molesting girls in my grade, but no one would believe the only one who came forward, so when they investigated the car bombing, the other girls came forward, and he was given 35 years in prison without parole. However, the matter of the car bomb was still left unresolved, and for some reason, the school authorities found out that I knew who had done it. I refused to say anything, so they sent me to Juvy for an entire summer to try and �sweat� it out of me. I never gave in, so they could detain me no longer.
Well, that settles it, he thought. This was definitely his Alex talking. She�d told him about that incident before during a case, when a young man killed his father because he had assaulted and murdered his younger sister. When the boy would not make light to any information to defend his sister�s honor, Alex had told the boy about her escapades, and he had confessed, getting only mild punishment.
I wish to apologize in advance, but this word processor would not allow me to have lower case �i� in place of �I�. It self-corrected, and I have yet to figure out how to disable that. I will do my best to find out so that it does not happen again, for I wish not to displease you, Sir.
Good night to you, Sir. Sleep well, and dream of your hand slowly caressing my soft body, and of my screams as we make both of our fondest dreams come alive.
Farewell, My Dear Master
Oh good God, he thought as he slipped onto the couch, his knees giving way at last. Alex? His Alex? Was she really�into this kind of thing? His mind reeled at the thought of a black cat suit, complete with ears and tail, lovingly caressing Alex�s slender curves and leaving nothing to the imagination. To see her on her knees before him, purring like the little sex kitten she was and begging him to tie her up and do horribly naughty things to her made his groin stiffen further. He quickly opened the second paper, ready for anything and still taken completely aback by the title.
To some it is simply a pastime, to others it is a deplorable word that means their mind is stripped and their heart bound without hope. For me it is the most potent and wondrous freedom I could ever hope for, for in the arms of my master, one who doth care for me in ways others never could, whom I may serve well and satisfy, whom I may please and belong to, it is my only true happiness. To be commanded by that familiar voice which lets my heart sing, to serve one who understands my heart far better than I, and to please one so much is the only way I know to truly live.
My master is more than simply one who commands and demands and compels. My master is one who understands my heart, and knows exactly what I need, when I need it, sometimes regardless of his own needs. Though he does command me and does punish me in the most glorious of fashions, he cares for me and takes care of my deepest needs in ways that only he knows. In a moment when others would leave me to my tears, only he would sit beside me and cloak me in his very essence, sheltering me from the pain that is this world. Though he commands my deeds and even thoughts, he also commands my heart to be strong and endure. His own strength and power becomes a part of me, and to submit to him is to become part of him, and he a part of me. It is to let his very life force infuse me with the strength he requires of me, to satisfy us both.
Such care and love doth not go unrequited, for I repay my master far more than he asks of me. I do my very best to serve him, to satisfy him, and to make his life easier in anyway that I can. After a long hard day, he can be assured a warm bath, a hot meal and an open ear upon which he can vent his daily stresses. I enjoy soothing my master, and showing him how much he truly means to this lowly slave. I never allow his muscles to become tense, or his skin to be not moisturized, or his stomach empty for any length of time. I am akin to his eyes and ears, so that I may best serve his every need before he commands it, to save him time and trouble. I feel if my master must command me, then I have not been paying close enough attention to his needs, and need punishment for such gross neglect.
If my body may be the best way for him to take out his anger, his fear, his anguish or his joy, then I am his vessel of vindication; his to do with as he sees fit. I know my master well and understand his need for me physically, and with this body I do worship my master, bending to his every whim and desire, satisfying him in any way he needs. If he doth need and I cannot comply, I feel I have betrayed him, and do not deserve him. I feel it is my duty as well as my mission to please him in every way, and if for any reason I cannot, I feel I have failed him. My master is one who deserves the very best, and if I cannot give him what he needs, a sorrow unlike any other in existence fills me. My own happiness revolves around my master�s, and if I cannot fulfill his desires, I am nothing.
A slave is not just one who submits. A true slave binds themselves to their Master or Mistress, flesh of flesh, blood of blood, bone of bone. They are owned; they are property; they are part of the whole that is their Master or Mistress. They have no sole purpose, that much is certain. However, their main purpose is the happiness of their Master or Mistress. My Master understands this concept, and expects nothing less than all of me, and I give it freely, for in his arms only do I find the freedom my heart has longed for my whole life. I am a part of his whole, but it is he who makes me whole in return.
Bobby tried his best to remember to breathe. Every muscle in his body was taut and vibrating. The thought of Alexandra Eames pouring her heart and soul into such controlled frenzy sent his body racing. But the thought of her doing it to someone else had him seeing green. Did she still have a Master? Was she still bound to another, making him her focus every moment she was away from work?
No, he thought with a deep sigh. He�d already come to realize that she didn�t have anyone right now. There were no signs, no tokens, no pictures of anyone she might be interested in at the moment. But to have such an evocative view and such a complicated emotional stance on a position so many view as unhealthy, even dangerous! To think he�d laughed at her lack of a personal life!
A sudden thought struck him, one that both frightened and elated him. Would she accept him in such a way? Her deepest needs were made clear at last, in his hand in black and white. But could he do that for her? Could he ever truly be what she needed? He wanted to. He�d always wanted to, but this was so much more. This was so intimate. So much trust was needed�
Bobby stood from her couch as a singular notion struck him. He tamped down his teeming erection with every determined stride. As he grabbed his coat, he went over in his mind the fastest routes to the East Village.
Disclaimer: The charactors, names, and references made herein belong to NBC, inc, Wolf Productions, etc. No copyright infringement intended. For fun, not profit.
