 |
|||
|
|
All
Through the Night
Author:
Dr. Charles Forbin
Copyright
1998
"Michael, it's time for me to
go to bed.", Mistress Minx announced late one evening after we had dined
together.
"I'm sorry Mistress. I didn't
mean to keep you up too late.", I said rising and reaching for my ever
present briefcase.
She stopped me with a motion of her
hand.
"You're not going anywhere
Michael. Take your clothes off and kneel before me.", she commanded.
I was somewhat startled. What did
she have in mind?
I did as I was told and folded my
clothes neatly and waited before her kneeling, head bowed. She stroked my head
and then I felt my collar being attached around my neck and the click of the
snap lead of the leash.
"Come along.", she said
rising and tugging on the leash.
I scrambled behind her on all fours,
struggling a bit as she climbed the stairs to her bedroom, but still staying at
her heels all the while.
She led me into her bedroom and
attached the end of the lead to the bedpost at the foot of the bed, and then
opening a drawer of the nightstand, removed a length of chain and a pair of fur
lined bondage cuffs and set them on the floor next to where I knelt.
"Stay!", she commanded and
walked out of my view.
I heard water running in the other
room and could hear the somewhat hollow sound that a toothbrush makes in some
ones mouth. I was still very curious as to what she had in mind, but kept my
head down, knowing she could be watching.
I heard soft footsteps approach and
then saw her reach down for the chain and cuffs she had placed there earlier.
She slipped the chain through a loop
on my collar and placed the cuffs on my wrists, then fastened the chain to
them.
I could move enough to reach my
waist with the chain through my collar, but no lower.
"You may look now if you want
Michael.", she said walking past me.
I looked up and saw her dressed in a
white silk gown, sitting on the edge of her bed as she lit a pair of candles
and blew out the match with a sharp breath.
She walked to the door and switched
off the overhead light then slipped under the covers. I knelt there, watching,
uncertain of my place or duties that night.
She removed a book from the
nightstand and opened it to a place she had marked with a red silk ribbon and
started to read, ignoring my watching eyes.
"You may massage my feet
now.", she said, not looking up from her reading.
I struggled into position and moved
the soft furry covers aside to find her delicate feet, and strained to put my
hands in a proper position to rub them.
By stretching my lead to it's
maximum, I managed to get into a position that allowed me to touch her feet
without strangling myself, and soon lost myself in the pleasure of giving the
woman I loved a foot rub worthy of her stature.
I wished I could touch more of her
body. I wanted to kiss her feet and legs, to tongue her most private areas. I
cut that thought off sharply. She deserves the best. And then a slightly
illicit thought crossed my mind. I was her slave. I was the best. Well, maybe
not. I reminded myself of the times I had failed her.
And I remembered over everything the
purity of the love we shared. That connection between our souls that had bound
us together
I concentrated on rubbing her feet,
on absorbing the pain and tension of her day, taking that into my hands, and
then releasing it.
I felt her slowly start melting at
the firm touch of my hands on her feet and soon she yawned and placed the
ribbon back into the book to make her place and set it aside.
"Thank you Michael.", she
said sitting up and stroking my head.
"Thank you Mistress for
allowing me to serve you."
I could see the smile in the
candlelight and felt the love she had for me, tangible at that moment like a
barely seen mist in the morning to the inner eye of my loving soul.
She slipped out of bed and went to
the chest at the foot of the bed, and pulled out a soft pillow and a blanket
for me and ordered me to lay down.
I did and she tucked the blanket in
around me as if I was a small child, and then brushed my forehead with her
lips.
"Good night Michael.", she
said, laying down in the bed and pulling the covers to her.
I laid there looking at her from my
position on the floor and said nothing for fear she would hear the desire for
her in my voice.
She rolled over and blew out one of
the candles, leaving us in near darkness. I laid there watching it, focusing my
eyes on it to relax enough to sleep.
I finally drifted off to sleep,
lulled by the candle flame and her regular breathing.
My restless mind had other ideas
however and I had dreams, dreams I'd tried to hide even from myself.
I wasn't sleeping at the foot of the
bed in my minds eye, I was sleeping with her, my arms around her, protecting
her from whatever dangers lurked in the night.
I dreamt of being chained below her,
to have her shower me with her golden wine, to be permitted to lap it from her
finger tips.
A flash of horror and fascination,
seeing her whipped again during my training, watching the beauty of her pain,
and how she proudly bore it.
A touch of envy for her lover, given
something that I would be forever denied.
Something that, if offered, I would
be forced by my own pride to refuse.
I love you Mistress, I cried in my
dreams.
But my words like silent raindrops
fell. She knew my desire for her. It need not be said openly.
But in my mind that night, I said
all the things to her I could not say aloud.
I confessed my desires for her on
the altar of my mind.
"Michael, would you marry
me?", she asked as we stood looking at the sunset.
"Are you crazy?", I asked
her aloud, while in my soul screaming YES!
She turned back to me and smiled in
my dreams. She knew what my soul had said, but accepted my refusal at face
value, not embarrassing me with the answer she knew in my heart.
I wept with happiness at the mere
offer of sharing the rest of my life with her as her husband.
And in those dreams she accepted
that I felt that way about her, without rancor.
Our positions as Mistress and slave,
the barriers between us melted away like snow in the sun. We were one together,
a feeling that was a rekindling of the memories of my wife.
"I love you Mistress.", I
said to that wraith in my mind.
"I know.", was the same
sweet answer that I had heard the night I was reborn.
I awoke with a start, my cheeks wet
with the tears I had only thought I'd cried.
My Mistress, my forbidden love,
slept peacefully as I sat thinking of the dreams and wondering if I could tell
her of them.
No, I decided. Perhaps someday I'll
just write a story about it, and she can consider it literary license.
But I would always know in my heart
the truth of the matter.
And would carry that secret forever,
never spoken.
|
|
|