Forty-Four hours, Part 10,
The pale blue glow from the reading light on the podium revealed little of the
woman who now stood quietly, only the soft curves or her breasts and upper arms,
the shoulder length brown tresses and the paleness of her skin. She exhaled
softly, and then spoke, "Good evening. My name is Debra; I'm a friend of
Kara's.
At the first syllables of Debra's words, an anguished cry escaped Kara's lips
that began in low octaves and then build into a crescendo that filled the old
theatre with a discernable "Noooooo.... How could you!"? Tears filled the
corners of her eyes and traced down her cheeks. Her body trembled and turned
toward Debra. Her trembling escalated into a spasmodic shaking; her tears
transitioned into uncontrollable sobbing.
Two crimson robed figures rushed onto the stage. Four hands quickly
repositioned her beneath the glare of the three spotlights. One set of hands
released her and slapped her across the face twice. Low hisses emanated from
one pair of lips directly into Kara's tear streaked face, "You will resume your
position ... you will not break it ... or you will be thrashed." The other pair
of hands quickly drew a posture collar around her neck and tightened the
buckles, rendering useless any further movement of her head.
Behind the podium, Debra paused and turned to Kara, " I'm sorry Kara, but, whom
better than I?"
The two robed women stood on either side of their charge and waited until her
emotions subsided and the labored breathing that caused the rapid rising and
falling of her breasts resumed a more normal rhythm. They wiped the tears from
her face and quietly slipped back into the darkened recesses off stage. For a
moment, Kara closed her eyes and recounted her thoughts in the brief span of
time since she was told someone would speak for her. In her mind, she had
assumed it would be Maya. Perhaps even someone from the ranch in Colorado, but
the faintest trace of Debra never crossed her frayed mind.
When stillness returned, Debra continued. "Kara and I have been friends since
we met at the university. In a way, the friendship might seem unlikely; she was
in law school and I was a part time undergrad student, part time administrative
assistant. I'm five years younger than she. We shared many similar thoughts,
one of which was that neither felt particularly suited to the role of
motherhood, the "mommy track" we called it back then.
Our friendship is, and has been, simply that, a friendship, someone to talk to,
to shop with, to share coffee with on a Saturday afternoon, and at times, to
share our private thoughts. There was a time just before my own brief marriage
that we explored one another intimately."
Kara's fondness for submissive sexual fulfillment is a desire that I've never
quite possessed yet I respect her and find the desire fascinating. I admire the
way she's opened up to me and those conversations heightened our friendship.
There was one particular afternoon, though, that I want to mention and this is
really where I want to begin."
As Debra's words flowed, Kara could only stand and listen. The rigidity of the
collar prohibited any significant movement of her head and the final threat of
the crimson robed woman still echoed silently within her.
Debra relaxed and gazed out into the audience, which she could barely see. In a
trace-like state, she began speaking again...
"We were having a late lunch at the Evergreen, a restaurant that had become a
gathering spot for a more open, unconventional type of crowd; one the typical
tourist to the district rarely frequents. I looked at Kara. Her head leaned
against the painted brick wall of the cafe, her eyes rolled upward and stared
into the upper dining alcoves on the mezzanine level. I'd seen that look
before, a restless yearning look."
I softly smiled and said, "Hello? Where are you"?
Without looking at me she spoke, "I'm in the concert hall ... leaving the lower
balcony after Burckner's Eighth. " Her eyes rolled in my direction, her voice
was melodic, "you know, you were there with me..."
I nodded and recalled the evening. There was scarcely a dry eye among the
patrons leaving the hall as if the sheer reverence of the 90-minute symphony,
played without intermission, had cast a spell over the entire gathering. But as
I looked at Kara, I knew there was more. I'd seen this look before.
She now focused her eyes on me, temporarily ignoring the slightly effeminate
waiter as he placed the second glass of the house white wine beside her half
consumed salad, the little scraps of chicken, mandarin oranges and walnuts
scattered about the orchid colored plate. "Don't ... don't ask. I know what
you're about to say ... I know you, Kara. And you know me. I can't do it."
Her body relaxed in the soft cushion of the chair and settled back, her right
hand drawing the glass of wine closer to her. "You can tell, can't you?"
I knew the look, the visible body language, the way her hand slightly shakes,
the way her lips curl. I recalled our conversations that began years ago. One
afternoon at her home, I was seated on the edge of the hot tub, she came up to
me, fully immersed in the swirling water, and her lips began forming words of
her inner desires. She'd asked me to take her, not in just an intimate way, but
to fully control her. Just for the evening. In no way did I disbelieve what
passed from her lips but I knew that wasn't within me to fulfill.
As I finished my salad, Kara leaned across the table and spoke softly, "You
could, if you put your mind to it. I'll guide you..."
I looked her straight into her eyes. "It's more than that for you, Babe. You
don't need a guide; you need more than I can give. And you know it. You
remember a few months ago what happened. That's as far as I know how to take
it. But I'll listen..." The conversation continued until we both knew any
further talk was futile. I picked up the check and pushed her money back across
the table telling her that it was my treat and the least I could do.
Throughout the week, I drifted back to the conversation with Kara. And then my
mind went to a thought that had lingered in the back of my consciousness a
couple of days before ... there was a woman whom I believe some of you know,
Maya, whom I'd met recently. Maya had a certain air that at first I couldn't
quite describe. I work in the performing arts so I meet a wide variety of
people. I'd assisted Maya in lining up sponsorships for a dance company
comprised of underprivileged high school kids. One day after work, she invited
me out for a drink, a friendly way of saying thanks for my help in arranging the
sponsorship. A couple of other women, friends of Maya's, joined us. During the
second round of drinks Maya shot a look at Allene, one of the other women who
had joined us and asked her where she found that 'thing' she was with Saturday
night. Allene replied that actually the 'thing' had been staring at her on
flight out of DC and she'd confronted her, called her bluff and drug her away.
Maya chuckled that she needed to find one of those right now. I didn't ask too
many questions but I caught enough of the conversation to understand that
'thing' had been kept at Allene's getaway cottage along the shores of Lake Erie
that particular weekend.
Even after the arrangements for the dance performance had passed, I'd had
several opportunities to spend time with Maya and I really found her
interesting. Then I started piecing together things ... things like Maya and
Kara. But was it really my place to intervene in either of their lives?
Throwing my inhibitions aside, I dialed Maya's office. I mentioned briefly
there was a topic I wanted to discuss, something that bordered on what we talked
about back at the bar and a friend of mine. We agreed to meet at her house for
drinks and a light meal.
I arrived at Maya's home the following Friday evening. Her house was small,
cozy and decorated in violet and blue tones. We settled in on the sofa and I
looked at the alluring nature of what sat across from me. Even under the faded
jeans, black sweater and suede hiking style boots a certain eminence pervaded.
Her curly chestnut hair was pulled back and a bandana knotted around her head.
Looking into her face, I became intently aware of how much I wanted to deliver
Kara to her, to somehow show my participation in this situation
Maya had placed several candles, lavender and white tapers on a large table.
Intermixed with them were two novena candles, their red wax forming a pool
within the glass cylinder. On the coffee table was a mirrored tray where
tall-pillared candles emitted scents of lilac.
Strains of a symphony drifted from her cd player. "It's pretty. What is it?"
"Shubert's Ninth," Maya replied.
I smiled and sheepishly said, "I had no idea you went for classical music."
She laughed. "I'm not all hard butch, I have many moods. Wine?"
Maya poured expensive Chianti. We engaged in small talk while I worked my way
through the first glass of wine. The mood was soft, perfect for me to begin.
Maya refilled my glass and looked at me. "This friend of yours, tell me...
what's going on?"
I sipped the wine and began slowly, "I've known her for years. She's also an
attorney, early 40's, attractive, physically fit and ... I've just wondered
lately if it might be appropriate for the two of you to meet, ... she's rather
... submissive in her nature ... married, but no kids. Ever since the
conversation between you and Allene at the bar about three weeks ago, I just
wondered. I think she's looking for someone ... she's even asked me to cater to
her. I have no problem with her desires, but it's not really my forte'. Maya
leaned forward, listening intently, catching every word, and the look on her
face urged me to continue.
I nodded, not exactly certain of where to go next with my portrayal but I told
her music is almost always involved. It sets a backdrop for her moods. Kara's
visions and experiences revolve around two things... the music plus she has a
penchant for themes of redemption, absolution ... how she views herself as a
sacrifice ... almost like she's an offering to the one controlling her.
Maya spoke reassuringly, "Yes, I've known a few others with similar feelings.
The thought is, that if one offers herself to another under the pretext of a
religious nature or a higher calling, it somehow makes what they're doing more
palatable, and with less chance of internal guilt afterwards."
I continued, "Kara has been with two or three partners before she was married
and she's slipped in one or two since her marriage. Probably the strongest was
a woman named Diane. She wandered in and out of her life for about eight
months. Kara had even shown me the pictures. I recalled the times she
mentioned after a good session with Diane she would go jogging the following
morning and the pain in her breasts, thighs and buttocks from the bondage and
floggings intensified the run. She once told me of an afternoon with Diane.
After making love, she was tied, lying on the floor. Diane put several
classical CD's on the player, mostly from the Baroque era, and left the house
for several hours. Kara told me how she rolled on the floor, absorbing the
music and feeling the ropes. As the intensity of the ropes became more
pronounced, she drifted into some form of subspace, savoring her helplessness.
To her, it was heaven.
Looking at the candles, I nodded, and a devious smile crossed my face and I said
to her, Wax ... let me tell you about something that happened recently. One
evening when her husband was out of town, she called me and said she was going
to do what she referred to as a deep session on herself..."
At these words, Kara felt her face redden. Was it guilt? Shame?
Embarrassment? She knew where Debra was going. For the first time she closed
her eyes and silently wished the floor would open up and swallow her ...
anything to remove her from hearing the words that were to follow... though her
body was bared, Debra was now delving into her soul, stripping bare her most
private moment...
Debra continued, "The plan was that if she had not called me by 10:00, I was to
drive over to her place, use my key and check on her. I waited until nearly
10:20 and still had not heard from her, so I drove out to her place. I entered,
called out to her and didn't receive an answer. I figured she was either in the
basement or one of the upstairs bedrooms. I went to the basement first and
didn't find her so I went back, checked the main rooms, even the pantry, and
then started up the stairs to the upper level. As I did, I heard a soft muffing
sound from the back bedroom. I knew she was there.
By now Maya's smile had covered her face. She unlaced the boots and curled her
feet up under her. She asked me pointedly what I found.
I took another sip of the wine and continued. "She was nude and leaning back
against a wall in a spare unfurnished room in her home. Her ankles were tied to
her thighs with thick rope, left ankle to left thigh, right ankle to right
thigh, until her heels were almost against her buttocks. She'd wound rope
around her upper body, above and below her breasts, then run a rope from the
lower rope between her breasts and tied it behind her neck. She had gagged
herself with a red ball gag. Her hands were cuffed behind her, you probably
know, with those police type cuffs."
Maya gave me a knowing smile and then asked of Kara's reaction, was she
embarrassed or was she excited to be found like that?
Truthfully, I think she was relieved to see me. No lights were on in the room.
The moonlight through the windows and the glow of the candles she'd set around
her cast a mood about the room. I could see the remnants of wax from one of the
candles still on parts of her body. She'd used a variety of clamps on her labia
and nipples apparently but they weren't on her when I arrived. A bottle of
pinot noir, about half empty, was sitting on the floor along with her cigarettes
and an ashtray. I asked her if she was okay. She nodded. I stood there for a
moment and contemplated what to do. I told her I'd be back in a minute and she
started making those muffing sounds again into her ball gag. I ignored her and
went back downstairs, leaving her muffing into the gag. I sat on the sofa for a
few minutes and thought. Then I got another wine glass and went back upstairs
to her. I poured myself a glass of wine and sat against the wall opposite her.
I lit a cigarette, sipped my wine and asked her if she wanted the gag out. She
indicated she did. I looked at her while I finished my cigarette. My presence
was having an effect on her. I told her to move her knees out as far as she
could, that if she wanted the gag out it was going to be my way.
In a strange way I began to realize that I had complete power over her. I
really didn't want it, but I knew that if I walked out right then and there,
she'd be like that all night. But, she's my friend and I couldn't do that. I
snubbed out my cigarette and walked over to her. I told her if I took the gag
out, there'd be a price to pay. I don't know why I said that but she nodded her
head as if she understood.
I looked at her and saw her drool had trickled down her chin and onto her
breasts. I made some insinuating remarks about her drooling like a baby and
took the gag out. Then I removed my flats and pushed my toe into her sex. She
moaned like crazy and tried to wiggle her body against my toe. I knew she'd
cumm in a minute if I kept on so I stepped back. Then, I went back the opposite
wall and sat down. I looked at her and started chiding her, calling her a slut.
I told her to tell me about it, what she'd done. I lit another cigarette,
picked up my wine and told her to start talking.
She said things had been bad lately, that her moods were really peaking, so she
thought of this, asking me to come over if she hadn't called. She told me she
absorbed the scene she created in the back room as long as she could. From time
to time, she flagellated her breasts and thighs and used the clamps from time to
time. She took the candles and repeatedly poured the wax across her body. She
had no idea how long it had gone on but I remember she called me around 7:30
that particular evening. She'd used her small vibe until she was wild then
she'd cuffed herself. Listening to all her babble and looking at her still tied
up, really turned me on. I unzipped my shorts and rubbed myself to an orgasm.
After I relaxed, I went over to her, picked up the flogger, took the handle, and
rubbed her pussy with it until she screamed and orgasm again. I took the key
from the floor and unlocked her cuffs. That's all. I figured she could get out
of the rest of it. I kissed her. Then, I walked out and told her to call me in
the morning at the office.
At that point, I paused in my conversation with Maya. I knew that I was
betraying all Kara told me in confidence; yet, in the betrayal I began to feel I
was leading her toward fulfillment. I leaned forward close to Maya's face, and
asked her directly, am I off base here, or is this the kind of thing that
interests you?
Maya reflected on everything I'd said ... redemption ... absolution ... beatings
... captive feelings ... letting go ... giving up control ... and then we agreed
on a time and place for them to meet.
The following Saturday afternoon, Kara and I wandered around Dupont Circle,
browsing a couple of art shops. We stopped for coffee near the circle and Maya
arrived as I planned. Kara was instantly attracted to the mysterious presence
of the taller chestnut haired woman. Maya was dressed to project a certain
image, from the tight jeans, to the Western styled brown boots. Hidden behind
her thin dark glasses, Maya looked at Kara, spoke directly towards her and I saw
Kara recline, giving up space into which Maya advanced. Maya ordered an
espresso and lit a cigarette. She blew the smoke across the table and muttered,
"been a bitch of a week."
"What do you do?" Kara inquired.
Maya sipped the steaming black liquid. "Attorney. Small stuff ...nothing
glamorous. I work with social services organizations, churches, that kind of
stuff ... making sure everybody gets a fair shake."
Talk continued for a few minutes as two attorneys traded elements of their
respective practices. I noticed Kara slowly becoming absorbed in Maya's
conversation. Then Maya looked at Kara and said there's something I'd like to
show you. Maya remarked that she knew of a place, an Old Catholic cathedral
just a few blocks away that she'd like to show us. I looked at Kara and saw her
eager to explore. Deep within me, I knew she had no idea what was to follow.
We left the coffee bar and walked south through the crowded streets in the brisk
air, talking about non-descript things until we arrived at the Cathedral of the
Saints. The three of us climbed the two-dozen or so stairs from the street.
Entering, Kara gasped at the vastness of the stone interior from its' carved
relief's, to the mammoth dome, rising nearly 100 feet above the sanctuary floor.
To each wing was a small altar with rows of candles burning. I watched Kara
walk halfway down the right aisle and sink to her knees behind a pew. She
stared upward. The three of us sat there for a few minutes while a priest
prepared the center altar for the evening Mass. Kara was absorbed and I knew
it.
For a few minutes, we knelt and Kara became immersed by the beauty and reverence
in the surroundings. Maya softly grasped Kara's upper arm and rose first,
motioning for us to follow her. She quietly walked back toward the entrance and
into a small baptismal room off to one side. The floor was cut from large stone
blocks perhaps three feet square. The walls were entirely of stone. Layers of
blocks perhaps three feet high and six feet long encased the interior walls of
the room. A cross was chiseled into the corner of each block. Small narrow
windows near the ceiling emitted the only light into the room. A dais stood at
one end of the small room and a carved wooden chair stood alone there. Save for
the font and the chair, no other furniture or objects graced the room.
Kara walked to one wall and reached out and touched the stone, letting her
fingers drift across the coolness and trace around one of the small-carved
crosses. Her breath came in short heavy gasps and I noticed the slight
trembling in her fingers. Maya walked over to her and touched her hair softly.
Kara turned, her back against the wall. The touch was sensual yet
non-threatening. Maya looked into her eyes spoke softly,' this intrigues you,
doesn't it?'
Kara nodded weakly and her body shifted against the wall as if she were trying
to slink away from Maya. Maya continued, sensing Kara's emotions tottering,
"Look at the dais. Where do you see yourself? On it? Or kneeling in front of
it?"
Kara was off guard. I looked at her face and knew she was beginning to feel
exposed "please... why do you ask?" Her eyes looked down at the floor.
"It's a simple question. I'm just asking", Maya softly spoke and with a finger
raised, she softly touched Kara's face and looked into her eyes. "Debra's told
me a little bit about you, girl. Just enough that I think you have a gift to
offer, don't you, Kara, to someone very selective, someone very special who
would appreciate your gift." Maya continued, her left hand pressing against the
wall and close to Kara's neck. I saw Kara shudder slightly and try to look away
but Maya leaned further into Kara's space, "I'm interested in your gift, what
you offer, what you represent."
Kara's breath was coming in short gasps now and her breasts rose and fell
rapidly with the labored breathing. Kara pressed her body tighter against the
coolness of the stone. Maya drew closer to her until her lips were inches away
from Kara's and spoke softly, "I want you to think about what I said, girl ...
just think about it. That's all. I can help ..."
Kara nodded weakly and broke away from the wall, avoided looking at Maya and
nervously walked toward the door. I knew where her thoughts drifted, what she
was envisioning. As I looked at her, I saw a woman now turned to putty. Maya
looked briefly at me, nodded her head and smiled. The capture was only a matter
of timing.
Debra paused and glanced at Kara then shifted her gaze into the audience. " I
could go on, but I think you know the story from here. Kara did indeed become
engrossed with Maya for a couple of sessions. It was then that Maya made the
decision to obtain Countess' Sophia's opinion on Kara's suitability. Perhaps
the friendship between Kara, Maya and I got in the way of what Maya was trying
to accomplish. I don't know.
There have been bumps in the road that I could not foresee; times I almost wish
I'd left things to their natural course. But now we are here. I would only add
that whomever claims her, wherever you take her, please, let me come just once
in awhile and visit her. Please?"
Debra turned to Kara and spoke with a slight quiver in her voice, "Darling, I
love you. I thought I was doing what was right. I honestly tried to. Don't
hate me..."
From the darkened alcove, the crimson robe with gold trim appeared and gently
took Debra's forearm. She stood between the two long time friends, effectively
blocking any further eye contact. With a nod toward the alcove, she motioned a
reluctant Debra toward the darkened alcove. She hesitated for a moment until
she received a nod from one of the handlers back stage, indicating Debra was now
being escorted back downstairs.
She returned to the podium and spoke firmly, "The subject is now available for
your instructions and auction. Proceed."
