From lmartell Fri May 14 17:02:40 1993
From: lmartell
Newsgroups: alt.sex.bondage
Subject: a voyage into splendour
Status: OR


Yesterday night our beloved friends, Sandro and Rita, came to our
house. We four hadn't had an evening alone in a longish time, so
it was predictably intense and wonderful - as often happens, Sandro
just topped, Rita just bottomed, and I and Alex switched a lot -
and we played in all combinations, with fascinating results as
usual.

But one scene in particular I really want to describe, the exquisite
scene during which I received the heaviest whipping of my life,
and traveled with my soul into the most hidden recesses of
consciousness and light...

I had been cruelly caning Alex's thighs, concentrating on their
most sensitive inner sides. He was really suffering, not enjoying
it in the least - so handsome he was, his brand new tattoo (a Cobra
snake circling his Buddha tattoo) still swollen, brilliant of black
ink, full of magic... I enjoy immensely the total submission that
he gifts me with when I hurt him in ways that I like and he doesn't!

He had not safeworded (and hasn't in quite a while - I must recall
one of these days to do something to remind him how to safeword...),
but in the end he was biting down on the hanky in his mouth so hard
to hurt his teeth, and moaning so hard it was no moan any more but
more of a scream without breath to fuel it - so I had judged it
best to stop. His body had kept tensing and spasming, writhing and
buckling, for long after I had stopped, his moan/scream dying down
only very very slowly... so I thought he was about done for the
night, and settled down to cuddle and calm him, together with Rita
and Sandro, who had been during the scene watching closely and
lending the most wonderful emotional support.

He got back rather soon to verbal space and we four chatted about
one thing and another, and the conversation fell on scene music
and the role of rhythm versus "mood"... I had used a Mahler piece
for his caning, absolutely not for the rhythm, strictly because I
find it appropriate for scenes of the sweetest, most loving and
merciless cruelty. Also it makes Alex tense up, like what he calls
"sirupy" music I also enjoy such as Tchaikowsky, so it fit in well
with the fact that "enjoyment" on his part was not the point of
that caning *at all*.

Anyway, Alex mentioned that sweet Topaz, in e-mail to him, had
talked about having bottomed in a scene to the tune of Mozart's
"Eine Kleine Nachtmusik", and we started talking about that,
essentially agreeing that none of us could quite see how to use
THAT for a scene... then Alex had the good idea to put up a CD of
it, and we all started listening to it with THAT in mind...

And soon I heard Alex mutter, "A-HA...!  NOW I think I'd know how
to go about it...", and - I saw *THAT* glitter in his eyes, that
incredible, frightening, fascinating look, which always makes me
feel all funny inside, and get wet, and start trembling slightly,
and yearn desperately to throw myself prone at his feet and start
kissing them and...

But could he have switched so soon, with his thighs all bruised
and swelling still...? He could - he IS like that - but I could
hardly believed he had, and didn't want to put any pressure on him
after what I had just make him suffer... so I just hinted very
circuitously and indirectly -

"Master", I asked, "I *would* like very much to try it - please!".


The earth in May, full of subtle inebriating parfumes, shining
stars overhead. I could feel it all, though it was outside of the
window, as I knelt on a blanket, soft and warm, and placed my
wrists, unbound, crossed, on a chair in the middle of the room. My
neck was bent, my long dark-blonde hair covered the features of my
face. In the deep silence I heard the irregular breath of Sandro
and Rita, so excited, and the calm luminous breath of my Master.

I knew he was brandishing a flogger we had bougth in San Francisco,
with a ten inch long handle allowing different grasps and leverages,
and a dozen braided, tress-like tails of about twenty inches of
reasonably light and soft leather, ending with flat rounded tips.

It's a peculiar whip, painful but not terrible, and, well, "dreamy",
when used not too heavily - but developing a very real BITE when
snapped with very serious strength... it's not the easiest whip to
maneuver either, but in experienced hands it really allows finer,
more precise control than one might think. And my Master handles
it ably indeed! I'm not so accomplished a whipper as he is, so I
still prefer to beat with simpler tools when I am on top - like a
cane, a crop, or a straight-tailed heavy-leather, or silicone,
flogger - although, I am learning. But I knew that, in HIS most
beloved hands, it would allow him to do with me exactly as he
wished - and that is what I also wished with all my body, with
all my mind, with all my heart, with all my soul!

The CD began playing from the start again - and Alex started whipping
me. Right from the very start, he was one thing with the music, as
serene, as sublime, as deep, as perfect as itself is. As I was
already amply warmed up from previous play, my buttocks still red
and stinging from the heavy spanking Sandro had given me for example,
the lashes started of medium strength - but they also were so
particular, so magic! My Master Alex was putting Light, beauty,
*poetry* in his blows, and an astonishing intensity - not in the
force with which they were striking my back, yet, but in the
*totality* of the experience. The universe was made up of his
arm, my back, the whip, and the notes pulsating in the air...

I confess that I am no deep appreciator of music, I just enjoy it,
simply; and that I had never been able to hear the "Nachtmusik" as
anything beyond a pleasant, perfectly crafted jingle, sweet and
enjoyable to the ear. But then and there, bent and kneeling, as
the music became flashes of pain on my body, I for the first time
found myself really *listening*, really *hearing* it - I felt the
power and the genius in it, the depth of the currents of emotion
under the shining, polished exterior... well before the pain was
warranting it, I was weeping, copious and silent my tears, for
joy and for sorrow, for love, for *understanding* at last.

The whip my Master was handling so perfectly became the sacred key
which opened the doors of my soul onto infinity, allowing me a
swift, secure voyage to an enchanted kingdom, the one I had always
known was there, the one I had occasionally been able to glimpse
from afar... at the same time, our beloved friends and lovers were
participating, too, giving us, without words, an unbounded amount
of energy and love, their presence even more profound for its
quietness.

Now my Lord alternated heavier and lighter strokes, fluidly following
the music. My back was suffering, but with a new, powerful glow:
soon I took off. Flowing outside of my body I saw myself maintaining
a still, perfect position of offering and surrender. But this sight
lasted only an instant, though that instant was eternal in itself:
immediately a new, stronger clear vision came, complete with sounds
and smells...

I was in an open space, trees all around, tall grasses, Fenris at
my side. It was night. Never the Milky Way has shone on me more
splendidly than in this charmed night... I was on an island, and
the small parfume-filled island was a graveyard, tombs gracefully
scattered amongst flowers and herbs. Many of them had only a sword
carved on the old stone. I said to Fenris, "I remember the stones,
and the swords...".

My hands were full of blood. I was serene and happy.

I saw the white-frothing dark cold sea, I felt the freezing wind,
just as I was feeling Alex's lash hitting my shoulders in a
tumultuous crescendo. I was on my island and I was being whipped
by my Lord in a warm room thousands of miles from there. The pain
became so great I felt the tears became hot tears of pain on my
face, streaming down on it, for a long, long time. It was with
those my eyes full of tears that I saw Suns and galaxies hurling
overhead, in an orgy of colours of the sweetest purity. My soul
too was hot, hot with light and ecstasy, but my body in pain,
there in its submissive knelt position, was quite cold.

My trance was very deep. When my Lord started hitting me harder
than I can remember ever having been hit, I straightened my back
and opened my arms wide, forming a cross. I was in terrible,
wonderful suffering. But never I spoke, nor our friends did, nor
Alex. The sounds in the room were the music and the swish and
the crack of the whip, no breath could be heard any more; the
sounds my spirit heard on its voyage were rich and voluptuous
as a velvet of stars.

When the pain was too much, when I had shed all my tears, when
the beauty of the skies in which I was flying became too much
breathtaking, with my utmost surprise I found in myself the
strength to bear the unbearable. My Lord continued, relentless,
terrible, loving, compassionate, merciless. And then my happiness
knew no limit. The crueler the pain, the more luminous the truth
I was seeing between the liquid curtains of my tears.

And the truth was this: that all the suffering and the stress of
daily labour and strife were cleansed in the splendid galaxy of my
trance, and I was dying, and I was born again. And the trance I
was living was a gift from my Lord and Master first of all, secondly
of our friends and lovers supporting us with their presence, thirdly
of a young genius over two centuries dead, and also of a skilled
artisan whipmaker, of sweet Topaz who had sparked the idea in my
Master's brain, and then, too, of all the friends and lovers who
were not there whith us, and yet a parcel of my heart is each of
them... and in all of the Goddess, nurturing Mother, who blessed
me, and each and every of these all, with her infinite love!

With a rain of the very strongest blows, each snapping, cracking
horrendously hard on my back, cutting in its atrocious pain  -
the whipping was over at last, finishing exactly as the music
stopped. I felt tender loving hands caressing me, lips soothing
my bereaved flesh, but I couldn't speak, or move. I was in the
skies still. Slowly I began my descent, not really wanting to,
with the fierce fire of my newborn soul causing shock to my
chilled body. Slowly traveling through space and time, saying
good-bye tomy magic island, gradually, calmly, completely, my
spirit returned fully to my body.

I was trembling uncontrollably, my hands were violet. My Lord was
speaking wonderfully to me, "Laylah, you were wonderful, I sensed
very clearly how strongly I was pushing your limits, but you offered
yourself so beautifully, at each new blow I could feel your body
newly gifted to me once again...".  Sandro and Rita were also
embracing me, and Alex and each other, murmuring the sweetest
things, I would have thanked them all had I had any more breath
left, I would have wept for love of them had I had any more tears
to weep...

Yesterday night has changed something in me forever. I am now a
more complete slave than I thought I, or anybody, could be; and
a more complete, a wholer human being. And I am more humble. The
more I probe the depths of the sea of submission, the more I
understand that I am not a perfect slave, that I can be better,
much better. It's the same as with knowledge, as the ancient
bard wrote. Only four exams left and I'll have my second degree:
and now I see better how vast is my ignorance, how weak is my
sword still, how many more realms there remain to conquer...
verily, art is so long, life so brief...

Humility is infinite - and so is love. I've found my recipe for
total serenity, and if such pain and such sores are the price
to be paid, I am ready. I am more than ready: I am willing, I
am eager, I am yearning to kneel once again and be beaten and
shaken and broken and taken by my Lord's thrice blessed hands.

To my loves Sandro and Rita, to my Master Alex, my giving of
thanks. My Lord, my Lord, you gave me more than the wealth of
all Universes: you brought me back to myself...!



If each Star were a blessing, the whole starry nightsky would
still be less than you should deserve from me in gratitude,

    Laylah