From lmartell Fri May 21 13:20:48 1993
From: lmartell
Newsgroups: alt.sex.bondage
Subject: a celebration
Status: OR


Last Sunday Sandro and Rita spent the evening with us. Sandro was very
tired, and Rita had been intrigued since the previous Thursday by the
way Alex had whipped me to the tune of Mozart's music, so when Alex
proposed a similar scene with Rita, they assented quickly.

Alex took the braided leather flogger we have bougth in SF. With
a subtle smile he then said: "Rita, I know that, like me, you're
a very piggy bottom: so, I have a better choice of music to flog
you by, very martial and accented with rhythm...", and put on a
music by Handel, the "Fireworks".

The whipping was strong, and lasted a long time, Alex underlining
the structure of the music on Rita's buttocks and backs with burning,
elaborate strokes. Like a fierce god, beautiful and cruel, he moved
with power and grace, his eyes flashing in an irresistible and
frightening way, sometimes in the most intense points his teeth
bared in a loving and threatening grin...

Rita was kneeling in front of her master Sandro, embracing
him. My right hand was in her mouth, and she bit me hard many
times, when the pain was too intense for her to control.

When she wept, tears streaming down her half-closed eyes, biting
and chewing my arm now, the rain of Alex's blows even heavier than
before, we four breathed and felt in complete unison. It was
utterly beautiful. Alex, the luminous, harsh Lord, felt the pain
he was inflicting on Rita, we all felt it: at the end of the scene
we were all moaning and gasping, devoid of energy, full of love.

Slowly we returned to thought and an almost normal state of
consciousness. Our happiness was vibrating in the air, with sweet
burning electricity. My Lord told me: "It's been a long time,
Laylah, that I want to do a certain thing... kneel in front of
Sandro!". Immediately I assumed the position which Rita before had
held with such grace, beauty and pain.

Alex put away the flogger we bougth in SF, which he had used on
Rita, and took the short red silicone whip instead. His arm was
tired, he explained, and the shorter whip more suited to the frantic,
arythmic usage it would now see.

He then changed the disk, putting on a Monteverdi madrigal; since
this year is some anniversary, there are many madrigal concerts
around here, and he is getting a passion for that genre... very
intense poetry of desperate love and fierce battles, punctuated
with music emotionally as intense, unsettling, not very armonic...

He found a frantic chaos of broken rhythms hiding in the folds of
the soprano's voice, and brought it to light, and paced himself to
that, and to the emotions and accents in the poetry, and thus he
began to whip my backside.

I had been flogged severely on Thursday night, as I posted, and again
on Saturday morning while the kids were at school (again on a Mozart
music), so my skin was not white and unmarked, nor my flesh rested -
not at all! My skin was frayed already at the start... I felt fierce
pain and sweet pleasure since the first lashes.

I moaned, my hands on Sandro's arms, Rita's fingers softly caressing my
disheveled hair. My Lord was really harsh this night, so harsh, and so
perfect, each one of his terrible blows telling me in silent beauty: "I
love you, you are my love slave, through space and time, forever...".

Again we four felt in unison the splendour of the reality we all were
creating with our poetry and our love.

Again, time was no more, space was no more. An infinite present of
suffering and sublimeness, magic and enchantment, was our gift and
accomplishment. It was a celebration of light and love... and of
something else also.

The pain on my backside was now unbearable, but I offered it all to my
Lord, because I wanted to suffer, for him, what, for me, was
untolerable. I didn't bite Sandro's arms, but I clenched them with my
hands, shaking and trembling.

Together with the fire which was dancing in my body, I experienced a
sudden, intense cold. I dried my tears with my left hand, and I put my
face on Sandro's shoulders. I felt my God and my Goddess close to me, I
felt their love piercing my heart.

A terrible last rain of blows left me without breath: then, in the
strange sudden stillness of the night, with the music finished and the
whipping ceased, the deep voice of my Lord resounded as in a cathedral:
"Laylah, you are bleeding... it was this that I wanted".

I can't describe properly the joy I felt in that moment, the wonderful
feeling to be completely owned, loved, dominated. Until blood, sacred
blood, the holy blood of life is shed...

After six days the magic of that moment is still with me, and the marks
on my backside still evident. But the most sublime ongoing effects are
in my soul.

My Lord, my Lord, if resurrection should be possible, I would like to
die and to live again for you... and to give to you not only a little,
but all, all my blood.


"Io di morte son vaga,
 ma da te la desio,
 dolcissimo ben mio...
 Da si` bel feritor, dolce e` la piaga!"

    Laylah