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Subject: {ASSM} Blood In The Snow Of Raven Rock (heavy BDSM etc.), long
Date: Wed, 19 Jan 2000 13:10:04 -0500
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Blood In The Snow Of Raven Rock
by
Namaste Master
namastemaster@yahoo.com
(MF, heavy BDSM, knifeplay, bloodwork, branding, scarification,
edgework, outdoor activities, consensual)
Yes, I don't deny that my heart was going all a' pitter-patter as the
faint smell of jet fumes left my nostrils as I made my way up the
flexiramp to exit at Gate 3 in Terminal "A' at RDU airport. It was
fluttering and racing not from being in love, for I truly wasn't in love
with my Master, loved him and his subwife yes, but wasn't "in" love. It
wasn't going the proverbial ninety miles a minute from fear either, even
though I knew before the weekend was over that my life would truly be in
his hands and hopefully he would accept me as his forever. Instead if
was from sheer unbridled anticipation, fantasizing about the hopeful
unknown.
"Great to meet you finally, Jen!" he nearly shouted in my ear as his
large and longish arms surrounded my tall for a broad five ten frame,
his six foot four height towering over me as we hugged a deep and
sincere hug of friendship, his wife almost my size joining in as well.
"Great to meet you in real life too, finally, my…Master" I whispered
loudly back to him as a fellow passenger nosingly overheared my comment
as she scooted close by past us but not before shooting us a look of
envious disgust as her walking pace increased.
"Nam' ", as he likes to be called, his nom de e-plume being Namaste
Master, and I had met online when I responded to one of his general
posts in the alt.sadistic Usenet group, exactly what about I don't
remember, and being new and curious about the BDSM lifestyle had offered
myself to him as a cyber and chat and phone slave. Over the course of
the next few months we had become friends as well as teacher and student
and Master and Slave. His subwife Cathy didn't mind at all, they having
an open and different kind of marriage than most, she even participating
sometimes during our chatroom and voice-phone training sessions. My
poetic thoughts and affections could wax infinitely about all his
positive and even some of his more interesting negatively balancing
attributes, but let's just say that he thinks different, acts different,
eats different, talks different, writes different, and now in my arms my
nose next to his face as we friendly hug and kiss even smells different
than any man I've ever known.
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++
The ride from the airport to his modest home in west Raleigh took
forty-five minutes to go the six miles, the infamous traffic on I-40
that he told me about being as bad as the time I went on a business trip
to Chicago and got caught on the infamous Eisenhower Expressway in the
middle of rush hour there too. A light dusting of half-melted snow
glistened like so much h2o'd bleached beachsand through the edge of the
veil of deep woods that '40 tunneled through. Easing off the eightlane
up the offramp and down Harrison Avenue, my Master made noises about
eating dinner first before going to the house, taking me on a quick tour
of what was left of "old Cary".
The three of us ate dinner at the Outback steakhouse in Cary.
Conversation between he and I was lively but not forced on any and every
topic we could think of, except the most obvious one that has brought me
a thousand miles from Kansas City to my Master. My fellow Subbie
interjected this thought or that observation from time to time
appropriately, but kept her presence pretty much lowkeyed in the
background despite sitting snuggled next to me in the highbacked booth.
Subwife orders her steak medium, and I medium rare, but Nam' steps in
and tells the waiter with polite domination that "she'll have hers rare;
put it on the grille just long enough to warm it, but make sure it's
left good and bloody" the waiter looking surprised by his command but
scribbling it down on his order pad anyway.
That evening my Master tied me and SubCathy up and did some mild scenes
with us, but nothing wild, nothing extravagant like we would have on the
morrow. He seemed to take devlish delight in nipple clipping both myself
and Cathy together as we knelt wrists tied behind respective backs
sitting across from each other, little luv brushes across our backs with
a birch rod bundle making us pull back from each other stretching our
nipples and breasts out loopingly horizontally as we did.
SubCathy ran to the grocery store as a fairly heavy downfall of snow
began, fearful that we might be snowed in without a way to get necessary
supplies later that weekend. "Don't worry, Slave Jen…" my Master
informed me as he took slow delights with me in our momentary privacy by
lightly caning me as I knelt over his lap my pinkish tampon string
hanging evidenced of similar color to my redding backside as his
dominating mastery of me continued "…it's been very warm and sunny for
the past two days, the roadsurfaces are too warm for the snow to stick,
we'll still be able to have our outing tomorrow…"
The front door then bedroom door creaked open as Cathy came in to our,
my Master's and my, playtime. She had been gone for over two hours,
obviously trying to give us a little privacy. She was sweet. I hoped to
become as practiced and thoughtful a' slave to my shared Master and
friend as she was to her husband and Master too.
Blindfold being folded over and around my eyes as my body lay prone on
the rough cotton fabric sheets my face buried in a pillow pushing the
scarf being used as a gag deeper into my mouth restricting my air supply
my wrists and ankles stretched taught to the four posts of the modern
manufactured Colonial-style tubed waterbed my fellow Sub, Cathy,
switched for a second as her bare hand layed into my openly splayed cunt
as my Master shoved his condom-covered cock deep inside my ass while
working my heaving shoulderblades with a taming touch of his birchrod
bundle. Tying us together in a peapod sixty-nine, Master worked whatever
hole of either of us he wished with his cock as his leathered riding
crop popped and stung whatever fleshmounds caught his sweetly wicked eye
whether that flesh be breast or buttock or back or legs. Dimutaed but
not spent we three slept as Master and Slaves should, equals but
different, different in our chosen roles but not in our respect or love
for each other.
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++
SubCathy kissed me full on the lips good-bye as my Master Namaste and I
walked down the flagstone walk to his car and our destiny. I shook and
shuddered this time not from rushing anticipation but from real creeping
fear. As much as I thought I knew about him and even after a good
night's play session, our relationship in a couple of hours was going to
go from that of play to very, very drop-dead serious. Always be careful
what you want, for you just might get it, especially if you work hard
for months and months for it.
Our backpacks full of supplies and accouterments bounced off the
backseat and onto the floorboard as his oldish Taurus wagon jostled
along the rough two lane blacktop country road towards the entrance to
Raven Rock State Park. Being a total masochist and painpig and hurtslut
but not an exhibitionist I had expressed some misgivings about doing my
initiation on public land in a state-owned public park, but Nam' had
poo-pooed my fears telling me that Raven Rock Park was huge and that he
knew most every square inch of it having gone there way before it was
even a park and not to sweat it that he knew of a perfectly totally
private place for us. A park ranger drove up behind us as we waited
having gotten there a few minutes before opening time, unlocking the
huge Masterlock and welcoming us on in.
My new L. L. Bean hiking boots quickly accumulated a corona of snow and
ice on their bottoms and around their edges as my back ached from its
gearload and my uterus protested my cycle and my eyes hurt from the
glare of the deepwoods snowblanket as Nam' spun us off the marked path
and up and down a couple of steep ravines and further along a deer trail
that only he and not even the deer could see. My right ankle finding an
old stumphole that had been camouflaged by the fresh layer of pristine
snow that fell just hours before, my heart and desires and fanatsies all
snapped with the same sound as what sounded like my ankle breaking like
a dried old twig. I screamed.
"Nammy!!!…" I cried I mean I literally cried calling out to him in my
special pet name that only I was permitted to call my Master "…I think
I've broken my ankle…damn it to hell!!!"
"Let me take a look…" he said as his pack dropped to the ground and my
one-fiftyish weight dropped with no ceremony atop it, his hands unlacing
my boot and examining and poking and proding my limb which still shone
light ropemarks from the night before "…nope, no bruising, no swelling
much, no bones sticking through, you probably just sprained it a
little…here, that's the noise you heard, silliest JenSlave of mine…"
he chuckling as an old but thick freshly broken twig was fished out of
the shallow old hole that once held a tallish tree "…c'mon, we don't
have much further to go…you'll be alright…c'mon, we….you have come
too far not to complete your journey now".
Placing my arm on his broad shoulders we sauntered through these woods
he apparently knew so well, busting our way through a thicket of short
Christmas-type spruce trees until we came to a roundish clearing about
sixty yards in diameter, two lone oak trees about six feet apart each
about two feet around at their trunks being in the almost exact center
of the circle. Kinda five or six feet in front of them was an old
fireplace ring on the ground made from loosely assembled fist-sized to
basketball-sized rocks, a dark pile of old ashes in the middle of the
fire ring shading the white snow above them gray.
To either side of the firering and almost parallel to the two oak trees
were two faerie stools made from three or four oblong riverstones with
flattened surfaces, large and sturdy enough for someone to sit on. The
site was old but recently used site for ritual purposes. The thoughts of
what kind of ritual purposes raced through my mind. Surely my Master
wasn't involved in evil rituals, not the non-consensual or truly evil
ones at least.
"It's time, Slave Jen…it's time…" he barked to me "…drop your pack
and be very, very still".
Angular rays and shadows pierced the forest deep as the morning sun
continued its routine rise above the North Carolina countryside. My
Master fumbled the stuff he needed out of the packs initially, going off
for a few moments to find some decent firewood. The cold started to peek
through my skisuit as I stood motionless in the level chill, but I
didn't dare break command and move even to shuffle my feet to keep them
warm, an involuntary shiver from the cold and from anticipation catching
his notice as he built and lit a teepee-style fire above the old patch
of snow-covered ashes.
The heat from the building fire felt kind to my skin as Master began
shedding my clothes after I pulled my boots off, my ankle still sore but
feeling much better now. Leaving me in bra and panties only between the
trees having let me put my socks and boots back on to keep my tootsies
from being frostbit, Master then dug out from his pack and fiddled with
a portable CD player and set of battery-powered speakers for a moment,
sounds of a Gregorian chant album eeeking tinny from the tiny speakers
softly but loud enough to mask over choruses of noises I knew would be
coming soon fromth mine lips.
My southern European Italian and Greek ancestry thin blood made me
shiver in the equivalent of northern European cold.
"Are you ready, my Slave Jen…are you ready for the last step of your
first beginning, your new life as my total and complete slave?…"
"Yes, Master…I am…I am ready…" noises were made as our eyes sought
each other out, his gaze fixing so deeply upon mine that all doubt left
seconds ago was now gone as his hands roughly pulled my bra and panties
off me, his hands slapping my tits and ass and wherever he wished as he
wished.
"Then kneel and kiss, then."
I knelt naked in the snow and kissed his boots as he knelt over me and
slapped my ass as hard as he could leverage. Touching my shoulder to
lift me up as ropes and cuffs came forth I soon found myself war-eagled
between the two sacred oak trees, wrists bound and arms pulled taught
upwards, ankles bound and legs spread open wide horizontally towards the
trunks of the trees. The yellow and orange flames of the fire moments
before now wimpering down to red-hot coals, waves of heat shimmering and
shattering the holographic cold that surrounded me. Eyes open my mouth
was partially closed with a shaped leather gag with air holes punched in
the front. My Master's hands roughly slapped at my breasts, hitting them
much harder than I thought he would have but glad that he did, before
moving around to my ass and open cunt, his roughened skin peeling into
my softer with an untamed force.
Then "thheeewwwhacckkk!!!" as a cat o'nine tails found my nakedly
exposed back from nowhere. I hadn't seen the whip come out of any of the
packs before feeling it. Making a show of it, Master dipped the dangles
into the sticking snow for a few seconds between each stroke to my front
too, taking great delight as my eyes widened and screams of very real
pain and delightful dread hiccupped forth from the deepest part of my
soul to my mouth, my screams being orchestrated to the timing of the
chants coming from CD player's external speakers, a perfect harmony of
pain and pleasure.
He didn't hold back. I didn't want him to. The love I felt for my Master
I know had to show throw the windows to my soul of my eyes as my body
convulsed and thrashed from the continuing rain of blows to all parts of
my naked putrid flesh save my very nice and pedicured feet protected by
my Bean boots thank you very much. Trickles of blood started oozing from
dermal abrasions on my tits and stomach and back, cold freezing their
runnings in place on my pinkening pale flesh.
Rockets of pain shot through my very soul when Master then started
caning my breasts and butt and back. Sideways flicking my nipples with
short punchy swipes, hitting anglely enough not peel them off but hard
enough to send pure bolts of pain through them to the center of my
brain, I know I had to have passed out for a moment as Master got a look
of concern on his face and went over to the packs to fumble through
them.
An ammonia cap being broken under my nose bringing me back to
consciousness, he continued his initial workover of me with a large
studded paddle. Hitting my forced tied pussy square with it, I couldn't
help but pee myself after the blow, the blow sending such a mixed
measure of pleasure and pain. He just smiled and laughed at my temporary
incontinence as he threw something atop the coals its handle hanging
over the perimeter rocks that contained them as he approached me closer,
removing the gag which had muffled my screams so effectively.
In his hand was a scalpel, it's new disposable blade glinting in the
rays of the rising sun which now shone closer overhead. "Are you ready,
Slave Jen, to become my property, my Slave for life, once and for all,
for all eternity?"
"Yes, Master…YES!!!…" I shouted and hissed at him in reply "…do
it, do it now!!!"…make me your Slave, mark me, brand me, do it now!"
His day old unshaven beard broken highlighted how without misogyny his
heart felt, his smile of love and devotion to me, his Slave, just
melting my heart. While he enjoyed all we had done and would do, it had
been me initially and not him that had brought up the subject after he
made a passing reference to it in one of our past cyber training times
together.
"Kiss and suck the blood of your Master first, Slave!" he commanded me
as in one motion he pricked a main artery in his wrist with his new
scalpel, a squirt of blood geysering towards my face as he held it an
inch away from my mouth. I searched his eyes for pain but didn't see
any.
He had simply willed his body and soul to me with one decisive flick of
the edge without fear.
The thin streamed of heart-forced blood tasted so sweet in my mouth. I
sucked and sucked it's nourishing and metamorphosing nutrients into the
deepest recesses of places I didn't want to acknowledge even existed
even then. As I sucked, extreme clotting took place way too quickly for
an ordinary human but then again my Master wasn't ordinary by any
stretch of the imagination, and the font of my change stopped for a
second.
His well-wielded scalpel then knifeplayed all over my body,
gingerslicing me just enough to leave traces and ever so slightly open
the top layer of my skin up in places but not often or deep enough to
where it would leave permanent scars after a week or two of healing.
Healing. That's what my Master was doing to me and the epiphany of it
hit me like the ton of proverbial bricks, he was healing me, healing my
wounded soul.
His hand roughly mauled my open cunt and pulled my saturated tampon out.
Using it like a Renaissance master artist, the essence of my feminine
being was collaged over the base color of the strokes of his
scalpelplay, its salty chemistry stinging my deliwounds more bitterly
than the capillarial blood than initially ran from underneath them. My
mouth opened up and screamed a scream of rebirth. His mouth found mine
as he kissed me deeply, his arms pulling me to him before pulling back
and shoving my wiped but still fresh-soaked tampon in my mouth. Our eyes
not breaking contact, I chewed on the blood-soaked rayon in act of both
perfect defiance and perfect submission. A long couple of yards away
from me, the shaft of branding iron was turning from black to grey as
its designhead became white atop the yellow-orange of the glowing coals.
Nam' tugging the string I released my oral grip on my feminine appliance
Master tossed it to the edge of the open circle in the deep woods of our
power and soul exchange like so much superflouy, his mouth finding mine
once again before leaning back away from me once more, with a "it's
time, Slave, it IS time..,"
On my reddened and nicked and knifeworked chest, more specifically the
front to left side of my left breast, a practiced hand drew "my" design"
with razor-pointed felt tip pen, the design of my Master's symbol of
ownership of me, a design so special and sacred to me that I dare not
speak of it even now except in the most general of terms. The red-dotted
scalpel being waved before my eyes I was hypnotized by its cobra charm.
Master broke his gaze to focus on the task at hand. Breaking my skin and
muscle as it broke whatever remained of my free will, the slipstream
edge of the blade carved into my titflesh like a metal jetstream parting
the old me from the new me.
Miscellaneous torrents of blood poured from my designwound, the smell of
fresh blood mingling with the smell of old menstrual blood from the
woundpainting I had received just a moment prior.
As the scalpel continued its paring of the dead part of my soul from the
newly born entity of it, I didn't scream. I don't know why, but I just
didn't. Master Namaste searched my eyes for reasons why for a moment and
finding none continued finishing up his edgeplay claiming of me.
Going over to the firering, he scooped some damp cold ashes out from one
side of the old fireplace. Shoving them under my nose for me to smell,
they stunk of cold and bitter and funky. I didn't react. I didn't react
until he smeared the ancient darkening substance into my open claiming
body design, a scream I know my dearest mother in Kansas City who would
have fainted at best if not had a heart attack at worse if she knew I
was giving my body and soul totally to my new Master in such a way as
this might have heard from its raw volume, the acidity and impurity of
the old and wise ashes giving a new purity of purpose to my life as I
screamed and screamed and screamed until oxotosis and carbon dioxide
build up in my system finally took place and made me lose my breath,
Nam' just smiling a sweet smile of knowing he had done his job all too
well.
Before I could recovere fully, he darted over to the firering and came
back with the white-hot brand. He had told me earlier that the hotter
the brand was at time of placement the better it would be for me, since
a third degree burn was a third degree burn and the quicker the brand
was on and off my flesh the better it would be for me, but even after
having his mark of ownership carved and sooted into my left breast I
still wasn't ready for this.
"No!!!…please, Master, NOOOO!!!.." I screamed so loudly from my
diaphragm and third chakra that again my bladder released and a chug of
stomach acid rose up to my throat but it was too late. Vain spasms were
made as I pulled what little slack there was in the ropes that bound me
between the companion trees that had been my witnesses to my eternal
transformation. The faint smell of burned flesh whiffed to my nostrils
as the searing brand cooled itself on the outside flank of my right
asscheek. A few loose flakes of happy snow fell from the apogee of the
sky as melting fingers of frozen precipitation plunged from branches
nearby their whiff whiff and plop plop on the crusted woodsfloor echoing
happy murmurings within my heart. As my life's ether broke free of my
earthly shell and slammed through the walls that surrounded my Master's
heart, my consciousness faded as the pain from the sizzling emblazone
began its rushing trickle towards my medulla.
Silence. Silence in my mind. Silence in the sentry woods that surrounded
our sacred space. Silence from my Master. Only my own heart beat to keep
time to the rhythm of my new life. Slowly my pulse hydrauliced my
eyelids open to reveal the sight of my Master Namaste.
The sun was three-quarters to the west, two or three hours or more
having passed since my passing out from the finishing pain of the brand,
the last mark of Nam's ownership beguiling this humble painslut's
ultimate realization. My bonds were gone as Master cradled me close to
him as he held my naked and bleeding body bleeding both from my
untamponed cunt and the superficial knifeplay peelscratches that he had
given earlier as we lay close on the hardish frozen ground wrapped
Indian-style in an old blanket. The scarification device on my left
breast and my still smelly of firedestroyed flesh on my right buttcheek
pulsed with an unsyncopated dissonance. Master's lips melted to mine as
my trickling bleeding cunt melted to his probing fingers as I shivered
from the cold and my total submission and he from his heating passion
and total dominance of every earthly molecule of my body.
Tears flowed from the corners of my eyes. Not from the pain of my new
birth for that felt pleasant if not ecstatic but from the pain of an old
life and self given up for the past promise and now realized reality of
the presentness of my total loss of innocence.
A large hand gently popping both my ash-filled scar of identity and my
new blistered brand of possession, Master urged me to my feet and pile
of clothes so that we could scurry out of our voluntary confinement of
altered universe and back home to Raleigh where I would eventually
assume my role as co-Sub and wife to my Master and his primary. As I
half-staggered out of the main trail of Raven Rock State Park holding on
to my Master for balance still drunk with my endorphin rush from the
purest pain sources happily received, the park ranger that had let us in
that morning ushered us out locking the gate behind us but not before
his nose twitched picking up the bloodhound scenttrail of blood and
burned flesh that shed off my healing body and healed soul giving us a
curious but harmless look as the sun set below the trees and my future
rose above my Master.
+++++++++++++++++++
This story may be freely archived and distributed by anyone for any
reason, provided: 1) the story remains verbatim intact as written, 2)
full credit of the author is maintained, and 3) the email address of the
author, namastemaster@yahoo.com, and this copyright permissions trailer
also remains with the story…Copyright 2000 by Namaste Master.
-30-
--
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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