Do not rejoice in his defeat, you men,
For though the world stood up
And stopped the bastard,
The bitch that bore him is in heat again.
-- Bertolt Brecht
Sometimes Marnie makes me so mad. The thing is, she knows exactly what she does to me and I think she enjoys it. More often than not it rarely gets on my nerves or even bothers me in the least. Each person must follow their own path, I've always believed. Only in this case, I'm able to punish Marnie when her path isn't going the direction I wish it to go.
You see, Marnie is my Slave.
Oh, I know the stigma when someone hears that word "Slave". Yet don't label either of us too harshly. In fact, I doubt any judgment that you issue would make a difference in the way I live my life.
Contrary to the definition, Marnie has chosen her lifestyle with full consent and can leave it at any moment. In fact, all she has to say is "no" and I would stop whatever I'm doing. It is really that easy. We both know it and live with that knowledge. Yet if that word is ever uttered then our relationship could never continue as it had been. Once that word is spoken, then she would no longer be my Slave.
It has yet to be uttered.
Oh, by the way, my name is Caesar. I'm Marnie's Master and, this may surprise you, friend. A Slave is not simply a sexual object, though at times I certainly use her in this fashion. It's a lifestyle between two consenting adults. Out of the privacy of our lives, we are two upper-middle-class individuals that hold jobs and do all that other couples do.
In fact that is one reason why I'm writing this today. You see, right now, my Slave Marnie is kneeling next to my seat waiting for my attention. It's early Sunday morning - I don't normally sleep much, and we had both just emerged from the small shower. She will stay kneeling like that until I say otherwise. If you never enjoyed the life of a submissive or dominant you would not understand.
Marnie doesn't know it yet, but I'm not mad at her any longer. In fact, I'm feeling rather good. She, on the other hand, most probably remembers the blows to her bottom that she received as punishment and wonders if my quiet way of dealing with her this morning means I'm still angry with her. On the contrary, actually.
I'm getting a bit ahead of myself.
It all started last evening at a friend's party. Nothing special - just that he wanted to show off his new girlfriend and his new condominium. It's been a tough climb for him and he was deserving of a small bash with a few friends.
Well, John had a bit much to drink and his mouth was speaking before his brain gave the go ahead about an hour before midnight. I had been talking with another friend about some business contracts coming up (I always seem to end up talking business wherever I go) and excused myself at an opportune moment in the conversation. I maneuvered through the crowd and made my way to the tiny kitchen (worst part of his apartment, actually). I saw that Marnie - yes the same one I was referring to earlier - and John were talking about something while three others crowded around, laughing.
Well, my Slave can be the life of the party or she may sit in the corner and watch everyone else. Usually I found it took something to bring the former out, and when I got within hearing range I found out exactly what that was.
"... no details, mind you."
Marnie was leaning in towards John and pushed for more information. "What else did he say?"
"Just that you're his Slave." Damn! Though this is the way we have decided to live our private lives, it's not normally for public consumption. Though nothing was agreed between my Slave and me, it felt as if I had broken a confidence, which John just revealed to my Slave and a few witnesses.
"Nothing else?" Just as I stood behind one of the onlookers who noticed me and looked embarrassed, Marnie reached around and pulled John's unstable drunk torso against her tiny frame. "Come on, you can tell me anything, John."
He looked surprised at the contact and shook his head negatively. Yet Marnie wasn't to be put off so fast. She didn't know him well enough to see that he was actually speaking the truth, that John knew of her submissive lifestyle with me but no details of any sort. I wondered if her actions were for her own inquisitiveness or a show for the viewers.
"Come on, Johnny?" Just as she spoke this, Marnie lowered her hand from his waist down to his buttock. From my position behind I could see that she gained a good handhold and gave my friend a firm grasp.
What happened next went very fast. John dropped the beer bottle in his grasp (Canadians love their beer) and it fell on the overcrowded counter, the crash thunderous as several empty and half-filled alcohol bottles began a domino effect. Then he jerked forward into the edge of the counter and tried to get away from that tiny but strong hand. In his drunken haze he simply slipped on the bottles about his feet to land comically upon his ass. It was obvious he was not hurt except maybe his pride. There were a few screams and a couple of hands reached for John as he fell between the three onlookers. Yet it was Marnie that I saw and watched.
Marnie had lost her grip when John felt down upon the floor, and hearing the laughs and screams, the loudest of which came from the woman I stood behind, my Slave turned her head. I could see her playful mischievous smile and she played the last few seconds up to the credit of her acting abilities.
Yet that smile immediately ended when her eyes found my own glaring towards her. Marnie could see my displeasure at her game. To be truthful, I wasn't sure if I was mad at her free hands or the way she made one of my friends look pathetic.
That's what started it.
I'll not go into details about the minutes before we finally left the party or how I became very cold towards her. It was only a fifteen minute drive, when not in midday traffic, to my boat and my home. With the top down on my Jeep she had to raise her voice, as she attempted to laugh and then excuse what I had witnessed. Finally, just as I pulled into my parking space, her voice turned angry as she tried to place the blame onto me.
Of course, I was partially at fault. The fact that I had told John anything about our relationship was breaking a confidence of sorts, though I was too angry at what I saw to even think straight about that. Those thoughts would come later. It happens rarely, but logic sometimes escapes me.
I took quick long steps down to the wharf and to my sloop. Marnie half-ran and walked to keep up to me. I ignored her completely. I'm not even sure if she had ever seen me angry before, how I become cold and very distant. It was definitely a new side to her Master, a side that must have convinced her this was not a game, and that my anger was more than just a desire to paddle her bottom or as a prelude to a hot passionate sexual encounter.
No, in fact I didn't desire her at all at that moment. When I finally entered my boat and Marnie silently came down the ladder behind me, I felt like I was about to lose my temper. I couldn't look at her, I couldn't even settle my own breathing. I knew that I had to get away or I may do something I would regret.
I pushed passed her as I started for the ladder. She looked surprised. "Where..."
Immediately I interrupted her. "Wait for me in the bedroom." I escaped into the night and walked for some distance, barely noticing the spray of water crashing the sea wall and soaking my casual clothing.
Don't get me wrong - she can and often does get me mad, yet never to the point where I had to leave to regain my composure. If there was anything in life I feared it was losing my temper. When it happened, nothing good ever came about it. It had not happened in years - long before I ever met my Slave. Oh, I definitely planned on punishing Marnie, though I have never, nor will I ever, raise a hand to her in anger. That, simply, was what the walk was for.
I'm not even sure how long it took before I returned to my sailboat. A dim light from a port hole was evidence that Marnie was still awake and awaiting me. I found her as I had requested, in the stern cabin upon the comfortable raised bed.
She sat wearing only a translucent white teddy that I had purchased for her some time ago and matching white stockings. Marnie looked lovely and I knew that this was a way for her to appease me. It wouldn't work.
I stood at the foot of the bed and coldly spoke. "I want you naked." It wasn't usual that Marnie was silent, yet I knew the look in my eye told of the dangerous mood I was in. She took the revealing and very sexy lingerie off, all the while keeping my eye. She sat kneeling waiting for me to say something else.
Coming around I pulled her firmly down upon her stomach and pulled her wrists to the corner of the bed. In a small drawer there were some silken cords that had seen recent use and I again used then to bind her wrists together and then to the corner of the bed.
"Master, please, it is too tight." I ignored her but made a note to watch the skin of her hands for discolouration.
Then I did the same to her ankles, binding them with a gentle touch of the silk scarf, tying the silk to the opposite corner of the bed. She was effectively bound, stretched diagonally across the bed, helpless to my whim.
.... There is more of this story ...