Dancing on the Head of a Pin

Dee shared my glorious retelling of moments the next morning over a bathing ritual at the stream. While many of the slaves dabble in the crisp waves at a deep cleft in the stream bed, Dee, I and sometimes a few others prefer this cove we have found. The grass is thick and tall, much as if the clouds reach down with a fist and hold the land like a frothy curtain. Privacy is naturally afforded, but that is not what draws us with sweet beckon like a warm honey bread. The water here is warm and bubbly. It gurgles up from dark watery ripples, where the stream appears so deep we can not see the bottom. When the liquid drags across my arms and legs, I can feel the temperatures, as if cool water is marrying the warm and they have not yet mingled to lose themselves in a common taste. We shiver, dipping low to let the caress of warmth chase away the skin's response, our hair fanning out like a life source nourished by and nourishing our surroundings.

We are neither meditative or peaceful, joyful or enraged, playful or mischievous. We are all these things, as the mood strikes and the day takes us. This morning it was basking in the heat of another blissful day on the plains, telling tales of rapture at the fingertips of those who pull our strings. Such a delicious dance to perform. My smitten had taken on a new skill and now had shades of enraptured to dress in. Dee offered a hint of pride in my new way of smiling, for she took credit for all that teaching. Then she offered me a few pointers and tips to add to my repertoire.

Eager to try them out, I headed toward the main fires that evening. There is always the hope that Brave Warrior Master will be relaxing near the heat of sparkling flames. It is a hunger, desire, longing, yearning, continuous thought that throbs in every crevice and corner of my very being. Seeing Him, fuels it. Disappointment in His absence - fuels it. Every moment in between - fuels it.

A man lingered near a wagon angled toward the main fire clearing. His shoulder pressed against the corner of platform, and dirty blonde hair lashed the boards beside Him. I knelt with my usual anxiousness, for I still feel a bit awkward at times. I never quite know where to put my knees. I was aware of my positioning before - before I knew what ecstasy could be found in the arms of a man. I am aware of the implied offering now, and the implications of such an offering and how very vulnerable it will make me feel before a man. Sweet skies, I simply knelt, tendering the service of a lovely woman at his feet.

I wished my Master was there. I tried to envision myself through His eyes. I wanted Him to see the delicate curve of my spine, the forward tip of my hip bones, the way my hair fluttered over my shoulders as if His hands swept through each strand. I felt my Master's eyes roam over the shivering shift that I wore, and the trace of reaction to my skin. I wanted to be beautiful for Him, and assure Him that I could be a part of His life among His friends and family. I wanted Him to see me, to breathe in the pride of owning - me. There is this delicious bonus in all of this, for the smile on the one I am kneeling before is a treasure to pad my silver linings with. I wanted that smile on my Master's face.

The blonde haired man had blue green eyes and a hint of smile tucked between the stubble of beard. With the formalities of offers and declines now a part of history, it turned to conversation and questions. People are fascinating creatures, and once we are both passed my nervous proposals, I am sometimes treated to a bit of getting to know these people that I am engaging with. There are times, as there was today, where I am asked who owns me. There are times where I am advised to inform my owner of pleasure in my service. That did not happen today. I have yet to run back and inform Master Fonce of the notches in my belt on the pleasure and displeasure side. It was not dissatisfaction that was laid at my feet this time, but interest. Thoughts spoken out loud of my usefulness, ideas given breath of places and positions I might satisfactorily fill. Wonder at the investment in such a woman as...me.

It scares the crap out of me.