NamasteMaster
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Joined: 8/29/2004
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My classic story . . . enjoy!
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Blood In The Snow Of Raven Rock
by
NamasteMaster
Copyright © 2000
(MF, heavy BDSM, knifeplay, bloodwork, branding, scarification, edgework,
outdoor activities, caution, 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.
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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 backpack 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.
THE END
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