Thoughts

Slave: Broken

Here is a wonderful little piece written by my TV Maid Rebecca

Broken

The protecting glass has been shattered to reveal my slaveheart. A statue of vulnerability; exposed to be loved or crushed in my owners’ hands. Is this how a wild horse feels, when first saddled and tamed? I lie sobbing on the sofa, apologising for tears that have slipped through the welts on my skin beyond the sentry of my submission. I am raw: a branded flesh, before ice and salt heals the wound. Mistress hangs a cloak of words around my open spirit, soothing, ‘Master has broken you; it needed to be done.’ I calm into the possession of her voice, crouching my flame inside her candle. Mistress and Master exchange something in their eyes, like a jewel passed between the fingers of connoisseurs. They have taken hurt from me. With arms outstretched, I arched my bottom for the cane, frightened of the knowledge to be imparted, resisting the echo of its torture in my mind. Master’s words chilled me with their promise: ‘The first stoke will be like nothing you have taken before...’ I heard it rip through the air and bite into me, confusing all sense with the force of its kiss, a velocity overcoming feeling with sound. Then the suffering of long silences follows the searing of flesh, as stroke by stoke I am tasted. ‘You will come to crave this,’ I am told. I am caught in quick-sand between worlds, seeking the intimacy of a love that terrifes me in its engulf. My threshold has dissolved, the safety net unspun. Only a cane and voice keeps me alive, spinning in the air, until the final stoke consumes me within Master’s power. I fall to earth naked, a wave reaching out to dissolve its crest of surf on the beach, enslaved forever to this moment of breaking. When I kneel to Mistress to leave, her arms wrap the pieces of glass in place about me, collaring my heart whole in her embrace.