October 5, 2000

Some moments are just meant for savouring.  Moments that are indelibly etched in my mind forever.  Memories i know i will have for years and years to come, and i pray i never get so old that i forget them.  Memories that begin in the darkness of the night, created by the softest of sounds, the subtlety of touch.

      i don't know what woke me up so early in the morning. Perhaps it was my need for water, or maybe it was because i sensed Master moving softly under the covers.  i glanced at the clock with one bleary eye and noted it was only just a bit after five.  There was still a blackness to the world outside and a silence broken only by the distant barking of a dog. 

      i reluctantly pushed the blankets aside and felt the chill of the air on my skin as i traveled down our narrow hall to the washroom.  my eyes squinted shut as the sudden pain of light hit them.  No matter how hard i've tried to get past my fear of the darkness, it seems the fear is here to stay, so now i try to conquer the dimmer switch, turning it as slowly as possibly in the vain hope of attaining the lowest light possible.  It never works, and several moments always go by before i can open my eyes again.

      i made my way to the kitchen, switching on the light over the stove, then pouring myself a generous amount of water from the tap.   i gulped it down.   i made my way back to the bedroom, switching lights off as i went, and rushed those last few steps back to the bed as my eyes tried to adjust to the blackness once again.  i always feel so vulnerable in that moment.  Yet i always do it, so perhaps this ritual of light/no light is a subconscious need.  i'm sure Freud would have an opinion.

      It was good to snuggle back under the sheets; to feel Master's long body near mine.  i lay quietly on my back and began to drift off to sleep again.  But Master wasn't asleep and i felt Him move toward the tiny table beside the bed, could hear Him touching something.  In the past, if He's unable to rest, He switches on the small lamp and spends some time reading.  In my half dream-like state of consciousness, i thought this was what He was doing and rolled to my right side, burying my face under the covers.  my eyes were closed and i didn't notice that the light had never come on.

      i felt cold sharp steel pressed against my spine.  my eyes flew open and i moaned.  The steel, guided by nothing more than His sense of touch in the darkness, traveled further down, across my butt, then back up and over my shoulders.  He pulled me on to my back again and the blade found its way over my breasts and my belly.  His fingers pulled at my nipples, causing them to stand up.  The blade scraped over their sensitivity. 

      He slapped my legs open and the blade explored the more private depths of my body.  i was caught in the fear of the darkness, the idea that He couldn't "see" what He was doing and didn't even have His glasses on.  i was caught in the arousal of what was being done to me ... the edginess of a sharp blade that could cut me on a whim or a moment's slip.  The slow, sensual exploration of cold steel against warm skin.  Vulnerable skin.  i was caught in the aroma of sex.

      i felt possessed.  

      The knife was set aside and  i became physically possessed as well.  my arms were raised over my head and pinned down at the wrists.  The same tempo used by the cold steel blade on my body, was repeated.  Yet replaced by a warm, musky, male blade. Slow, steady ... darkness and breath.

       Night sounds blending with the bark of a dog far away.