Reality in the Twilight Zone

Her first public admission of submissiveness was made in the chat room. Here she was able to meet other submissives like herself, as well as meet Dominants.

Neshe, was a Dominant.

With any Dominant, Snama showed respect and courtesy but also stood ground not to be taken. She was sure that if she would show great strength and character she could only be taken by a Dominant of equally great or greater strength and character.

This is what she desired; a King to her Queen.

Neshe, was a King. He had a regal presence, strong enough to reach Snama via internet chat. In Neshe, Snama felt she had met her match, a man who could challenge her, mind and body, heart and soul. A man, she was sure, could make her Aman's. ____________________

Submission

In submission, Snama felt the number one gift she could give was trust.

Flying across the world, to a land unknown, to a man she felt equally that she knew and did not know at all, this took trust.

Now, naked and before him she felt both powerful and submissive. In fact, she believed her feeling of power to come from her submission.

Neshe had commanded her to part herself, and she did submit. "Part your buttocks for me, Snama" he had said " I want to see all of you. See your bundd." She had parted herself and burned with humility under his eyes.

Submission was the flame that strengthened her.

She had parted herself, and he had fallen into her with his eyes. His gaze seemed a penetration of rampant desire. She called to him with her gift. He knew he tortured her with shame. She knew she tortured him with lust.

Two captives they were, each held fast by the nature of the other.

____________________

Des flammes d'enfer fortifier si vous danser vite et avec direction.

Her branding, while trying her emotions, did bring her joy. He marked his territory and his territory was she herself. She welcomed him. He was Man, perfect compliment to her woman. She allowed him to stake his claim.

She was signified, five times, in his name.

The comfort and joy she received from her branding was almost inexplicable. She took it as a promise, a promise from Neshe to care for her as a valuable complement.

She knew that in return for the gift of his name, his caring, his passion, she would honor him. She would act with a grace that met his gracefulness. She would return his passion and more.

Neshe undid her. He stripped her so completely that she felt he could see inside her soul. He took her with intensity and she did feel ravaged. He delved into all of her entrances, with his hands, his mouth, and his male sword.

Snama wanted it, him, in all ways, even those ways she had never before experienced. She trusted him completely.

A man had never entered her back passage. Neshe made it clear that this was going to change. During their lovemaking he began to prepare her for this eventuality.

Deeply, with his fingers, he entered the tightly closed door of her bottom. Shame was soon overtaken by lust, and she became wanton. She called out to him over and over in a soft but desperate cry "Yes! Yes Neshe, oh yes!".

To his satyr, she became a nymph.

Deep dark desire he unleashed from her step by step.

____________________

[It is impossible to go through life without trust. That is to be imprisoned in the worst cell of all, oneself. GRAHAM GREENE THE MINISTRY OF FEAR]

Neshe was off, away on his business day. Snama was left to her own devices. She wandered to his library and felt as though she was walking into a part of his mind. A man's library is an enticing place.

She ran her hands across his books, stroking the spines of familiar and loved titles, curiously pulling down unknown titles of interest and fanning the pages front to back. At the back of the book she would stop and that's where she would begin to read. From here, she would quickly pass through to the front and slowly approach backwards and she would decide if this book held any potential to excite her.

The leather bindings on certain books, the varieties of papers, the variety of texts, there was so much just sensually to enjoy, without truly even going to content.

She breathed the paper of a modern textbook and experienced a schoolgirl shiver that raced through her like static from her nipples to her clitoris. Deeply she inhaled and allowed the feeling again, this time savoring it slowly, flipping the pages so the scent of the book could feed her.

She smiled, closed the book and replaced it to its original position.

Snama wandered to the table that stood in the corner and picked up a paper...

Orientalism, Self Exoticism, and the Oriental Despot: Nasir ud Din Shah -- Ali Behdad

My paper deals with Nasir al Din Shah's photographs of his harem and the ways in which such self representations are mediated by orientalist aesthetic modes. I will read a series of these photographs to address both the aesthetic dimensions of his work and the ideological implications of these representations. Among the issues that I will discuss is the notion of self exoticism, and oriental perception of oneself that enable the King to both empower himself as a King and fall into European ideologies of otherness.

Snama took immediate interest in the paper and sat herself down in one of the comfortable leather chairs to read. While she attempted to remain focused on the topic, she found her mind wandering over and over, back to Neshe, back to his expressed desire and his confident determination that he would get what he wanted.

Again a shiver ran through her; this time not a school-girlish tickle of pleasure, but the full out blatant rush of sexual sensibility of a newly maturing woman. A red hot blood rush and a tensing of her bottom, her anus, and the backs of her thighs.

For how long she held this dark thought, held her breath, held her tension, she did not know. Eventually she laid the paper down in her lap and rubbed her tired eyes. Enough of studying. It was time to breathe....the exhalation especially important.

Exhalation is the much undervalued, underestimated part of breathing. Laughter, sobbing, sighing, sex . . . these natural occurrences are often a well needed release of pent up exhalation of breath and emotion.

Snama leaned back in the chair, not in a mood to laugh or to cry. But sex, this did not leave her mind. She was alight.

She unfastened the tie at the waist of her loose gauze trousers and slipped her right hand down under her panties, laying the tip of her right finger on the aroused pistil nestled within her.

She barely moved the soft pad of her fingertip. There was enough stimulation between the two connection points. The sexual build up was extremely quiet and effective. She moistened, and her finger reached into herself and trailed upwards into the hot crevice, picking up her own juices, and carrying them back to her highly stimulated bud, lubricating it. Tiny, almost imperceptible movements she made, but to her they were a wick burning toward a dynamic explosion.

The explosion did not take long in coming. With the stimulation of the place, the promise and the threat of the man, the workings of her own hand; she achieved a heavy, pulsing, satisfying orgasm.

And she sighed, a deep and needed exhalation of relief.

____________________

Snama accepted the luncheon offered by Neshe's staff, and sat quietly in his library enjoying the meal. As she dined, she began to think on Neshe.

She thought of his hand in their entire meeting, his pursuit, and her slow fall. The trace of a smile crossed her lips as she thought of how the image of a hennaed hand had meant so much. Even still the impact of this gesture surprised her.

The thought was a trigger. She'd like to surprise Neshe now. She'd like to present a new adornment, a new image, for him to discover. She wanted a graphic that said...You are welcome here.

She did not know what she was inviting Neshe to, except that whatever it was, she would submit willing.

Speaking with one of Neshe's household help, she described what she wanted to do. Quick arrangements were made for later that morning.

Snama was going to make a surprise presentation to Neshe when he next uncovered her. A delicate gift he would find . . . her new submission.

____________________

The Hips of a Woman

It was still hours yet before Neshe was to arrive back in his home. Snama had her gift ready.

She took from her portfolio a sheet of her favorite writing paper, high quality and white. With a fine nibbed fountain pen and black ink, she wrote to Neshe an invitation to open her.

"N, unwrap me, find what you will."

Snama gently blew the ink dry, folded the paper. With a whisper of a kiss she attached an invisible seal.

She asked one of the servants to please attach the note to Neshe's bathroom mirror.

It was done.

____________________

When she slept They stood in the semi dark warmth of his den. Naked they were, face to face, his arm across her back, his one hand supporting her waist, the other hand plunged between her legs. She was arched trustingly back against his strong arm. Her left hand held his shoulder, her right his hip. Her head lolled back, her hair flowing down.

He had his mouth to her left breast, attached there, suckling with such enjoyment she was maternally pleased. His finger fucked into her, effortlessly, with a rhythm mixed by hers as she rocked on his hand in time with the blue, oh so blue music infusing the room.

She swayed in his arm so relaxed by the complete sensuality of sound, scent, sight, and touch. She was aroused too, by the wonderful selfishness with which he was using her body. She reveled in his enjoyment of her and his talent at teasing her.

As he sucked her nipple she reached for his cock and held it, hard and weighty inside it's velvety skin.

Her hand moved on him with the same rhythm as her sway. She became entranced. She could stay like this forever; nursing him, feeding his mouth with her energy, providing another dynamic by stroking his erection, and finally, completing the circuit, devouring his energy with the mouth of her womb.

Soon, she felt a familiar tingling, a rushing of nerves beneath her nipple in her breast. It was the rush of her stimulated milk glands. As he sucked her and fingered her more and more her relaxation built and a sweet little taste of milk did flow into his mouth.

A burning blush spread across her cheeks.

He was clearly surprised and sucked greedily with an intense excitement for a few frenetic moments. She stroked him while he fingered into her, passion rising to its peak. She felt him build to an intense need, and before she knew it he had his hand on her shoulder and crashed her forcefully to her knees.

He held his cock ...aiming it at her like a threat, ready to come. She reached backwards placing her hands on her heels, arching upward for him to target. She laid her head back submissively exposing her neck.

It was immediate. He came in hot uncontrollable spasms, moaning out and splashing her throat, her breasts, the nipples. She gasped in delight. He panted in exhaustion and relief. She looked up to him and he down to her...

She smiled, and rubbed him gently into her skin to her own satisfaction.

Oh! If Neshe could see into her mind....

Seeded there in her private thoughts was a garden being planted by Neshe. Her dream flowering from so few words among so many..."even babyish if you will".

She sank herself deeper into the pillows and covers of Neshe's bed. Against her naked skin she felt those same sheets that wrapped him in his unconsciousness. She slipped off into her thoughts and her mid afternoon sleep resumed.

____________________

Snama awoke to the soft knocking at the door that was her five o'clock wake up call. Arising from the bed, she raised her hands over her head and arching her back, stretched the sleep from her body, her jaw straining against a yawn.

She drew up the sheets and remade the bed. Neshe was to arrive home in approximately one hour. Her heart beat faster at the prospect. He was not accustomed to arriving home to a woman. She wanted to be prepared, dressed, when he came through the door. Ready at his call. She felt this to be the style of the house, that all is clean, in place and ready for Neshe.

Clean. There was a word that suited him in more ways than one.

Naked still from her nap, Snama entered the inner sanctum of Neshe's bathroom. This was the place where his perfect grooming took place.

She gazed at the glass shelves that attached at either side of the mirror over his basin. Here were the items he chose to care for his body . . . simple personal items and products selected clearly for their practical or sensual efficiency, not to satisfy egotistical needs. Neshe was simply confident.

In the center of the mirror . . . her note, affixed there before her own eyes. The sight of it caused a rush of something quite undefinable. Inviting Neshe to interpret her, openly . . . the thought caused her to shiver and tense though the room was warm.

She looked at the reflection of the flaming scroll she'd had hennaed on her hips, turning to see the back view, where the tips of the scroll turned curls around her brands then aimed to the center of her buttocks. What would he think?

Snama exhaled deeply and turned from the mirror. She walked to the shower, starting the water to moderate its temperature. Below her feet the beautiful gleaming black marble floor risked spotting. She took a mat that hung at the edge of the tub and placed it outside the shower.

With her hand she reached in, tested the water and finding it comfortable stepped under Neshe's shower, feeling for the first time the stimulating sensation of the very water that cleansed him daily. She faced into the spray, leaning her head back and feeling the sharp points of water against her breasts, her nipples hardening in reaction.

The heat of the water stung the burns of her brands as if Neshe were there again branding her in five places at once. Gasping, she quickly reached and turned the water cooler to ease the pain.

She picked up his soap, held it up under the showerhead to wet it and then slicked it across her breasts, over her shoulders, down her arms, around her belly. The masculine scent of the soap pleased her and she inhaled it as it rose in the steam. She closed her eyes and sighed.

So calm, so private, so clean. She continued to smooth Neshe's soap over her body long beyond necessity. She was sensualizing. This soap had been shaped from the repeated caressing of Neshe's skin. This soap had traveled places on Neshe that Snama longed to visit.

She did not dare to rub the bar between her legs. Instead, she lathered her hands and put the soap back from where she had taken it. With her hands, Snama cleansed her private parts thoroughly and then let the shower rain down and rinse her.

His shampoo was marked clearly "For Men" but this did not deter her from using it. After the standard "lather, rinse, repeat" she turned off the water and stepped from the shower.

She picked up a towel and bending so her hair would fall forward she wrapped it up tight. A second towel was used to dry her skin. When she was dried, she wrapped her body in the towel.

Before the basin again, she took his talc (!baby powder! she smiled) and dusted under her arms and breasts, between her legs and buttocks and on her toes and the soles of her feet.

She removed the towel from her hair and blew it partially dry with his high powered blow dryer.

Looking about the room, replacing anything she may have moved...even wiping the finger prints she left on his blow dryer...she knew the space was clean, things were in place, and all was ready for Neshe. Including herself.

She dressed quickly into her day clothes and slipped out of Neshe's room, up the stairs to the guestroom, where she would dress for the evening and await his call.

____________________

Snama's blue eyes tended to be accented by the colors of certain blues and greens. Knowing this, she had chosen her second and third saris in these tones. She had laid out on the bed the beautiful soft ocean blue/olive green silk, trimmed in gold.

The ring of the cell phone caught her half naked. First startled and then thrilled, knowing it was he, she leapt onto the bed where she had tossed the phone. She rolled happily onto her back with a beaming smile as she heard the plans for the evening. She almost lost track of his words as she became enchanted in his charm. She remained so enchanted even after he had hung up the phone and took several seconds to realize she ought to get busy and dressed.

Well that calls for a slight change, she thought after the call. She had assumed they would be at home for dinner. What Neshe described was something more formal, and she therefore would dress in her most formal of the three saris, a fine silk of twilight blue.

At her neck, a medium gold chain with a pendant of sapphire surrounded by diamonds. At her ears, diamond studs, two in each ear. Her hair, swept up in a French roll and neatly pinned, stray trails of hair swept behind her ears.

Snama had perfumed as usual with her floral scent before dressing, but noticed now something different. She thought "I smell like India". She brought her forearm to her face and inhaled the scent from her skin and warmth ran through her.

It was the scent of her, and the scent of Neshe. His soap, their talc, her perfume. She felt suddenly enveloped by him, closed her eyes and inhaled again. Her thoughts were broken by a knock at the door.

She opened the door and was told by the servant that master's car was waiting out front. Snama wrapped the silk of the sari about her shoulders, and with a heart beating for him, went down the stairs to meet Neshe.

_______________________________

Part 11. . . Reality in the Twilight Zone

It was just force of habit that awoke Neshe at his usual time.

Snama was fast asleep, having rolled away from his groin, oblivious to everything now, in the abandon of someone who has newly rediscovered her shamelessness.

For long moments Neshe just sat there, looking at her, flat on her back, one arm thrown to the side, the other crooked, the palm resting below her left breast, her thighs spread wide.

The rose tinged brands on either side of her yoni were like guardians to her citadel, guardians he had placed to ever remind her of himself, no matter who entered that coral portal.

He bent, quickly placed a soft kiss on her yoni, and left.

_______________________________

She had been left to her own devices, without any intimation as to where he had gone, when he would be back, what they would be doing ...?

And yet she found herself completely at home.

She had no idea how the servant became aware that she was ready for breakfast.

She had just dressed, and was thinking of going out of the room when she was requested to let know what Madam would have.

The servant did not mention his master, and she did not inquire.

She just asked him to serve what Neshe usually had, and she was.

Crisp, thin loaves of unleavened bread, fried in butter, a rich, aromatically spiced omelet, a pitcher of freshly expressed carrot juice with a tangy bite, which she was later to learn came from a few wisps of ginger shredded into the carrot. And rich, creamy coffee afterwards.

She made a mental note of talking to Neshe about the richness of his diet.

When she was done, she was given a pile of local English newspapers, a cell phone, was informed that all numbers where Neshe could be reached had been entered into it, as well as the number of his doctor. And that if Madam wanted to explore the town on her own, a car was waiting.