Rhapsody in Blue

Dichotomised – A Golden 20's D/S Conversation via letters

For to love truly is to be lost forever

18th November 1927

Darkred nail polish is applied to my hands, hands that are writing the chronicle of my life at this very moment to last for eternity as an example of how one comes to submit to the slavery of being human – a concept no one can escape, least of all us who have encountered their living mirror image in the flesh. Did you know that I hate to wear nail polish on my fingers? Many do laugh, but it gives me the feeling to suffocate, yet! Here I am extending each period of application, every time a little longer.

Why? It is because I have looked into the mirror felt myself splitting apart. I cannot suffocate any longer for I have stepped out of my physical body attached my very matter of soul to the knowledge of your existence. I watch from afar how this fair intricate woman struggles for her sanity, how she keeps looking up and around in the hope to catch one glance of you, one hint that you too have been touched by her coming into your world; that you feel in some distant distorted way how the connection though severed by your will has not broken – for it is not your will alone that dictates the flow of – shall we call it destiny? – that thing that we as humans manage to create by fighting stubbornly for what we believe in with our deepest most secret desire.

Neither ghostly shadow that I am nor corporeal fragile past me could have anticipated how the fulfillment of her, our ideal could bring forth such a plethora of scintillating emotions, could affect daily life in ways that are far beyond what either of us intended or pictured. And yet it happened. I find myself amazed by its power, the pain, the suffering that I now place on myself in so many ways trying to understand why I am always challenged so greatly in life, by the security and genuineness of my feelings, the intensity of my intent to not let pass the good that has been transformed to be part of that me, that cut in half presence still trying to stand proud in this hailstorm of absurdities.

I hope you are smiling now, for I know how foolish this love is I feel for you (how very foolish indeed as we talk of looking at each others' face in a mirror! Cocky irony that never fails to amuse me; you know how much I love cocks.) My heart is drowning in a fire that you just as foolish as I keep burning high in your refusal to tell me you don't love me, don't want me, don't need me. Your half hearted fuck off, forget me, I am no one is unconvincing at best. It is not you who has faded to be, it is me, my newly discovered true self that was left to stumble blindly in the deep dark woods of old fairy tales with wolves attaching to my scent the instance you vanished, wolves that seek to tear and kill in cold absence of any emotion.

There is something to be read in your choice of words so marked by the different level of awareness and investment. I know that I love you way more than you feel for me, but see I realized when it comes to that one special person it does not matter, in the end I would give all of myself unconditionally either way, the difference lies in whether it will contribute to both our happiness or just yours if you ever dare to take it in via whatever way. The funny thing between us is that you specifically asked for it – all of myself in utter completion– not maybe in conversation, but with every word between a breath, in the many dreams and stories you shared with me. I believe you when you take a moment to think and defy yourself it may have been unconscious, but however it was, I heard your call and I strove, still strive to answer it.

Did you not think it possible that such a thing could happen? It angers me that you were so inattentive, that you did not protect me like a good D should have done and at the same time it endears you to me as the whole being you are beyond our lived structure. It's good to see imperfection where everything else seems to fit so naturally and easy like a missing puzzle piece. You have still no idea how much I miss the peace that the ease of our connection gave me. Maybe I am too easily satisfied, but truthfully I think I only fall for what has shown its worth; and did we not fit together well despite the countless difficulties? Hence I must admit it is still hard for me to stop envisioning the endless possibilities of what could have been if circumstance had been more fortunate, but I am getting better and back to realism so I put my effort into these lines. I know that already things will never be the same again the occasion for simplicity in mutual joy has gone forever. Just know that I would love to have the chance to get to know all of you, the D, the man, the boy, the friend, the father, the accomplice to crimes and all the little glimpses of normality.

23rd of December 1927

Now shall we talk about responsibilities and guilt? The gracious wise might say neither of us could have known what would happen once innocence and inexperience meet curiosity, defected longing and lust. Whose trait is whose shall we play a game and wonder? Fact is that you bid your time and I happened to walk past your alluring den of darkness, risked to peek into the primal hunter's grounds to be spotted and lured deeper and deeper. Oh how I enjoyed our hunt of witty back and forth my own feral nature yearned to sink completely into that soft warmth that comes when entering your own hidden core.

It satisfied you to just watch casually how I stepped closer and closer until you were able to touch me with your fingertips from behind, teasing me to turn and want for more always more. You felt yourself as the one in control but I brought my own mix of light and shadow and how you craved it both as well! ; were mesmerized by my sudden appearance and took your advantage. I was your Opium as you were my pheromone; I too was hunting you in a way sought to make you mine. The toy has come alive my Master, such is the power you execute.

Here we must make a short turn into my past reality. Until I met you my life was a tool to idealism, I was a messenger of sincerity, fought against powers that tried to quench my passion always to no avail. If you like similes I used to see myself as an angel sent to earth a task engraved upon their wings, infallible in their devotion until - until I met you, a son of Judas and my devotion all of a sudden was not mine to give any longer. Stop here and let that sink in will you, for me. Can you imagine what it felt like to understand that this is what I always had hoped for? It was a selfish wish and more selfish was my response of willfull surrender, it made me human.

Finally human! It was the want to share one's existence with one being instead of an abstract greater good. How could I not have wanted you especially since you lacked that same blow you from your feet experience, too if for different reasons. Tell me have you ever cried tears over a woman before? If nothing else my secret longing that you will do so for me should make it clear how we both are inherently tainted. If angel I was so I was doomed or destined to find myself left broken, exposed tied undone to my own St Andrews cross of black ebony, incapable of dying, incapable of giving up, cursing light and darkness in search of futile salvation. The cross keeps me up straight, pain feeds my starved soul while your caring watch was forced to retrench. If only physical pains could actually match and alter what goes on in my mind...

2nd of January 1928

Excuse me for I had to cut short my last correspondence with you right when I intended to talk about what may interest you most. I have just returned from a weekend in the countryside, a secret gathering of like-minded souls to spend the turn to a new year in well mannered cultivated hedonism and pure kinky frivolities. It wasn't quite like the scenario you came up with in your dreams, but it had its own charms. I loved to be presented and prove myself worthy of what had been promised of me.

You should have seen the dress I wore, black with an application of white feathers and a slit so long it went nearly up to my crotch. Still out to make you proud... I had on my black pearls, the long silken gloves and intricate underwear gartered for easy access. I shone that night. The host put on a gaudy version of a famous play in their widespread gardens and once it was over the real celebrations began. I was taken upstairs, past lit torches and the moans sometimes cries of other women and I could feel myself going into that state of calm reverberance.

After being told to undress I was tied and cuffed, ah the feel of the cold wood against my breast. I was given a choice for which tool would be used, but not what was to follow. The one who took over what should have been your privilege is skilled, too, and he talked calmly prepared me for what he intended to do.

I close my eyes, strain my ears and feel his presence like a cloak that will protect me from all these other pairs of eyes watching on in silence. What they don't know is that I like the fact we are being watched, it turns me on and lets me feel like thus the world will know how much I give to him, my other, my upper. He was worthy of my bowing to his being, the others were not. I can picture him how he scans my naked skin, plans where to let each strike fall, the concentration that pours from him, the affection he feels for me as I feel it for him, the way he raises his arm and lets the cane glide through the air. It is a special handmade order with thorns all over it you would call it effective I can imagine.

The first hit finds me and I flinch, the pain seeping through my body like sweet honey but it won't stay like this of course. The second and third strike follow soon and I let my bound hands grab the wood with more force tighten every muscle in my body (I wonder why). The hits come faster now some go down twice or three times at the same part of my thigh or cheek and what have been near to silent exhales turn into whisps of outcries. Twenty times; thirty; forty. I am burning now inside and out, but I don't scream, may throw my head back to make the pain travel through all my body. He does not hold back in strength and I can hear the spectators getting aroused. They talk with him astonished, some stand beside me and whisper they are surprised how good I am doing, how I make him proud. By now the marks he left must be clearly visible, everyone in the hall is watching while I am sweating and my breathing is fast. I am calm and feel safe as he unties me shortly to turn me around.

He smiles and I nod as we begin anew, arms legs, thighs and breasts creamy in sight and consistence are claimed and painted as he likes. Our breathing synchronizes and I cannot help but moan when he steps close for a sweet caress of my face and a kiss. We are the main number of the night. When the cane comes down one last time I bite my lip and draw some blood. He comes to embrace me and wipes it gently away. Five minutes turn to an eternity as we just stand in silence and feel each other's trust; I am still tied, late night has fallen.

When he steps back I close my eyes once more and think of you, how I wished we could have had more time – I miss you, so much, for reasons you would find to be so very me. With you I would have been lost and floating completely, you know it don't you, just by hearing your voice like we used to. And immediately I am flooded with guilt, guilt of betraying both of you with every step I have taken since July. Sadness burns its way up my throat, I open my eyes and inhale. I cannot let myself go like this, not in these kinds of moments. But of course I always do.

In the meantime he has brought it over and sets it up, the devils machine. Now I really feel like crying; he takes one look at me and knows, embraces me once more, takes his time to assure me. "It's ok, you can do it. " I am scared to death, but he is right: I can and I will for him. I smile bravely, he turns the lever several times to load the new wonder of technology, a simple wooden box he built with electric wiring going through it. The end he holds in his strong hands has two contacts, if loaded they will give a shock to whatever is touching them. And you can imagine where this is going. This time I scream. The undersides of the feet are worst, so is the patch of skin right above the silence of my warm folds. I cannot say how long it took, but it must have been over an hour, pain turns thought and feeling into slurs, I don't know who I am just that this pain is connected in some way to the hole that you my love have left in my heart. When he finally unties me and lets me fall into his arms I can barely stand. I am transforming from one shape into the next over and over again, but into what and for whom? He whispers comfort to me our eyes locked sending back and forth warm emotions and trials to see into each other's soul. What is it that we see? What is it that we seek in each other?

I feel like I have lost myself, cannot say what and why I am doing it; as with all of us no one forces me to yet here I am again and again. I wish I could understand what has happened with me since you found and claimed me, but you left before I was able to form the question. Other men ask for a try on the machine with their women, but nearly all of them give up after a few shocks. Later he takes me lovingly, slowly, pride and sincere affection all over his features and I am glad to be his, to be of real use, to be wanted. In many ways I feel myself growing into another kind of love for him, too. May he forgive me my weaknesses as I forgive yours. That same night I declined to torture another woman - a funny mention - there is not a sadistic bone in my body, ah but you know that, you named me for what I am after all- and danced to our delight into the morning.

Isn't it wondrous how our dreams come true in ways that make them both fulfilled and into nightmares? Are you faring well? Truly?

29th February 1928

Maybe you ask yourself why in my last letter I was telling you all these private details of my recent endeavours. In your answer before last you urged me to find someone else and so I tried. Let me tell you it is not easy, to find someone who feels right after being with the one you know without a doubt is. You left me unprepared to deal with my new world and other genuine D's can sense it. Most I felt a real connection with have declined me, politely for they knew my worth on sight, but irrevocably, too. That could mean they were no fit after all, I will never know.

You once called me the near to perfect S, a genuine if emotion ridden moment no doubt but it has stayed clear in my memory, because I am - for you. In case you don't know: To me you are a seducer of the highest rank and order, a perfect persona maleficum. You are most desirable, highly capable in both mind and body, your skills whether in work, life, family and our structure of Master and Servant are hard earned and without failure (except if I mention your being a demonic and foolish human – I am laughing silently); you possess creativity, wit, humour and a passion that rivals my own when it comes to be the best that nature has to offer in bestowing us.

It was this predisposition that allowed you to see me for what I am, the shine that no one else has spotted before. I am the diamond you sought all your life that you intended to make your very own treasure and - of importance too - you found me willingly gliding into your beloved hands. Yes Sir, there always were others that wanted me, there still are, but none of them ever saw the whole gem, just a shine or a glint inside a kaleidoscope. You made me feel you did see it all. Even if I err the fact that I believed it for one second raises you from the crowds, makes you special. It has never happened before. Not once. It is funny after all this time I still am not sure whether I can read you, or of course it could be your intention to cloud your true core even from me.

But, excuse the old lament why then have you called me into your very own darkness? It's the one question that returns over and over again in my mind. Is human weakness really such a simple explanation? Be that as it may I am now bound to you for we both merged my shadows with yours. Irrevocably. One day there might be a song about how a Master and his woman are bound by a golden string, a string that I feel reverberating between us, the cities of B and B, since I hesitantly followed you into the night – the fallen angel Lilith filling the footsteps of the son of Jude. I know it: you too once were a saint. You wanted me because we are of the same kind, but you got scared and left me in Hades, damning yourself like only fools do it.

We give heaven a good headache I bet. I am still shaking my head, cry often at night. You have encountered what you desire most in life – the strongest of all women willing to defer to your love and every wish because it is her dream as well as yours – the desire you sold your soul to the devil for. Whether you take her on or not, she now cannot return to a vision of freedom that has been proven wrong. I am scared cursed lover, scared of the light of morning like I have never been scared before. Where to shall the fallen angel turn now that it cannot exist any longer without darkness as it used to be thriving on light? Is there a place that unifies both, a place where we may meet again to wash our hearts from sin and open our true core to see all weaknesses for what they really are?

For if you are my Sir I am your Lady. Master and Submissive are equal in their strength and devotion is not just a flowery expression. I know I caught you as unaware as you caught me but that is no reason to act like a Jerk. You really need to reread my every letter and let each word tell its intent and feeling. I will be waiting. Not that I could help it. The birds sing it from the rooftops, hear me personal demon for if it comes to you my every law every rule every reason is out of order. You are the exception in my life, uncalled for, unexpected but graciously welcomed. Is it so wrong of me to want, need to know if I am yours, too? It would not alter the pain, the circumstances or a thousand other hindrances. Yet, even toys come alive need input to find a new direction. Move your strings one more time for me. I am your proud creation, forevermore the place you can find peace from the toils of the world.

For to love truly is to be grateful for having shared it even for a second

Always yours,

Sweetheart