This Girl

She trembled with anticipation -- she had heard that cliché many times, but had never actually felt it before! -- her hands trembled, her knees felt weak and her thigh muscles trembled, inside she felt a rush of feeling, a heat, that started in her chest and worked its way downwards. She sat at the keyboard and as she typed the familiar commands, she gasped with quick intake of breath, realizing what this night would mean, this turning point in her cyber-life, in her real life ... the characters she was typing were now same-but-different commands ...'command' ... oh god, just that word alone set her insides on fire again.

It was 8:56. She knew he liked her to be early, to prepare herself for him, virtually. She was already wearing her tightest corset, her thigh-high stockings, and nothing else, as he had asked her several months ago to always wear for him. The typical question,'What are you wearing'' would never again have the same meaning for her, she thought with a grin. Her favorite patchouly incense burned in her censer, and her favorite peach candles were lit in small violet glass votive holders on either side of her monitor, as if she were preparing for a religious service rather than an internet chat.

***08:59 Demettrie enters the room.***

Her heart leapt in her chest, her trembling increased. She tried to breathe deeply, to come to full awareness, she knew the log would save the words but only her mind would remember this night forever. Her pussy felt hot and throbbed just at the sight of his very name.

] Demettrie: Are you prepared, little one?

this girl is prepared, Sir

] Demettrie: How are you feeling tonight?

this girl is (she paused, thinking) trembling, Sir

] Demettrie strokes dharma's hair gently ] Demettrie: Be calm, little one.

yes, Sir

] Demettrie: I know you must have received my gift to you by now, please open it.

yes, Sir

She grabbed the padded mailer package she had only received two days ago. It had come to her postal box from his postal box, and she dared not open it, because he had commanded her so. Yes, it was only the internet, some might say, but she had somehow achieved a connection with another person that she never thought possible. As if the glass of the monitor had melted between them, and she was somehow able to feel his touch, hear his words. His commands, though they may be in pixel only, she took to her very soul.

She slit open the package carefully. Realizing that his very hands had touched this envelope, she again pressed it to her cheek as she had done over the last two days. Then she opened it.

Inside, a piece of parchment. Ivory, plain letter size, folded in half. Folded in half around a purple velvet pouch, that was tied with a cord drawstring. She glanced at the screen, and seeing no further pixels appearing, she fumbled open the cords.

The collar. As promised.

Black, of softest leather, one-half inch thick. A plain silver buckle at one end, and 6 small holes at the other end. In the front, a small silver ring attached by a small leather loop sewn into the collar. On each side of the ring ... three glimmering, perfect crystals. Round. Six in all. Her favorite number. He remembered! The crystals were shaded a light violet. It was the most gorgeous collar she had ever seen, she had browsed so many sub sites and had seen so many different collars, and still it didn't prepare her for the awe of it. She felt absolutely unworthy of such a thing.

thank you, Sir, so much, so much, this girl can't express to you how much this means

] Demettrie: You're welcome, little one. ] Demettrie: Are you forgetting something?

Sir?

] Demettrie: The note

She noticed the quickness of his response, and the lack of punctuation. Surely she must have angered him.

this girl is sorry, this girl will read it now, Sir

] Demettrie: That's better. Take your time.

She unfolded the parchment and read:

'My dear little dharma, We may be only pixels on a screen to each other, but I treasure you in my heart. You offer me your undying devotion, I offer to you the same. You must never forget that just because you are a submissive, you still hold half of the power in this relationship. Your training has gone so well, you are a fine and beautiful sub, and I take the responsibility of becoming your Master very seriously. With devotion, Demettrie?

His script was slightly bold, canted forward, mainly masculine, but with a few touches here and there that touched her heart, like the loop of the'd' in her name compared to the'D' in his name. She immediately returned to her keyboard, afraid she had been away too long.

this girl is not sure what to say, Sir. this girl feels humbled and like crying. thank you, Sir!

] Demettrie: Assume the proper position, little one.

She quickly scrambled, having had some practice in this over the last ten dazzling months she had been with Demettrie. She pushed her office chair backwards, she lowered the keyboard and mouse to a box she had placed under her desk, she pivoted the monitor downwards, and sank to her knees. She settled comfortably back on her heels, thighs spread, on the soft Oriental rug she used at her desk, and she placed her hands upon her thighs. She raised them long enough to type

ready, Sir

and lowered them again to her thighs. This was the position she had been taught so lovingly by Demettrie. Web-cams were still unaffordable in these early days, and she wished he could see her. But she knew that what was important was to be true to her sub self, true to her Master, to really feel all of the feelings and not just play at them. She awaited his command, wishing she could lower her head like a proper sub, frustrated briefly with the internet nature of their relationship. Then she realized her entire spirit was afire, her thighs with the strain of kneeling in the position, her pussy, her breasts, her heart with its quickened pounding, her mind with the racing emotions.

] Demettrie: Are you ready?

yes, Sir

] Demettrie: I want you to place the collar around your neck. ] Demettrie: I want you to clasp it as closely as you can without making it ] Demettrie: too uncomfortable, do you understand?

yes, Sir

] Demettrie: Now.

She reached up for the collar sparkling on its velvet bed, and she gripped each end with quivering hands that suddenly felt weak. She threaded the leather through the buckle, and she drew the collar tightly around her neck, turning her head side to side, bowing her head, to test its tightness. She finally settled on a tight yet comfortable position, as Demettrie had ordered, and finished buckling it. She placed her hands on her thighs again, eyes closed, body swaying with the deliciousness of the feeling, the light weight of the collar against her neck, almost against the curve of the top of her shoulders, against the back of her neck where the still-cool buckle rested. She looked up sharply

] Demettrie: Is it done?

and nervously wondering how long she had been lost in her reverie, she typed

yes (she paused, fixing her eyes on the screen while her fingers deftly found the new keys) , Master.

] Demettrie: Good. ] Demettrie: I'm very proud of you. ] Demettrie: I want you to continue with your studies, do you understand?

yes, Master

] Demettrie: How do you feel' I want you to tell me everything.

this girl asks permission to use pronoun, Master

] Demettrie: So be it.

i am ... so happy ... elated ... shivering ... hot and cold i will always remember this moment i feel so small, but inside, i don't know ... my heart ... such a large feeling

She paused as tears ran down her face.

] Demettrie: Yes ..

She wondered how he felt, but didn't dare ask. She had his precious letter, and she was sure that tomorrow, when she checked her special email account, his words would be there in his daily missive to her.

i bow my head before you, Master. i sit with thighs spread hands on thighs my corset feels tight around the bottom of my breasts my nipples are hard i offer my body to you for your pleasure, Master.

] Demettrie: I have in my hand a small silver chain ] Demettrie: At one end of this chain is a leather handle ] Demettrie: At the other end, is a clip. ] Demettrie: I fasten the clip to the ring on your lovely collar ] Demettrie: and I step back to survey my work. ] Demettrie: This girl has pleased me, very much.

She saw the cue to stop using the pronoun, and waited. When he typed no more, she typed

this girl thanks you, Master this girl feels the gentle tug of her leash this girl sees your strong hands holding the handle

] Demettrie: Yes. ] Demettrie: And what if I pull on this leash?

this girl will rise to her knees, Master this girl will fold her arms across her back and bow her head and she will follow you, Master

] Demettrie: Yes. ] Demettrie: You are my submissive. ] Demettrie: You are not my slave, because we are BOTH free. ] Demettrie: Do you understand?

yes, Master

] Demettrie releases the clip from dharma's collar and backs up a step. ] Demettrie: You will leave the collar on whenever it is practical. ] Demettrie: When you need to take it off, you will place it ] Demettrie: in the velvet pouch. ] Demettrie: You will keep it shining, you will care for it ] Demettrie: as much as I care for you.

oh, yes, Master! thank you so much

] Demettrie: I will have need of you soon. ] Demettrie: Tonight is time for reflection. Write in your journal, dharma.

yes, Master, this girl will

] Demettrie: I'll want to hear everything you feel about this occasion. ] Demettrie: You will not touch yourself tonight. ] Demettrie: For now, let us say goodnight.

Her heart dropped through her chest, and she wept with frustration. She knew a collaring was a sacred occasion, and she was hoping that Demettrie would want'the usual' -- her wonderful treatment of massage and sensual pleasure via mere words -- but she could see now what it meant to serve.

yes, Master. good night and be well, Master

] Demettrie: Be well, little one.

***09:40 Demettrie leaves the room.***

She could tell it was going to be a long, frustrating night, spent with pen and journal instead of finger and clit. Her body was as tight as a bowstring and aching for release. She resolved herself, perked up her courage, and traced the contours of her collar and its jewels, played with the silver ring, tilted her head to one side just to feel the leather bite slightly into her skin, and smiled softly.

©2001 Melicia Saphyne