The Master Series

(prelude to the Master Series)

Sitting within quiet solitude, desire coursing through the space and time of my soul, invading my body in relentless surge of enflamed passion ... forbidden thoughts ...

Movement of my thigh, trembling fingers seeking to calm demanding flesh ... a gentle touch. Palms caressing, reaching upwards to fold over rounded breasts, caressing sensitized nipples. A moan signals tongue to lick dry lips ... slow, moist circling of mouth as heated breath escapes, disrupting the still night air. Hands trailing over taut stomach; pressing ever downwards. Gradual motion as head inclines, body stretching, unfolding like a flower offering nectar.A query passes fleetingly through my mind ... "are these hands placed so inticingly on my body mine? ... or his?"

Hips thrust to meet the inevitable journey of impassioned fingertips. Featherlight touch on the bud of my yearning ... sweet agony ... One leg extends to the side; restrained in its motion by a resistant wall; pressing hard against it as if seeking some form of assurance, something solid within this world of wanton lust. Chest heaves with ragged breathing as fingers plunge into the very depths of my need; body arching like a bow drawn back to let arrow fly to its target. My mind screams his name, echoed in the moans of my throat.

His name invoked, a shudder wracks my body, then another, then another as waves of orgasmic convulsion errupt into torrent of absolute pleasure over sweat drenched flesh. Spiraling into oblivion, succoming, surrenderingand finally ... subsiding ...

Curling in on myself, whispering my need ; his name ...

" Continuum "

(The Master Series: part one )

.... and she dwelt in her secluded abode...

lofty,

above the world.

Dark eyes keeping silent vigual , glittering sorrow within muted depths.

Confusing echoes of that charade called life murmuring like a ceaseless wind ; wandering constant throughout the pinnacles of her mind.

Relentless tempest laying bare the secrets of her soul , scattering them into endless night.

Lost.

Yet memory lingered.

Tenacious grip:

warm touch

strong

loving.

What had she called Him?

Ahhhhh yes,

" Master "

Such a foreign flavor on her tongue , that name.

Almost , like an addiction.

Licking flushed lips in memory, she mused.

How bold he had been to follow her where none ever reached!

As if he could fly

and

take her with him.

Soulfull sigh breathing fresh pain into the wind, banishing the thought.

She had run.

She always ran.

This time her run had taken her closer to the precipice,

Swaying precariously on the edge, glancing into the dark chasm,

Drawn towards madness that lay within a single step.

Tears; unbidden , were the first to fall.

Someone spoke.

Thinking it an illusion yet looking for the speaker ; numb, not comprhending, she answered.

Words flowed from her,

insane babbling ,

her most wicked truths ,

her most feared desires .

He listened with an abundance of love.

He had found her.

He always found her ....

" Insight "

( The Master Series: part two )

Let Me see who you are ...

Little by little she would give herself to Him in the form of those whom she had created. The secret people who dwelt within . Each entity was an extension of herself, a flight of fantasy personified. Each affectionately crafted , culled from secluded chambers in her being to become an offering of herself. Placed in trepidation on the alter of His love ; each one to be carefully laid out before His power.

She found it difficult to describe the feeling of this intimate baring of the soul , this reveiling of that which had been hers alone. First and foremost fear flashed throughout, permeating her with a sense of foreboding. So she drew on His strength and with that, summonded her own courage and brought forth her first choice.

It was the pagan. Here was the mystic, focused on the murmerings of unseen worlds. Spiritual sensitive who dwelt in mystery, seeing reality as illusion and illusion as reality. A single glance at the night sky with its unfathomable space and dizzying illumination of infinite stars would fill this earthbound creature with incredible awe and bittersweet longing. The pagan was spiritual, otherworldly.

Following the pagan a lady appeared, graceful in form, her every movement belaying a subtle union of inner strength and gentle beauty. Dominance was the ladys' domain wherein she ruled with will and wisdom. Scars from wounds inflicted by life were her badge of office and she loved each imperfection for they served to remind her of lessons learnt. More often than not her companion was Sorrow. In spite of or perhaps because of this unlikely suitor, she made the pursuit of love her personal quest.

Centered in the middle of all this creation was an eclipse. A maker of shadows, she hid her other selves from the worlds' passing glare. She alone stood visible to a world she prefered to hold at a distance. Cast in a light of her own making she assumed the role of "ordinary ". Perhaps it was she who was the greatest illusion of all.

Three players of her private stage now stood unmasked before Him and she shivered in delight and fear. He caressed her with His approval ; reassured and calmed her with His touch.

Let Me see who you are ...

His repeated request seemed to hold an equal balance of peril and compulsion for her. She felt as if in a waking dream yet it was unlike any she had experienced before . For days to come the simple act of remembering this moment would instantly sweep exotic sensation to every nerve in her body.

The child was a pensive, pouty lipped expression of woman/child. A sensual wraith who indulged herself in carefree whim with the reckless abandon of youth ; only to morph suddenly into a woman of childlike affection fused with womanly passion. She was a curious combination of vulnerability, innocense and lust. At times the child searched for a father in the arms of men and like other children, lived in a place of secrets. What the child desrired most was to be loved.

Stepping now from shadowed depths, another player appeared. Here was the seducer, a tempstress who revelled in sexuality. Known as the babe, a name uttered with lustful intent from the lips of both men and women who met her, she existed solely for pleasure. Seduction was an artform to her and limits were merely boundaries to be challenged. Thebabe was an image of raw primative passion shrouded in sensual elegance ; an erotic journey into forbidden places. Jaded by lust and confused by love, the babe was very good at her craft.

As she opened herself to Him it occured to her that the task was not yet complete. There was yet another left to set in absolute trust before Him. One she knew he already perceived within her but until now ; she had not.

It startled her, this insight.

As much a creation of her souls' core as the others , the submissive knelt in His presence. Drawn to Him from innermost seclusion , compelled to embark on her greatest journey. A journey that began with the words ;

Let Me see who you are ...

" Submissive"

( The Master Series: part three )

She looked for the child. All she heard were the soft hiccuping gasps of one who has no more tears left to cry. "Are you alright, little one?", she asked.

"Why did He leave?", came the plaintive reply.

"Doesn't He love me anymore?"

"Am i bad?"

The sobbing resumed.

She shook her head. She had no answer to give the child. She moved on .

The eclipse was in a rage, blaming herself for allowing this to happen. She had been the one to pull back the shadows, exposing them all to Him ... trusting Him. Ahhhhh! What a fool she was! Even drawing back into the safety of darkness now could not undo what had been done. All the while she raged inside, her exterior froze into its' most ordinary semblance. This time, the mask would be unbreakable.

Softly sighing she quickly moved past eclipse as if afraid of the destructive energy felt in her anger.

The lady was speaking in hushed, urgent tones to her companion, Sorrow; while binding a fresh hurt. It was perhaps the most devastating wound she had aquired in some time. There was little doubt for its' potential to scar, still she wondered what manner of lesson it could possibly provide.

Slowing a moment to think the same, she gently cast the thought back to the ladys' care as she approached the ever sensual babe.

It was apparent even from a distance that babe was reeling in confusion. Love had once more placed its touch on her only to send her spinning away with the knowledge that sooner or later the others would turn to her as their outlet; using desire to passify pain. She was uncertain how much longer lust without love would be enough; aware that each encounter, no matter how exquisite, would come with a price to be paid.

Sensing the heat of temptation already exuding from the seductress, she moved swiftly on, casting about in the thickening twilight of eclipes' shadow, searching for the spiritual one.

The pagan was not to be found, having become more specter than real. Yet her absense was a tangible thing; a presence felt in the form of a haunting.

After all it was she who could no longer be in His life , not the others. She, the submissive. So it was she who must be the one to speak to Him. He wanted to talk and she knew it was nessessary.

Oh, but she did not want this talk! She did not want to hear Him say that He loved her , then listen to the reasons why she could not be with Him. She did not want to understand or to "do the right thing". She did not want to be sent away.

What she wanted to do was scream!

But even that was a luxury she could not afford right now.

So fragile was her grip on the moment that any emotion expressed would send her spiraling into oblivion.

With shadow descending she thought of how it had been in the light

and she knew there was little to do now but go to Him this final time and

... just ...

... listen ...