Be Yasmine
I never know what to do at parties. Even if I know everyone there I always feel out of place. Tonight is not feeling much better. Halloween is a holiday that feels like it belongs more to children than a twenty something trying to drink enough to not care she came to a party alone and is going to leave the party alone without getting so drunk she tries to leave the party with a broom wearing a lampshade.
She’d have to be one cute broom with a heck of a lampshade, but it would hardly be the first time I left a party and the next day felt like an idiot.
So here I am, at a Halloween Party in the house of a co-worker I would at best call an acquaintance sipping nervously at my glass trying to spot someone that I’d like to try having a conversation with. My last attempt had me sure that Cheryl the woman from HR is going to find any way she can to get my vacation requests processed so she doesn’t have to chance running into me in any of the break areas.
If I pretend that’s what’s actually likely to happen I can feel a little bit better about the night.
The walls are decorated with cheap dollar store skeletons and pumpkins with a couple of cloth and plastic ghosts hanging from the ceiling. At least it isn’t a costume party. I’d have to come as an existentialist in the throes of ennui.
“Not really your scene either, is it?” Torn from my thoughts back into reality I almost spill my drink as I turn to face a woman I don’t think I’ve ever seen before. “Oh. Quite sorry to have taken you by surprise. I just noticed you... admiring the decor and thought I would save you from it.”
Her voice is so elegant I’m sure I would recognize it, but even more than that I know I would remember a pair of blue eyes like that. Throw in red hair, and a milky pale complexion, and a black dress just enough on the other side of little to be appropriate at a more informal gathering and yet still show off plenty of curve... I know I’d recognize her. I wish she was wearing a name tag, but this party isn’t quite that classless.
“Oh, it’s okay – really! More than okay. I welcome the intrusion.” I take a slow sip of my drink, trying to pretend it isn’t a transparent attempt to stop myself from saying something stupid before getting a chance to think it through.
It probably doesn’t work, but she’s still here. That has to count for something, right? In fact she smiles a little bit more and takes a sip of her own drink.
She even drinks elegantly, those full plush lips of hers denting as the glass presses in and the fluid within moves so sensually into her mouth. I know she can’t control that exactly, but she can control the angle of the glass and somehow she seems like she’s been trained to make it all look both so amazing and so effortless. There’s no way anyone could be that... naturally perfect.
Or I’m a little more tipsy than I feel and may have a not-so-minor crush developing on her. Both feel like very, very real possibilities.
“I don’t think I’ve seen you around the office before.” I pause, and almost smack my own forehead at how stupid that sounds out loud. “I mean, I don’t think I know your name, and that seems like a pretty important place to start getting to know someone, right?”
“Very, very true.” She grins slowly, and those blue eyes of hers shine like back lit diamonds. “I work up on the fifth floor. Maybe I shouldn’t be here, but I heard Danielle talking about it and asked if she’d mind me dropping by for a few drinks. A selfish request I suppose, but...”
She laughs, and my cheeks burn that much hotter. I can think of a few selfish requests that I’d like to make right now, and most of those involve a lot less clothing, or at least a lot more lip locking. “W-well, we’re all entitled to moments like that, aren’t we? Times where we’re just a little bit... more... selfish than maybe we’d like to think of ourselves as, where we just have to embrace the moment, reach out and try for something that we want... right?” I clear my throat and look down into my drink. “At least, well, I think so.”
Looking down means that I don’t know she’s moving to rest her hand on my shoulder until its there. She feels so warm, and when she squeezes, I swear I feel it so many more places than where her hand rests. My thighs squeeze together so tight all on their own. Dizzy doesn’t begin to describe it.
It takes me a moment to notice that I’ve been holding my breath, and that just makes my cheeks burn darker. Another sip of my drink feels like a bad idea at this point, but I can’t stop myself.
Two of her fingers press under my chin, gently pushing up my face until my eyes look right into hers. She must have stepped closer, too, but it’s hard to be sure. I feel so dizzy being so close to her. It feels like the right way to feel, too, which doesn’t help me breathe any slower or look away from those beautiful sky blue eyes.
They’re bright, but something about them still feels every bit as deep as if they were pitch black. When you look up at the sky you know it isn’t a flat empty expanse, and that’s how it feels looking into her eyes. There’s depth. There’s distance. There’s a draw to fly free inside of them and let everything loose...
“Yasmine.”
“Bwuh...?” her voice snaps me out of my thoughts only enough to realize that I actually vocalized my reply. I hadn’t meant to. It was just the only thing my lips could put together on such short notice.
She laughs, and it’s a rich, deep, low sort of laugh that makes my thighs squeeze together even tighter. “My name. You’d wanted to know it. My name is Yasmine, dear.”
Her name tastes so delicious in my ears. Yasmine. It sounds exotic without being outlandish. It sounds like the sort of name that belongs to a woman like her. It’s the sort of name that you don’t forget. Her thumb strokes along the front of my chin, and I can’t stop my blush from growing hotter.
Yasmine is definitely flirting with me. At this point it can’t just be the booze getting to me. She’s every bit as interested in me as I am in her, but I have no idea why she would be.
“That’s a really pretty name, Yasmine. I really like it...” It doesn’t feel like there’s enough room between us now for me to be able to take a drink without my glass smacking into her on the way to my lips. That makes me more tempted to ask if she could let me taste her lips than to ask her to pull a bit further back. I’d never want her to think I wanted her to go away. “My name is—”
Her finger presses softly and smoothly into my lips just before I can let out any more words. Her timing is poetic. She’s like a living piece of poetry, or a font of poetry. “—nothing you need to spoil the moment with. I’m sure it’s every bit as pretty as you are. But... shh.”
She doesn’t pull her finger back, and my cheeks just keep burning hotter. If I could look away from her eyes I’m sure I could see everyone staring at us – staring at me letting one of our bosses seduce me like some cheap two drink slut. Since this is the same drink in my hand that I’ve nursing since before I saw her that makes the thought feel even worse. I’m just that... easy for her.
My lips pout on their own, trying to kiss her finger as best as they can. Her eyes shift, smiling just enough more for it to reach them like beautiful fireworks across the sky. Well, it’s still day in her eyes, but that’s the closest thought that does justice to how beautiful it is.
At least that I can think of. I’m sure that she would have many, many prettier words to share. Yasmine feels like the sort of woman that could give a speech without a second thought, or whisper just as inspiring words into your ear as she pins you to the wall. One speech would leave you enthusiastic and energized. The other, well, I imagine it would help me rip my clothes off that much faster.
Her finger moves from my lips to my cheek as another drifts under my chin. Her thumb begins lazily caressing my lips. She’s holding my face. Holding me. Stroking me. My lips quiver, my eyes hooding, only held open by the bright beautiful light in her eyes.
I can’t feel my drink in my hand anymore. Her hand isn’t on my shoulder either. I still can’t muster up the force of will to look away or draw back. I don’t want to. That’s the last thing I want right now, even with how terrifyingly intense all of this feels. Women have touched me more than this before, but never like this.
This doesn’t feel like she’s just touching my lips, or my cheek. She’s holding me, effortlessly, with the slightest of touches. Even with an embrace fragile as this I’m trapped as strongly as if her touch were iron chains.
I sigh against her thumb, letting my lips kiss her there too. Yasmine’s eyes shine that much brighter, before her hand draws back. Without warning the rest of the world comes crashing back into focus in a single moment. It’s so overwhelming I almost fall on my ass, but her hand catches my wrist and pulls me forward so instead I fall into her. My cheeks burn that much hotter, but at least I don’t embarrass myself that much.
She’s so warm, and her body is so yielding that it’s so easy to sink against her. I let out a sigh and start to move an arm around her to pull closer before realizing it and bolting up straighter. Yasmine just laughs a with a carelessly amused tone that only royalty is born with.
No one is staring at us. No one at all. Plenty of people are milling about, walking around the party here or there, refilling a drink or grabbing a bite, but they aren’t looking at us. How anyone could not crave to be where I am right now I have no idea. Is Yasmine such a high up boss that everyone is just looking away so they don’t get fired if she notices them staring a moment too long? She definitely has the aura of authority to pull it off.
“S-sorry, I... Lost myself for a minute there. I don’t know where my head went! Probably should make this my last drink... wherever it went!” I look to my hand with an embarrassed laugh and a weak shrug.
Yasmine, always one step ahead, slides my drink back into my hand. “I set it down for you. You looked like you might let it go, and this carpet is hardly anything I’d cry about spoiling... but I had the feeling that such an embarrassment would haunt you. The last thing I want is for you to be... embarrassed.”
Her hand is still holding mine. Her fingers, those long elegant fingers with such impossibly soft skin are stroking along the back of my hand, along and between my fingers... Her touch feels like it’s awakening new erogenous zones that I didn’t even know I had.
When her nail traces a line right down the middle of my hand it draws my thighs together so tight it hurts. All I can do to respond is finish my drink in one long slow gulp. I wanted to mimic her grace, but I don’t have that now. I never do, but I’m feeling so light headed that even if I usually could pull off making my every movement seem like part of an elaborately choreographed dance this would not be one of those moments.
“W-well it isn’t you, Yasmine! Not at all! I’m just... Dizzy. Yeah. Dizzy!” I try to grin like she does, to show some level of self satisfaction at that explanation, or at least some degree of certainty.
I don’t know why I’m so nervous. It’s obvious that she wants me. Why isn’t, but that’s a trickier thing to know without asking. I look down to my empty glass, and then back into those beautiful blue eyes of hers.
They look a little dimmer now, but only compared to how they looked before. They’re still the most vibrant, passionate, beautiful eyes that I’ve ever seen. Now, it’s just marginally easier to look away. “Maybe you should take a moment to gather your bearings? Would you like to take in some of the cool night air? If I’m not mistaken right past there is a small balcony. Nothing quite Shakespearean, but perfect to duck out of this warm room.”
Warm. It really, really is warm in here. As sure as I am that she could make out there just as warm I give a slow, shy nod. That would mean being alone with her. That would mean being in an intimate place under the stars, alone, with her.
Halloween might not be one of the most romantic holidays but I’ll take it.
“Lovely! Well, no point in wasting any time then, mm? Take my hand, dear.” Her hand releases mine only grasp at the other. It’s like she knows exactly how long everything will take and perfectly falls into the ebbs and flows of our most subtle of interactions. There has to be a word for being so romantically... clockwork?
Clockwork always seems more rickety than Yasmine. It’s a thing of jittering steam and metal that can rust. Yasmine is like water in a stream. She isn’t hurrying to catch up to the next tick. She’s already there because she moves at just the perfect pace to get where she’s going right when she wants to. Her thumb strokes along the back of my hand as I set down my drink... so hard not to just wilt against her again, but somehow I manage.
Just like a river she flows and carries me along with her outside and away from the distant conversations until we’re alone again. We’re still in the city so the stars aren’t particularly bright and it isn’t particularly dark, but the affect when she’s the only one so close is still intense.
“There. Now, that’s better isn’t it dear?” She’s stopped moving, but her current keeps me a step ahead of her until my hands rest on the balcony’s railing with the warmth of her body flush with my back. Her hands slowly stroke along my arms, and her lips are so close to my ear that I can feel her hot breath before I hear her low sweet words. “You don’t have to use your words if you’d like. I can tell you’re a woman not used to using them for moments like this. If you want more, all that you need to do is nod.”
I nod, and though I try to do so only once the cold in front of me mingling with the heat behind me and inside of me all works together in the worst way. It’s impossible to stop before at least a good five shudder from my neck. I’m shaking, but I can’t stop it. It gets even harder when she starts running her nails up and down along my arms. Her nails are so red, long, and only pressing firm enough that I can feel their points teasing how easy it would be for them to ache so pleasantly.
I’ve never been into pain, but it’s hard not to feel like anything Yasmine would do to me would feel so good I’d be screaming for more the moment I thought she might ever stop.
“I can take you away from this party, my sweet little dearling. I can take you away from this party, from your coworkers, from all of this. I can take you to a place where you can be free from all embarrassment and shame, free to experience such...” Her fingers stop, only for her body to press me that much tighter against the railing. “Such... Pleasures. Things you’ve never imagined that you could feel...”
From anyone else that might seem like boasting, but from her... from her I really believe it. From her, it’s impossible to doubt it. She can make me feel things that no one else can. I groan and whimper at once as her nails resume their dance along my arms, struggling to make myself nod enough for her to see it and not just think I’m quivering.
Yasmine’s satisfaction purrs its way into my ears as her fingers wrap around my wrists. Her grip is so tight and firm that even when I struggle in her grasp just to see if I could break free I only feel that much more held. She pulls my arms down to my sides, spinning me to face her. She traps my hands down against the railing, our hips pressed so tight, and her nose tip brushing mine.
My heart is beating so fast, and with how close she is it would be impossible for her not to feel it. Yearning. Aching. Need. I look up to her eyes again, and all I can see is blue. Bright, piercing blue that feels as much inside of me as my own beating heart, ensnaring it and holding me rapt in her gaze.
I can hardly breathe. The longer I stare into her eyes, her hands pinning mine down, her body trapping me, I feel so... warm. Hot. The air is still so cool, but she’s burning me up from the inside.
I can almost feel that heat between my words, between the words that I try to bring to my lips just as much as the words that I try to form in my mind. Her eyes. Those blue, blue eyes. Her warm, soft body. Nothing has ever felt so... so...
“Of course, once I take you... There’s no going back. You’ll never want to come back. You’ll be throwing away your life, your accomplishments... all of the things that you’ve earned.” Yasmine’s eyes grin down at me that much more, closer as her nose rubs mine. I hear myself moan before I feel it escape my lips. “But you’re going to beg for it. Not with your mouth. You can hardly even speak. And that’s fine. You don’t need to speak. You’re going to beg for it the only way you still can.”
So hard to even know what she means. Everything feels so warm, so dizzyingly hot. A bead of sweat slowly melts down along my back, making my moan out again as it teases such tender places. It doesn’t make me feel any cooler. It makes me feel warmer. Hotter. It makes me need her so much more.
Don’t know how she wants me to beg, only know that I have to. Only know that I’ve never needed anything like this before in my life. She even knows how I’m feeling, the affect that she’s having on me.
I struggle again, trying to press more of my body against hers, to feel more of her heat, but her grasp is too tight. She’s too strong. She’s irresistible. I can’t win.
Her eyes... so impossibly deep. I try to look away, but the more I try the more that I feel light headed and weak. The less that I want to try. The less that I can try. Even her gaze is stronger than me. Just her eyes are stronger than all of me put together.
My lips won’t move the way I want them to. Need them to. I try to whine out a ‘please’ or beg in any obvious way that I can, but all that it does is make my lips and my hips tremble. She slides a thigh between mine, and my body goes slack. I can’t even squeeze my thighs around her leg, even with how hot and warm it feels. I try, but it just makes me feel dizzier, weaker...
My whole body only feels standing from her grasp through my eyes. I’m not standing so much as dangling, held in place like a marionette. If she blinked I’d fall to the floor bonelessly.
Thighs. So warm. So slick... Dizzy. So dizzy. I try to take a deep breath to steady myself but it just makes me rub against her leg that much more. Everything I do just makes me feel that much weaker, that much more pitiful, that much more... helpless. There’s just nothing that I can do.
All of my frustration rises up in my throat, erupting in a loud needy scream that feels so endless it makes all of me throb ring and shudder as I hold the discordant note. Need without words, lust driven by a beauty that I can’t even lean up to kiss...
But her eyes hood, squeezing my thoughts so tight in her embrace.
“That’s just what I was waiting for, dear. Now, it’s time to give you a kiss, and then I’ll be taking you home.” Somehow it feels like her lips reach mine before the words are done reaching my ears.
Yasmine’s lips burns o hot that all I can do is scream and shake. Liquid heat pours from her lips through my body, making me feel so much more leaden even as I can’t stop shaking. Molten hot passion is sizzling and burning over and through me, finding every empty place and filling it, filling it with more and more of her.
Her lips burn hotter, warmer. I can’t even feel the cool air anymore, but I can still feel a chill freezing me tight even as her kiss burns deeper inside of me. Her eyes aren’t diamonds. They aren’t the sky. They’re ice. Such cold, intense ice crystallizing around us and making me helpless to her every whim.
Just as it feels like the heat of her lips, her hips, her thigh are melting us together into one heap, the ice in her eyes feels like its spreading between each and every word that I’ve ever had. Can taste half formed memories or ideas slowly frosting over and then held tight as her thigh presses closer, her lips rubbing that much more raw against me.
She’s melting me down, and freezing me up all at once, and all I can do is scream against her lips as her thigh makes my panties drench, and her gaze makes it harder and harder to remember how to move, how to think, how to do anything besides yield to her each and every touch.
Harder to remember how to want anything other than her. Yasmine. Need Yasmine to do what she wants to me. I need Yasmine to take me how she wants to take me!
The heat only makes the ice feel stronger, like a forge tempering steel. So impossible to struggle. All I can do is want, shudder, and cry as everything drips away between my legs and her grasp clenches tighter and tighter behind my eyes.
I can see the blue ice of her eyes reflecting my helpless surrender, but I can’t hear my own cries as my voice cracks.
“You’re awake. I was certain you would have woken sooner...” Yasmine’s voice is the first bit of reality that comes back to me. My head is spinning, but more than that it’s... fuzzy. It feels like someone turned the voltage up way too high until everything inside just... popped. My vision still feels blurry. I try to move but I... can’t. Don’t know why. Can’t feel everything yet. Too... something. I don’t know how this feels. Dissociated seems too graceful a word for how groany and half gone my everything feels.
I remember meeting Yasmine at the party, flirting over our drinks, going out to the balcony and...
Everything still tingles too much to feel below my waist, but I don’t have to feel them to remember vividly just how intensely I ruined my panties. I think putting them through my washer would make them more dry. Somehow that makes sense, but only a distant kind of sense.
“Awake, but not exactly back with us yet. I anticipated that, so don’t you worry your pretty little head about it.” Yasmine laughs, that deep satisfied laugh. I might not be able to feel all of my body perfectly yet, but I can feel my thighs and deeper places clench at the sound of that hotter than sin laugh. “I’m here to take care of everything, after all. You’ve left everything else behind.”
It’s hard to remember her saying that, but it sounds familiar. Remembering just feels... sore, like that part of me was rubbed a little too raw. But it doesn’t feel physical, it feels like how I used to feel when I studied for tests too long in college or stayed up too late reading.
All of the words she says make sense, and together I can ascertain their meaning... That’s fine. But when I try to think further, connect things myself, seek out more of what I should know everything just...
Fingertips stroke along my lips, tapping as they go by. “Now now, you left everything behind. That party. Your coworkers. Your job. Your life. There’s no point in struggling to remember things that don’t have any purpose... not anymore. From now on, little one, you’re all mine.” As soon as her fingers disappear it’s harder to focus on my lips. It almost feels like her fingers take them away as they go.
If I didn’t let out a sad moan at their absence I would seriously consider the possibility. It would be hard to make a vibrating moan like that without lips. Nnn... This feels like waking up from heavy painkillers multiplied by sitting on my foot without realizing it, only... everywhere.
Numb. That’s the feeling. Numb. I’m quivering, tingling, numb. When she touches me the numbness goes away, like now when she strokes along my cheek, her fingers carry sensation with them like a song carries a rhythm. Or does a rhythm carry a song? Thinking things that are just thoughts and not about the party or before I woke up is easier, but still slow.
An arm wraps around me, and I can feel myself being lifted up like a ragdoll before I fall into what must be Yasmine’s lap. Her breasts at my back feel so familiar. Her clothes feel so much thinner now, and the new sensation of her nipples is as welcome as the greater sense of weight.
Being able to feel so much of myself against her makes everything a little bit easier. When her hands start to roam along my arms, along my curves, squeezing here and there and pulling moans out every time, it gets even easier. Her fingers know just where to stroke, and maybe more importantly just where to squeeze. She knows my body better than I do. I’ve never heard myself whine like that before from a touch to my outer thigh.
It takes her nail stroking to the other side of my leg and right up to where my leg meets my body for me to realize that I’m nude. Realizing that seems to make it easier to feel even when she isn’t touching me.
But it feels so good to just feel when she touches me. Her hands lift my breasts and give a slow knead. Every second she holds tighter, every extra bit of pressure draws out such a long helpless moan. She might not be touching between my legs, but I can feel myself growing slick better than I can feel my own fingertips. I can feel how hot I am for her better than I can remember my own... my own...
“Name...?” The word is easier to just say that it is to think. My... my... that. I can half remember wanting to give it to her, wanting to share it with her...
Her lips press to the top of my head. There’s a gap in my head, a blank spot. I was trying to think and just... until she kissed me, everything went right back away. When I try to think about me. Who I am. She said something about me giving all of that up, but how could I do that?
“Oh, silly little thing... Are you trying to do something like remember your name? Slaves don’t need names.” Her fingers slide through my hair, but it feels more like the touch of a woman stroking a doll than a lover.
That shouldn’t make me shudder like this. That shouldn’t make me feel my toes only because they’re curling so hard it hurts. She called me a slave.
As soon as she said it, I knew she was right. I know that I’m her slave. It just... doesn’t make sense. How could I be her slave? What did she do to me...? Everything feels unreal, but the way her fingers twist and tug at my nipples there’s no way this is anything but. She’s the best, and worst kind of real.
Yasmine’s lips kiss the tip of my ear, and her voice turns so husky and sensual as she whispers in. “Don’t worry, soon you’ll be back to normal. Your new normal, that is. I could have had you like this the moment that I first saw you, but I wanted to savor this. A new toy is only new for so long. It’s best to stave off that disenchantment as long as possible. You’ll be pretty on a shelf, but I’d much rather a warm quivering pet in my lap.”
“Y-yessss... L-like being in y-your lap too... Nnn so hard to... Words...!” Her fingers slide down along my belly, slowly stroking along the very insides of my thighs. I don’t move my legs, but all on their own they’re as spread as they can be. “Feels ssssssooo weak. Raw... What did...”
“Oh, I could tell you, but I think that once your eyes kick back in you’ll have such a sweeter time seeing for yourself. Don’t worry, dear. You’re mine now.” A fingertip trails along my slit, making my hips shake so hard my head falls back onto Yasmine’s shoulder. Yasmine. You’re mine. It almost makes me wonder if it’s her name, but that feels just as inescapable as the truth of what I am to her. For her. With her.
Slave. The word feels like a collar around my neck tugging me down into that hot burning heat she kissed me with. It feels like a collar of frost cutting into all of my memories of who and what I was before that just doesn’t matter anymore. I can’t even really care about it. It’s there, distantly. It exists. But it doesn’t matter to me like she does.
Yasmine’s fingers thrust inside of me, feeling me from the inside, and I squeeze around her tight as I can to feel more. I cry out her name as willfully as I can, my juices flowing so slickly around her fingers.
She knows how to touch me because I’m hers. My body makes the way she touches me the right way. No one told me this, not even that sizzling burning heat, but the longer her fingers pump inside of me the more I’m sure it’s the truth. It’s almost like the red burning heat of her soft smooth skin inside of me is thrusting the truth into my open mind.
My mind feels more and more open as my hips buck to meet her fingers. Not just open to anything though, only her. I’m her slave, not just a slave. My mind obeys her words before anything else, even me.
Especially before me...
“Mm-mm-missstressss!” My hands shudder to life enough to let me grab at her thighs, to arch and twist and press myself back into my owner’s warmth. I’ve never tasted, never felt certainty like this before. It’s so invigorating. It’s fucking and epiphany and every fantasy I ever had being fulfilled all at once.
I might have had other fantasies before her, but as her lips melt into my neck I can feel that same familiar heat burn into me. It dances out across my body, from between my legs and from her lips, drenching me from the inside out in hot lustful sweaty need. I grab her tighter, scream louder, and savor the feeling of my breasts bouncing like a wanton whore’s at my chest.
But whores have more dignity than me. They fuck for money. I fuck to obey. I do everything to obey, to obey Yasmine. There’s nothing hotter, nothing more perfect!
I scream her name as red washes over my everything, dripping hot slick cummy obedience over the ice lattice in my mind.
“That’s a good little slave. Mmm... So much better. You know, now that I don’t know your name, and you can never remember it...?” Mistress Yasmine’s slick fingers slide out of my pussy, tracing intricate patterns I can only half imagine over the length of my thighs. The pattern itself burns as red as her touch. “You will always possess some ounce of mystery. You, my little slave, will always hold an allure of the unknown that none of my other pets have ever held for long.”
Her words make my heart sing and beat harder in my chest. I can feel each beat make my breasts shake, and it brings a shameless blush to my cheeks. I don’t feel it because of embarrassment, but out of a blissful pleasure that even things I cannot control obey my Mistress’s desires to use me like a naughty toy for her own pleasure.
My lust dries so much quicker at my thighs than I’ve ever felt it before, and with it my eyes start to blink all on their own. Did I just forget how to open them until now? They feel like they’ve been closed, and everything has that unreal color and blur to them that would confirm it.
I would feel so silly for not thinking to open them if I didn’t know this is what my Owner wanted. If she had wanted my eyes open sooner, she would have told me. There’s no doubt in my mind (Her mind) that I would have obeyed. I am her thing, her toy, her possession. There is no deeper truth. There is nothing that could overshadow it.
I’m on a four post bed. Fancy, and antique but... it’s new. Brand new. Even the best cared for wood eventually starts to age, doesn’t it? But everything about it looks so new. Down past the bed is a fireplace that I couldn’t hear over the sound of my mind learning to obey. Now each crackle and pop is all too audible. And above it...
On the mantle sit two women, dressed in nothing but fishnet stockings and corsets. Their eyes are empty and glassy, like the eyes of a doll. Their hair is immaculately kept, and though I can tell they’re breathing from here... I know they haven’t moved of their own accord in weeks, if not months.
Mistress’s fingers move through my hair and pull my head down to rest at her breasts even as she turns my eyes to look to my left. Shelves. Shelves deep, and high, with women. Some curling into each other. Some alone and divided by things that resemble life sized book ends.
They’re dressed from french maid to politician to pizza delivery girl. Some of them are covered in a thin layer of dust. Some are writhing, moaning.
Yasmine’s hand stretches out past my gaze, pointing into the shelves. “And once I’m no longer amused by the secret you possess, once I reach into your mind unable to resist and break forth the truth of your name, of your identity, of who and what you were... You’ll have your own place on my shelf.”
I moan, and tremble as my hands rub from Yasmine’s thighs to my own. Even when Mistress
tires of me, I will be her decoration, her collection, ever kept in blissful obedient torture able to see her, to taste her on the air, but not to move closer...
“I can’t wait, Mistress...”