tumblina Kneeling, Click. Owned.
The doorbell rings, I know it’s you. Reaching over and turning the lock, click clack, then the door silently swings open.
There you stand in your skirt and light top, the colour of your eyes a sparkle and the joy of everyday written on your face. Then I watch in a different time, the smile widens the sparkle shimmers brighter, a moment and a breath, I reach out to hug you as you emit that squeal of delight and say, “Master!”
One day or another, I might take your hand or tug your collar. Both reminders of how I own you. This is the binding the surety that you wear in your mind and through your day. As time moves forward in various steps, there you are, as I am. Each night we touch in words and sometimes in flesh, though as always there are practicalities, we find a way.
Once I stood on a precipice as you did, looking over a great canyon, a gorge, a distance apart as we reached out trying to touch, like two people on different sides of the glass. Now we touch often bound by our choices. As I take your hand, your leash, your mind, your body and guide you. Teaching you with action and experience the lessons that already show you a new path.
Seeing you today I know you have brushed off the soot and ash of the victim, certainly no one is responsible for that other person’s violence, their forceful taking of what wasn't there’s. The clothes you once wore, the tears and the darkness, the rips and the open wounds of tattered denim, now replaced with pretty skirts and dresses, simple fabrics and simple lines, some patterns and at other times leather. In the thin fabric of the swimming costume the changes are dramatic, the shine and sparkle of your skin the soft smiles and gentle laughter of your heart’s new choices.
At one time you described the burnt offering of the lamb’s heart charred upon the flames. Recently I listened; you spoke again of the bright pink flesh of a heart filled and beating stronger, the life blood of happiness and joy filled with sparkling and flowing pure oxygen, bound together and suspended in the flow, naturally interacting in that inner cycle of life’s processes.
The world is not the weather, the currents of emotion are yours, not someone else's. Most certainly one may enjoy the wild ride of a roller coaster, while it is also a choice - how one may respond. Deep inside you begin to discover this, to know that you are no longer at the mercy of silly supervisors at work, at family gatherings the things people say and do you can simply let slide off as the proverbial water off a ducks back. As the unthinking and unknowing words splash over people, you now have your own raincoat. A choice deeper inside to live on that tropical island, or the reside in that cabin on the top of that pristine mountain, to hike the world and to visit any city of adventure you choose.
In different times and places, I found you. That duck with wobbly legs, movements uncertain, alone in the corner. So I went by and waved a few times, offering you the choice to respond to Me. Then I paused near you and said, “hello,” offering you someone nearby and gently showing you, teaching you; a simple stance, the subtleties of sensing just how to stand, how to move and turn. Now I see the badges you have earned, knowing as you tell Me, I've passed! The smile of My pleasure at each new level of achievement is real, for in many ways W/we share this journey of U/us. Just as you continue your group classes, there are other times and places. The different ways you learn with Me too.
Our journey continues, the moments we meet and share, the words you read on the pages I write for you. Flowing gentle on the surface a caress and a glance, the different ideas posted in messages and links, the ideas and patterns of thought, knowledge and action shared. Between each line, between each public posting or gesture. There is another level, perhaps many more levels, as the fabric is woven with threads of different colours, the patterns on one side obvious, the knots and ties hidden. So also each thread is made of woven and spun fibres, some like camels hair, others the cotton, then the finest silks, the texture of each tapestry woven together in our sharing. The time and the places, the touch and the smile, the scent of nearness, the knowledge of how the world disappears in every moment we share. Even publicly there is an intimacy, deep and unspoken, the intimacy that some may view if they have the sensitivity to see. For in the naturally mirrored and matched gestures, that little moment where our noses twitch together, there is a magic. The drifting and floating of our thoughts on a different plane, something that is very rare and precious, a gem to be kept and worn on the most special of occasions.
Today I know you cannot wear the steel of the collar that awaits you. The hardware of that bond, the evidence, the reality of that band worn in thought, soon in flesh. The times and opportunities afforded to U/us, in the practical and real time-distance of travel, to the moments where it’s just another lap around, sitting together or meeting with a hug. The public reality that requires the different clothes of the context. We dance easily learning new steps stretching strides discovering each other as we move together over that slippery surface. Then pausing and exploring the spins and jumps of different elements, a simple journey on the surface for all to see. Then the undercurrents, to smiles of welcome and the joys of meeting, different seasons and different climates, that others do not perceive, while now you learn in new ways to sense beyond the words and the obvious movements.
The door opens again into a different world and a different dimension. I want to hear your squeal, to see the shiny reflection cast and formed - locked on you. To know that you are Mine, to take you into My storm as I Command the wild hurricane, the rain and the hail, the lightning and the sparks of wild nature’s fury. Then the nod and the gesture, knowing before you know, the limits touched. A pause and a deeper breath, the restraints released, the lifting and carrying of you, laying you down. Gently now rocking in My lap, from the wild rock concert of random drum beats rhythms a clash of intensity. To the regular gentle sound you hear with your head resting on My chest, your being held in My arms. Later you sense this in different ways, like the passenger in the seat. As you are also so much more, the babe in My arms, the child holding My hand, the raging teen rebelling, than the adult in a storm of activity striving constantly to discover, to achieve, to create, to be seen for you.
Yes the world often says, “you’re so pretty!” Just as you've often heard, “you have so much potential, you’re so smart, you’re <fill it in>.” Then others tell you in different ways, “you’re so silly, you’re stupid, what did you do that for?” So within yourself you hear this and the echoes of your own reflections.
As I take you and say simply, “everyone in their own way is all these things. Some have different evidence. Others are what they think the world sees. While I see only you. In the times W/we share, in the dimensions W/we inhabit together. There is no one else, there is nothing else, there is the silence and the storm, the calm and the gentle holding of you. In these moments I find you beyond age or qualification. I find you as you are, I call you Mine and I celebrate this.”
Watching your face I see that you begin to sense these words, to live them within your own mind as I teach you in the reality of place and time and experience. With stories and tasks, with the discipline of Master’s frown, or a word snapped in displeasure. For I know that these movements sting more than the leather of your favourite whip. Know too that there are many rewards W/we share, as I see your joy and you see My smile, then too I see the reflection of My smiling in your responses, so again I smile wider wrapped in the sparkling joy of what W/we share.
As I remember that moment, like My own child’s first steps. Grown now, adult and simply you, in the time we share as U/us; perhaps a different you. So I offer you a ride home, without hesitation, you know this offer is always there for you to ask for too. Then this time, as in all times you should, simply say, “yes.” While in public you may whisper silently to yourself, “yes Master.” In the acceptance of this simple gesture, that I will drive the vehicle home, ensuring that you arrive safely, another part of your gift to Me is in the knowing you are safe. In this time, your own first steps, as in some strange way you are compelled to seek under the seat, find the drawer and the gifts that await you. Lifting them out you may wonder what is wrapped as the weight and shape are revealed within the fabric. So then I nod and you open each, while I watch the smile of deeper joy on your face, so I speak gently deeper, concealing the storm of My own delighted emotion, “yes, I wanted you to find these, I purchased these for you, with you in Mind I chose carefully. take them out of the bags.”
In silence you reach into the first bag, the lighter one and find the more delicate of the pair. I watch the smile, subtle and restrained. Then placing that on the seat; you reach in again and take the second gift, heavier and obvious a statement, a promise, a contract and more than most people could even imagine possible. I watch your eyes, see the smile and the tears, the excitement and the shock, the light and the darkness clashing. What you've always wanted, what you've never dared to hope for, what you dreamt of with Me, what you discarded with anguish, “no that’s not possible, I can’t, I couldn't, He wouldn't. He’s not. He so is.” Even in these words and the times, you know I've always held you since W/we first met, keeping you from falling, catching you in that last moment, holding you as balance almost tipped. Being there, simply constantly, far more than simply ordering from the menu. As you know that simple comfort and ritual is completed with deep and profound consideration, each dish selected by My preference and also with the developing understanding of your own limits with regard to spice and flavour, presentation and sweet delights. So too I teach you of My preferences and more.
Then I watch and see your face, so taking the key, I open the circle and say simply, “lift your hair.” The I move near to you, almost touching as W/we sense the warmth of our bodies so near. The steel circlet open I reach behind you one arm on either side, then step back quickly a sudden change occurring the increase in muscle tension as I stand straighter, My Voice deepens, something inside moves differently, you glance to My belt buckle and I see that moment of confusion, as I speak in a totally different tone from deep within, “It’s ok little one, you did nothing wrong, you did everything right.” With one hand I touch your shoulder and with the gentlest pressure push you downwards, “kneel.”
In an eye blink the thoughts cascade. The ground is dirty, the pretty dress will be messed, knees will feel the ground, stockings may be ripped, still instantly you respond like you've dreamt and imagined this a thousand times. The sounds of that word still vibrating in the air, “kneel.”
That instant response the immediate movement, the girl upon her knees before Master. I step forward and slide the steel under your hair, then quickly and easily bring the two segments together, a small adjustment and the click of both sides meeting, the shaft of the lock in place a final push, click.
