Master Eli is gone…

It’s cold at night without him. Sure as the rain falls though, I know he needed to take care of things for himself. Other than sleeping by myself again, not much changed. I’m owned by the Clinic now so I’m just carrying on as usual, helping around as I can, as I’m told.

I just hope he comes out of it okay, his journey. I hope I didn’t make it worse…

Thought….

How do we get past the bondage of our own mental torment? How do we survive the things that make us hurt in ways that shouldn’t be possible. Ways far worse than physical torture for they run rivers deeper and darker than any cut filled of blood. When those binds are gone… how long will their impression linger upon the soul like rope tide tight might indent the flesh.

I think it depends greatly on two things. How tight and deep the anguish goes… and how much you want it to linger.

Master Ignatius

Sleeping naked with Eli brushed their bodies, often naked, against one another. She was growing to the feel of him as home, as her new Clan. Still, he’s a constant stimulus to the Navatuian passion. Yet in her sleep this night, perhaps out of a brush of him against the curve of her ass, someone else came to mind. Filling her normally quiet slumbering mind with heated need.

It left her gasping with a pounding heart and suddenly panting breaths when she woke. Ripped into awareness by an orgasm that didn’t actually happen. She felt the warmth of her want pulsate off her flesh to the beat of excited heart and realized then she couldn’t hold it back and ignore it like Eli could. It claimed her like most Navatuian traits did and she knew she’d have to ask him.

Because he was her Master. She was his slave. And she wasn’t sure what the rules were on seeking sex from someone… so ask permission she would.

Darkness still yet lingers most days when alertness starts to spread through her body. It usually begins with the smell of everything; Eli. He’s the first reminder of where she is, which calls to attention the feel of the collar around her neck. Lopsided and mostly warm on account of her body heat. The awareness spreads to her limbs and the sound of his breathing usually beside or behind her depending on her own positioning.

Unbeknownst to him as her conscious mind connects with her subconscious and much better guarded mind information feeds into her neural net and the pulse of his heart can be felt like a soft pressure against her skin. Pulsing evenly everywhere on her flesh as his heart pushes the blood from one ventricle to the other and out into his system. Often this and this alone encouraged Kiahvo to linger a few moments before moving. Hanging in nostalgia for the feel of her Clan all around and soaking in the relief she had at least him to wake to most of the time. 

Under the relaxed mostly jovial woman was a whole world of sensation and feeling that challenged her in her role as a slave. Inside the room she could hear the song of birds and feel their call; sometimes they were just happy, sometimes they were seeking other birds and Kiahvo could almost always hear the difference. She could see the branches of a tem through the window and feel it sway; protruding like a an exposed nerve of the planet. Occasionally, she’d open it. Stand there a moment.

The floor under her feet holds the markings of it’s use and she sees them always. Low table scuff. Heavy cornered object fell. Something round sat for years. Pieces of a world she didn’t create or have an influence on. So she always looked for the ones she did have an influence on. Reminding herself there would be more of them in time.

Usually naked Kiahvo will move to the washroom or any room with a sink that’s available. As the feel of Eli’s pulse fades to her distance from him it’s replaced by that of static walls. Unmoving. Packaged and constructed to remain for lifetimes. Their inter-workings like a skeleton for all the fleshy parts. Some mornings she considers whether the walls will survive longer than her the trials of time and existence.

The water against her face is always like cool silk that touches every pore like it was tailored as her skin, not just for her. It was refreshing and helped her beat back lingering melancholy of Clan-less-ness that was always hardest fresh out of a slumbering mind. Split attention often came as Eli woke in the wake of her getting up— though sometimes he was up before her. 

Even in another room she could feel him move, like a vague energy on the other side of the cold-dead wall. Waking and becoming a stronger more vivid energy as life and alertness filled him. Hypersensitive woman could smell the soap and hands of those who’d dried them on the towel, always smelling for the side that didn’t get used or grabbing a new one to dry her face.

As the fog of her slumber cleared and the full blare of her awareness bore down on her she took a meditative moment with hands down to the tattooed prints on her thighs. She used short technique her people were all trained in, to prepare for torture. While Kiahvo wasn’t about to be tortured by any means she’d learned rather quickly on Gor that she couldn’t handle being fully ‘awake’ just yet. So what was once used to help close down the parts of her that felt everything to make torture more endurable was now used to control and limit how much of *this* world she felt at a time.

It took no longer than an ehn of mental chants and the metaphoric doors mentally closed. Barriers erected that would make the energy of Eli in the other room fade and the press of confining walls soften. Her flesh stilled, or to her it felt still. Devoid of the hum that came out of feeling the worlds vibrations and energies. It lingered there, like a pressure in the back of her skull lightly pulsing without pain. Waiting to burst out and make her feel abuzz again when something provoked her or made her forget to hold it closed.

The meditation only got the process started, but it was an ongoing effort to keep the part of her that made her the Kaju’s Jiv’Ka… vessel of the Gods. Only such a person could be so connected to the world. Connected, the very meaning of her name. In time she was sure she would be able to open herself to Eli’s world. But for now, for now it was enough to just experience it on the surface.

With a light smile, if Eli was still getting up it was a dance like stretch back to the room to see if he wanted any help and to discuss the day’s agenda if they had one…

New things….

The Navatuian woman was delighted by the new silks and of course the lack of having to wear the chastity belt anymore. Much to her surprise she wont one more to find a bone bead bracelet and a peach as if the silks weren’t enough. It reminded Kiahvo not to think about what was hard or uncomfortable, but to appreciate having an owner who cares.

In the wake of Jonah

He’d pushed a button to get the fuel flowing and then lit a match with the press of his lips and body. It was blown out just as quickly when Jonah’s mind caught up to the trouble he might be in for touching her. Kiahvo, stood in a lean against the kitchen counter, panting and reluctant to move until the throb betwixt her thighs subsided.

Memory mixed with a new thought…

Kiahvo watched a collar in a supply shop get knocked over by a slave playing with her Master. It chimed against the ground and rotated like a coin might until it finally settled. Watching it reminded her of the Fly Rings of Be’Vartu. Metal rings used in dance to appease Be’Vartu, the keeper of Jev’Ka or their ‘ever after’.

In a dream…

There was something about seeing the pleasured look of both men, and feeling the desire as they found a rhythm with one another that simply bent her spine.

The Man with no skin…

A coping mechanism used by the Navatuian woman to make it easier to ignore weighty attraction. Wolfish honey brown eyes look upon the man who very much does have skin; envisioning instead, him without it. So when the flex of muscle steals her attention it isn’t an admiring eye she gives but an inspecting one. Imagining the muscle fibers or bones and tendons. Far less arousing…