Archive-name: Bondage/form.txt

Archive-author: 

Archive-title: Form





	I breathe in deeply to feel the cut of your collar on my neck. It

is tight so that it will stop my breathing if I get too excited. It

reminds me of my purpose, to serve you and to take what ever you give me.

Is it now, writing this communication of myself for you so that you may

more fully understand my existence as your slave. This is for you, Sir.





	Inside, thoughts move, they search for some kind of form, one that

will evolve into something that will challenge us. It is there, just out

of reach and as we close our eyes it solidifies. What is the meaning?.What

is the flavor?, we can almost taste it. Will we be taken to a place

outside ourselves? Will it be a moment with our exterior perceptions or

will it be within. 

	It is within. I can feel two, one that is Quiet and waits for

actions, and the other which is the one that creates and watches for

reactions. I breathe in deeply and can feel the collar against my throat.

I think of you, who is capable of creating a place that can hold the Quiet

one in tight, listening and waiting for pain. We both surge with the

thought of you but Action turns to Quiet and hushes her, "don't think, I

want you to react". Action pulls on her collar and waits for the form to

evolve further. "Quiet, do you know what it is we are doing here?" Action

peers at Quiet.."we are expanding what it is that we define as ourselves",

Action trembles, she knows that it is the challenge that she may not be

able to control. Action must be in control else they are lost and with no

form. Quiet sits quietly, feeling her collar and seeing him in her eyes,

the other that knows her well and who does not hesitate like Action. "Do

you blame me Quiet? We have been one for so long that I may not be able to

actualize the form as I see it. That is a danger. Do you see that?..Stop

thinking of yourself only. Stop thinking." 

	Quiet clears and becomes pure sensation, she is herself but only

at the outer edge, the nerves, the one that will feel and react to the

form. Action looks inside again and then sees a line, one that is black

and then shivers into red. It is hot and it is straight. Action sees that

it moves at one edge, it grows then she sees what draws this line, a

knife. Action closes her eyes and grips the handle of that knife and lowly

runs it across Quiet's skin. The line flares hot and brighter red. Within

the line Action can see a yellow intensity. Quiet opens her eyes and sees

Action pull the knife across her leg. The pain pulls into Quiet deeply.

She feels her internal organs ripple and she senses a peak, a place that

comes with the first cut. Quiet grips her breast and gasps, as his collar

tightens. Not breathing, Quiet soon calms and opens her eyes and watches

the blood slip from the cut, so soft. The liquid is Quiet as she stares

and relishes in the relief that washes over her, as she begins to numb

back into silence, waiting to react. Action watches this and glories in

the reaction, the first pain is always so intense. There is a strong urge

to stop and hold the thought pattern of that first pain for as long as

possible, "Quiet will wait as long as I tell her too". Action sighs and

feels the edge of the wound and feels a new pain, a catalyst to move onto

the next form. Action closes her eyes and looks again. "What is it that we

have within us that lies like a rock, pushing us into a form that is not

intentional on our part?" Action wants to remove that pull, she wants to

free that part of herself which is held by others. She thinks of Sir and a

form appears. A roundness and it glows white and then blue. It resonates

deep within them both, Action is not separate from Quiet at that place.

Action turns to Quiet "Touch our clitoris, now, begin softly". Quiet

reacts and touches their clitoris lightly and then pushes down on the

edges, feeling the muscles surrounding the opening, they quiver and Quiet

shivers. Action sees the roundness quiver and grow. "Ah, Sir this is the

place that you hold, a place that we allow you to hold. But so many other

things hold it as well. Does it thrive on these others?. Does the holding

by so many make it grow?. Or is it compromised?. Is it diminished.?"

Action sees that, in this moment as Quiet begins to rhythmically stroke

their clitoris, the roundness does not grow but rather it begins to move.

That it is the motion that is what is of the essence and not the growth.

"The bondage is on the growth but the rhythm is ours" 

	Action realizes that they are alone and that these bonds are

contained within. "It is the bonds that I must release. But how?"  Action

rakes her fingernails across their stomach to clear her mind, Quiet

strokes faster. Action sees that the form vibrates faster, the rhythm

increases. Action grips her inner thigh and pulls the muscles, sensing her

body tremble, Quiet moans as the vibration of the form increases. "It is

ours to control and the form will become us as well" Action pulls on his

collar and stops breathing, pure silence within, Quiet groans and reaches

inside, feeling the rhythm inside them, pulsating and strong, pushing.

Action picks up the knife again and stares at its cold face, seeking the

reflection of the form within its meaning. 

	The knife comes down on the inner thigh and cuts the earlier form,

soft liquid, Quiet merges with the line and the roundness begins a

secondary resonance. Quiet arches her back and in exquisite selfishness

begs Action for his presence, his pressure on top of them and within.

Quiet can barely understand the totality and purity of this feeling that

Action is forcing on her, Quiet is so weak and begins to grope for a

premature union with Action. Action senses the forms retreating and cuts

again to sharpen Quiet's reaction, to pull her back into the place that

they have created now. Liquid and the organic frailty scare Quiet into a

tense waiting. "Quiet you must continue the rhythm, there lies the

completion of this moment." Action touches the cuts and runs slick fingers

through the liquid and then Quiet runs those slick fingers within their

organic reality to maintain the rhythm. Suddenly Action can see that the

rhythm has transcended the form and has become them, the rhythm pulses

through Action as well as Quiet. They arch their back and whiteness shoots

from the form and into Quiets exterior. She numbs to a pure clarity and

Action losses herself in Quiet's reaction. 

	A gasp initiates the next reality and then a clear breath as they

regain their presence. Action begins to slide back out into Quiet and the

meshing begins. Action loosens her will over Quiet and looses the vision

of the form. A sigh and they open their eyes, together. Shaking I caress

your collar and see your face. Open, clean and pure I unsnap your collar

from my neck and breathe deeply.



--