Posted by Menagerie on July 08, 2004 at 20:59:17:
GIVING ALL
“It’s time.” David’s quiet, deep voice woke Maria from her sleep. She had been dreaming of a time when she was free, when she lived in the outside world and all its outrages. It was not a happy dream. “David?” she said, groggily; when she rolled over to see him, she realized that, once again, her hands were tied. “It’s time?” she repeated, a note of fear catching her voice.
He nodded, gravely. She looked into those eyes, dark as a thundercloud, and knew. He reached down and easily lifted her to her feet.
She was in the cage, the two-meter square cell in which she had spent most of these last three months. A bed of straw, a bowl of water were her comforts. Once a day, the Mistress would let her out to exercise in the small, enclosed yard behind their country home; she would stretch her long arms and legs, bask in her nudity in sunshine, lie in the cool grass beneath the tree. The Mistress would stand, patiently; when she decided Maria’s time in the open air was done, she would simply turn back to the door leading to the cellar, and Maria would obediently follow. Like a beast, it occurred to her more than once…but, this was a life of her own choosing. As would be her fate.
Her affair with David had begun innocently enough; a few whispered words in a restaurant, a phone number on a slip of paper…a blissful evening in a secluded apartment. How she had shuddered beneath his strong touch; how her body had sung out the delights of his manhood. The dark, brooding artist was much older than she, but made her feel as his equal, so skilled was his lovemaking, so courtly his air. They met again, and again…her escape from the real world, its dreariness and lack of color, lack of feeling. She had come alive again.
At night together, she would awaken with a start, her eyes wet; he wore a look of concern as he peered over her. She confessed her dissatisfaction, her despair; she lived for him now, but for nothing more. I need more time with you, Maria would moan, that I could make peace with myself, and that would be enough—her life would be fulfilled. He comforted and caressed her, but…no, he said, I cannot. These brief encounters are all that can be—unless…he left the thought unfinished.
But came the time, finally, when she could not wrench herself from him, that she sobbed and said he would never see her again, for she would be no more…David thought; finally, he said, “You would be with me for all time.”
“Yes,” she cried. “A short time with you would be my whole life.”
“There can be only a short time, you understand,” he warned. “Then, you must give of your whole body to me; you will be done. Can you accept that?”
There was no hesitation. “I am yours, my love, to use as you will,” throwing herself at him. “Please, take me.”
He stroked her long hair, whispered in her ear. “When we arrive,” he said, “I will show you what you are, what you will be.”
They rode in silence to the small, tidy country estate; a pale, slender woman, as dark as Maria was blonde, waited at the door. The woman did not seem surprised at all.
“Natasha is my…companion,” said David. “She will see to your needs during the day, as will I at night. Your quarters will be rough, some might say cruel. Come.”
He led her through the airy dining room, to the kitchen, with steel knives and pots shimmering in reflected light. “For you, it will end here.” Maria did not understand, not at first; it would be up to Natasha, her keeper, to explain that it would be her very body that would finally serve the Master, that her flesh would be his sustenance.
Even so, there was no regret. A few more nights with David, and he could exact from her what he wished; she was even delighted that she would live on as part of him. And so they walked down the dark stairway to the cellar, and she beheld her new home, the cage. “I am not the first,” she thought, and as if reading her mind he said, “Others have preceded you; I know not what hold I have that brings women to accept this fate, but none have shirked away. You may, yet; I can take you back to the town, and you’d not see me again.”
No, that was unbearable; for however long as David and his dark paramour would suffer her presence, that was enough for her. Maria willingly shed her clothes and knelt naked in the tiny cell. “Come, Master,” she said, “Welcome me to your estate.” They made love, and Maria’s desire to play out this little tale became more intense than ever; even as she rocked beneath him, her hips thrusting wildly as if to draw every last humour from his body, she thought: finally, I am Home.
Despite the hostile, confining quarters, her keepers treated her well. She grew plump on the rich, delicately prepared meals Natasha presented, creamy with fat and flavor; the meat was indescribable, but as she devoured it with ecstasy, the realization dawned on her. Her eyes met those of the Mistress, who nodded. “Yes,” said the dark-haired woman, “this was another who shared the Master’s life for a brief time, and then…” Her own fate; someday, she thought, there’d be another woman in this comfortable dungeon, and it would be Maria’s own flesh on which she would dine. It did not sicken or frighten her, but it did bring the realization home. There was no turning back.
And she discovered, to her delight, that it was not only David who would drive her to ecstasy, for Natasha herself was just as skilled at making a woman’s body shake with passion. “Only if you will have me, my dear,” the Mistress said calmly; standing before her, the two of them in the cell, she had wordlessly removed her clothes, exposing a trim, muscular physique, breasts that defied her years, and a flat belly that showed that the unusual “diet” of the estate did not make one slothful. Maria was timid at first, in the embrace of another woman…but that gave way to pleasure, and then to sheer, unbridled euphoria, as Natasha explored every point of Maria’s body, using her hands and mouth to draw her young prisoner to Heaven. And Heaven, Maria decided, was what she had found…despite the ominous glare of the light from above the stairs, shining through the kitchen with its immaculate knives and pans.
And they talked. Talked about how to please David, about how to please each other. About life, and death. About…timidly, at first, Maria asked about her body. Was it satisfying? Natasha nodded; very full, very rich. The slender brunette cupped Maria’s heavy breasts, ran her hands down the younger woman’s belly and waist, looked up into her slightly apprehensive eyes. “Yes,” she said, slowly nodding, “we will relish you.”
Never short with her, always patient, as with a curious child. Maria’s few missteps were met with tolerance. Punishment, she was warned, meant an evening…alone. That was enough to bring tears to Maria’s eyes. She was giving what was left of her life so she could enjoy his attention; not one night would she sacrifice. The behavior problem was ended; she would nuzzle the leg of her Mistress as Natasha stroked and assured her.
Still, though, Natasha always seemed detached, aloof. Understandable at times; Maria was nude and in chains, always, while Natasha stood before her in impeccable dress. Perhaps with arms folded and an index finger tapping on her arm; perhaps seated, slender crossed legs in dark nylons, as she looked upon her helpless charge. But even during those steamy afternoon lovemaking sessions, as they writhed naked in each other’s arms…gazing into her Keeper’s eyes, Maria saw a faraway look. Perhaps, she thought, she is wishing I were David. She would later find out how right she was…
Before the Master arrived each evening, Natasha would prepare Maria for him. The backyard “play area” had four-meter-high walls, so Maria could enjoy her brief time there unfettered…but to walk the dozen steps up from the cellar, she would have to have her wrists shackled, her ankles joined by a two-foot chain. “You may not go, now or ever, my dear,” Natasha murmured huskily. The Mistress would bathe her in exquisite salts and shampoos; Maria’s skin was lustrous as she waited David’s pleasure each evening on the oversized divan in his den, nude and bound, prepared to serve his every desire.
Each night was like their first; David’s hands would explore her in the darkened room, feeling the full curves of her body, the soft comfort of her breasts. She reached desperately with bound hands for his manhood, wishing only to convey to him some of the delirious pleasure he was giving her. Their mouths would meet, tongues would flow. She would clamber eagerly to the floor and service him with her mouth, stroking the inside of his thigh with one finger, huddling close to his legs as if wanting to join with his very flesh.
Later, the leg cuffs would come off, and he would mount her, their bodies drinking in the ecstasy of each other’s warm, bare skin. His was taut and hairy, and yet possessed of a surprising suppleness, as if it were oiled and tanned leather; hers, soft and smooth, as delightful as the lightest chiffon. During the day, Maria was self-conscious about the weight she had gained on the rich and forbidden food, looking down ruefully at a belly showing a bit of a roll; but at night, David treated her as if she were the most desirable woman in the world, and he, her mere consort. Their roles were reversed in love; it was she who captivated him.
And, yet…she knew her time was coming; it wouldn’t be long. The delicious bits of meat had disappeared from the daily repasts. And during their own sessions, Natasha had begun to eye her…hungrily. Late one night, panting on their backs after what had seemed hours of passion, she asked:
“How many have there been?”
He knew what she meant. “Eight,” he said. “The first, years ago…”
“And Natasha? Why does she not make nine?”
He turned to her on his elbow; she only turned her head toward him—her hands remained bound.
“She would gladly be the ninth,” he said, those smoldering eyes searching deeply into hers. “She would give herself to me as you have. When another has thrown herself at my feet, has told me that she wants to give of her life, her flesh to me, Natasha accepts her role as Keeper…until all is done.”
Maria turned away. “You make love to her, then?”
David reached over, touched her shoulder. “No,” he said. “Not while you are here.” And suddenly, Maria realized that her presence deprived Natasha of the thing the dark woman needed most—David’s love. She murmured, “I believe it is almost time…”
Strong hands gently turned her toward him; their lips met, then parted. The deep voice rumbled. “Have I made you happy?”
Her mouth curved into a smile; her eyes shone with tears. “As happy as a woman could be…”
She had wondered how it would end. Again shackled, she hobbled before Natasha across the cellar floor, started again up the stairs. “No,” said the older woman, a hand on her bare flank, “there is another room…”
The room had a three-meter ceiling, a drain in the floor. A hook on a chain dangled from a beam overhead; Natasha affixed it to Maria’s cuffs, turned a manual pulley…Maria was aloft, her toes barely brushing the hard floor. To be slaughtered like an animal…”Will the Master see me again?” she asked, her eyes brimming with tears.
“I am here, darling,” came the familiar voice; David stood in the doorway. “And I will remain until the end.” A wash of relief surged through every fiber of Maria’s being; she did not fear death—just death alone.
“And I will ease your final moments,” said Natasha calmly. And those were the last words Maria heard, for the woman now held a gleaming knife, and she easily opened Maria’s artery.
As the blood coursed down her naked body, Maria became dimly aware of another feeling—a feeling of exhilaration. Natasha had dropped to her knees and was massaging Maria’s orifice with her tongue. As her life slowly slipped away, Maria stiffened with orgasm…then another…then another…
It was in that room that Maria would be separated at the joints, her flesh prepared for their meals. Natasha was skilled; the meat, as beautiful as it had been when it had been joined into a living woman, cried out for her kitchen talents, and their experiences had taught her how to turn a woman’s body into elegant works of culinary art. Maria’s marvelous breasts would be steamed, served in a cream sauce; her heavy thighs would be cured, carved thick, offered with cheeses. Each morsel would be savored by both of them, as much as their love had been Maria’s own succor.
Sunday dinner brought out Natasha’s best…a rack carved from Maria’s loin, ribs protruding from the roasted meat, garnished with apricots. They celebrated her as they consumed her flesh, shared stories of love, of play. Then, they fell silent.
“My time,” said Natasha, looking past the carved meat, through the candles, into David’s incredible eyes, “will come.”