Of course I intended on not returning to Alistair's for at least a couple of days... But come on, who can resist the temptation of a summer night's barbeque? I am not made of stone, for Christ's sake. The food was superb, and some of the conversation got me thinking...
There were five of us, Alistair, the ex, two of the ex's entourage, (both extremely nice boys named Isaac and Robin), and last but not least, me. At some point, Alistair made mention of the little "date" that we have for Saturday night. This is a break with tradition, because they are usually "Friday Nights With Maisie and Alistair", and they are now practically an institution. They tend to consist in lots of filthy, depraved, utterly wrong, disgusting play and sex, combined with generous use of narcotics. Last time, we began in the lounge, then the stairs, then the office, then somehow back to the stairs, then the dungeon... We often end up in the bathroom, which is highly convenient because we usually need a good scrubbing. Back to the point.
We are holding this event on Saturday, however, when Alistair brought this up, we discovered that the ex will be attending a fetish club and returning with some of her entourage to play, and they will be requiring the dungeon. (I always wonder how she can tell Alistair she is not interested in play, before promptly carting a boy over to molest). She told us not to worry because by the time they came home, we would be done. I allowed myself some secret satisfaction when Alisatair proudly pointed out that we play all night long, and then some. We also do rather appreciate privacy when we indulge ourselves, but it appears we shan't be getting any, unless we lock ourselves in his bedroom, which is damned inconvenient.
Later on in the conversation, I asked him if he had purchased any blades. I am sad to say that he has not, and does not intend to. He says I will get addicted. I think he simply finds the idea of cutting me unpleasant, but won't say so. I am so disappointed, I have fantasised about it for so long...
There was one particular Friday night when he had me sitting on the sofa, wearing the cute little red rubber apron that he has me put on. He had blindfolded me and dashed off to the dungeon. I had no idea of what he was about to do, but when he returned, I felt the alcoholic wipe on my breast. I became very afraid. My hands were secured behind my back, so I had no way to push his hands away. I thought that he was about to stick a needle in me, and I am so terribly phobic of needles. He told me that it was not a needle, and I instantly guessed that he intended to cut me. My heart felt like it would beat through my chest, and my head was rapidly spinning into that place where I will do anything. Nobody can take me there but Alistair, I almost resent the way he can effortlessly work himself inside my mind. I whimpered, and told him I was afraid (and indeed, a large part of me wanted to stop), and he spoke to me with that silken voice of his, purring to me that I was a good girl, and that it would be ok. Alistair can quite easily reduce me to a quivering wreck without ever laying a hand upon me, he only needs to whisper into my ear. And then I felt the blade cut into my flesh, it was very superficial, and no real damage was caused. It was the most indescribably wonderful and horrific experience. It is not quite the cutting that I seek, it is more the fact that I could ever be put in a position where I would relinquish my body and mind enough that a person could do that to me. The thought of being cut into is horrifying, but the feeling of being under somebody's spell to that degree is exquisite.
The fact that it was revealed to me afterwards that the dungeon had run out of sterile blades some time ago, and that he had in fact been using a sterile needle to scratch his initial into my skin, almost added to the wrongness. Rock on, Friday nights. Suffice to say, ever since that experience, I have been desperate to replicate it, prolong it, revel in it. And now I cannot, because he will not.
When I led him up to bed to be tucked in, (another ritual of ours when I am not able to stay the night), he began to discuss plans for Saturday. He kept saying that he wants to go somewhere and do something with me. I kept my mouth shut, because it almost felt like he wished to take me away because he had taken her away, and that this would put right a whole heap of wrong. I would rather be taken away in my own right, independent of the treats that others have already received. Still, I am sure the intentions are fairly good, so I shall keep quiet on this one. In any case, we both have so much work to do, we will have to spend most of the time studying etc. He thinks that it would be a good idea to work away, but can't think of where. I find it hard to work in strange places, largely because I am slighlty OCD and fear change. I think he would ideally like a place to work that could be then used for private play-time. The more I write, the more I resent the fact that again, it is all working around her plans.