Monday, February 28, 2011

quiet ritual

Sometimes she sits to complete the ritual, others she kneels.  It depends upon where her thoughts and emotions have led her, and where he has taken her, before this quiet time arrives.  Tonight, she misses her Sir and she already knows which posture will make her feel most connected to him.  Only moments ago she was full of motion - inside and out.  But now, having slipped deliberately to her knees the motion ceases.  As her hands settle down upon her lap, she finds stillness and begins. 

She tilts her chin up as she closes her eyes and draws a deep breath.  As her mind focuses in the direction that he has asked her to take, her lips turn up softly.  She can feel him there with her and he fills her in every possible way - mentally, emotionally, even physically although he is many miles away.  Tonight, this is the only way that she can be with or speak with him.  It is enough - but barely - to feel the ghost touch of his hand on her shoulder, to hear the echo of his voice, to bask in the warmth of the memory of his smile… and to know that he will be happy with her obedience.

After she is done and begins to rise she can’t help but wonder… did he hear the thoughts and silent prayer of thanks that she sent him as a whisper on the wind?  Did his thoughts turn unexpectedly toward her or did he suddenly see an image of her on her knees, waiting for him to return in patience and obedience, reveling in the pleasure of simply being his?

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