| Blood In The Snow Of Raven Rock
Copyright © 2000, Namaste Master. ALL Rights Reserved
(MF, heavy BDSM, knifeplay, bloodwork, branding, scarification,
edgework, outdoor activities, consensual)
Yes, I don't deny that my heart was going all a' pitter-patter as the
faint smell of jet fumes left my nostrils as I made my way up the flexiramp
to exit at Gate 3 in Terminal "A' at RDU airport. It was fluttering and
racing not from being in love, for I truly wasn't in love with my Master,
loved him and his subwife yes, but wasn't "in" love. It wasn't going the
proverbial ninety miles a minute from fear either, even though I knew
before the weekend was over that my life would truly be in his hands and
hopefully he would accept me as his forever. Instead if was from sheer
unbridled anticipation, fantasizing about the hopeful unknown.
"Great to meet you finally, Jen!" he nearly shouted in my ear as his
large and longish arms surrounded my tall for a broad five ten frame, his
six foot four height towering over me as we hugged a deep and sincere hug
of friendship, his almost my size joining in as well.
"Great to meet you in real life too, finally, my...Master" I whispered
loudly back to him as a fellow passenger nosingly overheared my comment as
she scooted close by past us but not before shooting us a look of envious
disgust as her walking pace increased.
"Nam' ", as he likes to be called, his nom de e-plume being Namaste
Master, and I had met online when I responded to one of his general posts
in the alt.sadistic Usenet group, exactly what about I don't remember, and
being new and curious about the BDSM lifestyle had offered myself to him as
a cyber and chat and phone slave. Over the course of the next few months
we had become friends as well as teacher and student and Master and Slave.
His subwife Cathy didn't mind at all, they having an open and different
kind of marriage than most, she even participating sometimes during our
chatroom and voice-phone training sessions. My poetic thoughts and
affections could wax infinitely about all his positive and even some of his
more interesting negatively balancing attributes, but let's just say that
he thinks different, acts different, eats different, talks different,
writes different, and now in my arms my nose next to his face as we
friendly hug and kiss even smells different than any I've ever known.
The ride from the airport to his modest home in west Raleigh took
forty-five minutes to go the six miles, the infamous traffic on I-40 that
he told me about being as bad as the time I went on a business trip to
Chicago and got caught on the infamous Eisenhower Expressway in the middle
of rush hour there too. A light dusting of half-melted snow glistened like
so much h2o'd bleached beachsand through the edge of the veil of deep woods
that '40 tunneled through. Easing off the eightlane up the offramp and
down Harrison Avenue, my Master made noises about eating dinner first
before going to the house, taking me on a quick tour of what was left of
The three of us ate dinner at the Outback steakhouse in Cary.
Conversation between he and I was lively but not forced on any and every
topic we could think of, except the most obvious one that has brought me a
thousand miles from Kansas City to my Master. My fellow Subbie interjected
this thought or that observation from time to time appropriately, but kept
her presence pretty much lowkeyed in the background despite sitting
snuggled next to me in the highbacked booth. Subwife orders her steak
medium, and I medium rare, but Nam' steps in and tells the waiter with
polite domination that "she'll have hers rare; put it on the grille just
long enough to warm it, but make sure it's left good and bloody" the waiter
looking surprised by his command but scribbling it down on his order pad
That evening my Master tied me and SubCathy up and did some mild scenes
with us, but nothing wild, nothing extravagant like we would have on the
morrow. He seemed to take devlish delight in nipple clipping both myself
and Cathy together as we knelt wrists tied behind respective backs sitting
across from each other, little luv brushes across our backs with a birch
rod bundle making us pull back from each other stretching our nipples and
breasts out loopingly horizontally as we did.
SubCathy ran to the grocery store as a fairly heavy downfall of snow
began, fearful that we might be snowed in without a way to get necessary
supplies later that weekend. "Don't worry, Slave Jen..." my Master
informed me as he took slow delights with me in our momentary privacy by
lightly caning me as I knelt over his lap my pinkish tampon string hanging
evidenced of similar color to my redding backside as his dominating mastery
of me continued "...it's been very warm and sunny for the past two days,
the roadsurfaces are too warm for the snow to stick, we'll still be able to
have our outing tomorrow..."
The front door then bedroom door creaked open as Cathy came in to our,
my Master's and my, playtime. She had been gone for over two hours,
obviously trying to give us a little privacy. She was sweet. I hoped to
become as practiced and thoughtful a' slave to my shared Master and friend
as she was to her husband and Master too.
Blindfold being folded over and around my eyes as my body lay prone on
the rough cotton fabric sheets my face buried in a pillow pushing the scarf
being used as a gag deeper into my mouth restricting my air supply my
wrists and ankles stretched taught to the four posts of the modern
manufactured Colonial-style tubed waterbed my fellow Sub, Cathy, switched
for a second as her bare hand layed into my openly splayed as my
Master shoved his condom-covered cock deep inside my ass while working my
heaving shoulderblades with a taming touch of his birchrod bundle. Tying
us together in a peapod sixty-nine, Master worked whatever of either
of us he wished with his cock as his leathered riding crop popped and stung
whatever fleshmounds caught his sweetly wicked eye whether that flesh be
breast or buttock or back or legs. Dimutaed but not spent we three slept
as Master and Slaves should, equals but different, different in our chosen
roles but not in our respect or love for each other.
SubCathy kissed me full on the lips good-bye as my Master Namaste and I
walked down the flagstone walk to his car and our destiny. I shook and
shuddered this time not from rushing anticipation but from real creeping
fear. As much as I thought I knew about him and even after a good night's
play session, our relationship in a couple of hours was going to go from
that of play to very, very drop-dead serious. Always be careful what you
want, for you just might get it, especially if you work hard for months and
months for it.
Our backpack full of supplies and accouterments bounced off the backseat
and onto the floorboard as his oldish Taurus wagon jostled along the rough
two lane blacktop country road towards the entrance to Raven Rock State
Park. Being a total masochist and painpig and hurtslut but not an
exhibitionist I had expressed some misgivings about doing my initiation on
public land in a state-owned public park, but Nam' had poo-pooed my fears
telling me that Raven Rock Park was huge and that he knew most every square
inch of it having gone there way before it was even a park and not to sweat
it that he knew of a perfectly totally private place for us. A park ranger
drove up behind us as we waited having gotten there a few minutes before
opening time, unlocking the huge Masterlock and welcoming us on in.
My new L. L. Bean hiking boots quickly accumulated a corona of snow
and ice on their bottoms and around their edges as my back ached from its
gearload and my uterus protested my cycle and my eyes from the glare
of the deepwoods snowblanket as Nam' spun us off the marked path and up and
down a couple of steep ravines and further along a deer trail that only he
and not even the deer could see. My right ankle finding an stumphole
that had been camouflaged by the fresh layer of pristine snow that fell
just hours before, my heart and desires and fanatsies all snapped with the
same sound as what sounded like my ankle breaking like a dried twig. I
"Nammy!!!..." I cried I mean I literally cried calling out to him in my
special pet name that only I was permitted to call my Master "...I think
I've broken my ankle...damn it to hell!!!"
"Let me take a look..." he said as his pack dropped to the ground and my
one-fiftyish weight dropped with no ceremony atop it, his hands unlacing my
boot and examining and poking and proding my limb which still shone light
ropemarks from the night before "...nope, no bruising, no swelling much, no
bones sticking through, you probably just sprained it a little...here,
that's the noise you heard, silliest JenSlave of mine..." he chuckling as
an but freshly broken twig was fished out of the shallow that once held a tallish tree "...c'mon, we don't have much further to
go...you'll be alright...c'mon, we....you have come too far not to complete
your journey now".
Placing my arm on his broad shoulders we sauntered through these woods
he apparently knew so well, busting our way through a thicket of short
Christmas-type spruce trees until we came to a roundish clearing about
sixty yards in diameter, two lone oak trees about six feet apart each about
two feet around at their trunks being in the almost exact center of the
circle. Kinda five or six feet in front of them was an fireplace ring
on the ground made from loosely assembled fist-sized to basketball-sized
rocks, a dark pile of ashes in the middle of the fire ring shading the
white snow above them gray. To either side of the firering and almost
parallel to the two oak trees were two faerie stools made from three or
four oblong riverstones with flattened surfaces, large and sturdy enough
for someone to sit on. The site was but recently used site for ritual
purposes. The thoughts of what kind of ritual purposes raced through my
mind. Surely my Master wasn't involved in evil rituals, not the
non-consensual or truly evil ones at least.
"It's time, Slave Jen...it's time..." he barked to me "...drop your pack
and be very, very still".
Angular rays and shadows pierced the forest deep as the morning sun
continued its routine rise above the North Carolina countryside. My Master
fumbled the stuff he needed out of the packs initially, going off for a few
moments to find some decent firewood. The cold started to peek through my
skisuit as I stood motionless in the level chill, but I didn't dare break
command and move even to shuffle my feet to keep them warm, an involuntary
shiver from the cold and from anticipation catching his notice as he built
and lit a teepee-style fire above the patch of snow-covered ashes.
The heat from the building fire felt kind to my skin as Master began
shedding my clothes after I pulled my boots off, my ankle still sore but
feeling much better now. Leaving me in bra and only between the
trees having let me put my socks and boots back on to keep my tootsies from
being frostbit, Master then dug out from his pack and fiddled with a
portable CD player and set of battery-powered speakers for a moment, sounds
of a Gregorian chant album eeeking tinny from the tiny speakers softly but
loud enough to mask over choruses of noises I knew would be coming soon
fromth mine lips.
My southern European Italian and Greek ancestry thin blood made me
shiver in the equivalent of northern European cold.
"Are you ready, my Slave Jen...are you ready for the last step of your
first beginning, your new life as my total and complete slave?..."
"Yes, Master...I am...I am ready..." noises were made as our eyes sought
each other out, his gaze fixing so deeply upon mine that all doubt left
seconds ago was now gone as his hands roughly pulled my bra and off
me, his hands slapping my and ass and wherever he wished as he wished.
"Then kneel and kiss, then."
I knelt naked in the snow and kissed his boots as he knelt over me and
slapped my ass as hard as he could leverage. Touching my shoulder to lift
me up as ropes and cuffs came forth I soon found myself war-eagled between
the two sacred oak trees, wrists bound and arms pulled taught upwards,
ankles bound and legs spread open wide horizontally towards the trunks of
the trees. The yellow and orange flames of the fire moments before now
wimpering down to red-hot coals, waves of heat shimmering and shattering
the holographic cold that surrounded me. Eyes open my mouth was partially
closed with a shaped leather gag with air holes punched in the front. My
Master's hands roughly slapped at my breasts, hitting them much harder than
I thought he would have but glad that he did, before moving around to my
ass and open cunt, his roughened skin peeling into my softer with an
Then "thheeewwwhacckkk!!!" as a o'nine tails found my nakedly
exposed back from nowhere. I hadn't seen the whip come out of any of the
packs before feeling it. Making a show of it, Master dipped the dangles
into the sticking snow for a few seconds between each stroke to my front
too, taking great delight as my eyes widened and screams of very real pain
and delightful dread hiccupped forth from the deepest part of my soul to my
mouth, my screams being orchestrated to the timing of the chants coming
from CD player's external speakers, a perfect harmony of pain and pleasure.
He didn't hold back. I didn't want him to. The love I felt for my
Master I know had to show throw the windows to my soul of my eyes as my
body convulsed and thrashed from the continuing rain of blows to all parts
of my naked putrid flesh save my very nice and pedicured feet protected by
my Bean boots thank you very much. Trickles of blood started oozing from
dermal abrasions on my and stomach and back, cold freezing their
runnings in place on my pinkening pale flesh.
Rockets of pain shot through my very soul when Master then started
caning my and butt and back. Sideways flicking my nipples with
short punchy swipes, hitting anglely enough not peel them off but hard
enough to send pure bolts of pain through them to the center of my brain, I
know I had to have passed out for a moment as Master got a look of concern
on his face and went over to the packs to fumble through them.
An ammonia cap being broken under my nose bringing me back to
consciousness, he continued his initial workover of me with a large studded
paddle. Hitting my forced tied square with it, I couldn't help but
pee myself after the blow, the blow sending such a mixed measure of
pleasure and pain. He just smiled and laughed at my temporary incontinence
as he threw something atop the coals its handle hanging over the perimeter
rocks that contained them as he approached me closer, removing the gag
which had muffled my screams so effectively.
In his hand was a scalpel, it's new disposable blade glinting in the
rays of the rising sun which now shone closer overhead. "Are you ready,
Slave Jen, to become my property, my Slave for life, once and for all, for
"Yes, Master...YES!!!..." I shouted and hissed at him in reply "...do
it, do it now!!!"...make me your Slave, mark me, brand me, do it now!"
His day unshaven beard broken highlighted how without misogyny his
heart felt, his smile of love and devotion to me, his Slave, just melting
my heart. While he enjoyed all we had done and would do, it had been me
initially and not him that had brought up the subject after he made a
passing reference to it in one of our past cyber training times together.
"Kiss and suck the blood of your Master first, Slave!" he commanded me
as in one motion he pricked a main artery in his wrist with his new
scalpel, a squirt of blood geysering towards my face as he held it an inch
away from my mouth. I searched his eyes for pain but didn't see any. He
had simply willed his body and soul to me with one decisive flick of the
edge without fear. The thin streamed of heart-forced blood tasted so sweet
in my mouth. I and it's nourishing and metamorphosing
nutrients into the deepest recesses of places I didn't want to acknowledge
even existed even then. As I sucked, clotting took place way too
quickly for an ordinary human but then again my Master wasn't ordinary by
any of the imagination, and the font of my change stopped for a
His well-wielded scalpel then knifeplayed all over my body,
gingerslicing me just enough to leave traces and ever so slightly open the
top layer of my skin up in places but not often or deep enough to where it
would leave permanent scars after a week or two of healing. Healing.
That's what my Master was doing to me and the epiphany of it hit me like
the ton of proverbial bricks, he was healing me, healing my wounded soul.
His hand roughly mauled my open and pulled my saturated tampon out.
Using it like a Renaissance master artist, the essence of my feminine being
was collaged over the base color of the strokes of his scalpelplay, its
salty chemistry stinging my deliwounds more bitterly than the capillarial
blood than initially ran from underneath them. My mouth opened up and
screamed a scream of rebirth. His mouth found mine as he kissed me deeply,
his arms pulling me to him before pulling back and shoving my wiped but
still fresh-soaked tampon in my mouth. Our eyes not breaking contact, I
chewed on the blood-soaked rayon in act of both perfect defiance and
perfect submission. A long couple of yards away from me, the shaft of
branding iron was turning from black to grey as its designhead became white
atop the yellow-orange of the glowing coals. Nam' tugging the string I
released my oral grip on my feminine appliance Master tossed it to the edge
of the open circle in the deep woods of our power and soul exchange like so
much superflouy, his mouth finding mine once again before leaning back away
from me once more, with a "it's time, Slave, it IS time..,"
On my reddened and nicked and knifeworked chest, more specifically the
front to left side of my left breast, a practiced hand drew "my" design"
with razor-pointed felt tip pen, the design of my Master's symbol of
ownership of me, a design so special and sacred to me that I dare not speak
of it even now except in the most general of terms. The red-dotted scalpel
being waved before my eyes I was hypnotized by its cobra charm. Master
broke his gaze to focus on the task at hand. Breaking my skin and muscle
as it broke whatever remained of my free will, the slipstream edge of the
blade carved into my titflesh like a metal jetstream parting the me
from the new me. Miscellaneous torrents of blood poured from my
designwound, the smell of fresh blood mingling with the smell of menstrual blood from the woundpainting I had received just a moment prior.
As the scalpel continued its paring of the dead part of my soul from the
newly born entity of it, I didn't scream. I don't know why, but I just
didn't. Master Namaste searched my eyes for reasons why for a moment and
finding none continued finishing up his edgeplay claiming of me.
Going over to the firering, he scooped some damp cold ashes out from one
side of the fireplace. Shoving them under my nose for me to smell,
they stunk of cold and bitter and funky. I didn't react. I didn't react
until he smeared the ancient darkening substance into my open claiming body
design, a scream I know my dearest in Kansas City who would have
fainted at best if not had a heart attack at worse if she knew I was giving
my body and soul totally to my new Master in such a way as this might have
heard from its raw volume, the acidity and impurity of the and wise
ashes giving a new purity of purpose to my life as I screamed and screamed
and screamed until oxotosis and carbon dioxide build up in my system
finally took place and made me lose my breath, Nam' just smiling a sweet
smile of knowing he had done his job all too well.
Before I could recovere fully, he darted over to the firering and came
back with the white-hot brand. He had told me earlier that the hotter the
brand was at time of placement the better it would be for me, since a third
degree burn was a third degree burn and the quicker the brand was on and
off my flesh the better it would be for me, but even after having his mark
of ownership carved and sooted into my left I still wasn't ready for
"No!!!...please, Master, NOOOO!!!.." I screamed so loudly from my
diaphragm and third chakra that again my bladder released and a chug of
stomach acid rose up to my throat but it was too late. Vain spasms were
made as I pulled what little slack there was in the ropes that bound me
between the companion trees that had been my witnesses to my eternal
transformation. The faint smell of burned flesh whiffed to my nostrils as
the searing brand cooled itself on the outside flank of my right asscheek.
A few loose flakes of happy snow fell from the apogee of the sky as melting
fingers of frozen precipitation plunged from branches nearby their whiff
whiff and plop plop on the crusted woodsfloor echoing happy murmurings
within my heart. As my life's ether broke free of my earthly shell and
slammed through the walls that surrounded my Master's heart, my
consciousness faded as the pain from the sizzling emblazone began its
rushing trickle towards my medulla.
Silence. Silence in my mind. Silence in the sentry woods that
surrounded our sacred space. Silence from my Master. Only my own heart
beat to keep time to the rhythm of my new life. Slowly my pulse
hydrauliced my eyelids open to reveal the sight of my Master Namaste. The
sun was three-quarters to the west, two or three hours or more having
passed since my passing out from the finishing pain of the brand, the last
mark of Nam's ownership beguiling this humble painslut's ultimate
realization. My bonds were gone as Master cradled me close to him as he
held my naked and bleeding body bleeding both from my untamponed and
the superficial knifeplay peelscratches that he had given earlier as we lay
close on the hardish frozen ground wrapped Indian-style in an blanket.
The scarification device on my left and my still smelly of
firedestroyed flesh on my right buttcheek pulsed with an unsyncopated
dissonance. Master's lips melted to mine as my trickling bleeding melted to his probing fingers as I shivered from the cold and my total
submission and he from his heating passion and total dominance of every
earthly molecule of my body.
Tears flowed from the corners of my eyes. Not from the pain of my new
birth for that felt pleasant if not ecstatic but from the pain of an life and self given up for the past promise and now realized reality of the
presentness of my total loss of innocence.
A large hand gently popping both my ash-filled scar of identity and my
new blistered brand of possession, Master urged me to my feet and pile of
clothes so that we could scurry out of our voluntary confinement of altered
universe and back home to Raleigh where I would eventually assume my role
as co-Sub and to my Master and his primary. As I half-staggered out
of the main trail of Raven Rock State Park holding on to my Master for
balance still drunk with my endorphin rush from the purest pain sources
happily received, the park ranger that had let us in that morning ushered
us out locking the gate behind us but not before his nose twitched picking
up the bloodhound scenttrail of blood and burned flesh that shed off my
healing body and healed soul giving us a curious but harmless look as the
sun set below the trees and my future rose above my Master.
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remains with the story...Copyright 2000 by Namaste Master.