Part Three

“Hello, Jim.”

“Jasmine, good to see you.  Come on in.”

As usual, we moved into my study.  As Jasmine settled in, I took the opportunity to observe this gem that had entered my life.  Jasmine Lee, field agent at the local FBI office.  Slim, petite, but incredibly well curved beneath her professional outfits, Jasmine had quickly become the woman of my dreams.

As if unaware of my scrutiny, Jasmine glanced around.  “The house feels different,” she commented.  “Quieter, somehow.”

“That it does,” I agreed.  “Probably because Melissa’s gone.”

Melissa South, a fiery redhead, had come to me to spend a month as my slave.  Somehow, her stay had stretched to two very eventful months.  It was during that time that I first met Jasmine, who’d been investigating Melissa’s ‘disappearance’.

“I’ll miss our bondage sessions,” Jasmine said.  During Melissa’s stay, she and Jasmine had been bound together a number of times, part of Jasmine’s ongoing journey of discovery into the world of bondage.

“Jim, I’ve been wondering something,” Jasmine said softly.  At the serious tone of her voice, I dismissed good memories and focused on her.

“Wondering what?” I asked.

“Well, Melissa and I did a lot of talking while we were tied together,” Jasmine replied.  “She told me a lot of what it feels like to be a slave.  To be perfectly honest, she made it sound almost too good to be true. So I would like to hear what you think.”

I smiled.  “Of course.  What would you like to know?”

Jasmine clasped her hands in front of her.  “Most of what I saw here involved bondage, but Melissa told me there’s more to it than that.  What exactly is involved, other than bondage?”

I frowned.  “You don’t ask the easy ones, do you?  Well, Melissa is right.  Bondage is actually only part of it.  A very interesting and enjoyable part, but definitely not the whole thing.  Maybe even not the most important thing. You see, a slave gives herself to her Master completely, heart and mind, body and soul.  She places herself completely in his hands.”

“So a good slave is one who just does what her Master commands?” Jasmine asked, looking skeptical.

“Yes and no,” I replied.  “A good slave is obedient, yes, but there’s more to it than that.  The best slave is always looking for ways to become better.  Her thoughts, her feelings, her needs and desires, all come into full play.  She becomes an active participant in her own submission, not simply a follower of commands.”

“So it’s like a partnership of sorts,” she commented, “with the slave being the junior partner.”

“Pretty much,” I agreed.  “I heard it said once that a good slave must always strive to be worthy to serve, while a good Master must always strive to be worthy of that service..”

“Both give, both gain,” Jasmine mused, then turned her gaze on me.  “Thank you, I think I’ve heard what I needed to hear.  Now I need to think.” 

With that, she rose and left the room.

Shaking my head at the conversation we’d just had, I turned my attention to some paperwork I’d fallen behind on.  It was perhaps a half hour before I heard the door open.

“Jim?”  At the soft, almost hesitant sound of her voice, I looked up.  Jasmine stood barely within the doorway.  Gone was her usual air of supreme self confidence, replaced by the look of someone doing her best not to run away.

“I have one more question.  Can slaves love?”

Rising, I moved toward her.  “Yes,” I replied softly.  “Slaves can love.”  Softly, I stroked one hand over her cheek.  “And they can be loved.”
For a moment, Jasmine simply pressed her cheek against my hand.  Then she raised her head to look me in the eyes.

“Do you mean that?” she asked with a shaky voice.

“With all my heart,” was my reply, as I stretched my arms to embrace her.  A sigh escaped her lips as she melted against me.  Her lips sought mine in a long, slow kiss that expressed more than any words can say.  When the kiss finally ended, Jasmine’s eyes were moist, a condition my own eyes shared.

“May I make a request?”  At my nod, she smiled.  “Make me yours,” she said.  It was a request I couldn’t refuse.

Stepping back, I admired the view before me.  Naked, tied spread eagle to the bed, Jasmine smiled back, a special smile that I somehow knew no other man would ever see.  Returning the smile, I began gently exploring her now helpless body.

In a way, it was all very strange.  I’d known this woman almost two months now.  I’d seen her naked many times, and bound her almost as many.  But never, in that whole time, had I touched her body other than to bind her.  Now, with my hands roaming freely over her, I nearly reveled in the knowledge that this angel was about to become mine.

I have no idea how long I played with that beautiful body.  Time seemed to vanish as, with fingers, lips and tongue, I stoked the fires of her arousal.  The world itself shrank, until all that mattered was this lovely woman who lay before me, writhing, moaning, and gasping soft words of love.  Finally, it became too much to take, and I claimed her, finally and fully, as my own.  As her body writhed, then bucked beneath me, I could feel bonds form, stronger and more lasting than any rope ever made, forever binding us together.

All too soon, it ended.  Free of her bonds, Jasmine lay with her head on my chest, idly tracing patterns on my stomach with one finger.

“I need to be trained,” she said softly.

“That you do, hon,” I agreed.

“Can I be here with you always?”

“Always,” I swore.  “We can get you moved in right now if you want.”

Even though I couldn’t see it, I could feel her smile.  “Perhaps not quite yet, Master,” she said softly, her hand beginning to slide down my stomach.  “I think maybe I need a bit more training first.”

04.03.08