"Shards of Glass"
  
I trudged up the walk, my feet slipping and sliding on the slush. 
Snow had fallen this morning.  I remembered waking to it, so crisp and
clean.  So beautiful.  The whole world seemed hushed by its gentle
blanket.  Eight hours later, though, and it had transformed into a
sodden mess.

"The way of all things," I thought to myself.  "It starts out so
beautiful and then transforms into something ugly."  To say I was
feeling sorry for myself was putting it mildly and the
snow-turned-slush was only partially to blame.  Jerrod.

Jerrod and I had been dating for almost a year.  Last month, we had
decided to move in together.

Like most things in life, though, things weren't quite that clear cut.
 We had been lying in bed basking in the post-coital afterglow, that
sweet period of time when you're neither half-awake nor half-asleep
but happy and satisfied.  The edge of that divine bliss was just
beginning to waver, reality was beginning once again to rear it's
head, and I snuggled deeper into the covers and deeper into his side
to gain some warmth.

"Don't get too comfortable, hon," he mumbled, his lips nuzzling my
hair, his arms grasping me tighter.  "I have to leave in a bit."

"Must you?" I asked absently, wanting only that the joy and wonder of
those few moments last as long as possible.  I immediately regretted
it.  He didn't know.  I hadn't told him.  He only knew this one face.

"For tonight, yes," he replied, just a hint of humor in his voice. 
"It needn't be this way, though."

"What do you mean?" But I knew.  I knew where he was going.  I knew
what came next.  I just needed to buy time.

And I hadn't told him.

"Look, I spend most of my free time here, don't I?" It was a
rhetorical question, but I could already feel him digging in.  I could
already feel him getting further away, beginning to argue.  "Why don't
I just move in here, or you move in with me?  It makes sense.  We cut
our expenses and we can be together all of the time."

There.  It was out.  I still didn't know what to say.  It wasn't that
I didn't want this; we had both tiptoed around the subject often
enough.  I out of fear, him trying to feel me out.  I had argued both
sides of it with myself for so long that neither argument made sense
any more.  I simply didn't know what to do nor what to say.

He didn't know the secret.  My secret.

The pregnant pause continued.  I don't know if he could sense my fear
or not.  Should I tell him?  Or should I hide myself from him?  Could
I leave my past behind?  Could I bury that part of myself for him? 
Would I be able to ignore it?

I looked up to speak, but couldn't find the words.  His eyes caught
mine and I knew.  There was so much love.  I just knew.  I would bury
my soul for this man.

"Yes," I said before I even knew what I was saying.  "Move in with
me."

Maybe those weren't the words; I seem to have said them a lifetime
ago.  But the meaning was the same, and that's all that matters.  I
had agreed to bury who I was in order to be with him.  The decision
made, I felt a weight lift from me; but somewhere within, I felt the
shudders of a coldness as well.

Slowly, day after day, week after week, his world became mine as
article after article of his life moved into my house.  I made room
for his clothing in my closet and in my dresser.  His personal items
joined mine in my -- our --bathroom.  My -- our -- keys joined his on
his keyring.  I became we and for the most part it was a happy time. 
Deep inside though, I knew that something was missing.

There was one key I kept from him, however.  One key I wouldn't give,
though he had asked about it.  The key to the largest room in the
basement.  When he pressed me about it, I told him it was my junk room
and that I wanted to clean it before he could go in.

Appropriately, my secrets were buried in that room.  Hidden, so that
neither eye nor ear could find them.  I would keep my secrets there
until I could get rid of them.  Dispose of them.  Remove them from my
being once and for all.

Yesterday had been the day.  Jarrod had gone to see his parents in
Connecticut.  He had begged me to go, but I deferred making excuses. 
I was tired.  I didn't feel like it.  It was too far.

Really, it was time I needed to get rid of my past.  I needed to
remove the temptation before I succumbed again.

I suppose I should have been warned by my eagerness.  He had barely
left and I was already turning the key in the lock.  I paused for a
moment, steeling my resolve before I opened that door.  As it pulled
towards me, the creak of the hinge called to me.  'Come inside. 
Play.'  I gasped as the power of that call washed over me.

Almost, I shut the door.  Almost.

I walked in, the steel of my resolve melting moment by moment.  I
flipped the switch and the warm glow of the inset lighting revealed
the secret life I had forsaken for the love of my man.

My hands floated lovingly across the assortment of nipple clamps
strewn across one side of the built-in table.  Without knowing I was
doing it, I picked one up and attached it through my clothing.  The
pain sharpened my senses, a path of fire racing from above to below,
and I could feel myself grow wet as the fire swept over me completely.

I smiled as my steps brought me to the leather whips coiled on their
pegs on the walls.  My hand moved of their own volition, my fingers
stroking them, as their sweet scent assaulted my nose.  I breathed
deeply, remembering other times I'd caught that scent, other times I'd
felt the whips sweet kiss on my skin.

I turned to the ball gags lying in a tray on the far end of the table.
 I imagined I could still see my saliva glistening on them.  The urge
to shove one in my mouth overcame me, and I grabbed one and put it in
my mouth before my own common sense could stop me.

My eyes closed as my lips closed over it.  The taste that was no taste
assaulted me and I heard the whispers of the rooms call wash over me
anew.  'Come.  Play.'

My eyes remained closed as I turned to The Table.  I didn't need to
see it anymore. It called to me and I responded instinctively; finding
it without sight.  The manacles strung at each corner beckoned to me
from behind my closed lids and my fingers brushed lovingly across
their steel.

How could I leave this?  How was anyone worth leaving that which
fulfilled me?  How had I come to decide that I could live without
this?

"What the...?"  The sound of his voice clutched at my heart like a
vise.  I opened my eyes in surprise, panic washing over me.

He stood there, just inside the door, his face a mixture of shock and
fear.  His eyes were so large, larger than I had ever imagined they
could be, as they looked everywhere trying to take in all parts of the
room.  Trying to take in all of my secrets.  All of my treasures.

"I can explain," I tried to say, but the words were muffled and
slurred.  I spit the ball gag out and tried again.  "I can explain,"
but my words sounded hollow and weak even to my ears.

"What...what...what is all this?"

What could I say?  I was almost in tears.  "My secret," I whispered.

"Secret what?  You have a torture chamber?  What the fuck, Sarah?"

"I can explain," I said again, my heart pounding in my chest.  His
voice was so distant.  So cold.  "I can explain it all."

His eyes lost focus as they moved over my treasures.  His mouth moved,
but no sound would come out.  I bowed my head and close my eyes.

"I'm a bit of...I have...I have a secret," I started, not knowing
where to begin.  I had rehearsed this conversation over and over, but
all of those words had flown from my mind.

"A secret?  No shit..."  His eyes were staring at my chest.  I had
forgotten the nipple clamp spreading the pleasure of pain through my
body.  I quickly fumbled through removing it.

"I'm...that is my sex life...I'm a deviant," I stumbled over the
words.  I knew that I had lost him.  I knew that my secret was too
much for him to handle.  It was evident in his eyes, the way they were
unable to focus on any single part of my dungeon.  "I'm a submissive."

It took him a moment to hear what I had said.  Or maybe it just took
the words to get through the shock.

"You like being tortured?" he said in disbelief.

"No...yes...it's not as simple as that,"  I started.  I didn't know
quite how to explain all _THIS_ to a neophyte.  "I need to be
controlled.  The pain is only a small part of that...a very small
part.  I don't want to be maimed or really hurt.  I just need to
be...owned."  It wasn't the right words.  I'm not sure what the right
words were, though.

The silence grew long between us.  His mouth opened several times, but
he closed it just as quick.  A thousand thoughts flew threw my head,
but try as I might, I couldn't get any of them out.  The fear, the
sheer panic I saw in his eyes stifled any sound I could make.

"I..." he started, his eyes wide and unfocused.  "I...I can't handle
this."  His hands rose from his side, uselessly flinging themselves to
encompass the room.  "I...God, I don't know where to begin..."

"Please, let me explain," I sobbed to his back as he turned and left. 
I don't know when the tears had started.  I ran then, trying to catch
him but he was already up the stairs.

I caught up to him in the kitchen, he fumbled trying to dislodge his
keys from their hook.

"Jarrod," I began, pleading with him.  "Jarrod, please.  Don't go.  I
can explain.  I can stop this...I can let it go..."

"Let what go.  Sarah, I don't know what's going on."  He turned, and
the look in his eyes was hurt and angry.  "I can't be here.  I can't
go through this.  I don't even know you!"

His anger somehow sparked my own.  "You know me!  I'm the one who
loves you.  I'm the one who was willing to give up something
significant, something I love...to bury _THIS_ for you!!"  I flung the
nipple clamp onto the counter.

"I was in there to get rid of it.  To throw it out for you.  I love
you that much!"

"I'm not even sure you know what love _IS_!  That...that...room down
there.  That's not love.  That's pain...that's....that's evil.  How
can you love me?"

I didn't see him go, my eyes were too full of tears.  I sobbed and my
knees gave way.  I caught the counter, but all I managed to do was
pull a towel lying there discarded...just as I was...down upon me. 
The jar of raspberry jam sitting on it fell and shattered on the
floor, just like my heart was shattered.  The sobs wracked my body and
I just didn't care any more.

A dog barking somewhere down the street brought me back to the
present.  The present, however, wasn't any better.  I was walking to
an empty home.  I was coming back to somewhere I didn't really want to
be right now.

My steps echoed in the foyer in a way I had never noticed before.  I
didn't realize how empty a house could be.  How lonely.

The mail and my purse found their way to the phone table.  I glanced
at it hopefully, but there were no messages.  The bile rose in my
throat and my tears threatened to return anew.  I hadn't expected any,
not really, but I had hoped.  Maybe even prayed.

I turned on the television, but it was more for background noise than
anything else.  I didn't want to watch anything.  I wanted to just sit
in a corner somewhere and pull a blanket over me.  I just wanted to go
to sleep and hope tomorrow lessened the ache in my heart a little.

I flipped the light on, and the broken shards of glass lying on the
kitchen floor caught my eye.  The jam.  I hadn't cleaned it up last
night, and I hadn't even come into the kitchen this morning.  I wasn't
a coffee drinker and breakfast had not seemed all that appetizing to
me.  I didn't even really want to go to work, but a part of me had
thought that work would take my mind off of...everything.  I was
wrong.

I grabbed a broom and ran some water and soap into a bucket.  The jam
would have set by now and was going to be a bloody mess to clean.  I
swept the glass into the dust pan, watching as the jam clung in chunks
to the broom itself.  'Just like me' I thought to myself, remembering
my disappointment at having no messages on the machine.  'Clinging
where I didn't belong.'

I got down on all fours, careful not to kneel in the jam.  I dripped
water on some of the spots, hoping the brief soaking would loosen them
a little.  It might even have helped a little, but the tears in my
eyes didn't allow me to notice.

I ran the damp cloth over the jam, spreading much of it, but getting
some of the sticky mess off.  I looked forlornly at the reddish
stains, thinking how closely they resembled blood.  My blood.  I
sobbed a little as I reached into the bucket to rinse the stained
cloth.

I heard the clink of metal and felt cold steel on my wrist.  Shocked,
I turned to see what was going on, but a hand pushed my head forward
again.

"I didn't say you could look," the hoarse, guttural voice whispered
threateningly.  "Just look forward and be very quiet."

"Jarrod?" He had tried to disguise his voice, but I recognized it
instantly.  It took me a few moments to understand what his being
here, what the cuff on my wrist meant.  I stopped myself from thinking
the words, stopped myself from hoping they were true.  Could he...

"I didn't say you could speak."  His voice was normal now, even and
assured.  But there was an edge there that I had never heard from him
before.  A commanding undertone that had never been there but that I
recognized.  It was a start, a shallow start perhaps, but a start. 
"Since you know who it is, though, there's no reason to hide it. 
Still..."  I felt something pulling down my head, covering my eyes
until I was left in total darkness.  I felt a familiar tightening
sensation as he tied the blindfold behind my head.

He pressed a hard round object against my lips then, and I
instinctively opened my mouth.  The ball gag was pushed in and then it
too was tied behind my neck.

"There.  Don't move."

Left with only my ears, I heard him moving around the kitchen.  I felt
him grab my wrist, pulling me into a kneeling position.  With a clank,
the other end of the steel cuffs locked around my one free wrist.  He
pulled at my arms then, gently but firmly, pulling me back down on all
fours.

"Look at this mess.  I leave for a day and you turn into a pig?  We
can't have that, now can we little one?"

I felt a warm, wet sensation on the backs of my hands.  The moistness
oozed down, trickling between my fingers.

"Take the cloth and continue cleaning.  We'll have to teach you what
happens to women who don't take proper care of the house."

I didn't know what he was going to do, but the feeling of servitude
was quickly heating me.  I felt the warm pringly sensations spread
through me, finally ending at the center of my being.  The feeling of
goose flesh passed over me as I began to get wet.

I couldn't believe that he was willing to do..._THIS_ for me. 
Yesterday he had been so afraid, so unsure.  There was none of that
now, though.  Jerrod had become what I had secretly hoped and prayed
he would be.  Jerrod had become my master.

Now, if I could only teach him how to be what I needed...

I would start with compliance.  Heeding my master, I began to move the
wet wash cloth across the floor, trying to clean it even though I
could not see it.  The soft clink of the chains that bound me, the
brief pain I felt when I moved my hands too far apart -- all of it
reminded me that I was no longer in control of myself.  Finally...

As I worked, I felt his hands brushing over me.  As had often happened
in the previous times I had been blindfolded, my other senses seemed
to come alive.  They were edgy, trying to take in every sensation to
make up for the one that I lacked.  That edge, that awareness of
everything, that was part of the thrill that had me getting more and
more moist as the seconds ticked off.

I felt his hands unbuttoning my blouse, his arms brushing against my
swaying breasts.  A moan escaped me at his touch.  I pushed against
his arm for the briefest of moments, but he pulled himself away nearly
as quickly.

I heard a sharp, repetitive, metal sound that I could not place.  I
knew that he was near me, I could feel his presence beside me, but his
hands were no longer touching me.  My shirt was tighter, as if he were
grabbing it loosely, but that made no sense...

It came to me as I felt the shirt parting across my back.  Scissors. 
He had cut my blouse from around me.  The soft breath of his movements
crossed my suddenly bare back.

He worked slowly, cutting away my blouse until it was completely
removed.  I felt the strange sensation of a chill pass across my skin,
and an inner fire that was nearing boiling.  The dichotomous messages
had my head whirling; I was quickly climbing the ladder of my arousal.

My bra came next, his scissors making quick work of it.  I moaned as
his hands brushed across my hard, bare nipples, then nearly screamed
in ecstasy as I felt the loving kiss of nipple clamps being attached. 
These were heavy, though, much heavier than mine.  I felt them tugging
down, as if weighted...but I didn't own any weighted clamps.  I
groaned as the sweet pleasure of the pain throbbed in time with my
heartbeat.

I continued moving, only partially aware of what I was supposed to be
doing with my hands as the scissors made quick work of my skirt.  He
needn't have ruined the skirt, my legs were still free, but who was I
to argue with my master?  I felt him remove my pumps, then cut away my
nylons and finally my panties.

I stopped for a moment, utterly nude, feeling myself at the mercy of
this man.  The nipple clamps kept sending throbbing signals through my
body, and I was nearly delirious.  I could smell my special scent, but
I wasn't sure if that was because of how wet I was or just because my
nose was being extra sensitive to accommodate for my missing sight.

I had only an instant of warning, that soft whistling of music in my
ears, before I felt the bite of leather across the cheeks of my
behind.  I was startled, but that lasted only a moment against the
heat of my arousal.  I wondered where he had learned to wield a whip,
when the sharp thwack of the whip against my skin pushed all thought
from my mind.  A third and fourth time the leather kissed me.  Tears
soaked the cloth that blindfolded me, but I obediently continued
washing the floor.  As the fifth lash struck me, a mild orgasm rocked
me.

Then his hands were on my nether cheeks, needing and caressing. 
"There, there, little one.  You had to be punished so that you know
never to leave a mess like this again."  Then his hand struck my skin.
 "And this is so you never hide the truth from me again."  Over and
over his hand rained upon me.  I could feel the heat rise as his hand
smacked down again and again.  After each of them, though, his hand
would stay for the briefest of moments and caress my tortured flesh;
and the pain and pleasure mixed within my tortured head.  I don't know
how many smacks he gave me; another, stronger orgasm rocked through me
after 6 and I could no longer count.

I could hear him leave for a moment, but he returned almost
immediately.  "Have you learned your lesson, little one?"

I nodded, still unable to speak around the ball gag.  I felt his hands
at my neck and I could feel the ball gag loosen and then get removed.

"I didn't hear you, my sweet.  I asked if you had learned your
lesson."

"Yes...yes, master."

"How long have you been doing this?" he asked me, and I could sense an
intentness in his words.  "I know it's been a while just from the size
of your...collection."

"About 4 years now."

"Just because I'm speaking to you doesn't mean you can stop cleaning,
little one."  I returned to washing the floor beneath me, my ears
straining for his commands.  "That's better.  Who introduced you to
this...lifestyle?"

"Her name was Rebekah."

"A woman?"  his voice was startled...and maybe something else.

"Yes.  I met her in a bar where I used to go to dance.  I got a little
drunk and she ended up taking me back to her house.  She...showed me. 
I wasn't certain at first, but then she seduced me to it.  I found
that I liked it."

"You were unwilling?" his voice was concerned.  It needn't have been.

"Maybe...maybe at first.  But I never told her to stop.  It's hard to
explain, really."

"How...how long did this go on?"  I could hear the perplexity in his
voice coupled with a strange curiosity.

"Almost two years.  Until she moved away.  She was transferred to Los
Angeles."

"Do you miss her?"

"Yes.  I miss her alot."

I felt him pause as he processed the information.  I was worried that
the truth might be too much for him to handle, but I had to let it all
out.  If this were going to work, I could no longer afford any secrets
about my lifestyle.

"What about this?  Did I do this right?"  His voice betrayed his need
for approval, something unbecoming in a master.  "I wasn't sure,
before.  But...I love you.  How could I love you and not understand? 
So I called in sick to work and spent the whole day in...research.  I
found out so much.  I'm not sure what exactly to do...so I went to
a...store and bought some stuff.  The clerk was very accommodating. 
She seemed to know what she was doing.  She showed me how  to use the
whip, how to attach the clamps.  She even sold me some books...though
of course I haven't read them yet."

"You were doing fine until just now.  I need to be dominated, Jerrod. 
It's something that I need very much.  It can't be so suddent, though.
 At least, not all the time.  I need some warning, more so when we're
ending a session than before.  So you can't just become less forceful
when the session is over.  I need time to adjust.  You have to bring
me down."

"Who said the session was over?"  His voice was confident again, and
the sound of control was there.  "And who said you could use my name? 
Obviously the whip and hand weren't forceful enough.  I guess we need
to do something else."

I felt his hands on my butt, and tensed up readying for another
spanking.  I was not long waiting, though...but his spank lacked any
real conviction to it.

"Loosen up!"

"What?"  I wasn't sure what he wanted.

"I said loosen up!"  Then I felt something soft and hard and wet and
slippery at the entrance of my anal opening.  I gasped as I felt a
round object pushed hard between my tensed muscle ring.  I loosened
for a moment, and much more of it slipped within me.

"Unh!" I half-moaned, half-screamed.  There was pain there, but also a
pleasure I hadn't felt in a while.  Slowly, my master moved the object
within me.  It wasn't him, though, because I could feel him kneeling
beside me.  Whatever it was was heavenly though.

I could feel my orgasm mounting, and could smell the eden of my
perfume wafting through the air.  But the master had other ideas. 
Just as I began to reach the peak, he slowed his pace, pushing the
dildo into me slower and slower.  I felt the edge of my orgasm melt,
and he started moving faster within me again.  As I began to see the
summit, he'd pull back.

I don't know how long he went on that way, but I know that I was going
mad from being kept at the edge for so long.  Over and over I was
brought within sight of the promised land, only to have it fade from
sight.

Just as I thought I could not take it anymore.  Just as I thought that
I might die from the madness swirling within my being, I felt my
master's tongue just where I needed it most and I was pushed far, far,
far over the edge into sweet oblivion.

--