Message-ID: <59536asstr$1256994603@assm.asstr.org>
From: Bud Red <redbud@inbox.com>
Subject: {ASSM} Daydreams and Distractions 4 (Redbud)
Lines: 105
Date: Sat, 31 Oct 2009 09:10:03 -0400
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   Daydreams and Distractions 4

   You violated their sacred trust - the most sacred trust you had known.
You don't know why you did it.  (Or maybe you do?) The other women are
quiet.  They say nothing.  They lead you upward, with light steps, to the
top of the pyramid.  They were your friends.  They were your companions
since childhood.  You hadn't struggled when they bound your wrists in front
of you.  They had been gentle.  They had spoken soothingly but with
authority.  You know what the punishment is.  They don't need to tell you.

   You are almost to the top.  The grit of the stone steps shuffs under
everyone's feet.  Hands keep you from tumbling.  Two women, also barefooted
and dressed in short white dresses, lead you up the last step onto the
small plateau of flagstones atop the pyramid.  You can see over the
treetops, their leaves silvered in the moonlight.  The women to either side
guide you to the center.  A large iron ring is bolted to the flag stone at
the center of the pyramid's top.  You know what to do.

   You have been in their places.

   A glint of steel and your only protection, a thin soft cloth that had
been the only barrier, the only covering, between the dark night and the
dark entryway into your belly, is cut away.  There is no barrier now. 
There are goosebumps on your breasts, but you kneel.

   You kneel but you can't bring yourself to bend over.  Your knees have
never touched the earth,.  Your breath shakes.  You stare at the stone
between your knees.  You don't want them to see your fear.  They push your
shoulders down and you gasp.  Your nipples brush the cold stone and you
gasp again.  Your nipples have never touched the earth.  Quickly, they bind
your wrists to the iron ring.  If it had been two rings, you could have
supported yourself on your hands, and at least have had that dignity.  But
now you are forced to rest your weight on your elbows, your wrists bound to
the ring in front of you, the opening into your belly upward and
vulnerable. Your knees are fastened to two smaller rings.

   They stand silently around you.

   The shaming.  You know the purpose.  They will stand around you, just
long enough.  They stand proud, trustworthy and upright, long enough so
that you are aware of their presence and your own posture.  They are proud
women, tall, graceful, and lithe.  And they stand upright.  They deserve to
walk with dignity and to stand with dignity.  Their knees have never
touched the earth.  Your knees are already soiled.  You are half naked, the
place that should be most hidden, that place that has been sacred since
childhood, now rises obscenely, defining you in a way you don't yet
understand (but are ashamed of).  You know you don't deserve to walk or
stand beside them.  This is the only position you are worthy to assume in
their presence.

   All but one of the women turn and leave.

   The one remaining has been your childhood friend, your companion.

   "I'm so sorry," she says.

   You shake your head, "No," but your shaking breath betrays you. 
Suddenly your head rises and you strain against the ring, releasing a long
moan.  A soft waxen dildo penetrates you, the tip of it extending skyward
from your upturned belly, the rest imbedded.  You grunt and already feel it
melting and dripping into you.  You grunt again.  It will soon be gone but
the entry into your belly will be moist, warmed and ready.  Your nipples
harden.

   You cry out.  "That's sacred!"

   "It is no longer," your friend answers.

   "Uuhnnn!"

   "It is not forbidden," says your friend, "to prepare you."

   You groan as you feel the medicinal wax warming you from the inside out,
inside that place where your legs meet.  It is a strange feeling, a feeling
you have never known before.  You feel your opening slowly close again as
the rest of the stick quickly melts into you.  It feels like a warm spice
and smells of mint and thyme.  Nothing had ever penetrated you before! 
Why?

   You see your friend leave you, quickly disappearing down the pyramid's
side.  Prepare you for what?  It is the only mystery you do not grasp.

   You have seen the other women after they have been brought down.  You
have seen how they walked the next morning, their eyes half lidded, their
breasts (which had never been obscene before) somehow heavier and impure.
You have wondered at the stream of milk that flowed out of them, streaking
their inner thighs.  You only know that you will not rejoin the women with
whom you had been raised.  You will be cast out to live among the world's
women.  Your knees, which had never touched the earth until tonight, will
be made to widen and fall to the earth many, many times.  Your head, the
sacred seat of your intelligence, will be soiled with your knees.  That
place between your legs will be lifted uppermost.  This is how you will be
esteemed, though you do not know that yet.

   Your voice, which had only known sacred hymns, will rise up in a
different kind of hymn.  But not yet.  Your moans, just fearful whispers
for now, can be barely be heard.  Soon they will echo richly and fully over
the tops of the fragrant, moonlit trees.  Though you don't know this yet.
The top of the pyramid cannot remain empty.

------- ASSM Moderation System Notice--------
This post has been reformatted by the ASSM
Moderation Team due to inadequate formatting.

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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