nine tails
It’s not what you think.
In a former incarnation, about five years ago, I trained as a dominatrix. To think this was all about sex would be a mistake; it held delicate lessons about intimacy and connection, about reaching out and allowing yourself to be reached for, and I’m still learning from them today.
I’m always learning.
nine tails belongs to the following groups:
A New Aesthetic.... Divine and Otherwise , Blue Room, Melbourne & Victoria, Short stories - Spherical Scriptings, The Red Writing Room, The Sensual Word and WMGHe’s smiling when I hit him.
His head drops back and hair falls in inky strands between his shoulder blades. I wait, my breath ragged and my fist still clenched, as he lifts his head and slowly turns to me over his shoulder. He’s still smiling, as though he knows this is only the beginning.
My fingertips ache.
I want more.
I wind my fingers through the leather loop and close my fist again. The worst thing that can happen is for the cat o’nine tails to slide through the sweat of my palm and disturb my aim. Well, not quite the worst thing, when I think about it. I listen to the Master’s stories and pretend that the darkness in them won’t turn its attention my way.
I listen to his stories, and pretend that I won’t become one of them.
‘Did you hear about the new red-headed trainee, the one with the serpent tattoos and scowl?’
‘No! What did she do?’
‘Well, it’s not so much what she did, as what was done to her….didn’t she know not to turn her back on them?’
I don’t know; not yet, anyway. But I’m learning at a pace that astounds me, that makes me choose my weapons well and judge my slaves carefully. And makes me hit hard.
He’s something special to look at, this one. It can be hard to tell because pain does pure things to people; makes their skin flush and their eyes shine; makes them beautiful in their need. I can’t stop to think what I look like, when I heft the weapon over my right shoulder and feel it dangle down my spine. I like them with their backs to me on the frame, a pale expanse of skin to decorate with the dance of thick black leather.
In truth though, I don’t want them to see the hunger in me. I can barely stand to look at it myself.
I send the tails of the flogger in an arc through the air and they land on his skin with a thwack that still makes me jump. It’s a sound like no other and I can never quite pin it down in words, but it sends miniscule thrills through me each time and before I know it, I’ve raised my arm again. I move it faster, coiling the weapon down my back and slamming it against him again and again and again until I find my rhythm and couldn’t stop if I tried. His head has fallen forward and he’s moaning and my arm aches and the air tastes like honey and I can’t stop until I’m whole and I don’t know if that will ever fucking happen.
I don’t know how long I hit for.
He tells me when to finish. He tells me by the way his body meets my strokes, and the whimper from his open mouth. My master watches from the doorway as I slide a soft hand down his welts and coo in his ear you did well, so well, you’re home now, that’s my boy. I run the back of my hand down his face and gently smile at his half closed eyes. I almost want to kiss his cheek, but that would be me and not the role I’m embracing, where the need for connection is written only in the tails coiled around my closed fists. I release the shackles and when he sags against me, the master walks across the room towards us.
I don’t know how to do the next part; I never do. We sit around the kitchen table sipping lemonade for our blood sugar levels and debating Black Sabbath lyrics and Wim Wenders films. I sit in two skins and don’t know how to step between them, whether I’m still the mistress with the wry smile and the knowing tilt of her head or the girl who’s been living inside for three long years and can’t get the words to come without shaking.
My slave has a silver ring with beautiful golden stones set inside it, and German font across the belly of his T-shirt. I want to ask him if his ring is amber, but feel a sudden shyness that won’t let me raise my head. His shoelaces are untied, and I stare at them for a few silent moments. I wonder what his name is. Sometimes, I forget which one I gave them, and hesitate before introducing myself at training sessions.
I think I’m ready to go home.
There’s a storm coming as I step onto the footpath. They ‘re planning mummification in the back yard, wrapping a submissive around the post of the verandah with cling film, and I try to catch a glimpse of the neighbours as I walk past. I imagine the view from their kitchen window, and my laughter startles me.
The first spit of rain hits between my eyes, and I don’t even flinch. I hold out one bruised hand, and catch the raindrops in my open palm as I walk.
© bellmusker 2009
Mudsoldat
HolyShit!!! thank god i pack a gun! Ave Mistress BMusker. i salute thee. MS
bellmusker replied
Ha! As if I couldn’t knock that out of your hand with one crack of a whip, MS…at least, if I were still in that field…thank you kindly :-)
Soxy Fleming
you seem to be doing ok
bellmusker replied
I am, you know, Soxy….I am indeed.
Mel Brackstone
I feel like such a boring old fart when I read your stories….what richness you’ve embraced in your life!
bellmusker replied
Mel, maybe I just save the shiny stories for here! But it has felt quite rich, I won’t argue with you there.
Lynette1
Wow – such a powerful piece of writing …............ speechless…........can’t think of a word to describe the genius of this! Amazing isn’t anywhere near….........
bellmusker replied
Lynette, what a gorgeous thing to say…thank you so much, and for the favouriting too. Much appreciated!
Soxy Fleming
good for you Bell good for you!
bellmusker replied
:-)
Mel Brackstone
There’s always heartburn associated with too much richness, I guess….your sharing enriches us all, even if it is the best bits :)
jillijude1
ABSOLUTLEY BRILLIANT< you carried me through to the end, like the Whip in your hand…. amazing, stunning…. i could go on and on … SUPERB … thank you hugs xxx
bellmusker replied
Thank you!! What a fabulous comment :-)
Lisa Defazio
OHHHHHHHHHHH love it.
bellmusker replied
Ah, this is probably a strange introduction to my writing, Lisa…..but what the hell. Glad you like it!
Steve Strodder...
mmm deep…should see you next sunday for a few hours :) ill be the youngest person there probably, any chance you’ve thought about what kinda of girl you’d write for me?
bellmusker replied
Leave it with me….perhaps next Sunday then?
Steve Strodder...
sounds good :)
Alex Brown
fantastic as always… you manage to draw me from my own issues and problems into your world of amazing writing a poetry, which i need. thank you…
bellmusker replied
Alex! How have you been? Thanks for your lovely words…hope this finds you well :-)
lupa
Word Mistress….I love your work….:)
bellmusker replied
Good to hear from you! :-)
Damian
Haha, wonderful! That’s a world I only ever had a fleeting glance into, so is facinating to read of.
bellmusker replied
Thanks Damian! Even though I’m out of that line of work these days, it still draws me back, if only in ink…..how can you really turn your back on that, hey? Cheers!
Alex Brown
this is my life right now ... which is why i like reading your literary artworks, they draw me away…
bellmusker replied
Oh sweetheart, I’m so sorry you’re having such a hard time right now. I’ll be back in the morning to read through your post when I have enough time to give it the attention it deserves…keep your head up, ok?
Alex Brown
lol trying… getting some good advice though, so hopefully it helps :) i should be fine, i usually am… this just seems bigger than normal…
markgb
jeeesus christ-ee!
I agree with Mels first comment.
This is amazing!
bellmusker replied
Ooh, a spot of blasphemy never goes astray…..Thanks Mark :-)
tracyxkeema
Fantastic as always belle, brilliantly written x
bellmusker replied
Thanks so much, Tracy! Hope this finds you well x
charliethetramp
“faraway so close” and “paranoid”
pleasure and pain in the giving and recieving of,
how intimate is the connection
your writing is overwhelming good,but it always is tho belle
a travelogue thro the dungeons of passion and pain
bellmusker replied
If my writing is a travelogue, I would be so pleased…especially between these different worlds that sometimes fall out of my pen. Thanks, Charlie!
Ena Lü
you are such a damsel of all the ages bought here into this one to enlighten us with a magic
we can only read in the flow and pattern of your words, I love how this music you make always gets into the heart and stirs up what my soul remembers, with the gratitude of a story slave
always e x
bellmusker replied
Ah, a story slave…..I like the sound of that! Welcome home, babe x
butchart
what people don’t seem to realize… and obviously you do… is the strong exchange of power and trust… and the intimacy level that such an exchange brings…. i was not suprised to read of your history nor the intense feelings you took from it…...... it’s not something you can get from reading about… but your writing brings the reader amazingly close….... i’m glad you commited this to paper…then again anuthing you write about comes from such a true place…....... b
bellmusker replied
Sweet b, I don’t often write of this part of my life – it’s so easily misunderstood by those looking for a cheap thrill. I’m always concerned I won’t be able to communicate the incredible intimacy between participants, how it teaches you about trust and connection – how it teaches you about yourself. It’s no longer part of my professional life, but I when I think back to it, I tend to have the softest smile. Thank you so much for understanding….as you always seem to. x
aglaia b
i might favour this once a week. hehe
please more.
encore
;-) xox
bellmusker replied
Ah sweetheart, how I love your beautiful comments on my work! x x
Lawford
Can I say ‘Cracker of a story.’
bellmusker replied
Thank you, that pleases me no end…no, wait…you can only say that if I tell you to say that….hang on….how does this go again? ;-)
Lawford
I’m not sure. I’ll just wait for further instructions mistress.
Lawford
Oops. I mean Mistress.
bellmusker replied
Ah, I’m even stricter with my punctuation than I am with my men; you’ve done well. In fact, it’s almost as if you’ve done this before. Hmmmm…...
butchart
bell…your answer to my comment carrys me back to some of our first conversations and makes me smile…. remember those? some day we will have that fire…. just you and i….......xox…........b
bellmusker replied
Of course I remember those first chats! Tales of my beautiful young Swiss boy, the ‘In The Moment’ book and the fact that one day, we’ll meet up for some Etta James and face to face warmth…..without stilts, of course. Much love to you, sweet b x x
TheWanderingBoo
stunningly brilliant…an amazing piece of writing…
bellmusker replied
Hey Boo! Thanks for this comment, it’ll be the last thing I see before I turn my computer off for the night and it’s making me smile and smile :-)
TheWanderingBoo
sleep well :¬)
Leith O'Malley
I think you’ve whipped this into shape quite nicely Madam Bel, and at the same time peeling another layer of yourself away for us to marvel, wince and beg for more
bellmusker replied
Ah, Chrissie….is there anything she doesn’t know? :-)
PJ Ryan
thwack ! I really enjoyed the vulnerable strength in this (if that makes sense) .. beautifully written bell x
bellmusker replied
Thanks so much, Nic…..I guess I don’t have to tell you that my mistress name was Brigit, hey? Looking forward to seeing you on Sunday! x x
hsien-ku
oh
my
god
what a marvel you are bellmusker
warrior-poet, avatar
bellmusker replied
This makes me lower my head and smile in a one-cornered, embarrassed little way…..but I’m pretty handy with the whip, so perhaps the warrior part might fit occasionally! Thanks so much…
Christopher Wr...
Yeah I think the guy’s name was Frank…always the tenderness after the bruising.
First Class piece Miss Belle Musk.
I think I need a Bloody Mary now.
Regards.
bellmusker replied
Christopher, the tenderness & the bruising play constant roles in my writing, I’m realising. Thanks so much – and go for that Bloody Mary. Good choice!
LittleHelen
That’s my Bell ;) xx
bellmusker replied
Aw babe….you make me all warm and mushy. Thanks for the feature too x x x
friartuck
You really have quite the following here, don’t you Bell? Well deserved, of course. You are just so, so good at this… ;-)
bellmusker replied
Ah Kloose, people just like the odd whipping story :-)
friartuck
Well, you have a point… ;-)
Been missing the writer’s meetings. I think I am able to come to this one – after a muddy trail-and-obstacle course race up in the hills. Have been busy in the meantime
Holly Ringland
finally my darling… an early grey morning, a plunger of vanilla coffee bean and a room of silence with your tale. and bell, it’s a tale that is not brigit’s… i could feel that in every space bewteen every word… and i so enjoyed that i could genuinely feel that brigit was not the narrator here, a testament and credit to how well you draw your characters and their voices, for this story vein is similar to where brigit’s brew. but this was not my girl of light and dark, mint green bathtubs and star anise… maybe this was a shade of her, we all wear shades borrowed from here and there, but this was another’s voice, another tale, another who, despite the confronting slice of her life i was plunged into, i cared about immediately and wanted to know more about all the how and why and why and why of her tale. the tenderness undercurrents are here too, as well as a nip of humour in the face of absurdity – the mummification in the backyard and the neighbour’s perspective made me snort. the tear and tension in this piece of writing between the tenderness and pain was so gruesome and beautiful jelly bean, i felt like i wanted to look away but couldn’t. this line in particular made me suck in my breath and made my chest hurt:
...pain does pure things to people; makes their skin flush and their eyes shine; makes them beautiful in their need.
it feels like you sum up so much with this core, with this seed.
watching how you wield your pen and unravel the knots of your stories is such a gift to me. i really applaud this piece my girl x
bellmusker replied
Ah Holls, what would I do without your stellar comments on my work?! And this is not Brigit’s tale, how right you are. Although this is where I slipped into her skin the most, I wanted to keep these strands unwoven and separate. I’m not even sure why this tale bubbled up, except for the fact that tenderness and bruising seems to be a theme that I can’t step away from. Oh, and the mummification in the back yard? All true – lord knows what the neighbours thought! One day, my girl, I’ll sit down with a vanilla coffee and tell you more of these tales. The only question is, should it be in Berlin or Manchester? x x x x
Dwayne Boyd
Just the right blend of fantasy and reality in this one. Tension and release is a key element here. You make the reader feel as if they are right inside the scenes. Nonetheless, the reader is at a safe distance. The power of this work comes from the fact that you’ve made the reader feel as if they have discovered a bit of truth. Cast away some of the shadow, so to speak. Thanks for sharing!
bellmusker replied
Dwayne, I’m so sorry I didn’t see this until now – thank you for your comment. Casting away some of the shadow sounds ideal to me, although I have to confess this is much more reality than fantasy. I don’t think I’ll ever stop writing about that part of my life; so many lessons there for me. Thanks again, glad you enjoyed this!