Temptation at Lillooet - pt. 2

continued from Temptation at Lillooet - pt. 1 . . .

The shock of finding her on my doorstep, like a lost little birdie, was wearing off.  The immediate nurturing instinct was turning into rational (and perhaps irrational) curiosity.

For Christ's sake, I thought to myself impatiently, what the devil have I got myself into?  What to do now? Why had this waif appeared?  Why now, on the eve of the damn storm? What the fuck am I going to do?

My mind and my heart both raced . . . I took a deep breath.  I had nothing, no recollection of this girl.

So I bluffed.

Doing my best to exude calm and project reassurance and authority with my voice, I spoke.

"Well Grettja . . . " I said flashing my best reassuring smile, all the while still trying to rack my memory for some recollection of the young blonde waif who'd delivered herself to my doorstep.

"I do have a recollection . . . but it doesn't seem proper to impose my faulty memory on such a beautiful and proper young lady . . . perhaps you can tell what you remember of me?" I asked, hoping for some cues to jog my brain.

"I'm not THAT proper you know," Grettja blurted a little insolently.

I think I scowled a bit in return.

She took a little breath and quickly corrected herself.

"I mean, respectfully Sir,"  Grettja said,  "My being here itself isn't very proper, now is it?"

My this little one has some pluck, I remember thinking, but her response didn't give me anything for frame of reference.  For the life of me, I could not understand how this pert little blonde knew anything about me.

"It's starting to get dark in here," I countered, "Excuse me while I light a lamp or two.  Then I'll need to feed the fire, before I come back to carry on our conversation."  It really was starting to get dark, and I thought that with a few more moments my memory might become productive.

My cabin looks rustic, the style is deliberate, I'm comfortable with the look of the dark rough wood, but it offers all the modern amenities I might care to enjoy.  The one significant thing I lacked was a regular and reliable source of electricity, not a critical lack at all, at least not for someone like myself who honestly prefers the flicker of a hurricane lamp when the sun has gone down.

As I nonchalantly puttered around the cabin, feeding fires and lighting lamps, I tried to surreptitiously eye Grettja.  At the same time, I was also covertly covering some of the more incriminating hardware lurking in the shadows of my cabin.

Oh my, oh dear, I am sorry my dear reader, I may have accidentally sent your mind reeling.  About now you must be asking yourself whatever I might mean by the phrase "incriminating hardware?"

Am I some kind of criminal mastermind? Perhaps I'm hiding my lock picks and other sinister tools?  For all you know I could even be some kind a murderer or serial killer who's just hit the jackpot?  Maybe you are thinking I'm one of those crazy Canadian pot farmers, holed up in his cabin with hordes of clones, jars full of buds, and the like?

Oh yes, I must certainly explain a bit about myself before continuing with the Grettja's story.  No sense in leaving my readers hanging about on such a critical detail.  I am not a criminal, and I break no laws, but at first glance, not knowing any better, some items in my humble abode might give the wrong impression.

You see, I am a sadomasochist.  I am a very serious aficionado of the fine arts of bondage, domination, and discipline.  My greatest pleasure is to enslave a willing captive, to torment and control them.  To a pair of innocent eyes like I assumed Grettja's to be, parts of my cabin might resemble a torture chamber worthy of Torquemada's Inquisition.

I certainly wasn't accustomed to unexpected visits from the uninitiated.  As a strong and trustworthy dominant I'd never lacked for play partners, a fact for which I was rather proud of myself, so I generally left my accouterments in plain site, and made no attempts to hide restraint points and suspension rings I'd built into my cabin's interior.

I'm not ashamed of my perverted predilections, but I just felt it was not appropriate to expose an innocent girl to such things.  I certainly wanted no quarrel with anyone over accusations that I'd corrupted some innocent, that kind of thing could ruin anyone.

Additionally, I knew the Amish community and their deep conservatism.  I certainly differed with them in terms of faith, but as a man who styled himself to be along the lines of an "old world craftsman" in terms of trade and profession, I respected their attachment to the old ways.

As I returned to sit across from Gretja, I saw that she'd finished warming herself, had discarded the blanket I'd given her, as well as removed her wet socks and shoes.   I found her reclining on my sofa, with bare feet, and what I can only describe as an artfully affected smile of seduction.

presents for slave girl Serafina

pic from Stock Images

I just ordered some very special treats for my slave/wife because she's been a very good girl for a very long time under some very difficult circumstances.

Now, when it comes to "romantic" presents most ladies would prefer things like lingerie or perfume or massage oils, and I certainly have a great appreciation for those things, but my visions are usually a little darker and quite often there's more leather than lace.

So, just for fun, I decided that the readers of our blog will know the identity of her presents even before my sweet Serafina finds out for herself . . .

In case you are wondering, I'm very certain my Serafina is a good girl and I just she won't ruin the surprise by clicking on the links I'm about to share here . . .

Surprise #1

Surprise #2

Surprise #3

While on my shopping spree I did throw in a couple goodies for myself, although I suppose they really are for use on her . . .

toy #1

toy #2

Once the presents arrive we will write about them here and shoot some of our own pictures too!

the lead wheel

My name is Michael Samadhi, this blog will detail the journey I share with my wife Serafina.

Serafina is also my consensual slave, a designation that might confuse or bother someone who's familiarity with slavery is only with forced (or non-consensual) slavery.  With that in mind, I'll try to better explain the dynamics of our relationship . . .

The most simple analogy I can offer is that our relationship is like a bicycle.  I am the lead wheel of the bicycle, it's my responsibility to steer our relationship to assure we reach the desired destinations.  Obviously then, the beautiful Serafina, my partner in all things, is the rear wheel.  Her love and devotion, and yes even her surrender, are the forces that power our relationship.

Make no mistake, regardless of who makes the final decisions, the relationship is a true partnership.  A bicycle loses it's identity - ceases to exist - without a rear wheel, instead it becomes a unicycle.  So a Dominant needs a submissive, a Master must have a slave, in order to be complete, in order to be worthy of the title.

Our relationship is not unlike the Yin-Yang symbol, the two poles of cosmic energy are yang (positive) and yin (negative).  Yin and Yang are associated respectively with the masculine and the feminine, the strong and the weak, the light and the dark, the firm and the yielding.  At the root of Yin’s existence is Yang; at the root of Yang’s is Yin.

I also see a parallel in Tantric teachings . . .

"The entire universe is a manifestation of pure consciousness. In manifesting the universe, this pure consciousness seems to become divided into two poles or aspects, neither of which can exist without the other. One aspect retains a static quality and remains identified with unmanifest consciousness. In Tantra this quality is called Shiva, and is conceptualized as masculine… The other part of this polarity is a dynamic, energetic, or creative aspect that is called Shakti, the great mother of the universe, for it is from her that all is born."

Swami Rama

The Tantric analogy is perhaps my favorite of the bunch. In my mind Tantra and BDSM are intertwined.  Although some Tantric "purists" would say that BDSM activities and Tantra are mutually exclusive, I'd disagree, strongly.  More than 15 years ago, when I first started studying Tantra, I found direct similarities in the altered states of consciousness that BDSM and Tantric practices can create.

Using the word "similarities" is probably a terrific understatement. I'm convinced that some fairly well known altered states of consciousness created by BDSM (sub-space and top-space are two commonly used names for this phenomena) are exactly the same as the headspace created by Tantric practices and rituals.  So it's simple for me to transmute the archetypes of Shiva and Shakti into the roles Serafina and I play for each other.

Ahhhhh, I begin to digress . . .

I believe that Serafina prefers the bicycle analogy best of all that I've offered.  It's by far the most universally understood, and there is more than a little personal history as well.  But, that is also a story for another time . . .

I hope it's been your pleasure, dear reader, to make our acquaintance.  We will return soon with more postings detailing our life together as a couple, as we explore Spiritual BDSM.