A Master's Journey

 

We concluded our discussion and I closed the book. This was our third reading over the past four and a half months, and I knew she now knew its various meanings and implications well. She was a bright student, and had surprised me with the intensity of her concentration on the material.

I looked up and saw her sitting before me. Silent. Eyes cast down. Hands folded in her lap. Her lovely skin was decorated by the whiteness of the short, lacey, transparent shift she wore. She had long since learned that modesty was more a debility than a virtue, and her dressing habits now were properly demure only for an artistic eroticism.

"Pour me a drink," I commanded quietly. Dutifully she rose and walked to my side, where she knelt and poured me a glass of cool water from the pitcher there. She offered it to me and I thirstily drank.

"Now, dear slave, I wish to give this book to you."

She looked up startled, "But Master, I am not worthy of such a fine gift." She looked again at the thin but finely-toned, leather bound, gilt edged volume in my lap.

"I have read it to you, and I have been a guide to you as best I can. But now it is time you plumb the depths of its wisdom. May it serve you well in the years ahead."

She bowed her head and was silent, knowing in her heart how much she longed for his Mastery, and accepting his judgement that she was ready for him. She resumed her seat and sat silently, waiting..........