Conquer Me: girl-to-girl wisdom about fulfilling your submissive desires by Kacie Cunningham

Author:Kacie Cunningham [Cunningham, Kacie]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: SCB Distributors
Published: 2013-09-10T22:00:00+00:00

EIGHTEEN

And Now, It’s Time for a Parable.

Most of our obstacles would melt away if, instead of cowering before them, we should make up our minds to walk boldly through them. - Orison Swett Marden

I DREAMT. IN MY DREAM, I WAS SITTING UNDER A SHADY, leafy tree. It was green and peaceful where I was, on the edge of a small clearing in a bright forest. I remember feeling oddly unsettled about my surroundings, but feeling also as if I belonged there. My back was pressed against the tree, and I was wearing no armor. In my hands was my diary, only all of the pages were blank. Panicked, I flipped through and through. As I flipped pages, I could see text flutter by, but every time I tried to turn to it, it would fade away to virgin parchment. As this was happening, I began to notice a wet warmth trickling down my back and sides. I noticed that it hurt, and curious, I looked over my shoulder. Wound around the tree was a briar vine, with long, vicious thorns. Realizing that this was what was hurting me, and that I was bleeding, I tried to stand. The thorns gripped me, and held me fast, and I was even more frightened. I dropped the diary, and pushed against the soft, moss-covered ground with both hands. I succeeded only in hurting my back against the relentless thorns, for still they did not release me.

Suddenly, I had the overwhelming sense that I was not alone, and so I whipped my head around. Standing a little way in front of me and slightly to my right was a woman. She was dressed simply, in a gown of white, and she looked very familiar. Her skin was translucent, her hair shimmered vibrantly and reflected so much light that it was impossible to determine its color. Her lips were gently curved, and her hands clasped in front of her. She had about her an air of timeless patience, and gentle, benevolent amusement. Enraged that she would be silently laughing at my predicament, I demanded that she assist me. She only smiled and said nothing. Furious, I cursed at her. Still, she stood, and the thorns held fast. Fear began to edge out the anger, and resignation crept round the edges of my mind. But it felt like defeat, like giving in, and so I railed against it.

After a time of internal struggling, during which she simply watched silently, still smiling gently, I looked up at her. “Why are you here?” I asked her.

She blinked, and replied, “I am here to help you.” Her voice sounded like wind, or the ocean, or some other indescribable thing, unless one is a poet, which I am regrettably not. It was soft, at any rate, and carried a note of the same amusement so evident on her face.

Frustrated and disbelieving, I gestured to my predicament. “Well, now would be a good time to start,” I retorted angrily.

She shook her head.

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