Triskelion. free porn video

Part I. 
 
And so it happened one day, on the way home from work, that she saw this pendant displayed discreetly in some antique shop window. It struck her as an object of Celtic origin, some mystic symbol of some nearly lost culture. She felt tempted to enter the shop to ask the price of that silver pendant, but she looked at her watch and decided to leave it for another moment. 
 
Maurice would be home any minute and she wanted to be there before he arrived. He still had the keys to her flat, she should have asked for them after their breakup, he should have handed them to her without waiting to be asked but he had not. Their relationship seemed to be a long sequence of actions they should have taken, failing to do so at every turn. If they had succeeded, perhaps they would have built something for just themselves, a safe haven in a world they sometimes found alien to them. Each of them had kept to his fierce independence out of habit and also fear, fear of the unknown. 
 
And thus, he still had her keys and she found it hard to resent it. Anyway, she knew he would never use them if not invited, only that this time she had invited him. So she hurried home to find him sitting on the doorsteps. 
 
“Why didn’ t you use your keys?”

“They aren’ t my keys any longer; they are yours again.”

“But you can have them, what if I leave mine inside?” 
 
This practical mind of hers had never failed to make him laugh before and it did not fail this time either, only that this time his laughter was sad and his eyes were dull all of a sudden. “You haven’t done that in ages, chances are you won’t start now.” 
 
It was her turn to laugh, but she only smiled. They went in silently, to fix some dinner and sleep, just like an old couple, devoid of passion or maybe reluctant to fall into it again. 
 
During dinner she told him about the pendant. He smiled. 
 
“The triskelion? You saw one? Where?”

“Coming from work, Is that its name?”

“Yes, you saw a triskelion. Now, I don’ t understand why you liked it so much.”

“I don’t know; there was something about it.”

“It is a Celtic symbol; it represents the eternal flow of life. You know, birth, death, rebirth.”

“Is that all?”

“Don’t’ know you think it is enough?” 
 
“I don’t know; when I saw it, I thought there was something to it, some darker meaning, something most people would know nothing about, but the initiated would use to identify one another…”

“Your imagination is quite something, you know. But no, there is nothing to it.”

“It is not my imagination; it is my perception.”

“How can you be so sure of that kind of perception?”

“How can you be not sure of your own perception?” 
 
Their dialogues had always been this way. At the beginning of their relationship, masked by the trapping of desire and satiation, they had been exciting. As time had gone by, they had grown stale and mildly infuriating as was the case now. Both realized what fakes they had become to each other. The night had grown darker, and the kitchen lights were not bright enough to mask their sudden loneliness. He stood up to go. 
 
“Good grief, aren’t you staying?”

“No, I have to go. See you maybe and please, do not think of strange symbols, you have no use for them.” 
 
His words sounded ominous in her small kitchen, and his parting looked only too familiar. He always left her and for some strange reason, she always kept her door open to him. Still, this time was different. She felt you could always wait for those who wanted to come back but not for those who were only too eager to leave you. She smiled, walked him to the door and then went to bed, to a sleep that brought little rest. 
 
He left thinking he might come back one day but knowing chances were she would not be the same when he did, if only he did. Let her look for the triskelion, he had the keys to the doors she would find in her way but had lost interest in unlocking them for her, she would have to do it alone. 
 
In the meantime, he was only sure of a lust that she had not caused in him, it was a desire to grab someone who would ask no questions and have no name, someone who would do what he asked for, with no qualms.  
 
And then he saw the woman ahead of him, a tired prostitute in a dark alley, she would do. A shady doorway would suffice, there was no need for more. Once he was spent, he looked into her eyes, they were of an uncertain colour and too wise for him to bear her glance. In an unexpected gesture, he kissed her hand and left her twice the amount she had stated as her price. 
 
Part II 
 
Morning came and she found herself once more alone. It was as if he had never existed in her life or in anyone’s life. If this was freedom, she did not find it to her liking. Still, she had work to do. She got up, showered, had breakfast and left. She lived only a few blocks from her office. On the way there, she saw the triskelion displayed in the window of the antique shop. It shone strangely in the early morning light and for some unknown reason, she felt excited. Surely it meant something else? Life, death, and rebirth were big topics indeed but somehow failed to impress her. She had never thought of life as something more than an imposition. Death was its natural conclusion and rebirth, something she doubted. Nothing of that sort moved her much, but that symbol had an appeal she found hard to resist. 
 
On the way back home, she entered the shop, asked for the pendant. The salesperson smiled dimly when she said she would take it, without even asking for its price. She hurried home with it in her purse, the sky was overcast and she felt the need to be alone, wrapped up in her solitude, with only the triskelion for company. 
 
The minute she got home, she looked for a chain, any chain to be able to hold the triskelion around her neck. She found one, some old thing her Mother used to wear to church on Sundays. When she removed the cross and hung the pendant, its wheel and arms gave her some insight, some notion it was not very different from the symbol she had removed, it spoke of a pain that was hard to bear, a pain able to consume body and soul. 
 
And yet, when she finally put it on, she felt a sense of kinship with it, something she had never felt with any other trinket worn before. She became one with it, letting her hand rest on it at night, trying to feel its hidden story, the secrets carefully woven into the silver. It even had a name engraved on its back, Theodora. So, was it was obvious it had belonged to a woman of that name, who may have worn it countless times, out of love or out of duty or both… 
 
She wondered why these ideas kept creeping into her mind, why she would think of this woman she had never met but who had worn this symbol of elusive meaning before she did...When she turned off her lights to get some sleep, the triskelion shone in the dark, guiding her dreams. 
 
And then, suddenly, nothing seemed right any longer. She felt uneasy, eager to learn about Theodora, not knowing where to turn and also eager to see her ex-lover again. She could explain the urge that plagued her body as merely sexual, but a part of her told her she was wrong, this was no ordinary desire for sex, it was a primal hunger for something more she could not exactly place, power, surrender, delirium, an endless abyss into which she was falling, always falling. 
 
Days went by too slowly, she felt. After the initial enthusiasm in her research, she felt disappointed. She could not even place the reason. It was as if she had envisioned something that had not even been there, she felt the pain of rejection, only that no one had rejected her, unless she considered her lover’s departure a rejection, but he didn’t count, he belonged to another time in her life. She felt something richer was eluding her and she let her tears run as a sad homage to the passing hours, the unfulfilled hours of her life. 
 
The pursuit of Theodora was hard, not even one of her neighbours had heard of a woman by that name in the last twenty years. Still, there were many others who must have known her, only that she didn’t know them. Theodora seemed to hide in every corner, every doorway, in the thousand places where a name with a ring to it may hide. Theodora became her guide, her friend. To find her became her sole aim, her veiled stab at fulfillment, if not happiness. 
 
And so, she wore her chain with the triskele every day and night full of longing. She could not tell what she longed for. She had lost all. She had lost love, or what passed for it. She had lost sex, her ex-lover had been her only partner and he had chosen to leave her, rendering her unworthy, unable to fulfill her purpose, which was to please him, something she had failed to do. She had thought herself free, but she had never been, no one who desires another so much can be free. His memory engulfed her, and the hours spent together, the ones spent apart, the longing, the absences, the need to feel safe and the sensation of being in danger, danger in losing herself. 
 
The following evening, back from her office, she entered the antique shop, not knowing what to say and yet daring to expose what troubled her mind just being there. 
 
The man looked at her quizzically and asked: “How is the search?”

“What search?”

“Theodora’s.”

 Taken aback, she replied,” I didn’t know you knew.”

“Of course I knew, Theodora has become your aim these days, your reason to get up in the morning, your search for her has become the fuel of your life. Somehow, you would like to become her. Well, you might, if only you have what it takes.”

“What does it take?”

“Patience, discipline, surrender.”

“Surrender to what?”

“You should ask to whom.”

“To whom?”

“You shall see, if only you daré to go on.”

“Where is Theodora?”

“You can’t see her; she is gone, you see.”

“Gone?”

“I mean, she is dead.”

“Theodora dead?”

“Well, people die, you know.”

“Was she killed by someone?”

“No, not really. She died for love, and her heart gave way.”

“And the triskelion? Was it hers?”

“Yes, it was hers. She wanted it put on display so someone would buy it one day.”

“Why sell it, why not give it away?”

“She said only the one willing to pay for it should have it. Anyway, she paid the highest price.”

“Was she your lover?” The question came out of her mouth before she could restrain it. 

The man laughed, so good-naturedly, it was almost menacing. “Oh, no. Theodora was not my lover; she was my friend, one of the few women friends I had in my life. Friends who do not engage in any sexual activity, just enjoy each other’ s company and keep their desires, should they exist, to themselves.”

“So?”

“Theodore was my elder brother´s slave.”

“Slave?”

“Yes, out of her own free will.”

“Then why did she die from love?”

“She died when her master left her”

“Why did he leave her?”

“He left her because his life was at that time somewhere else. He was and still is, a very busy man. And, as busy men go, he had little time to give her, she had to accept what he wanted to give her and only her devotion was needed, he was only to his business, but she was still needed to provide submission to his desires. Pity she failed to see it that way.” 
 
The air seemed heavy all of a sudden, and she found she could not breathe easily. Theodora and her fate loomed around her. The triskelion warmed and buried itself into her skin. She felt branded somehow, by something she could not understand. Not yet. 
 
If the man had noticed her discomfort, he gave no sign, but she felt he had and enjoyed it somewhat. So, silently, she headed for the door. The man caught her arm and whispered.  
 
“Unless you want to become Theodore.”

“No, I just…”

“Come on, you were after her from the beginning.”

“No, I was curious.”

“Curiosity that drove you everywhere, you got the triskelion, you used to see if I was here so you could ask, you asked your lover, you were aching for it, always probing.”

“But I…”

“You have to find an answer ...Theodora is gone, but her master is not. He would love to train you. You have it in you, you know it. When you feel ready, come back.” 
 
She broke free from his grip and ran to the door. Whatever danger she could find in the streets at that hour seemed little compared to the ominous atmosphere of the room. The man ‘s cynical laughter followed her for blocks on end and rang in her ears all day. 
 
Time passed somehow, time always does, even when we are caught in a turmoil, time passes, hurries us to our ends. This is how she felt the following morning and many mornings after. One of these mornings, on her way to the office, she saw the antique shop attendant supervising some men carrying crates from his shop to a lorry. She said hello and the man said,” I am moving out” by way of greeting.  

She wanted to ask him where he was going and why but a strange feeling of acceptance, a patience born from many hours of frustration prevented her from doing so. She felt she had no right to ask him anything. He was giving no reasons anyway. Still, she felt curious. 
 
She was the one looking and yet, she felt exposed to his gaze, exposed to the world somehow. His eyes roamed her body and she could not help trembling, fear and lust running through her veins.

“I am going, but the next-door neighbour can tell you where I will be unless you want to know now.”

“I will ask your neighbour when...when I..."

“You will ask when you are ready."

The man smiled and she blushed, wishing she did not, wishing she had never come here, wishing she did not fancy this massive person with such big hands and cruel mouth… She was already near the door when his hand grabbed her arm. She felt powerless and found she liked the feeling. His hands opened her jacket, unbuttoned her blouse and stared at her breasts, rolling his thumbs on her nipples. When she moaned, he said..”See, you like it. Imagine the hands of your master taking their time all over your body, giving you this prize after flogging you.”

“Flogging me?”

“Yes, softly at first, to get you aroused and then harder, to carry you to a place where you only surrender till there is nothing of you that will have not given him.” The man’s hands forced her mouth open. He ordered her to suck his fingers, and she did greedily. Once wet, his fingers travelled down and forced her open. She surrendered completely to the hands that turned her over and explored her thoroughly, leaving her open and exposed to their mutual desire.

“You must accept it, soon you will be broken into it and you will enjoy it. In the meantime, you must accept I will be the one enjoying it, while you struggle to accommodate me.” 
 
She came violently, unable to hold her orgasm any longer. The man continued pumping into her, whispering in her ears words she had never been told before. She felt degraded and also free in a strange way. When the man came at last, he collapsed on top of her and bit her shoulder, drawing blood. She cried out and this seemed to please him even more intensely. She tried to break free, but he held her tightly.

“I must have you completely; we are not done yet.”

“But the men…”

“If they see you, I will tell them you are my sub and I am training you to please me.” 
 
And so, there was no part of her he did not have for his pleasure, which became also hers under his ministrations. When it was over, he said to her: “Button up.”

She wanted more, but he only said: “It will always be this way, should you enter our group.”

“Will I be flogged?” 

"Yes, but never injured. You will be taken to a region where pain and pleasure meet and you will melt to the waves of both, unable to control your body. And you will love it. Now, go, you will be called soon.” 
 
The man turned his back on her. She could barely make it to the door, her body ached and she felt excited beyond measure and also a bit sad. Her body craved his presence, assaulted by a sudden loneliness. 
 
And so she returned to her life, unable to focus on anything but the memory of the shop owner and his commanding ways. The pleasure he had given her excelled any she had ever had with Maurice. This puzzled her a great deal for she had loved him and she believed he had also loved her. Were love and sex such alien territories? Alien to each other, that is… 
 
Days passed the way time passes when you wait for something you are unsure of until she lost track of them. There were times she asked herself if she had imagined the whole thing, but the marks on her skin were enough to remind her primal encounter with the shop owner had been real. 
 
One night the doorbell rang three times. She was surprised,no one ever visited her at night after Maurice had departed from her life. No one visited her, period. She was even more surprised to find her ex-lover at the door. He looked different, the way people do when you have not seen them for some time or when you have never thought you would meet them again. 
 
There was something more mature about him, something slightly ominous too. In the past, they had been able to laugh together at little silly things, they had smiled at the sight of puppies and children, nights and dawns had held a romantic appeal ...In the past, they had been friends, and they had enjoyed each other’s company. The man standing at her door had little to do with the boy who had adored her from far before confessing his fancy for her. 
 
She realized she had lost that boy and his tenderness and she had for a while gained the man he had become, the one who had left her. She knew the wound would stay with her long after the marks left by the shop owner were gone. She would live through it, she would go on with her life, a life she would at times trade happily for just one hour alone with him as he used to be when they had met for the first time. She remembered him as a god among mortals, and her eyes were not able to take in so much beauty. She had never thought of beauty in connection to men and yet she had found it in him. Beauty and friendliness, the two keys to the door to Doom, she knew this much now. And yet, a stranger had aroused her to heights she had never reached with him. 
 
He looked at her sadly and said: “I know you have been to the shop.”

“Which shop?” 

“Stop playing games. The shop where you got the triskelion.”

“Yes, and the owner moving out.”

“Not only moving out.”

“What do you mean?”

“I know what happened.”

“You mean…”

“Yes, he told me. He told me he had told you about Theodora and that somehow she spoke to you from the shadows, that she could have been your sister, you were so much alike.”

“You met Theodore?”

“Yes, and I got to love her. Her devotion to my brother, her submission charmed me to no end. She opened doors to me, doors I had never known to exist. And, to this very day, I remember her.”

“Was she ...yours?”

“No, she was never mine in a physical way, if that is what you are asking. Theodora was my only woman friend.”

“But you never fancied her?”

“You seem to need to be wanted by men, am I not right?”

“Well, I…”

“That’s why you are easy to take, you are like a city without fortresses, a garden without enclosures with its flowers open to all.”

“No, I…”

“Theodora was not easy, and she was not open to anyone but my brother. She was devoted to him and only because she allowed him to be so.”

“So only…”

“Yes, only friendship was allowed to us, not because of my lack of interest but because of hers. She would have belonged to me had her master told her so, only on those terms.”

“And you suffered?”

“No, there are many ways a man and a woman can belong to each other.”

“But you still miss her.”

“I grieve for her, she was my friend.”

“And her master?”Does he grieve for her?”

“I guess so, though, at times, I doubt it.”

“Is he the shop owner?”

“No, that is my middle brother. His job was to display the triskelion, not to have his way with you. Still, it seems you would like to meet him again or maybe meet Theodora’s master…”

“I don’t know. I‘m very afraid.”

“Afraid of what? Afraid of meeting her master but not afraid of being enjoyed by one of his assistants in the full sight of moving employees, had they cared to look inside the shop?”

“But I did not know he would…”

“You are afraid now because you have an idea of what might happen, but you were not afraid then because you had no clue.

“That is true.”

“You actually enjoyed it.”

"You were not there.”

“I was, I was inside the shop, only that you could not see me because I was packing some crates in the back room. I could still see you, through some slits in the dividing panel.”

“You...could see everything?”

“Yes, and I saw you responding to this stranger as you never responded to me. At first, I had thought you were a prostitute he had hired, but then I realized it was you. And I was curious to see how you would perform under the circumstances.”

“And?”

“And, I was not disappointed. The more he took, the more you yielded. You were open to anything and I saw all you and I had missed.”

“Please, let me be.”

“And then I decided to come round to you because I used to care for you.”

“You do not any longer?”

“I lost you long ago. How do you expect me to care for someone I lost ages ago?”

“I don’t know what to say. Why are you here?”

“To see you again, before I lose you to him.”

“Him?”

“My elder brother. The years between us stand heavily on each of us. As a child, I remember he always had the best of all. If he did not have it right away, he just took it. Nothing was enough for him.”

“Not even...Theodora?”

“I guess not, only that she loved him to distraction.”

“And he...did he love her?”

“He loved to be loved, that was all.”

“And you are here to…?”

“Perhaps to warn you, perhaps to lose you forever, perhaps to get you back.”

“But…”

“You may find he is fascinating...I can only tell you he killed Theodora.”

“He killed her?”

“He destroyed her with his eternal demands for perfection, the perfect slave, the perfect woman. He destroyed her so completely she would have had little effort to kill herself, had she wanted to. But, her heart gave way before she even thought of it.”

“It is hard for me to believe you.”

“Only because you want to go to him.”

“Is it bad to be curious?”

“Is it good to be?”

“Why not?” 

“You might find yourself desperate for freedom.”

“Perhaps I am tired of my freedom.”

“Do not be. Slavery is infinitely worse. The idea of slavery was appealing was invented by masters, never by slaves. You might crave domination, but you will find it also find it too much to bear.”

“Maybe I want too much.” 

He looked at her with sad eyes. Her eyes were dark, his were brown. When very young, they seemed to have a touch of gold in the irises, another trait that had proved enchanting and then had vanished. 
 
And then he approached her and held her tightly. His embrace was almost tragical in its finality as if he did not want to let go of her but obeyed a secret command to do so. When he did, he also surrendered her to her fate. The one she had chosen or others had chosen for her, making her believe she was the owner of her own destiny, the shaper of her life. 
 
“Whatever happens, remember I tried to stop you.”

“Out of love?”

“Out of despair.”

She nodded, her eyes brimmed with tears and her hands before her in a vain gesture. She realized then they were still at her doorstep, and she had forgotten to ask him in as they had stepped out of each other’s lives and had become strangers again. 
 
She watched him leave, walking hurriedly in the streets bathed by the palest of moonlights. She only entered when she could see him no more, once darkness had engulfed him. The night was peaceful. She slept through it very much a newborn baby, beginning life, or someone condemned to death, savouring his last night alive. 
 
She did not know what the rest of her life would be like, alone for the first time in the territory of the others. Those others who had met Theodora, who had befriended her, who had loved her and who had also led her to her death, in some way or other. 
 
She would meet him, the master. Her mind was set, her obsession had taken over. And thus she slept, letting events unfold on their own, released from any need to influence them at long last. 
 
She woke up to an eerie morning, one bathed by a weak sun. A strange vapour seemed to cover everything. She went about her usual routine with a detachment that ought to worry her but failed to do so. She went to work and came back as in a daze, the afternoon loomed ahead of her, the hours stretched for a time that seemed eternal, the day had stopped somehow. 
 
She was ready when the doorbell rang, followed the chauffeur in his uniform and got into the car. It was only when the man said, “We have arrived” that she realized they had not exchanged a single word during the trip. 
 
The house was big, surrounded by a big park. It was apart from all others, at the end of a circle that reminded her of a labyrinth. She wanted to get lost in it, she did not want to find the way out once she entered, she wanted to remain there. 
 
She started walking towards the house when the chauffeur said: 
“You can’t enter yet.” She looked at him, waiting for instructions. The man smiled, whoever she was, she seemed to know what was expected from her. Just like the One, Theodora. “You have to visit the small shrine behind the house.” 
 
And so she walked to it, in silence. When they got there, she saw it was a Gothic vault, something that somehow reminded her of old movies. The chauffeur produced a key from his pocket and unlocked the door. She followed him to a chamber underground. The aroma of frankincense pervaded the air, making her dizzy. The lights were dim and soon, she wondered how she could have seen anything under other light.   And under this light, she saw her, lying on her marble bed, under a crystal dome. She was dressed in an almost transparent tunic. Her arms rested at her sides, her hands extended with their palms up, as she had been when she waited for her master, only that then she had been alive, a creature of life, tears and laughter. Her face was regular, her eyes shut, all light gone from them, her mouth full, a mouth of love, agony, and pleasure. Her hair framed her face, long black hair that covered her shoulders. The crystal dome kept all oxygen away. She was unpolluted and safe in death as she had not been in life. Whoever had ordered this job had loved this woman or at least cared enough for her to keep her body intact. 
 
And then, she realized the woman looked familiar, too familiar for words. She had known from the beginning this was Theodora, the lady of the Triskelion. What she had not known was that she looked exactly like her. When she looked up, she saw the eyes of the chauffeur drilling into her. She said nothing and locked in a chilly silence, they left the vault. 
 
They got to the house and the door opened before they called, as if someone had seen them from the inside. They entered and the chauffeur left her alone, without a word. She waited a few minutes, looking around the room, trying to quieten her thoughts. The room was simple, almost devoid of furniture. It was a cold day and there were logs burning in the fireplace. She was not surprised to find the triskelion carved on the stones warmed by the flames. 
 
A tall woman entered the room. She looked at her critically and said: “You are here and yet not wearing proper clothes. I shall bring you all you need.”She left the room without another glance. She realized she feared this woman more than anything for reasons she ignored. 
 
She did not have long to wait, the woman came back almost instantly, carrying a long black dress that left her back bare, except for some straps crossing it. She also brought her some black sandals, so high she could barely walk in them. Still, they were her size and she found them beautiful. She ached to ask how they had known her size and taste but could not bring herself to ask. This was a land of no questions but of  statements.  

“So you must change into these clothes after bathing in the room next door. Take your time to cleanse your mind as well as your body. When you are done, wear this corset, for comfort and good posture. Then the dress and the sandals. And perfume yourself with the vial you shall find on a silver platter next to the tub. Remember to do this twice.” “But ...there is no lingerie…” “You must wear none, the corset that lifts your breasts and the dress that covers only the minimal are all you need. The sandals are so high for you to walk with care, with small steps and demure ways to remind you of your status. You are still expected to walk straight, proud of yourself and above all, of your master. Should you fall, you will be punished.”

“Yes, madame.”

“Good. When you are ready, you shall kneel in front of the fireplace, hands-on your tights, palms up and wait.”

“Yes, madame.”

The woman left without a second glance,sure she would do as she had been told. 
 
The room was big and there was a small pool in its midst. It was full of hot perfumed water. She undressed and sank into it, grateful for this moment of rest. Strong emotions pervaded herself and she felt soothed by the water, the scents in the air and strange music that seemed to come from some hidden part in the ceiling.She rinsed herself slowly and dried her body with the towels set next to the tub. Then she applied the perfume, letting it enter her skin. It was a strange flower mix, with a touch of old woods and cinnamon. It was also Theodore’ s favourite. 
 
She then started to dress, corset, dress, and sandals fitted her perfectly. Her lack of lingerie excited and also scared her. Still, she had chosen her path. Aware of this, she moved to the next room, facing the fireplace. 
 
She kneeled and rested her thighs on her calves. Her arms rested to the sides of her body,with her forearms on her thighs and her hands with their palms up. And thus she waited, a woman about to enter an unknown land,all her fears,loves and past fading in front of the burning logs in the fireplace. 
 
The girl she had been, the young woman who had dated a tall young boy with sweet eyes, the junior secretary in pursuit of the triskelion, the woman giving way to desire in the antique shop, all blended in this creature dressed in black, held erect by her corset, exposed to looks and touch by means of a dress that covered little by opening at her sides. All her memories of past liaisons seemed to blur in front of the fire that warmed her skin, reminding her of her donning of lingerie and her agreement to be thus exposed. She had time to feel the stab of fear piercing her and she struggled to ease it to some recess of her mind where it would not bother her, not then, not later.not ever. 
 
This is how her master found her, waiting for him. And a voice, his voice, said: “You are most welcome, Theodora.”