I wrote this in the Fall of 2001 and have tweeked it a little since. I have not been able to bring myself to try to have it published in a professional venue. I'm not sure why.

Why: A Narrative of Reflection

In the 30 years or so that I have been a practicing archaeologist I have sometimes thought about why I am particularly interested in the working people of the past: in the quality of their material lives; in issues of their identity and the meanings of material things to them; and in their values, hopes, and dreams. This interest has been at times compelling, and I have spent a great deal of my life thinking about mill workers, tenant farmers, urban free and rural enslaved African-Americans, and Irish-immigrants fleeing the Black 47. It was only when I traveled overseas that began to realize that I seek a lost part of myself.

For a very long time I thought my interest political. I have a sensitive and compassionate nature, and even as a child I was offended by injustice and inequality. I was educated during the beginning of the post-modern era and was readily drawn to the scholarship of the Left. Marx, Luxenburg, Gramsci, and Benjamin were names I came to know quite well. In graduate school especially, no seminar was complete without the question, “So, what does this have to do with praxis?” and the unavoidable debate over who was the most “pure” in their application of theory and the most “committed” in their radicalism. Of course, we were all but children engaged in a fantasy, especially the faculty, for there was and is no good reason to think that there will be a romantic outcome to the Capitalist era. While Marx was amazing insightful in developing his analysis, his crystal ball was cracked.

Nonetheless, the tools and concepts central to the analysis of social formations: means of production (in both material and ideological senses), class and other categories of social relations, and the role of history in determining what one believes is true about the past, and possible in the present and future have all served me well. These understandings form the basic of how I think about the research process. History, in particular, is determinate for me. I always start with and end with the context, in the broadest sense, of the artifact or site.

As I matured, given the bankruptcy of Left politics, I thought my interests driven by ethical and religious considerations. I became a Quaker, or rather, realized that I had always been a Quaker. I began to attend unprogramed meeting for worship in the late 1980s and became a member of the Religious Society of Friends in the early 1990s, about the time my first daughter was born. I was drawn to the simplicity of Friends and their commitment to social justice. I learned to emotionally center myself, tune out the world and my many cares and concerns, and look deep within; a difficult, but often very worthwhile exercise. I have often touched what Friends call “that of God in each of us,” or “the Light within.” I remain unsure of God’s existence or his/her instrumentality in human affairs, and I think that I touch my own soul in such times. Valuable as these experiences have been, they ultimately explained very little of my compulsive interest.

I was not until I traveled to Ireland and the United Kingdom in the Fall of 1997 that I began to gain clarity. I was in Cork for a conference on the Irish Diaspora where I delivered a paper about the archaeology of Irish-immigrants and Irish-Americans in which I argued that some traditional Irish values were critical to the transition to the American middle class. I had not thought about it before the conference, but both sets of great-grandparents on my father’s side were from County Cork.

As part of the conference, we sailed in University College's underwater research vessel down the River Lee from the center of Cork to the harbor at Cobh, the ocean port formerly known as Queenstown at the river’s mouth. We passed green fields and small villages with their whitewashed walls and their doors painted every imaginable color. It was a strange and rather uncomfortable experience for a lot of the Americans, myself included, for we were retracing the path of ancestors leaving Ireland.

A couple of days later, the conference over, I sailed to Swansea in Wales from the ferry terminal outside Cork, this was late at night due to the timing of the tides, and the ride down the river was not quite as moving this time. I could not see very much in the dark, but Cobh was awash with light visible through the mist, the cathedral there magnificently floodlite, as we passed the town and came about to head out to the sea. It was cold, but I sat on deck for a very long time until I could see the light no longer, and then I knew what it was to leave everything one knows for a hopeful something somewhere else.

Somewhere while striving for material success in America my family had lost track of our identity and our experience as people from one world coming to another. We succeeded here perhaps too well in material terms, and I now know it is an understanding of parts of that experience that I have sought in various degrees in my professional life. I have been hoping to find myself at the other end of the trowel.

Extreme Archaeology Exposed! - video.google.com/videoplay

Tony Robinson - Archaeology is Rubbish! - video.google.com/videoplay

Beer Archaeology! - video.google.com/videoplay

Archaeology Plus! - video.google.com/videoplay

Introduction to the Chronicles of Cairo Jim! - video.google.com/videoplay

I post a lot of my writing in my private Tribe, Dark Stories - BDSM & Fetish Erotica. If you would like an invite, just drop me a note.

This story developed from a log series of emails a lover and I traded as a way to discuss our interests in BDSM play. I'd love to hear any comments.

I.

She let him into her room wearing only her robe and a pair of heels. As he hung his coat he said, smiling, “Aren’t you a bit overdressed, Dear one? You know how I wanted to find you.”

She blushed, cast her eyes down and replied, “But, Sir, someone might’ve seen me.”

“Girl,” he replied, irritation obvious both in word by which he addressed her and its tone, “you should know that I would wait to knock until the hall was clear.”

Blushing deeper at the obvious logic of this, “Oh, I’m so sorry, Sir. Please forgive me.”

“I will forgive you, but you also know that I have to punish you. You know how I hate that.”

“Yes, Sir, I do know.”

“There are several options . . . ,“ he said softly, almost to himself. Louder, he continued, “Dear one, this can be handled quickly and then over and done or it can be slow and drawn out. Which would you prefer?”

“Oh, please, Sir, punish me and get it over with.”

She could see a glint in his eye as he replied, “No, Dear, I think not. A prolonged bit of torture is what is required. Bring me your cuffs.”

That’s my good girl,” he said as she quickly moved to the dresser eager to comply.

She felt better hearing those words, she knew that he was not really all that angry, and that she was still his girl. She wanted to always be his girl.

II.

She was tied to the bed tightly. Arms stretched to the corners of the headboard, but not so strenuously as to be uncomfortable. Her legs bent at the knee and her legs secured to the sides of the bed at the knee and ankle.

He had been gentle, but firm as always, but there was no nipple play, no teasing kisses down her body from her neck.

Having finished securing the last of the ropes, he stood, took a deep breath, as he surveyed her. She fidgeted under his gaze, and tried her best to look contrite.

He deliberately let the tension build before finally addressing her. “Dear one, your punishment is very simple; while I relax and watch the news I want you to be completely quiet. Now, I know that sometimes that is hard for you; you always have so much you want to share with me. But you will be quiet for this hour.”

She felt relieved. “This is not so bad,” she thought.

“Oh, I almost forgot. . .” he said digging in a pocket. “This,” he showed her a slim vibrator, “will be in you, and by no means are you to cum until told you may. Don’t worry; I’ll set it on the low speed.”

III.

“Thank God” she thought. Brian Williams was finally shutting-up and the news and the hour were finally coming to an end. The buzz in her pussy was maddening. So stimulating, but too damn gentle to bring her to completion, and she tried to keep erotic thoughts from her head just in case. The multiplication tables had helped, but sooo boring. The news was all bad as usual, which just added to her frustration.

He looked over his shoulder from the comfortable chair in which he was seated and smiled at her. “Thank you for being so quite, Dear.”

He stood, then crossed to the TV and turned it off. He slowly walked to the side of the bed, removed the vibrator, and then checked the circulation of first her hands and then her feet. Satisfied that all remained well, he then bent his face close to hers and said, “My dear, sweet girl, you have endured this so well. I am very proud of you. I forgive you, but in future you will remember that I mean exactly what I say, and when you agree to follow my instructions, it will be best that you do so, to the letter.”

Relieved that the vibrator was no longer tormenting her, but so much in need of his touch, she pleaded, “Yes Sir, I won’t make that mistake again. But, Sir, please, I need, I need you to. . . please, Sir.”

IV.

He lay next to her, and slipped one hand under her head, turning it toward his and began kissing her, exploring every part of her mouth, pushing against her tongue, first with force, then retreating, and softly teasing, and on, and on. As he knew it would, her body began to arch, straining for more attention. Her mouth too was hungry and expressed her need, sucking and pulling on his tongue. He adored kissing her and might have been content to do just that all night. But not tonight.

His free hand traced along her face to the line of her chin, and then up to her ear. He traced its contours, soft and almost feather-light, and as he had done before, his hand moved slowly down her neck and across her chest to circle fist one nipple and then the second. She strained to push each of her breasts against his hand, seeking more, but his hand left them, and traced along and down her side to the hip.

Feeling his hand come near her center, she began to thrust toward him, reminding him where the core of her need lay. But he rested his hand on her hip, teasing in yet another way.

Finally, his hand moved again, tracing a line to and around her navel and then down, playing through the hair on her mound and then along one neither lip, through the moisture escaping her, and up along the other, close to her clit. Engorged, inflamed and needy, he could feel its heat before his fingers contacted it. Ever so gently he stroked it with one finger, up one side and down the other around and around, and as she moaned into his mouth in response, he began to stroke with just a bit more pressure with two fingers touching both sides at the same time, her mouth let him know, “yes, yes, that is what I need” without words.

He broke from the kiss, and said softly, “Open your eyes, Dear. Look at me.” Their eyes locked nearly as powerfully as had their mouths.

He watched as her face flushed deeper, and her eyes began to change color. This too he adored.

He increased the pressure of his strokes, and “That’s my good girl. I want you to cum for me, but ask first.”

“Oh yes, Sir. I’m about there. . . Oh, God, may I cum please, Sir?”

“No Dear, not yet. Hold it just a bit longer.”

“Um. . . I can’t, Sir, please..”

“Yes, Dear cum for me now.”

She bucked hard against his hand, her face contorted as a deep moan came from her lips and her eyes fluttered for just the first time that night.

V.

After she recovered from what his fingers had wrought, he released her from the ropes and turned her over.

“Get your butt up for me, Dear.”

She knew what was coming. He would fasten wrists to ankles to keep her head on the pillow while he played with her exposed ass. She would be tied to keep her knees spread. He nearly always spanked her when she was in this position, but it didn’t really hurt that much. He did not spank to hurt, but to warm and excite.


VI.

She had, of course been correct. It was not so much that he was predictable, as that he knew what excited them both, and he always started from what was comfortable and familiar before exploring new territory. How, precisely, it would advance from here was the mystery. It was never the same twice.

VII.

He was kneeling beside her, one hand resting gently on her butt, rather aimlessly caressing her. He had been thinking about this moment much of the day. He now thought that it had been a delightful way to engage his mind.

He settled on a course and removed his hand and retrieved the lavender-scented oil from the nightstand. He poured a quantity of the oil into one hand and held it to warm it a bit before letting it drizzle across her ass and down her back.

He first massaged her ass, kneading deeply and applying just the slightest pressure as his thumbs brushed over her hole.

He found the vibrator and slipped it to her pussy just long enough to wet it with her moisture. He then gently pushed it, buzzing low, into her ass. She released a low moan that brought a smile to his lips.

“Now, Dear, please concentrate and hold it there. Don’t let it escape.”

He moved up close behind her, his erection tickling and reached over and began to massage her back, finding the tight spots and working them, especially across her shoulders and the sides of her neck.

The sensations were interesting and a bit confusing, the erotic in her ass and the therapeutic in her shoulders and neck. But she very much liked the power she could feel in his hands.

VIII.

Satisfied that he had driven the tension and stress from her upper body, he rubbed his cock against her and regaining his full erection, grasped her by the hips and entered her pussy. The low buzz from the vibrator was wonderfully stimulating. He quickly weighed his desire for pleasure in the moment against delay and trusted that he would be able to get hard again, especially if he let her suck him. He began fucking her hard, but varying the tempo so as not to finish too soon. It was so good when he could make it last. She fucked back just has hard, wanting to cum again, enjoying the feel of his cock on her g-spot.

“Dear,” he panted, “come for me as soon as you are ready.” She increased the pace, and he kept up. A low growling was coming from him as he got closer to orgasm. Then she went rigid and moaned “Oh God, Oh God, Oh God.”

He growled, “Yes, yes, that’s it girl,” as he pumped his seed into her.

In a bit of a daze, he slipped from her and collapsed on the bed with his face next to hers. He saw that she was glassy-eyed and he checked her pulse. It was a bit fast, but he was not overly concerned as he got up, removed the vibrator, and untied her. He then lowered her into a relaxed position. He returned to his position with his face near hers and began to gently kiss her, holding her head in both his hands. She soon began to return the kisses. Her smile told him how much she had enjoyed the experience.

It seemed that a little break was in order, so he asked “Would you like something to drink, Dear? Perhaps join me in a glass of wine? ”

IX.

He was seated in the room’s one comfortable chair and she was seated on a pillow placed in the floor between his legs. They each had a glass of a medium bodied red. He held his in his left hand and hers was placed on the floor between her legs, both hands covering the mouth of the glass. With his free hand he played with her hair as they watch TV. But his mind was busy and not on the TV at all as he stared, smiling, at the side of her head leaned against his thigh. There was still more that they could do before they slept.

X.

As the TV show ended he put down his glass and spoke for the first time in quite awhile. “Dear, please turn off the TV and then come right back here.” She placed her glass on the table next to his and quickly did as bid.

He took her wrists in his, and whispering, “Kiss me” and bent the girl to him.

As their lips met, he took her head in his hands and held her tightly. When he broke the kiss he whispered, “Suck me” and pushed her to a kneeling position with her head in his lap.

She saw that he was not fully hard yet, but the kiss had affected him. She took his cock in her mouth and simply wet it, making it slick, she let it slip from her mouth and toyed with the head, tracing the edge of the glans and playing with the hole with the tip of her tongue. He moaned his appreciation, as he grew harder.

“OK, enough play, now suck me.”

She knew from his tone that this was not a request. Using her hands along the length of his shaft, she stroked him up and down, letting his cock enter her mouth and extending the amount of pressure on it with her hands and tongue. Then she took him deep and sucked hard feeling him grow larger in her mouth, gripping his thighs. She found a rhythm and pressed her lips hard against his member as her head moved back and forth.

“Oh, God,” he said, “that feels so good. You do that so damn well.” He stretched out his legs and arched his back in pleasure as she continued to work his cock back and forth.

Involuntarily, he began to hump, fucking her face as he held her head tightly. It was not long before he began to groan from deep in his chest as his orgasm neared.

“Oh, God, Girl, I ammm going to filllll you,” he sputtered as his cum erupted. She swallowed as quickly as she could, but there was a lot and some escaped from the corners of her mouth.

XI.

She was still kneeling by him when he recovered. He bent toward her and took her breasts in his hands, gently squeezing and measuring the heft of them.

“I have told you how lovely these are, haven’t I?”

She blushed and cast her eyes down, “Yes, Sir you have.”

“Don’t go all shy on me,” he chuckled. More forcefully he continued, “Girl, look at me. You should be proud of your assets, proud to be a woman of beauty and intelligence.”

Her gaze met his, and she replied, “Sir, I am proud. I’m proud to belong to you.” Of course these words melted his heart and he smiled broadly.

But, she could almost see wheels turning in his eyes as he took a moment before saying anything further.

“Let’s try something over here.” He stood and took her by the hand, helping her stand.

“Kneel on the front edge of the bed, facing me,” he patted the spot with one hand, still holding her with the other. He helped her get into the position he has indicated.

The bed was a modern four-poster with out foot board, making what he had in mind simpler.

The toys were all over the place from their earlier romps and it took a couple minutes for him to find everything he thought he would use. She knelt in quiet anticipation, knowing that he would not appreciate a distraction at this moment.

XII.

She found herself bound with arms spread up and out tied to the bed posts, gagged, and blindfolded, she was unsure of what would happen next. She could feel the heat of his body close before she heard him speaking softly into her ear, “Dear, endure this well and I will give you a nice reward.”

“Shit,” she thought, “What is he going to do? Is it going to hurt? Is he just messing with my mind again?” She simply nodded her head indicating she understood.

“Now take this,” he pressed the vibrator into one of her hands, “Hold on to it. If you drop it. I will assume that you are in distress, everything will stop, and I will release you. Understand?”

She again nodded her understanding.

With that he began, gently trailing a finger along the soft curves of each of her breasts and out to each nipple, just the lightest of touch, to which each responded by hardening. He smiled at this, always thinking of them as minute penises.

Then he rolled the pebble-hard nubs between his forefingers and thumb, and then he began squeezing. He increased the pressure, until he heard her low moan, knowing that the sensation was shooting right to her clit. He released the nipples just long enough to reach down and gather some of her wetness.

Then the sensation was suddenly gone. She heard him moving about – then she felt the rope wrap around one breast as he held it, the knot placed over her heart, then he wrapped the other, back and forth in a figure 8 pattern twice before coming up the far side of one breast and over the back of her neck and down the other side, then up between her breasts, around her neck and back down between where she felt him tie off. The tightness was delightful. While she could not see, she knew that he had stepped back to admire.

“You are so very beautiful, tied like that,” she heard him say.

The next thing she felt was the sting of the nipple clamps which he adjusted just so. Now the fire to her clit was intense. She hoped these would not be on long, but she was in no hurry to experience the pain of the blood returning to crushed tissue.

Then she felt something new, it was soft as it was dragged across her. Then it came down on her left breast with a solid thud. Then it happened to her right breast, thud. He then stopped his teasing and flogged her breasts in earnest. Again and again she felt the thud, first on one breast, then the other, and sometimes a little sharp lick as a fell hit somewhere unexpected.

He was watching carefully and saw the vibrator move in her hand, she was close to dropping it, so he stopped and moved in close to whisper in her ear, “You have done very well, I am proud of you.” She relished his praise and would endure more to hear these words.

But he had other ideas. He removed the clamps from her nipples and gently kissed them to ease the pain. After a moment he brought an ice cube from the bucket he had instructed her to supply earlier and played it over each, cooling the burning.

He lowered her arms and rubbed her shoulders. He removed her gag and helped her sit on the edge of the bed.

“You have done so well, it is time for a reward. But you know the rule. Do not cum with out permission, that’s why the gag has been removed.”

“Now, Dear, lie back on he bed”


XIII.

She was on her back at the edge of the bed, legs in the air and tied apart to the bedposts. Her arms tied to each other at the waist, her breasts still bound.

XIV.

She was reasonably sure what he intended next, at least in general terms. He was going to ravage her, perhaps using toys, but much more likely with his mouth and fingers. She couldn’t wait!

XV.

He sat on the bed next to her and leaned over, and extended his tongue to lick her closest nipple. Just the lightest feather touch at first, and then again with a bit more force. He abandoned the nipple to gently lap all around the areola, being careful not to touch the nipple proper again. This teasing began to have an effect and she was becoming noticeably restless. He stood, smiled down at her and moved around to the opposite side of the bed, only to repeat the procedure on the other breast. She moaned low as his tongue touched the second nipple, and a little chuckle escaped his throat.

“Sir,” she said, “why must you drive me crazy like this?”

He sat up and made a little thinking sound, “Hmmm. . .”

“Well, there are at least two reasons that come immediately to mind. The first, simply, is that it pleases me to do so. Secondly, because I can. Of course these are facile answers that mask my intent, which I think you know is to give you unforgettable pleasure by building up to it very slowly.”

“I understand Sir. Please . . . “ The rest of her plea for more of his attention going unspoken.

He again bent to her breast and began to lick her nipple, carefully and slowly, letting his tongue sweep around each side of the protruding nub, then across the top of it, again and again. Her low moan was constant now.

Once again he stood and moved around her to repeat the attention on the opposite nipple. Again his tongue sweep around each side of the nipple and the across the top, again and again. He was measured and careful, knowing that her nipples were overly sensitive, after the earlier use of the clamps. She struggled against her bonds, beside herself with excitement and need. In another time and place he might have increased the intensity of what he was doing and might have well have brought her to orgasm from this form of play alone, but that was not his plan this time, this evening.

He abruptly stood again, this time moving to the foot of the bed where he knelt. Here, within inches of her pussy her scent was strong, her wetness running down the crack of her ass to wet he sheet below. He smiled at her high level of excitement. He pursed his lips and blew a little stream of air from her clit to nearly her asshole. This sent a shiver up her than made her arch her back. Again he smiled at how well he knew her and how well she responded to all he did to her.

He leaned into her and extended his tongue, and began to lick, working from crack of her ass at the sheet up one side to the small mass of fine dark hair he allowed her to grow on her mound, the remainder of her crotch completely hairless. He then worked down the other side, careful to brush by her clit, but not touch it. She strained to push her clit toward his tongue, but was unable.

He now pulled her outer lips apart with his fingers and licked gently all around the entrance to her vagina, pushing in just so that she was just aware of the invasion as he pulled quickly out again. Her moans were constant now as she struggled more forcefully seeking more of him.

He stopped and sat back and silently counted 10 before continuing. Now her clit was the object of his attention and he slowly and softly circled it with his tongue. She bucked her hips, pushing against his lips, and he withdrew to deny her this. He would control it all, and she would submit, and until her surrender was complete she would not be allowed climax. She knew that this was what he wanted of her, but her body betrayed her desire to obey and surrender to him. He bent to her again and fully licked her clit repeatedly; her moans grew louder, from deeper within her. He knew she was now spacing as her body finally relaxed and surrendered.

He slipped two fingers into her pussy and pushed their tips toward her clit, simply pushing and gently rubbing as he intensified his tongue action on her clit at the same time. She could not endure this long, and she knew it as well. “Sir, Sir. . “ she managed to whisper, “I’m going to, to…”

He stopped licking just long enough to acknowledge her, “Yes, Dear, I know, you have permission.”

“Oh, oh, oh, . . . thank you, Sir.” She managed to reply.

Now he pushed harder with his fingers and sucked her clit into his mouth and just touched his teeth on it, keeping up the sucking action. She nearly screamed, “God, that’s it, that’s it, fuck, fuck, fuck me,” as waves of pleasure crashed down on her, her contractions actually painful to his fingers. The orgasm was long and intense, every bit earned in his manipulation of her body.

He was pleased almost beyond words, as she finally slipped into a spacey slumber from which she would not wake for hours.