She Calls Me Seven

I used to wish that she would call me by my name. Just once, to know what it sounded like, what it felt like. Once I realized that I would be the only one she would ever call Seven, it made things bearable, not better, just bearable.
She says that I should consider myself lucky, even blessed to be where I am. She is demanding. But her love for me is genuine. I am and will ever be her only Seven. Tonight as I prepared myself to prepare another for her, I let my mind wander. Wander back to the first time I looked into her eyes and lost myself. The cerulean blue of her iris made the breath hitch in my throat. An intoxicating color I had never encountered in another’s eyes before. The ringlets of her thick dark hair appeared as though they moved independently and just out of step with reality. The moon seemed to hyper illuminate her skin. It gave her flesh the appearance of a master’s work in granite. Smooth and flawless, cool as winter winds, yet holding back the intensity of hell's flames, silently beckoning me to reach out to her. I stared in awe at perfection. I hung my head in shame knowing my imperfection in her presence somehow lessened her. She placed her fingertips under my chin and gently raised my head. The connection to her touch only appeared as a cool granite sculpture. The fire that traveled through her flesh and into my being electrified my mind and soul. At that moment she allowed me to know her and her plans for me.
Snapping back to the task at hand, I traced the blue veins under the skin of the man lying at my feet with the blade I held in quivering fingers. Men are always the easiest to bait. There is no caution in them, only the instinct to chase the prey. A smile, a kind word, a plea, the difficulty comes in the casting the right lure. I am relieved tonight she prefers a male. As I traced the faint lines in his skin, I smile at the terror in his eyes. He still lived but not for long. She would be here soon and that would be all of him. I didn’t pity him, I could not. I envied him. He would know the touch of her lips I have never felt. He would know the warmth of her breath I longed to feel against my skin. He would experience the ecstasy lost to me as she used him. His sole purpose in life had been shifted down into this, fulfilling her. A thing I would trade all I have ever know to do, just once. Fulfill her need.
She gave me that chance, once. Before I knew the need, the hunger to please her. I could not. It terrified me. She had come upon me during my work. Riding the razor. That was who I was then, and that was what my calling required of me, to Ride the Razor.
Ride the razor, along the lines I could see in the trembling terrified skin before me. Let the blade drink deep as I watched the blood well from the lines it left. I was looking for a thing. What, I can not remember. I just remember the ache of a fruitless search, again. A moment it had been sated. That briefest of moments just before the blade draws the red line as the skin responds to its pressure. In that smallest window of time, the space between handclaps, this was my place. This was my zen. I was on the edge of hope and satisfaction with what the cuts would bring. Nothing. I raised my hand to bring the blade down and stab at the mocking face that had deprived me. Her hand grabbed my wrist and stopped me. I was not startled, I was not afraid; I was... It was then, that moment the first time I lost myself in her eyes. I was where I belonged.
I learned that night my trophy had been the one she called Six. By a strange twist, I was to become her sustenance at his hands. He had underestimated me, not aware of who or what I really was. I would replace Six and continue in service to my master or I would join Six. The choice was mine and of my will. I chose my new master.
A slightly crooked grin creased the alabaster of her face. She was pleased and intrigued by her newest lackey. I was her first attendant of my gender and I intrigued her for the new and exciting possibilities of my servitude. It was clear from that moment on, our interactions were to be of a most disciplined and divided nature. In the most basic of terms, I procured anything she desired. I disposed of anything she no longer desired. And for this, I was kept. I have learned to accept my lot, yet in my darkest longing I wanted, needed to be the one that fulfills her. When I glimpse her visage, for I can not directly gaze upon her, I am already much too close to madness, a heat swells within me. I know then, I would hold nothing from her, everything is forfeit to her.
That was thirty years ago. And for all time I have longed for her embrace, her kiss, her lips, her touch of desire. Never to release. Never to be sated. I am seeing flaws in my visage. A small wrinkle here, a few grey hairs along my temple. It is these flaws that are the harbingers of my release, my reward. I don't know how I have maintained my youthful appearance all these decades. Perhaps it is her doing. Perhaps it is not, just a result of being in her thrall. Regardless, the few flaws, I see now, tell me my time is not unlimited as hers.
The night I chose her as my master. She took my kill, my trophy, from me. The one she called Six, looked at her with shame in his eyes and began to cry. She hushed him with a smile and a caress along his forehead and cheeks. She smiled and gazed at him with eyes that understood love, but did not love. His frown relaxed, the tears slowed, she allowed him a moment of peace for a lifetime of service. She took him and filled herself.
I hear her approach and I step aside, allowing the night’s offering to look upon her for the first and only time and he calms. I watch with intense jealousy as his gaze changes from abject horror to absolute willingness. He tilts his head and offers himself to her. She falls upon him and takes her desire; it gives him unimaginable ecstasy and finally death. I feel my heartbreak because I will never know that. If only ever once, I would. She rises and holds her hand out to me and she speaks.
“Leave him, Seven. What he has experienced tonight, does not come with dignity."
A shiver travels along my spine in a certain way, each time she calls me Seven. I long to hear her beckon me, and I am thankful for my new name.
M.Crace
1-2-2020