FIRST NIGHT
by The Shepard Of Witche's Green
She could not have known what was in store for her that evening.
Many months had passed since we had first met. As many in our lifestyle do, we
discovered one another online: I, a solitary Master, seeking the perfect slave,
not willing to compromise (indeed, my own worst enemy); she, a solitary
submissive and, possibly unknown even to herself, a true and total slave at the
core.
I remember the first sight of her as she approached the bar we met at from the
street outside. Even from a distance I was stunned by her beauty and by the
apparent grace with which she carried herself. No self-deprecating sex slut,
this, but rather a noble woman of true and lasting beauty. No greater gift for a
Master seeking so much within one woman had this Man ever witnessed. She had yet
to even enter the establishment.
I was not disappointed as we spoke for hours over a wine of her choosing, each
describing those things we so desperately sought, those things which had eluded
both of us for all of our lives. I could not overcome my growing, childish
infatuation as we conversed, something I had controlled for over twenty years,
and which now threatened to undermine my power over her at the very precipice of
our relationship. No lesson greater than this can I impart to those Masters
reading these words: do not let beauty dominate your control. It was my first
and perhaps my one fatal mistake with this slave of all slaves sitting before my
eyes.
Nonetheless, I should be even less the Master to allow my momentary failure to
defeat my intentions. Yet such beauty, within and without, proved ever difficult
to prevail over. It was Jerry Ford, the man who created the famous Ford Modeling
Agency, who said: "There is no greater power on Earth than beauty." I had long
thought this truism had been conquered by my own will; thus this Master learned
humility that night. But this Master does not give up on what he truly desires,
and I had not had such desire to own a woman for almost fifteen years (and that,
dear readers, is another story for another time).
A friendship began. It was something real and good, indeed, but far less than I
demanded from this female, and she knew this perhaps too well. I became her
"friendly neighborhood Dom". This status was about to dramatically change,
either for good or ill. I would brook no middle ground in the matter, not
anymore. That was my decision, and I risked all. Yet what value would anything
in this life have without true and real risk? As for myself, I say none
whatsoever.
Thus we had had a casual relationship for nearly eight months, with some minor
play. A movie, a quiet dinner, good wine and good conversation. Some evenings,
perhaps, there would be a short spanking, or a little neck play while kissing,
but nothing more. Her submission never revealed itself as I expected or hoped,
and perhaps I was still putting her on a pedestal which I did not allow myself
to reach. Oh, what shame for a Master! And so I allowed her the choice of
refusing me. I could do so no longer.
I am certain she thought this night would be as others: talk, wine, and
friendship. But I had plans which would change our relationship forever.
As I approached her door, I steeled myself to follow through with my intentions.
Slaves come and go; it had mattered little to me in the past, but then I had
never felt so strongly. To make a wrong decision with this one, to risk losing
what she was offering me already, was of great concern to me. But I also knew
her core. I knew I must trust my instincts as well as my own personal Power,
which, where she was concerned, was finally returning to my limbs and my Will.
I knocked. She answered. Perhaps there was already something different about me;
she knew. Just then, as she opened the door and looked at me, she knew. To speak
it aloud would have invited her immediate refusal, however. Neither of us spoke
a word as she led me inside for what would be her own night of fate.
We entered her living room, and without warning or preamble I took her to me,
kissing her deeply and with no small amount of controlled aggression. She did
not push me away, but she did not collapse into a submissive heap, either. And
so I grabbed her hair tightly about the roots and craned her head back
vigorously. I tasted her neck like some Roman emperor hungrily consuming a leg
of foul, with no attempt at grace or dignity. I applied all my strength to the
hold on her hair, not because it was necessary, but because she must learn who
is in control. Yet here was a student who always questioned her teachers, I
knew, and the night still stretched out before me like a fog-swamped road
disappearing into the hazy, unseen distance. How we would emerge from the fog -
together or apart -- would reveal itself soon. Very soon.
I released my grip, keeping her close, and looked into her eyes, directly into
her eyes.
"Remove your clothing," I said, quietly and with calm.
She returned my gaze without faltering. She would not say "no" directly; she
respected me as a Master, at least, if not her Master, yet. But the refusal
formed in her eyes, nonetheless.
"Lower your eyes," I said calmly, almost in a whisper.
And so, she did.
"Remove your clothes or I will remove them," I said, adding a hint of firmness.
She raised her eyes to me and this unacceptable. I grabbed her throat, tightly,
and forced her against the wall. She was a strong woman, but her strength was as
nothing now. She must have known, at that moment, the seriousness of my intent.
"Tonight you are mine for the keeping, or lost to me forever. Do you understand
I will not accept your non-compliance this night?"
She spoke.
"I do not want to be your sub. I want to be your friend."
"Want?" I said with calm, "What do you know of want? Tonight you will learn
what 'want' truly is."
I slipped my free hand beneath her blouse and ripped her bra away from
underneath. I pulled it out, and held it up to her face. Her eyes widened.
"For me, there is no going back now. Do you understand?"
She was clearly in fear for her person.
I merely tightened my grip on her throat, but carefuly. I reached beneath her
skirt and found her fuck-hole. It was indeed wet. Her words would no longer
deter me; her body spoke volumes which her sweet lips could not now contradict.
"What is this steam I feel emerging?" I said, closing my face to hers. "Hmmm?"
I inserted my finger inside her deeply, and and she groaned. I retracted it and
brought it up to her mouth, sliding it inside, letting her taste her own desire,
then removing it after several long moments.
"I know that you trust me. I know that you care for me. I know your safe word.
You will not speak it this evening; there will be no need to. Do you
understand?"
This was clearly not acceptable to her.
"Do you understand?!" I firmly insisted, ever so slightly tightening my throttle
on her beautiful, thin neck.
And then she said that which I had longed to hear ...two words which carry with
them the hopes and dreams of every Master who ever sought his perfect love, his
perfect slave, and having found her, feared to never find such again, so
precious and rare are they.
She said, "yes, Sir."
And she humbly lowered her eyes.
My world changed in that sublime moment. No other act of submission (which would
surely follow, and did), would ever be as powerful for me again. This moment,
and these words -- elicited by this woman -- would forever echo in the halls of
my mind, until my very last breath. I knew this even then.
I lifted her head, easing my hold on her neck just slightly.
"You know my heart. You know it is true."
She nodded, her eyes wetting with moisture. "i do," she said.
I released my hold on her neck, and stood back a few steps.
I repeated my earlier command, calmly: "Remove your clothes."
I folded my arms and waited. She was slow to respond.
"Obey me," I said, with love but also with some added firmness.
She slowly began to undress, her back still to the wall, perhaps afraid to move
too far. She had no shoes, only fuzzy warmer-socks; they were the first to be
removed, first one, then the other. I could feel her nervous fear, her
uncertainty. It was as sweet as any wine we had ever shared together.
"I am growing impatient," I urged her.
She hesitated, then lowered her long, black skirt to the floor revealing nylons
from her waist to her feet.
"And the nylons," I said.
With somewhat less hesitation, she removed them as well. She wore no other
garments below her waist.
"Your blouse," I demanded softly.
She lifted her blouse over her head and dropped it next to the small pile of
clothing forming on the carpet. She was fully naked, revealed to me. She was
beauty itself.
"i'm cold, Sir," she said meekly, folding her arms over her chest.
"I saw that," I said with a smile, and she smiled, too. Bliss began to grow in
my heart as it had not for so long, so very long.
"Lower you arms by your side," I said, dismissing her complaint.
She lowered her arms slowly. Goose pimples covered her form, everywhere. I knew
her chill came from more than just the room's low temperature. What a delight to
see. Her perfectly trimmed pubic hair seemed to stand on end. And sweet
submission was evident in her eyes now.
I moved to her again, face to face.
"Now, lower your eyes to Me," I said with as much love as I had ever felt.
And she did so.
I continued: "This evening, you are mine to use and play with as I see fit. Do
you understand?"
She did not respond right away.
I insisted, "Convey to me that you understand this."
She nodded that she did.
I kissed her deeply. Her heart was racing. I could almost hear it out loud!
I moved away again and commanded her to kneel with her legs spread 45 degrees,
her head lowered, her eyes closed, and her hands clasped behind her back. She
did so, with an elegance even I would not have suspected that she possessed.
Such grace flowed through her veins I could not believe.
"This is Position #1," I said. "In the future, when I say 'Assume the Position',
it is this position I refer to. At any time I tell you to 'assume the Position,
' you will remove whatever clothing you may be wearing and enter this stance,
without so much as a word or a moment of hesitation. It will be as reflexive as
the blinking on an eye. Do you understand?"
After a moment she nodded that she did.
"Remain still," I ordered. Her quiet was all the answer necessary.
I went back out to my car and retrieved the gifts she had earned. I returned to
her kneeling form, and laid the gifts at her knees.
"Open your eyes," I said.
Before her were two items: a new DVD copy of "Last Tango In Paris", and a
single, red rose.
I waited as she looked at them, and then I said, "You may look at me."
She looked up, her hands still clasped behind her, and smiled at me.
"Would you like to say something?", I asked.
"thank you, Sir, " she said, "for the gifts." Her appreciation was true. It
always had been, and this was another reason my heart was driven to her.
"I know we had planned a movie this evening. We will watch the film at another
time. As for tonight, I will at last take my pleasure from you."
She lowered her head, obediently and unbidden, and again uttered those two
precious, life-giving words to me: "yes, Sir."
"Go to your bed chamber and wait for me," I said.
She stood, keeping her head lowered, and walked out of the room and to her
bedroom. I waited for her to arrive there herself before following. I picked up
her gifts, placing the DVD on her TV, and then finding a glass in which to put
the rose that it might feed on water and live another day. I wanted to savor
this moment, a moment for me that was stretched and frozen in time. Finally I
moved towards her chamber, and her.
As I entered her room she was quietly standing, head down, as if she could
remain there, still and waiting for me, forever. This night would be a night of
love less than play. Oh, indeed I made use of her - with an unrestrained
ferocity the likes of which I will not describe here -- all but the one hole
which was not yet trained for my overly thick Manhood. Her moans of pleasure as
well as occasional sweet, slight pain were like the prettiest music I had ever
heard. Her juices flowed like honey - as did my own juices, and in great volume.
Before the night was to be through she would have my semen - my love -- filling
her belly and her womb in copious amounts, and she would lap up every errant
drop as if it had come from the Fountain Of Youth itself. Perhaps that is where
it truly was from, as I was reborn and renewed that evening as I had never been
before in my life. I could see again. And all I could see, or ever wanted to see
again, was her.
For those expecting overly explicit sexual depiction herein, seek such in some
other tome or telling. This is not fundamentally a story of D/s; this is a love
story. Let none forget -- Masters, slaves, nor anyone else - what truly sparks
the fires of Dominance and submission. It is neither wealth, nor property, nor
accomplishment, nor the indiscriminate taking of the "weaker" sex. It is, as it
must always be, love. And true love can survive anywhere, and anything.
No Man or Master could love a woman more than I love the woman I have spoken of
in this tale. What I take she gives freely and without hesitation, and the
synergy grows into infinity. Perhaps our First Night might have gone a different
path, and I might be here lamenting, rather than exalting. To all who seek that
one perfect love, I say to thee have hope, have heart, and have patience. All
will come to those with faith - and strength -- such as this.
- The Shepard of Witche's Green
