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
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