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Saving a Lost Kitten Ch. 01

By: ham_sandwich



Needless to say, all the characters described herein are over 18 years of age, fictional; and any resemblance between them and anyone, living, dead, or imaginary, is purely coincidental. The author hopes you enjoy reading it, and hopes you find it worthy of a goodly number of stars. Cheers! 

- Ham Sandwich

*** 

"You useless, worthless fucking bitch!" I could hear him screaming at her all the way across the playroom floor as she cowered on her knees, trembling in fear and dread. He slapped her face, hard, then slapped her again. "You stupid cunt, can't you do anything right?" 

Close to hysterical, she cried out, "I'm sorry, Master! I'm so sorry!" 

I began walking toward them, slowly but purposefully. Doing scenes in our BDSM club was one thing, but this looked like out-and-out physical abuse to me, and as the organization's elected president, I needed to get it under control. When I was almost upon them, I could see that she was bleeding from her nose and mouth from the viciously hard open-handed slaps she had taken. The people nearby were frozen in a state of shock. I picked up the pace.

He yanked her to her feet. "You think you're sorry? I'm gonna show you sorry!" he said, and he cocked back his right arm in preparation to smashing his fist into her terrified face. 

Only he didn't quite make it. 

By then, I was just a couple of feet behind him and off to his right side, and it was a simple matter for me to grab hold of the inside of his elbow at the height of his backswing and pull it just enough to throw him off balance. If the situation hadn't been so serious, I'd have laughed at the comically shocked expression on the arrogant bastard's face when he spun around and hit the floor. On the other hand, he didn't find it very amusing once it dawned on him what had happened. He quickly got to his feet and puffed himself up in a rage. I was outweighed and out-muscled, and the big bully knew it. "Oh, you want a piece of me, pal?" he taunted, and started toward me. 

And again, he didn't quite make it. 

Once he was within range, I forcefully planted the sole of my shoe into his solar plexus, and this time, he went down and stayed there. He was winded and out cold. I borrowed his driver's license from his wallet long enough to make a copy of it to go onto the "persona non grata" section of the club bulletin board and to learn that I'd been dealing with one Mister Pluto Brown. Needless to say, I also relieved Mr. Brown of his guest pass. Several of our members carried him out to the parking lot and left him there, dazed and confused. If he had the slightest thought about causing any more trouble with us, we'd remind him that plenty of witnesses were ready and willing to testify that he'd assaulted a female, inflicting serious bodily harm, and he would go to jail at our earliest convenience. Later, I'd figure out exactly how he'd managed to finagle his entry into our exclusive establishment, as it was obvious his wasn't our kind of BDSM, but right now, my concern was his victim. 

I found several of our ladies hovering over the poor girl once I'd gotten back there with the first aid kit. This is all we'd need, I thought, some injured woman who files charges against our club. Wouldn't the blue-blooded prudes look forward to an excuse like that to shut us down! She was still nearly hyperventilating as I gently swabbed at her wounds and attempted to calm her. "It's alright, baby. You're going to be OK," I assured her in my most soothing voice. "Everything's going to be alright."

"But he won't ever take me back now!" she cried. "Where will I go? What am I gonna do?"

"Listen, girl, the last thing in the world you'd want to do is get back together with him, believe me!" I answered. 

"But I have nowhere to go!" she wailed, and I felt that all-too-familiar feeling I experience when I get suckered into being the knight in shining armor for some damsel in distress. It's happened to me too many times, and it's never turned out for my good in the long term, but what can I do? Despite my somewhat kinky sexual preferences, deep down I'm just too much the proverbial "good guy" by nature. It does make me feel respectable, though, at least at first - until it starts unraveling.

"What's your name, angel?" I asked her gently, resigned to being her protector, at least for the rest of the evening. 

"Kitten," she answered.

"Well, Kitten, I'm Gary Dillon, the club president, and I guess I'll be looking after you for a while. Why don't we get off the playroom floor and go to my office? It's quieter there, and it'll be another hour or so before we'll be able to leave when we close down for the night." I helped her to her feet and supported her during the walk to the back of the mansion where my office was. "OK," I announced to the room in general as we exited, "crisis averted, so you can all return to flogging one another again," which was met with applause and raucous laughter. 

She was still a bit shaky, but at least the bleeding had stopped. I was sure she'd have some facial bruises by morning, and it occurred to me that, quite likely, she would still be in my care at that time. 

I felt some reservation about that. It wasn't because she was so homely that a reasonably handsome man would feel ashamed to be in her company. She was actually rather attractive in a subtle sort of way, not what you'd call gorgeous or voluptuous, but she had a very pleasing face and figure. Her hair was a nice shade of brown and came down to mid-length. If I had to describe her in one word, it would be "demure," a word which I rather liked. 

No, the problem wasn't with her. It was with me and my insecurities. If you had asked me to describe myself, up until about eight months ago, I'd have unhesitatingly said I was a Dom, which is to say, a "dominant." Which is to say, someone who's "in control" of a relationship, especially in a sexual sense. Since then, I wasn't so sure if I could claim that lofty appellation. Anne, the woman whom I'd thought of as my long-time loyal submissive had up and flown the coop in a nasty and vindictive way. It seemed sudden and shocking, but the tremors prior to the actual earthquake had been there in plain sight if I'd been looking objectively. 

The whole affair had left me with a lack of confidence. And a Dom is never supposed to have anything less than supreme confidence, is He? Doms are always supposed to know exactly what to do in any given situation, or at least that's what's believed. We're also supposed to be masterfully resourceful if not downright wealthy, and we're all supposed to drive Aston Martin DB9s, neither of which applied to me. Well, I decided, maybe I can do what's needed to help this poor, lost Kitten get past this train wreck without the two of us getting tangled up with the emotional baggage of riding crops, nipple clamps, butt plugs, et cetera. 

Anyway, I was thinking I'd need to devote some time to this case if for no other reason than to forestall legal action being taken against our organization. I took my responsibilities as president very seriously in spite of having been put in the post because I'd missed the board meeting on election month due to overindulging in self-pity. Years later, I was to discover that they'd elected me because they thought I needed something to keep me busy in my time of doubt and despair. Of course, they'd been right.

Kitten calmed down a bit once she was in the quiet comfort of my office. I pulled out a blank form from my desk and began filling it out. "Since your 'escort' has now lost his privilege to visit our club, you are now on the premises without permission, so I'll need to register you as my own guest," I explained. I had her give me the information required.

"Are you really the president of this club?" she asked. 

"Yep, and it wouldn't do for the president to break club rules," I answered.

"Not even the president?" she gushed.

"ESPECIALLY the president!" I countered with a chuckle, and I noticed her guard drop just a bit. "Well, one thing the president CAN do is to keep a private supply of camaraderie in his desk," I added, as I reached into a drawer and fetched the bottle of premium "Black Bush" whiskey and a couple of glasses.

Two shots apiece later, I was attempting to defuse her anxiety with some background about me: "So, Anne and I had been together for several years in an M/f relationship. I was so stupid, I actually thought she was happy with all of that, even though she'd gotten cold feet and moved out a couple of times. She'd always come back, though. She was a classical musician, a harpist, actually. Concert harps are delicate and cumbersome, but the harp was nothing compared to that upright piano she owned. Every time she left, I had to help move the piano out, and every time she moved back, I had to help move it in. Hateful thing was back-breaking heavy, too! You know, they say your friends will help you move your piano once, and your REAL friends will help you move it twice. I think I ended up moving it five or six times."

The alcohol was helping both of us get into the mood of my story, and Kitten was listening with interest, no longer thinking about her own troubles.

"Then Anne managed to get hooked up with this idiot psychologist who told her I was psychopathic, dangerous, and would probably hurt or even kill her - can you believe it, after all those years - and that she needed to get out right away. Which she did. I came home from work one evening and found her and all her stuff gone, even the upright. There was a note she'd left, blaming me for all her problems when she knew full well it takes two to tango. Just like that, and she was gone for good. Well, there was one bright side to the thing: At least I wouldn't have to move that Goddamned piano any more."

Kitten giggled, then she quickly covered her mouth with a hand as if her laughter was somehow a punishable offense.

"You're cute when you laugh," I encouraged, and the hand slowly came down from her face but still displaying an expression of uncertainty . How unusual, I thought to myself, it's as though she's not sure she's allowed to be herself. 

I went on to tell her a little bit about my present situation; how I was a freelance grant writer who'd managed to get a percentage on a few multi-million dollar proposals I'd written that had been approved recently, providing enough to pay off the mortgage on my modest home. The chosen business occupation enabled me to keep my own hours to a large extent, which was another reason the BDSM club presidency was a good match for me.

Just as I'd run out of conversation about myself, a knock on my office door informed me that it was closing time for the evening. My cohorts and I made sure everything was taken care of, and then we locked up. I escorted Kitten to my unpretentious and unassuming car and opened the passenger-side door for her, an action which she seemed to find unexpected and which made me wonder how badly she'd been treated up to now; and then we were soon on our way to my place. 

The silence while driving was awkward, and I thought about asking her to tell me about herself, but I decided it might be too soon for her comfort, so I didn't. Instead, I gave her some preparation about my house. "My place is small, and there's only one bedroom, so I'm not sure how we'll work out the sleeping arrangements while you're staying there. But I want you to know that nothing sexual will be expected of you." She actually seemed to be a bit surprised to hear this, but she just nodded her head in understanding. I wondered, was she disappointed? Well, I knew I was! She was a flesh-and-blood woman, and it had been a while for me, but part of being a Dom was self-sacrifice in deference to your partner's best interests. And Kitten's best interest, even though she wasn't my partner, was for some personal space, or at least as much space as my residence could provide.

When we arrived, I hopped out and, consistently the gentleman, opened the car door for her, which once again was met with an expression of unexpectedness. Up the path we walked; I fumbled with my keys, finally finding the correct one, unlocked my front door and ushered her inside. Now, as I said, my house isn't grandiose by any means. Yes, it's clean, and, yes, the furniture matches and, yes, there's some semblance of the place having been "decorated," but, judging from Kitten's reaction, you'd have thought it was the Plaza. Her eyes swept from here to there with a look of awe about them. Where in the hell has she been living, and under what dire circumstances, I wondered! 

The "grand tour" could wait, but I escorted her to the bathroom and adjusted the taps so she could shower, got her several clean towels, and left her to her own devices. Once I'd shut the door, it occurred to me that she had no change of clothing, so I went to my closet and found the longest jersey-style t-shirt I could find and discreetly exchanged it for her dirty clothes once I heard her in the shower. Those, I threw into the washing machine and started it running. First thing tomorrow, we'd see about expanding her wardrobe options.

In about half an hour, she emerged from the bathroom squeaky clean. I had to admit, she sure looked cute in that jersey, and it was a good thing for my self control that it came down as far as it did and covered up her most intimate features. I showed her to the bedroom, selected some stuff for myself and told her to make herself comfortable. I had some email and my own shower to catch up on and would check in on her after a while. She thanked me for my kindness. 

It took me another hour before I'd gotten my own chores completed and went to the bedroom to see how she was doing. I knocked gently, and when there was no reply, I quietly opened the door to discover that the bed was empty. Where had she gone? Then I saw that she was asleep, curled up on the floor next to the bed. 

"Kitten!" I said urgently but softly as I made my way to her. "Why are you down there and not in bed?"

She looked up at me sheepishly. "The floor is where I always sleep. Pluto told me from the first night I stayed at his place that the floor was where cunts belonged, not in bed. That was for their masters."

I was at this time regretting not having given the asshole a couple of swift kicks in the head while he was down on the ground.

"Kitten, baby, come up here and get into bed. Come on," I urged. "it has a wonderful Memory Foam mattress and will be so good and restful for you to sleep on!"

"Where are you gonna sleep?" she asked.

"There's a perfectly comfortable reclining chair in the living room that'll do just fine," I replied confidently.

"I can't sleep in your own bed if you're going to sleep in a chair," and I could see she was going to be firm about it.

"Well, I'm not going to let you sleep in a chair or on the floor, either," I retorted, and that became our first confrontation. 

You've probably already figured out that we compromised by both sleeping in the bed together. I swore I wouldn't take advantage of her, although she hadn't expressed any concerns, but we ended up going to sleep with me holding her and her melting into my arms. It was rather uncomfortable for me to go to sleep with a raging hard-on, but if it was any consolation, I woke up the very same way! 

In the morning, she was still sleeping, and I was still horny as I slipped out of bed and stepped into the shower. There was some urgent business to take care of that had to do with Mama Thumb and her four daughters. I'd gotten well on my way to self-satisfaction when another hand reached around the shower curtain and took over the job. And then, another naked body had joined me under the warm water, and this body had a wry, feminine smile attached to it. 

It took Kitten just a minute or so to finish what I'd begun, only her handiwork was a lot more satisfying than mine would have or could have been. I let loose with some husky moans as I forcefully released my accumulated man-juice against the shower wall.

"Ohhhhh, thank you! Thank you so much!" I exclaimed. 

"Did you think I didn't know what you were suffering through all night?" Kitten asked. "I know about men and their needs."

"Well, I'm sure not suffering anything any more and cannot imagine needing anything else," I replied, "but what about you?"

"When you ask, 'What about you?' what do you mean?" she said.

"Well, what I mean is, what about your orgasm? Wouldn't you like some satisfaction, too?" I asked, and what she said next knocked me right down to the ground. After she said it, if I'd had the slightest compassion remaining for the jerk who brought her into my club, it was replaced at once by a burning hope to see his name obliterated from the roster of human males.

"I don't know. I never had an orgasm, nor was allowed to," she replied in all honesty. "Pluto used to say that bitches weren't allowed to come. That, and maybe also because I'm still a virgin." 

(to be continued)

Saving a Lost Kitten Ch. 02



The author thanks all of his readers, especially those of you who took the time to vote on my story. Here's the next installment, and once again, the disclaimer: All the characters described herein are over 18 years of age, fictional; and any resemblance between them and anyone, living, dead, or imaginary, is purely coincidental. 

Although Chapter II can be read as a stand-alone, I'd really encourage you to read Chapter I first, if for no other reason than the character development, unless you're merely looking for just a "stroke story," of course, in which case you'd probably prefer to read some other author.

Enjoy! 

- Ham Sandwich

*** 

How the hell could she still be a virgin, or not have ever had an orgasm, I wondered as we dried ourselves. She'd obviously been living with that guy. I was dying to ask, but the expression on her face told me this was a painful subject to talk about, so I switched my countenance quickly to non-judgmental. 

"OK," I said, as nonchalantly as I could. We could discuss this some time when she could handle it better. "Well! Since we're both up and moving around, how about we fix some breakfast?" It occurred to me that she'd probably not had any food for a while now, so I wasn't surprised when she said that eating something sounded great. 

I retrieved her now-clean clothes from the dryer and found something for myself as well, although she'd shown no sign of embarrassment at being nude. The thought formed that Pluto probably required her to be naked most often, as slaves were frequently treated that way.

Into the kitchen we went. "Now," I began my lecture with mock seriousness, "the first rule of making a fine breakfast is fine coffee, of course." Kitten began to smile a bit, and I began to realize that an easy, light approach worked best with her. "And," I continued, "the first rule of fine coffee is that fine coffee is strong coffee, so we'll put a lot of it into our little four-cup drip machine here," and Kitten's eyes got a bit wider as she saw how much I was shoveling into the filter basket. 

"Won't that be awfully bitter?" she asked, as she crinkled her nose in anticipation of the harshness.

"Ah, grasshopper," I joked, "second rule of fine coffee: Add-pinch-of-salt-to-coffee-to-remove bitterness!" She giggled openly at my foolishness, which I took to be an encouraging sign. 

"There," I said, pouring in the cold, fresh water and flipping the switch, "we'll let it do its thing and move on to other matters. Since I'm so exhausted from all that heavy lovemaking we did this morning," I said with a wink, "we'll bake up a batch of tasty strawberry muffins, which won't be too difficult since they come to us in these little bags to which we only need add milk and eggs." Kitten was getting into my clowning around. It was encouraging to see her beginning to feel at ease here in my home with me. It only took a couple of minutes to whip together the dry muffin mix with the milk and eggs and to portion it into the muffin pan. 

"There," I said, "into the pre-heated oven it goes. Twelve minutes until we enjoy those hot, delicious muffins. And look, our coffee's ready!" I poured out two cups and customized them to our liking. It turned out she preferred sugar and plenty of cream, same as me. The cups sat there on the counter waiting for us.

"Kitten, I can't drink mine until you sample yours and pronounce it worthy. You're the guest of honor." 

She wasn't entirely sure I was joking as she lifted her cup and brought it to her lips. She took in a little sip and swirled it around her tongue to taste it. As I observed her closely, assessing and judging the hot java, I so wished it was my semen she was enjoying instead. Easy, boy, I said to myself. Remember, control, always be under control.

"It's really good! I love it!" she said, taking a big swig, and I had to remind both myself and my stirring penis that she was referring to the coffee rather than my fantasy. 

"Great!" I said as I picked up my mug and clinked it against hers. "Here's a toast to the simple pleasures in life," and several of those pleasures came to mind. She laughed out loud and I thought, though she might be considered a little plain, she became an archangel when she laughed.

There was the "ding" of the oven timer announcing that our muffins were done. I popped them into a bowl, covered it with a festive looking towel to retain the warmth, and brought it, some plates, some knives, and the butter bell over to the table. Kitten had never seen a butter bell before, so I got the opportunity to seem smart and sophisticated when I explained its function to her.

She was really hungry! She wolfed down a half dozen muffins to my three, and I decided that I'd need to make nutrition a priority for her. We ate and chatted about inconsequential things, and then I said I needed to check my email to make sure nothing pressing was happening that would keep me from taking the rest of the day off. 

She volunteered to clean the dishes, and I was inwardly pleased with her sense of domestic order. Already, I was beginning to think of her as belonging here. I just hoped I'd be able to handle the breakup when it happened. Well, just be grateful for what you're given while you have it, I said to myself.

Three quarters of my email miraculously disappeared once the spam got gone, and none of the rest needed my immediate attention, so I was free for the rest of the day and told her we were going out.

"But I don't have anything to wear!" she replied, and it occurred to me that, on this one day in all of recorded history, a woman was making that statement and it really was true. Well, almost! I wondered to myself if there had ever been an instance where a man told his wife they were going to a nudist colony only to be informed by her that she didn't have anything to wear. I held onto that smile as I moved my mind back to the present. 

"Kitten," I said with authority, "it's a girl's lucky day. We're going to take you shopping for clothes, and we might even visit a shoe store or two!" Now, I ask you, gentle reader, do I know the way to a woman's heart or what? She squealed in delight, and out to the car we flew. As I helped her into her seat, I was pleased to see she was getting accustomed to my opening doors for her, in both the literal and the figurative senses. It made me feel purposeful for a change. I reminded myself that good deeds were to be done for their own reward and not as a pretext for obtaining something in return. 

First stop was the mall. Almost every store we visited had her sizes, as she was easy to fit. To my gratitude, I noticed that she invariably went to the sale racks first to ferret out the best bargains. She'd try every item on and then present herself to me for my opinion of it. Actually, she looked good in everything, and after only an hour or two, we left the mall with a good assortment. 

Next we cruised several of the thrift stores and found some wonderful deals on lightly used items for her day-to-day wear. We found several pairs of blue jeans there that were already broken in and contoured her awesome legs and ass to perfection. She looked great in her new clothes, and she also looked great without any - a perfect woman.

It was lunch time already. I told her I wasn't quite up to taking a woman to a shoe store on an empty stomach, so we stopped to eat and enjoyed some soup, salad and pasta dishes at an Italian place I knew. Kitten was in heaven! It did my heart good to see her so happy and animated. Such a turnabout from the horror of the previous night! 

Six bags of clothes, two bags of shoes, and two people stuffed full of good Italian food later, we were back on our way home. It really was a chore carrying all that stuff into the house, and then we had to remove all those stupid little plastic tags and hang it all up, but Kitten had the beginning of a modest wardrobe once we were through. 

She just stood there in front of the closet taking it all in silently. There was a long pause, and then I heard her small, quivering voice ask, "Why are you doing all this for me?" as if it were all some sort of fanciful dream that would vanish into thin air when she woke up.

I couldn't think of anything particularly clever to say, so I spoke the simple truth: "I'm doing it because it's what you need right now."

And suddenly she was in my arms crying her little eyes out. "Gary, nobody ever cared about me before and now I've fallen into your life and you're doing all these things to take care of me and make me happy and give me pleasure and. . ." And a new freshet of tears began.

I held her for a minute and then pulled her away so she could see me talking to her. "Kitten," I said, "look at me. I said, look at me." And when she did, I reached into her soul with my eyes and told her, "You don't even know anything about happiness and pleasure yet, but, believe me, they're coming. Oh, yes, I swear to you, they're coming!"

My back was to the side of the bed, and Kitten suddenly pushed me the two steps it took for me to be on it with my legs hanging over the edge. She was on her knees with my zipper down and her lips wrapped around my manhood before I could even realize what was happening. That cock of mine was like a sports car, and it went from zero to sixty in about five seconds. If I'd ever been serviced with such skill and enthusiasm before, I certainly couldn't remember when it was. She was worshiping that thing! I could feel my ardor rising up through my groin as I approached my climax. For one brief moment, I debated the rules of sexual etiquette about ejaculating in her mouth. I decided that any woman who was that skilled a fellatrix would already know what to do, and she didn't miss a beat when I came a minute later. She took all of it! Once the room stopped spinning, and I was able to see again, she made sure I was watching her when she purposefully licked her lips, tasted and swallowed. I could tell she genuinely liked it. 

To my amazement, my earlier fantasy had come true. 

And it occurred to me that something else was also true: In less than one day, I had already fallen hopelessly, helplessly, irretrievably in love with her. 

Oh, damn. DAMN.DAMN!!

(to be continued)



Saving a Lost Kitten Ch. 03



Once again, the author thanks all of you for reading and voting on this story. Here's Chapter III, along with the requisite boilerplate: All the characters described herein are 18 years of age or older, fictional; and any resemblance between them and anyone, living, dead, or imaginary, is purely coincidental. 

You really should read Chapters I and II just to understand these characters. If you've already done so, your patience will now be rewarded, because the sparks will commence flying with this chapter. 

Enjoy! 

- Ham Sandwich

*** 

Damn! I just knew that the light at the end of the tunnel was really an express train coming at high speed to mow me down, but I was powerless to do anything other than continue doing what I'd been doing and hope that somehow, the good memories of this new relationship would be enough to overcome the pain of its ending. Well, stiff upper lip and all of that. It would at least be fun while it lasted.

"Thank you," I said. "That was heaven!" And she smiled. She really thrives on praise, I thought.

Then it occurred to me that there was something important we needed to do, so I excused myself and made a phone call. "Kitten," I said when I returned to the room, "I'll be needed at the club this evening. It's a requirement that an elected officer be present whenever the club is open, and I am the one tonight. So, you'll be accompanying me, but you'll be wearing the red wristband, meaning you're there only to observe and are not to be solicited, so you'll be safe. We will be leaving a little early in order to get a bit of supper and to make one other stop, so you might want to begin thinking about what you'd like to wear, now that you have a choice."

"What should I wear?" she asked.

"Well, as you'll be untouchable, something tasteful would probably be better than something tasty. Maybe jeans with a modest top, or a dress, perhaps?" She began comparing dresses, and while she was doing so, it occurred to me that we'd overlooked an essential element of her attire while we were shopping, and I thought it was important to mention. "Do you know, I think you forgot to get any bras or panties today."

"I didn't forget," she said with a shy smile.

"Oh, so you DID buy some, then."

"No," she said in a soft, coquettish voice. The message got through to my head. Both heads, actually.

Twenty minutes later, I was ready to see the fashion show. She'd made an excellent choice for the evening. "What do you think of the dress. Is it tasteful?" she asked as she sashayed around in her new outfit. The material was thin enough to show just a hint of nipple underneath. Kitten had awesome nipples! 

"More like understated, sophisticated elegance, if you really want my opinion." I replied. "In other words, I like it!" I exclaimed, and she just glowed with joy. "And those strappy heels, I adore those things! Just wait until winter when I get you some boots," I promised. And then I saw a wistful look cross her face. I didn't know it, but I was wearing the same face once I thought about what I'd said. Would she still be here by winter time? I didn't know that she'd been wondering the same thing. Well, that's then, and this is now, I told myself. Live in the today, and be glad for what you have while you have it. Be here now.

Presently, we were in the car. "Before we stop to eat, we're going by the urgent care clinic I patronize. We both need to get blood testing done. I need to have mine done so you'll know you have nothing to worry about, and you need to have yours done because I'm having great difficulty keeping my bodily parts apart from your counterparts," I explained with a lecherous look, and she smiled at my silly humor. 

Checking in wasn't a problem for me, seeing I was already a patient there, but Kitten had a passel of forms to fill out. She began with the first one, and I noticed she'd come to a stop after entering her name. She filled in her name on the top line but the pen in her hand stopped moving, hovering over the next. I passed my form over to her. "Copy my address into that space, angel, "I said discreetly ."That's where you're staying now, isn't it?" She turned to me and squeezed my hand.

They filled up a couple of vials from me, and I held Kitten's hand while they drew her blood. Being a Dom, or at least supposing to be one, I was curious to see how she responded to the pain. Needle sticks don't really hurt that much, but there's a lot of apprehension involved for many people. She seemed to take it all in stride. The really painful part was when they told me it would be two days before the results came back! I wasn't sure the wait wouldn't kill me, but then I realized there was a wonderfully safe alternative, and I smiled at the thought. Oh, Kitten was going to love this surprise, I decided! Yes, this will be the perfect way. 

After a quick meal - we were both still stuffed from lunch, actually - we arrived at the club to find we were the first ones there. My pass code inactivated the alarm system and got us inside, and I filled out a guest form for Kitten and put one of the red wristbands on her. Since nobody else would likely arrive for another fifteen minutes or so, I gave her the tour. She'd been in the playroom briefly the night before but hadn't an opportunity to see it in all its glory. The various whipping posts, bondage benches, St George crosses, etc., were impressive. Several rooms off to the side contained further equipment for encounters of a more private nature. Of course, all of this was housed in a large mansion, a gift to the club from a wealthy benefactor, now deceased.

"It really is a private club," I explained to Kitten. "We're a legitimate 501(c)(7) organization, a 'social club,' tax-exempt and recognized by the government. Naturally, there are certain standards we must adhere to, for example, you have to be a member or the guest of a member in order to enter. Nobody can just get in here off the street. And we have organizational requirements, such as having a president, vice-president, treasurer and secretary. Board members, too."

"The place is huge!" Kitten observed.

"Yep, and the Gothic architecture fits right in with our style." By now, people were beginning to arrive, and I checked them in and greeted them. Many of them smiled at Kitten but went no further once they noticed her red wristband. When a couple of our volunteers had come to take over the reception area, we were free to wander around some more.

"Our members are of all ages, but given that BDSM can be an expensive hobby, many of of them are older, more affluent folks. Partly because of that, all our officers and volunteers are required to maintain first-aid certification with the Red Cross. You see that green box on the wall over there?" I asked, pointing it out, "that's an AED - automatic external defibrillator - in case somebody goes into cardiac arrest. Hasn't happened yet, but it could, and we certainly don't want anybody to die here! We have several of those AEDs in various places in the building."

Kitten was impressed: "You all take this seriously, don't you?"

"You bet!" I replied. "First, because there are legal and insurance issues involved, but more importantly, because it's the right thing to do. We have rules galore! For example, you couldn't change your red wristband to a green one, indicating anything goes, without providing a copy of a physical exam showing you were up for it. And obviously, no actual physical abuse is permitted, which is why Pluto stood out so quickly last night when he hit you." 

Having last night's circumstances brought to mind was not pleasant for her, but maybe it was the right time to talk about it.

"Why did he hit you, by the way?"

She took a breath and hesitated. Then she said, "He was angry because I didn't want to go along with his plan. He brought me here because he thought he could sell my virginity to the highest bidder. He thought there would be plenty of rich people here who would pay him a lot for the privilege of taking it."

So that was why she was still a virgin in spite of living with him, but then, what did they do together, how did he have her, I wondered, just orally?

The expression on my face must have given away my thoughts. "He only used my mouth and my ass when we were together," she said, "it was better with my mouth. The other hurt too much. I hated it, and I hated being there with him. But there wasn't any other place for me to go. Well, then, anyway."

"Oh, my God," I whispered. I couldn't imagine what kind of hell she must have been put through, or how she'd even managed to keep from going insane. He'd certainly misjudged our club. If we'd known what he'd had in mind, he'd have been lucky to get out of there without being beaten to a pulp!

I decided I wasn't going to ask her any more questions that night and changed the subject. "Well, let's see who's here tonight, shall we?" and I looked over the guest list. "Oh, this will be educational! Gina and Rick have booked the Blue Room for themselves, and they won't mind if we observe if we do it discreetly." I led Kitten to my office and opened the credenza by the side of my desk. It housed a television screen and a control panel. I turned it on and pressed the button labeled "blue." Almost at once, the monitor came to life and showed a man and a woman, both of whom were nude. He was standing in the middle of the room, and his wrists were secured over his head with cuffs and rope that went up through some unseen device in the ceiling. She was standing several feet behind him holding a whip. Every few seconds, she'd give him a swipe across the ass. It wasn't hard enough to cause him anything more than a slight discomfort, and he didn't seem to be protesting.

"Why are they doing that?" asked Kitten.

"People get into this for various reasons," I explained. "Now, Mistress Regina, as she prefers to be called by her husband, Rick, when they're doing a scene like this, well, she does it because it helps Rick to let go of his anxieties and unwind, believe it or not. His day job is an air traffic controller, which is very high-pressure. One mistake on his part, and two jumbo jets could collide and a thousand people would die. That's a lot of responsibility! So, every four or five days, they come here, and she does him like this.

"If you notice, she's giving him heavier strokes than she did a minute ago. She'll step up the intensity based upon his responses. Her goal is to strike him just hard enough to cause a sensation that's only slightly painful. Then, endorphins will flood his nervous system. Sort of like natural drugs. When he gets habituated to the level of force, she'll do it harder, which will release even more endorphins. In about fifteen or twenty minutes, Rick will have a natural high and be in a state of bliss, serenity even. Just watch!"

"How long could she keep ramping it up?" Kitten asked.

"Actually, she could continue increasing the stimulation until it literally killed him. That's why being a Dom carries with it so much responsibility, Kitten. She knows what she's doing and she makes sure she's careful. See that little white thing on his finger? It's called an oximiter, and it keeps track of Ken's pulse rate and the oxygen in his blood. It sends wireless data to Gina's iPhone, which you'll see is sitting on that stool right next to her. If you notice, she glances at it from time to time to make sure he's OK. I think he also has a ball bearing in his other hand, and he can drop it on the floor if some emergency happens and he needs her to stop. Let's come back in a bit after we fix ourselves some coffee. If they do what I believe they'll do, I think you'll find what happens next very interesting!"

"No Black Bush tonight?" she asked.

"Ha, sorry! We generally don't allow alcohol here, and of course, no drugs. The Subs shouldn't have any because it might mess up their responses. The Doms can't have any because it might mess up their judgment. We had some the other day only because it was sort of an emergency. Most people don't know I keep a bottle in here anyway." 

I could see that we returned with our coffee just in time. Ken's bottom was a bright shade of red with a good number of darker stripes crisscrossing his cheeks. Kitten noticed that Gina was outside the camera's view but soon came back dragging some kind of square box. Kitten gave me a questioning look.

"That's called an 'apple crate,' and it's a prop that photographers and movie makers use to raise someone's height," I explained. "We have a whole set of them here, different sizes. They come in real handy at times." Gina set the apple crate down right behind Ken, and when her front was in view, she was seen to be wearing a strap-on dildo of a very respectable length and thickness. 

"What in the world is she going to do with THAT?" Kitten exclaimed, and when Gina opened up a jar of lube, put a good coating of it on the shaft, and started towards Ken, it became obvious to Kitten what was going to happen. 

"Oh my God! She's going to fuck him in the ass with that thing! It's going to be torture! OH, MY GOD!" she cried frantically, and looked at me as though I ought to be doing something to stop it.

"Shhh. It's not like you think," I assured her, "just wait and watch, and you'll see."

Gina penetrated Ken with a greased finger, gently lubricating and opening him. After a minute, she stepped onto the apple crate and positioned the tip of the strap-on against his anus. They were both perfectly still. So were Kitten and I! We could see that Gina was slowly leaning into Ken, and after a little bit, the tip of the dildo found its way inside of him. He shuddered slightly, and she stood stock still, not moving forward at all, until he relaxed once again.

Kitten watched in rapt attention as Gina, with exquisite patience, slowly worked the entire length of the strap-on into Ken's ass. She was amazed that Ken's face showed no sign of discomfort, indeed, when Gina began stroking him in and out, it was obvious that Ken was really enjoying this. His eyes were ecstatic slits! 

Gina reached around and took hold of his straining erection and began pumping it in time with the dildo's strokes. In a matter of minutes, Ken had a massive orgasm and shot semen like a fire hose. After a bit, Gina cleared the paraphernalia from the stool and sat on it. Ken knelt in front of her and buried his face between her legs. His enthusiasm with what he was doing to her was apparent, and she had her own orgasm pretty soon while she held the back of his head to steer his tongue where she desired it. It was evident that words of endearment passed between them, and their affectionate afterplay made it obvious that they truly loved each other. 

Not long after, they had dressed, cleaned up and left the room, hand in hand like newlyweds. Ken's work issues were long gone, and Gina was wearing a Cheshire Cat smile.

Kitten was speechless, dealing with the internal feelings that had been provoked by what she'd witnessed: a demonstration of ecstatic lovemaking within the context of whipping, bondage, and more. She didn't know it yet, but she would be experiencing her own orgasmic ecstasy this very night, at least if I had anything to do with it!

(to be continued)



Saving a Lost Kitten Ch. 04



And yet again, the author thanks you all for reading and voting on this story. Here's Chapter IV, preceded by the usual disclaimer: All the characters described herein are 18 years of age or older, fictional; and any resemblance between them and anyone, living, dead, or imaginary, is purely coincidental. 

Please read Chapters I - III first to get a sense of the characters and the building action, which gets better in this chapter. 

Cheers! 

- Ham Sandwich

*** 

"Is it always like that?" Kitten finally asked me, "I mean, so tender and caring, even when they whip each other?"

"No, it's different for everybody," I answered. Some people get their satisfaction that way, and others prefer to administer or receive real pain, even to the point of tears. Other people are into humiliation and like to use degrading language. And of course, a lot of them are really aroused to have their fun in front of other people."

"And that's why they do it here," she concluded out loud.

"There is the exhibitionism of it, but that's not the only reason for doing scenes here at the club. More than a few members live in apartments or condos which wouldn't allow for the loud voices and impact sounds without the police being called. That's one reason why it's safer to come here. And also, if anything were to go wrong, if someone were to be injured or have a heart attack or something, it wouldn't hurt to have witnesses who could say that the play had been consensual." 

Kitten admitted that she'd never thought about it that way, and I explained to her that all of the forethought was why BDSM wasn't an activity to be entered into casually.

After a while, there was a discreet knock on the office door, and a staff member reminded me that it was time to close up and to say something about next evening's upcoming event, so I pushed a button on the desk phone that connected it to the public address system: "This is your captain speaking," I began, tongue in cheek. "We will be disembarking in fifteen minutes, and we request that all you dominants return your submissives to their normal, upright positions. And thank you for flying with Club BDSM! Oh! I almost forgot. Here at the club tomorrow night, we'll be hosting our weekly workshop. Sensei Bruce will provide a live, hands-on demonstration of shibari bondage rope work, and you sure won't want to miss that! Some lucky lady selected from the audience will be fit to be tied, needless to say. . ."

Kitten was smiling and shaking her head from side to side. It was encouraging to see how much she'd been able to lighten up in just one day.

Once the closing chores were finished, we were on our way home. Once again, the car ride was quiet. I finally put my hand on her leg, just above her knee. "Kitten," I said, "you saw a lot tonight, but it's about time you learned for yourself that sexual pleasure isn't a one-way street. I think it's time you had a 'hands-on' demonstration of your own."

She put her hand on top of mine and held it there. "I think I'm ready," she replied with a little gasp. Her hand was warm, but her voice had an edge to it. Was she worried she wouldn't be able to experience what other women could? Well, she need not be concerned about that. She'd waited so long before beginning this dance that I just had to see to it that it had been worth her wait. Well, I was going to get her there. It was going to happen for her, oh yeah. Big time. 

We didn't say much the rest of the way home. My hand stayed in place there on her thigh, and her hand stayed on top of mine. I opened the car door for her once we'd arrived, and we walked up to the house together. I took her in my arms the moment we'd crossed the threshold and stepped inside. We moved to the bathroom. I adjusted the water in the shower and turned back to Kitten. She stood there obediently while I removed her clothes. When she was naked, I stepped back a pace to admire her. She was truly a fine woman, and I just knew she was going to enjoy what was about to happen at least as much as I was going to enjoy providing it.

"Now you can undress me," I told her, and she dutifully helped me out of my attire. It was obvious as soon as my pants came down that I was fully aroused, and she reached for my erect manhood once I'd stepped out of my underwear.

"No!" I commanded, and her hands stopped where they were. She didn't understand how she could have been doing anything wrong. "This is all about you," I said softly. "I've already had my fun, and you're still zero for two. Now it's your turn, so you just relax and follow instructions." And with that, one of my arms went behind her back, the other behind her knees, and I carried her into the bedroom.

Once we were inside, I used a foot to push the door closed behind us, and the room was swallowed up in darkness. I kissed her neck and heard her appreciative sigh. My husky voice whispered in her ear: "Kitten, tonight you're going to begin to learn what being pleasured is all about. You're going to come, several times if I have anything to do with it, and there won't be anything you need to do to make that happen except to give yourself to me. Can you do that, Kitten? Can you let yourself go and trust me and give yourself to me?" I knew that half the battle would already be won if she could commit herself to my care. "Will you be mine tonight, Kitten? Will you belong to me now?"

Even in the pitch black, I could tell she was blushing in her excitement as she took in what I was saying to her, because I could feel the sudden heat radiating from her skin. I could also hear the ardor in her uneven breaths as she responded: "Yesssss," she gasped. "I'm yours. I am yours!" 

"Good girl," I replied. And then I kissed her, full on the lips and felt her mouth open, yielding to me. I knew exactly where the blindfold was because I'd placed it there beforehand. I fastened it around her and was then able to light the small bedside lamp, which would allow me to see while still keeping her in darkness.

"Now, usually I wouldn't choose to explain what I'm doing or why I'm doing it, because the unknown is the most powerful sexual stimulus. But you've been through so much and have been abused so badly that I feel it's necessary to make an exception.

"I've deprived you of your sight, and not being able to see will allow your imagination free rein. You'll now depend upon your hearing and you will concentrate fully on my voice. I have some rope here and will tie your hands to remove your ability to resist what I will do to you. This is an important part of your giving yourself to me."

I'd deliberately chosen those words to sound confrontational, and I could feel her sudden increase in tension along with her struggle to overcome it.

Now I made my voice sound soothing. "It's perfectly natural to feel that bit of fear right now, Kitten. You don't know what's going to happen, and you really don't know me well enough to be placing yourself in a situation like this so soon. Of course, I could assure you that no harm will come to you, but as you know, I could be lying, so what would be the point? All you can do is hope I am as you believe I am, and if I am, then there will be the basis for trust to be built. And that's what's going to happen."

Even blindfolded, I could see that she was listening attentively to what I was saying and weighing the logic of my words. Good, I thought. I can keep her occupied and prevent her from panicking and can teach her at the same time. 

As I tied her hands, I continued: "Trust is the opposite of fear, Kitten, and trust is the basis for every worthwhile human interaction. It's one of the two essential qualities needed for a successful relationship, but especially a dominant/submissive one. The dominant walks his submissive through a situation that requires her to confront her fear and overcome it. She grows as a person and has more confidence in her abilities and more trust in her master. He admires her for her trust and growth and cherishes her all the more. Ultimately, they can reach the point where they could stare down death itself for each other." 

The tension Kitten had displayed was beginning to go now.

"The other essential quality is honesty. The casual lying that takes place in vanilla relationships has no place in the life of a dominant/submissive couple. Only complete, total, forthright honesty will do. Anything less can cause someone to be emotionally scarred or physically injured. Honesty helps to reinforce trust, and both of them together edify the relationship. Lying tears it apart." 

I sat Kitten on the side of the bed while I positioned myself with my back against the headboard. Then I pulled her up so she was resting against me as if I were her chair. I spread my legs a little and had her put hers on top of mine and outside. In this position, my hands were easily able to reach her genitals with my outstretched arms supporting her upper body.

One of my arms reached under her breasts and my hand cupped one of them. My fingers lightly traced over her nipple, feeling it swell and harden to my touch. The other hand rested itself on the brown bush of her pubic hair and gently explored the creases of her female parts. My middle finger worked its way between her folds, and I found to my delight that she was already wet. 

"There," I said when my fingertip touched her clitoris, which had already begun to swell in its arousal. "How does that feel?" as I lifted my finger from it and placed it on top of it again, feeling her twitch in response.

"Ohhhhhh, it's wonderful!" she sighed.

"Well, let's try this." and I began very slowly, very tenderly moving my finger across her clit. I was being careful not to give her stimulation that was too much too soon. "Do you like it?"

"Yes, oh, yesssss," she whispered, so that's what I kept doing. She was juicing up nicely, and I was able to use longer strokes across her sensitive vaginal skin. I knew the home team would win the game when her whole body began to shudder in time to my caresses, but still not giving her more than she could handle at this point. 

"You love it, don't you?" I suggested.

"Oh, it feels so good!" she responded huskily, and her body's quaking became more profound.

"You're going to come soon."

"I. . . think. . . something's. . . gonna . . happen. . ." she stuttered, gasping for breath.

"Then let yourself go. Let it happen. Come for me, girl!"

"Oh. . .God!" she gasped as she went over the edge. I kept right on massaging her clitoris as she convulsed on the bed, moaning and writhing in ecstasy, and slowed my fingers to a crawl when she finally got to the point where the stimulation bordered on uncomfortable. 

Then I stopped, removed her blindfold and beheld her.

There is nothing in this entire universe, no sight more lovely or more profound, than the face of a human female who's just had an orgasm. No artist ever, not a one, has been able to capture on canvas that ineffable look of serenity, contentment and satisfaction.

Kitten's face had that look right then. I took her face in my hands and kissed her gently. I untied her.

"You're a woman now, Kitten." I whispered, and she slowly shook her head "yes" and smiled weakly, even as her tears came down and she held on to me tightly. 

(to be continued)



Saving a Lost Kitten Ch. 05



Here is Chapter V, and once more, my appreciation to you for reading my tale. All the characters described herein are 18 years of age or older, fictional; and any resemblance between them and anyone, living, dead, or imaginary, is purely coincidental. 

If this is your first encounter, you'd be advised to read Chapters I - IV first. No BDSM in this chapter, but be patient, because it's coming soon and will be intense. 

Best Regards! 

- Ham Sandwich

*** 

We finally did actually get in to the shower and soap off each other. In our passion, we'd forgotten we'd turned it on and forgotten about it! Afterward, it was a treat to dry her naked, glowing skin with a fluffy towel. 

I made certain that Kitten had a few more orgasms before we slept. We were lying next to each other for the last one, and she had one leg bent slightly at the knee and draped over one of mine. She was learning to anticipate when she was about to climax, and when she came this time, I threw my other leg over hers and used my leverage to keep her thighs apart. She couldn't escape my handwork as I massaged her clit through the pangs of ecstasy. I wanted to make sure it was the most intense orgasm of the night. After all, she had a lot of pleasure to catch up on! Finally, we slept with me holding her in my arms. Many times during the night I'd drift toward wakefulness and feel my fingers brushing one of her nipples. It was oh, so satisfying to feel it rise to my touch and hear her slight moans of satisfaction from where she was, far away in dreamland. 

In the morning, I woke up and reached for Kitten, but she was gone. The shock of finding myself alone in bed after several nights of such pleasant company caused my body to flinch involuntarily for an instant, but then I heard her in the kitchen, humming a happy tune to herself. It made me smile. Ah, the joys of domestic tranquility, I thought. Well, a girl who's just been introduced to the joys of sexual satisfaction has a right to be happy. 

Presently, she came into the bedroom, still naked from the night before, carrying cups of steaming coffee. "Here it is," she said, "full bodied and sweet, just the way you like it!"

"Just like you!" I retorted, and she giggled as I admired her shameless nude body. We sat in bed together, sipping our coffee and gradually easing ourselves into the new day. After a bit, we both worked together to produce a hearty breakfast of eggs and toast.

"Kitten," I said, "I have to leave for a few hours this morning. There are some people I need to meet about a grant proposal I'm writing. I'm afraid I'm going to have to leave you here by yourself. Will you be OK? I promise I'll be back by noon, and then we'll go out to lunch together." 

"I'll be fine. Maybe I could wash the dishes?"

"That'd be great," I answered, and I was soon heading out the door, albeit reluctantly. 

Once I was in the car on my way to my meeting, it occurred to me that I was putting myself at quite a bit of risk to allow total, unsupervised access to my home to someone whom I'd known for only a couple of days. I just had to hope that my reading of Kitten's character was correct and that there'd still be things of value remaining when I returned. Still, it was a concern. The longer my meeting lasted, the more I worried about it, and when it ended, I fairly leaped into my car and sped back home. I hurried to get my key into the door lock and go inside.

When I walked through the door, I could hardly believe my eyes!

Now, let me tell you that I don't consider myself to be a slob by any means, but if you have any experience with the way bachelors typically live, you'll understand that my lifestyle and habits could hardly have qualified me to have my residence showcased in "Good Housekeeping," and that's why I was so shocked at what I found before me.

The whole damn place was sparking! Immaculate! Every dirty t-shirt or pair of socks was gone from the floor. The last load of laundry was now rolling around in the dryer. All the dishes had been washed, dried and put away. Even the stove top and sink shined! As I went from room to room, I encountered the same thing everywhere. Kitten had obviously gotten herself into high gear from the very moment I walked out and worked non-stop to have the place in perfect order by the time I returned. I was stunned!

But where was Kitten!

The last room I checked was the bedroom, and there she was, still delightfully, provocatively naked, kneeling on the floor facing the doorway, looking straight at me with a VERY serious expression. She was breathing hard and was obviously quite aroused.

"Kitten?" I said.

"You said we'd go out for lunch when you got back, didn't you?"

"Well. . .Yes."

Kitten kept her eyes locked onto mine, and she licked her open-mouthed lips suggestively with her tongue. "I'd like my dessert first, please," she asked as she shifted her gaze to my crotch, which was now developing a bulge.

Well, what the hell kind of gentleman do you think I am? She got what she asked for. 

While we were getting dressed, the receptionist at the clinic called to tell us our test results had come back, and we could come in most any time for them, so we had another stop to make while we were out. I figured we'd go there before we ate. 

"You know, you didn't have to do all of that house cleaning. For that matter, you didn't have to do any of it," I told her once we were in the car.

"I didn't mind," she said. "It's a privilege to serve you, actually, after everything you've done for me."

"Well. . .thank you," was all I could think of to say, and we continued in silence for a while. The things she was doing were making me happy, but they also concerned me. Our relationship, if you could call what passed between us a "relationship," seemed to be progressing much too smoothly. I was worried about what would happen if, or more likely, when, the bubble burst. 

At the clinic we presented ourselves at the reception desk and were directed to the waiting area. Presently, a nurse called us back into an examining room. I didn't think I had anything to be concerned about regarding my tests, and I hoped that Kitten's would be uneventful, but still, the ten minutes of waiting until the doctor came through the door were awkward. He had several papers with him and asked if we would be comfortable receiving our results together. Kitten and I both looked at each other and said we'd be fine with that. 

"Well," he said, "you each get a clean bill of health," and he handed us our results. "All the tests came back negative. Was there anything else we needed to talk about today?"

"Perhaps a prescription for birth control pills?" I asked, looking questioningly at Kitten, who nodded her head at the doctor in assent. She was agreeing to give her virginity to me.

"We certainly can do that!" he replied and smiled glowingly at both of us. We left the clinic with yet another stop to make, this time the pharmacy. Finally, we arrived at the restaurant and had ourselves a modest meal to celebrate. 

I intended to make small talk on the way back home, but Kitten was a bit less than ebullient. Finally, she broke the silence: "It's going to hurt, isn't it?"

"What's going to hurt?" I replied. Of course, I knew perfectly well what she was referring to, but I wanted to draw her out and make her verbalize her fear. I believe that getting fears out into the open is the first step to overcoming them. 

"When I lose my virginity. It'll be painful, won't it?"

I guess she thought I was going to forcibly impale her the minute we got home. 

"Kitten," I said, taking her hand in mine, "I've never deflowered a girl before, but, no, I don't believe you're going to find it to be very painful. Maybe only just a tad uncomfortable even. I think the big reason why a girl finds it painful is because she's scared of the unknown, and the guy doesn't take the time to make sure she's properly aroused and wet before he penetrates her. I think we both know that you don't have any difficulty becoming wet. At least, not with me! So, I would say, don't worry about it. This will be the only 'first time' for you to have intercourse, and I intend to see that it's a gloriously cherished memory. And anyway, it's not something we're going to rush into, so trust me."

"OK," she said, and squeezed my hand. 

"Oh, and one more thing: You won't be 'losing your virginity.' You'll be choosing to give it to me, and when the time comes, you'll need to ask me to take it before I'll do so." 

I kept thinking of other places we needed to go before we returned home, and I started to wonder if we'd ever get there! But it was necessary to stop at the wine store and pick up a couple bottles of good champagne for tonight.

Finally, finally we arrived back at the house. 

The first thing was putting the champagne in the refrigerator. Then I went through my email and answered my phone messages. I made sure to clear the decks so there'd be no interruptions tonight. Fortunately, I was free from my duties at the club for a couple days. One of the other officers was scheduled for that. Kitten and I decided on our dinner menu and got all of the "mise en place" taken care of so that the actual cooking would be easy work. 

There were still three hours remaining until evening began, so I took Kitten into the bedroom and sat on the bed next to her. "I want to introduce you to another way to experience pleasure," I began, "but I would prefer you to be groomed for it. You're really very skillful with your mouth, but I'll bet you've never had it the other way around, with a man using his mouth on you. I'd like to do that, but I'm afraid that I get turned off sucking on a bush full of hair. I wish I could put it more delicately than that, but that's how it is for me."

"Pluto was talking about taking me to a salon somewhere to have me waxed," she responded.

I groaned. "Now, there's fun! Getting your pubic mound covered in wax so the hair can be ripped out by the roots! No, I wouldn't ask my worst enemy to go through that. 

"Using a depilatory cream is better, but it smells awful and takes a long time to do correctly. Just slathering it on and washing it off isn't enough. To do it properly, you have to restore the texture of the skin with vinegar or lemon juice afterward because it almost gets melted from the caustic chemical in the cream. Then you have to wash off the neutralizing acid with still more soap and water and then finally apply some good lotion to restore the skin to some kind of normality. Even so, a woman's natural fragrance will be destroyed for a day or two - not erotic.

"Both of these processes are so gruesome that a woman ought never to allow her man to see them. He might not be able to achieve an erection again after witnessing such trauma. And then there's shaving, which leaves you with hundreds of chisel points of stubble which will poke me in the face and make you itch like crazy. Nope!

"So, here's what I propose: I have an electric hair trimmer. It has an attachment the leaves a quarter inch of hair remaining, which isn't too much to be objectionable for me, and the vibrating blades never even touch the skin. The electric trimmer doesn't so much slice the hairs but rather gnaws through them, so the stubble left behind isn't sharp enough to cause much discomfort. And doing it only takes a minute or two with the only follow-up being a quick rinse to wash away any cut hairs left behind."

"That all makes sense. I like the idea of the trimmer. Let's do it that way," Kitten said.

I positioned her lying on the bed with her legs over the side. I got the trimmer and prepared to give her mound a hair cut. The motor hummed contentedly when I switched the trimmer on. I showed her how the evil looking stainless steel teeth chomping back and forth were shrouded by the plastic attachment so there'd be no possibility of her being cut. I didn't mention that the buzzing the thing made would be a bit of a turn-on itself when it touched her skin, but she discovered that on her own. She said it tickled and kept getting silly giggly. It took concentration on her part to overcome her reactions and spread herself open enough for me to reach all her nooks (no pun intended) and crannies. 

Five minutes later, after a quick rinse in the shower, she was done and admired her new look in the mirror. "I think you'll come to prefer this. It's VERY convenient for a number of things," I added as I brushed my hand across her newly accessible girl parts.

"Now for the fun. Lie down on the bed just like you were when we did the trimming." I knelt before her and began gently licking her slit. It took less than a minute for Kitten to figure out that she really liked what I was doing. Once she began getting wet in response, I increased the stimulation and began to concentrate more of my attention to the more intimate interior areas within the labia. Kitten was moaning now, really becoming fully aroused, and I savored the taste of her. I really don't understand why a woman would have a problem believing that a man could truly savor the taste of her sex. God made females naturally flavorful!

Kitten's little clit wasn't so little now! It was engorged and responsive, and she was having trouble keeping still under my ministrations. By and by she was fairly bucking up and down with each lick of my tongue, and her moans had progressed to full blown hollering as she got to the edge of climaxing. Suddenly she screamed, and it took all my strength to keep her pinned down to the bed, her orgasm was so all consuming. I kept on doing what I was doing. She spasmed for a good ten or fifteen seconds before collapsing, exhausted. I kept my lips pressed against her and flicked my tongue across her clit every once in a while just to see her twitch in response. 

I came up for air when I figured she'd had all she could take. "So," I offered, "I presume 'ladyship' found the lovemaking acceptable?"

She still had trouble finding the words, and it was now several minutes later. "Oh. . . my. . . God, I've never. . .I've. . . never, ever. . . Oh, sir!" 

And I held her there in silence for a long time and finally said, "Just wait a while longer. Just a couple hours more. We haven't even gotten down to the main event yet, but it's next." 

(to be continued)



Saving a Lost Kitten Ch. 06



We are now at Chapter VI, so yet again, my thanks for choosing to read my story. All the characters described herein are 18 years of age or older, fictional; and any resemblance between them and anyone, living, dead, or imaginary, is purely coincidental. 

If this is your first encounter, you'd be advised to read Chapters I - V first. No BDSM in this chapter, but this is the one where Kitten finally gives up her virginity, so enjoy! 

Best Regards! 

- Ham Sandwich

*** 

"So here's my proposal. We'll prepare the food, break open a bottle of the bubbly, and eat and drink while we watch a movie. I've got a classic picked out that I believe you'll like. And then, once that's all over, we'll retire to the bedroom and. . . do. . .it!" I said, speaking melodramatically and looking her straight in the eye. A large part of my plan, which I didn't share with Kitten, was to be a bit over the top right now to get the apprehension out of the way beforehand. The rest would be downhill after I plied her with the champagne and got her relaxed and compliant. I knew she was still concerned about the pain, but I had a couple tricks up my sleeve. Poor thing, she'd been through so much trauma, I really intended to see that this night would become a cherished memory for her. 

"Well, I guess that's a good plan," she said cautiously. I could sense she was trying hard to believe it. My gentle side came out at once. I smiled and held her to me.

"It's going to be alright, Kitten. Trust me."

I couldn't see greasy food as a prelude to our planned night of ecstasy, so I'd purchased melons and a pineapple to make a fruit salad. The preparation would be easy, though time consuming, and the finished dish would pair well with the cold champagne. Kitten and I each chose a fruit and attacked it with our steely knives until it was diced. It all got mixed together in a big bowl and marinated itself in a bath of lemon-lime soda. I officiated at the opening of the first of the champagne bottles, poured a glassful for each of us and put in a DVD for us to watch. I wanted something funny, and I chose "The Return of the Pink Panther" with Peter Sellers reprising his famous role as the inept French detective, Inspector Clouseau. Though not exactly the best example of meaningful cinema, it was filled with sight gags that were truly hilarious. 

By the time the Inspector managed to bumble the second delivery van into that unfortunate person's swimming pool, just as a crane was extracting the first, Kitten was laughing so hard that she was having to hold her sides to keep from hurting herself. Of course, I knew the film well, but even so, the vicarious enjoyment I got from watching Kitten's reaction was entertainment enough for me. Naturally, I kept Kitten's glass filled with bubbly the whole time, and having progressed well into bottle number two, she was feeling little or no pain by the time the film ended. 

I quickly and lightly kissed her lips. "Come on, baby," I announced cheerfully, "it's time for bed." We had now reached a critical moment. I hoped she wouldn't back out because of fear. I picked her up and started toward the bedroom and then spun her around once slowly.

"Whoa! Don't do that!" she giggled, and I sensed the she was still engaged with the plan for the night. I got her undressed and sat her on the side of the bed while I undressed myself and then turned out the lights. First, I needed to make sure she was fully aroused, so I knelt between her spread legs and worked her up to a good and proper lather using my tongue. 

When she began to respond with whole body agitation, I stopped, moved her to the middle and climbed in next to her. I held her face in my hands and kissed her gently but with passion. 

"We're almost there, Kitten, are you ready? Do you want it?"

She wasn't laughing anymore now. "I. . . I want it," she said in all seriousness. "Please. . . be gentle?" And my heart went out to her, this vulnerable and precious girl who'd endured so much abuse.

I smiled and kissed her once again. "I will, I will. Here's what we're going to do. You lift your right leg up and bend it so your foot is resting against my right thigh. I'm going to position myself so my cock is touching your pussy, but I'm not going to push my way in just yet. You tell me when you can feel me at the entrance, and I'll just keep pressing in just a little, but not to where it hurts." It took a little doing to get us both into the exact position I had in mind, but once we were there, in the darkness, it was an easy thing for me to massage her clit with my right hand while holding myself in readiness for the decisive thrust. I could feel the resistance against the head of my penis as I kept myself in position. 

Kitten was already so aroused that it took very little handwork to bring her to the edge of an orgasm. She began moaning and wriggling about, and I kept up the clitoral stimulation. Her breathing got ragged, and she started thrashing about in earnest.

"Let me know when you're coming," I said, and she did, almost at once.

"Oh, God, I am! I'm coming, I'm coming! Oh, please don't stop!!" she shouted, and after a second or two, I pushed myself into her until I felt her hymen give way. Of course, Kitten was so wrapped up in the orgasmic throes of passion that any pain she would have felt from the penetration was trivialized by the overwhelming pleasure she was undergoing. Her body continued to convulse for another five or ten seconds, and then she finally returned to our planet. It took her a few seconds more to regain her senses and register what had happened.

"You're inside me!" she exclaimed. "I can feel your cock inside me!" I had been holding myself back for hours now, and I could finally let myself go a little. It only took a few small thrusts, and then Kitten was crying, "I can feel it throbbing! You're coming, I can feel you coming inside me! I can feel your semen in me!" After all that time, it was such an exquisite release!

Once I caught my breath, I asked, "Did it hurt?"

"Did it HURT??" she countered. "Oh my God, it was HEAVEN!!" She shifted her weight experimentally. "It STILL IS heaven!" 

I was still ensconced in her, and my erection had hardly subsided. If Kitten had been well lubricated before, she was even more so now that she had not only her own juice, but my come, and, yes, a little blood, too. I rolled us both over so that she was on top of me. "Come on, cowgirl," I said, "let's see if you can find a way to move on this thing that's REALLY to your liking! Maybe you can accommodate all of this candy stick."

"I don't know. It's pretty big!" she allowed. Well, it was nice of her to say so, but it really wasn't THAT big. But she began moving up and down a little, and by the time we were through she'd managed to not only take all of me but to also bring herself to several more orgasms. I came again and then all the fight went out of my soldier. To say that I was pleased at how the evening's activities had turned out was a gross understatement. I sent her to the bathroom to shower while I quickly changed the bedsheets, which had a bit of red on them. Some enzyme treatment, hastily applied, and into the dirty clothes hamper they went. Then I joined her in the hot spray for some final soapy fun for the night, and we actually remembered to turn the water off this time.

We both sat naked in bed with my arm around her. "I'm gonna feel rotten in the morning." she allowed.

"Are you remorseful already about giving up your virginity?" I asked.

"No!" she exclaimed. "It's not that. All that champagne. I'm going to have a hell of a hangover!"

"Don't go away, I'll be right back," I said and returned with two large glasses of water. "Drink one of these," I said. "The alcohol dehydrates you. If you load up on water after you drink alcohol, you won't feel nearly as bad." So we both sat there sipping our water in silence.

"Finally Kitten said, "Why did Anne leave?"

"What?" I asked

"Anne. Wasn't that her name? The one you were married to before? Why did Anne leave?" Kitten asked again. "You're such a good lover. You're a thoughtful man, and you're a good provider. What could have gone wrong that would make her want to leave a guy like you? Couldn't have been sex."

I sighed. "It was sex. Well, actually, it was dishonesty about sex. I wanted us to continue doing anal sex, and she didn't. She claimed she didn't like it, although we'd done it for years. I knew she really did respond well to it, but for some reason I never understood, she couldn't admit to herself that she found it pleasurable. Even though I knew her orgasms were much more intense with some anal stimulation. I suppose she just couldn't reconcile what she was with what she thought she ought to be.

"I thought it was deceitful that she'd said nothing about it for so long, and now I wasn't willing to have less than all of her. The recriminations were terrible. We split up and got a divorce. Last I heard, she'd married some vanilla church guy who's probably happy to have sex with her only on Sundays and in the missionary position." I paused to sip some more of my water. "Now you know why I'm so intent on honesty and communication." 

Once again, Kitten was quiet for a while. "Gary, I don't know that I could do anal sex. Pluto used to insist on it, and it hurt. It hurt BAD!"

I knew from my own experience that it wasn't easy to convince a girl to try anal again if she'd been introduced to it badly, so I tried to choose my words carefully and speak reassuringly.

"Nobody's insisting that you do anal, Kitten. Yes, if it's done wrong, it will hurt. But if it's done with somebody you know and trust, and if it's done gently, it can be wonderful. You would have a long way to go before you could attune yourself to the pleasure of it, and it would have to be your choice to try it. If you can just accept the possibility that it might be different with me than it was with Pluto, then that's about all anybody could hope to expect for the present time. I would consider it a privilege to introduce you to it, and I would be even more gentle than I have been so far. I could promise you that it wouldn't hurt. Now, enough talking for tonight. It's time for sleep. I just hope you won't be too sore to walk tomorrow!"

And with that, all was quiet. Kitten dozed off shortly thereafter with my arms around her. I, on the other hand, was still awake with troubling thoughts. Suppose Kitten tried anal with me and couldn't bring herself to enjoy it? Would we still be happy together if she only did it to please me, or worse yet, if she refused entirely? Could I be any more content under those circumstances with her than I was with Anne? I knew how pleasurable it was for me, and I knew it could be that way for Kitten, too. But moreover, did I have any reason at all to believe that she would even be here with me for the long term? Maybe she was with me now only because she had no place else to go. 

Dammit, why couldn't I just tell her how I felt about her? Why was it so hard for me to say, "I love you." Because I was afraid she might not feel the same way about me, and I cared about her so much that I didn't think I could stand the rejection! It was such a joy for me to have her here, to wake up to the sight of her, to hear her talk and laugh, to touch her and to hold her and to make love to her! 

And so I decided that the safest thing to say was to say nothing, but that wasn't satisfactory either.

Damn. Damn! 

(to be continued)



Saving a Lost Kitten Ch. 07



Here is Chapter VII, the final episode of the "Kitten" story, and, again, my thanks to you for reading. All the characters described herein are 18 years of age or older, fictional; and any resemblance between them and anyone, living, dead, or imaginary, is purely coincidental. For all of you who've been waiting with bated breath for the hard core stuff: Now cometh the BDSM!

Best Regards! 

- Ham Sandwich

***

The days passed and turned into weeks, and my concern about Kitten's possible negative reaction to anal sex proved to be a non-starter. Patience and tenderness easily won the war. First, I began venturing a bit further south during oral sex. The first time my tongue grazed her little pink starfish, she flinched and let out a little yelp, but later, she admitted that she'd enjoyed the sensations it created. From then on, it was more of the same, and frequent, too, since I truly love cunnilingus and was all too often in the neighborhood, so to speak. She was soon looking forward to this kind of anal stimulation and was beginning to learn how to relax her muscles in order to allow my tongue to penetrate her there. Once she began moaning from my mouth there, I knew it was only a matter of time before we went all the way! Mind you, we were still enjoying all the other, more conventional forms of sexual intercourse, and she was no stranger to orgasms by now.

Next I began some penetration with a very wet finger, just slightly at first, and then deeper as she became habituated to it. She soon became able to take the entire length of my finger in her ass without any discomfort or squeamishness. Once I'd worked my finger all the way in, I'd slowly pull out until I felt her sphincter muscles contract, and then I'd hold there until she relaxed once again. Almost at once, she was enjoying more profound orgasms because of the addition of the anal stimulation. 

I told her that once she could take two well lubricated fingers without any discomfort, then she was ready for the big banana - but there was no hurry to get there! This at once gave her something to shoot for and took away any pressure or coercion she might have felt. A week went by after we'd reached the two finger milestone, and I said nothing about pushing forward. Then (can you believe it) Kitten actually asked me to try getting my cock into her there! 

"Are you sure?" I asked.

"I think I can do it if you go slow," she replied, so I applied the lube and had her kneel doggy style over the side of the bed. 

"OK, we're good to go here, so you reach behind you and guide the space shuttle up against the docking port. Then I'll fire the thrusters just a little and see if we can achieve a lock." Nothing like a little levity to loosen up a tight situation, I thought, pun intended. I could soon feel the head of my cock insinuating itself past her anus. Once it was inside, I told her, "From here, you will control what happens, because I don't want to go deeper into you until you're able to take me. So lean your hips back into me when you're ready to take more."

Kitten was wisely taking her time and getting accustomed to this larger dilation, and we waited there for a few minutes until she pushed her body back onto my cock a little more. By this time, I had about two inches of it inside her, and the sensation was heavenly already! It was everything I could do to keep from orgasming then and there, what with the tightness, texture and warmth I was feeling.

We continued like this for a little while until she'd taken about half of me. And then, the magic happened. In a matter of seconds, I felt her muscles yield to my advances, and she opened up to me fully. The rest of my cock slid into her effortlessly, and Kitten decided she liked it!

I began moving in and out, stroking her slowly.

"Oh, Gary, I can feel it going all the way into my ass!" she exclaimed. "It's so good! I can't believe it! I love how you're fucking me in the ass! Harder, fuck me harder! Fuck me hard and deep! I can feel your balls hitting my pussy! Your cock feels so good inside me there! Oh, yeah! Oh, IT'S SO GOOD, GARYYYY!! OH, MY GODDDDDDDDD!!" and she had an orgasm. An orgasm from just anal intercourse alone! And she was shaking and trembling and crying and moaning, all at once. It was so awesome that I couldn't hold myself back any longer and was filling her bowels with my semen and trying with all my strength to remain standing. Neither of us could speak for a while afterward, nor was there anything that needed saying. Tender hands and soft gestures communicated everything that was necessary.

Some time later, Kitten and I were cuddled together in bed. "How is it possible that it was so terrible with Pluto and so wonderful with you?" she asked.

"I'm sorry, what?" I responded, having been shaken loose from the wonderful daydreams I'd been having.

"Anal sex. It was horrible when Pluto did it to me, but with you, it's amazing! How can that be?"

"I guess it's because I was trying to be patient," I said, but what I really wanted to say - but somehow couldn't - was, "It's because I love you." 

Kitten and I didn't attend the club every night, but my responsibilities did require my presence there rather often, and Kitten would always accompany me. She'd become relatively familiar to many of the regulars, none more than Nigel, who was a former president, now vice-president, and my longtime close friend and mentor. He and his mate, Fiona, were fixtures at the BDSM club. Fiona especially had taken a liking to Kitten, and the two of them were frequently engaged in long conversations while I was occupied elsewhere with my duties. 

At the time, I hadn't given those conversations a second thought. Then one afternoon, Nigel called me. "Are you coming to the club tonight, mate? We're having the special program, and I could use your assistance."

"Oh, sure," I answered. "We'll be there. By the way, what's the special program?"

"It's entitled 'interrogation by torture,' and it ought to be quite interesting! There is some historical merit to it," Nigel went on. "As I'm given to understand, in ancient Greece, the testimony of a slave was not considered admissible as evidence unless obtained under torture."

"Sounds intense!" I replied.

"Quite. There's every indication it should be an unforgettable event."

"Who's doing it?" I wondered.

"Well, that's another thing, mate. I've been asked to keep the particulars secret until showtime, so it will also be suspenseful as well as unforgettable."

"Wow! Okay! Oh, we'll both be there for sure to see this!" I said. I wasn't scheduled for duty at the club that night, but this was a presentation not to be missed! "Kitten," I said, "we're going to the club tonight. There's going to be some special presentation."

We both arrived a trifle early, given that Nigel had requested my help with something or other. I found Nigel, who said, "Gary, would you mind lending a hand? We need to have a look at something in the Blue Room. That's where the program is to be held tonight. There's been a report that the ceiling hook is becoming loose, so there's a safety issue to be dealt with."

I couldn't imagine how an eyebolt that went into the beam at least six inches could come loose, but safety is a primary concern in our club, so I got up to go with him. "Kitten," I said, "Nigel and I are going to take a look at this. Why don't you stay here? It should only be a few minutes." And off we went.

The room was empty when we got there. A pair of handcuffs dangled from a chain that was connected to the eyebolt in question. Nigel pulled on it and it appeared to hold just fine. "Have a go at it, Gary," he suggested. I grabbed hold and gave it a tentative pull. "Put your whole weight into it," Nigel suggested. I did. There was no indication of any looseness at all. "Let me pull on it, too," he said, and he reached up and grabbed the handcuffs. I looked at him and suddenly he'd snapped both cuffs around my wrists, immobilizing me there. Fiona was behind me unseen and quickly unfastened my pants and pulled them and my shorts around my ankles and hurriedly left the room. 

"Wait! What?" I stammered.

Presently, I heard Fiona announce over the PA system: "Good evening, members and guests. Tonight, we have a special program entitled 'interrogation by torture' beginning now in the Blue Room. Our own BDSM Club president, Gary Dillon, a Dominant in his own right, has consented to be the one who will be tortured."

I DID?! WHAT THE FUCK?! I thought to myself. "Nigel, what the hell is going on here!?" I demanded.

"What's going on is you're about to be tortured, mate," he replied, "and my advice to you is to let it be."

"And you're going to just stand there and allow it? How can you do this? Nigel, I thought you were my friend! "

"I am your friend, mate. I am so much your friend that if it comes down to a choice between our friendship and making you happy, I'm willing to sacrifice the friendship in favor of your happiness. Trust me, you'll come 'round to this in a bit." I had no idea what he was talking about and started to protest. "Excuse me for a sec," he said and walked away, literally leaving me hanging! 

Members began trickling into the room and formed a circle around me. There was some murmuring as they tried to make sense out of what was going to happen. I shared their ignorance! 

Fiona came back, followed a minute or two later by Nigel and Kitten, who was holding something slender in her hand that was a little over a yard long and hung limp at her side.

When she came closer, I finally realized just what it was she had in her hand. It was a four foot length of electrical cord, the kind that's used to connect a lamp or other small device to the wall socket. Now, if you're into the typical BDSM toys like riding crops, floggers, switches and all, you'd probably dismiss a piece of line cord such as this from consideration as a serious implement for discipline, but you'd be mistaken. Gravely mistaken! There were people doing felony time in prison for administering corporal punishment to their kids with instruments like this. Its double strands of copper wire provided a high density strike, and it would be all too easy to deliver a blow that would break the skin. Kitten was behind me now, and I could hear it whistling as she swung it through the air in circles and figure eights. I saw Nigel and Fiona standing to my right side and shot them a look of unbelief. 

And then everything happened at once. The whistling sound was replaced by a whack as the wire sliced over the cheeks of my ass. I felt an immediate explosion of intense pain along the line where it made contact with my skin, followed by a sharp burning sensation as the strike became internalized. OW, DAMMIT, THAT REALLY HURT, I thought. I saw Fiona cringe at the sight and knew that a severe welt had been raised instantly. Nigel was attempting with all his might to remain stoic and wasn't being entirely successful at it. 

"OW, DAMMIT! THAT REALLY HURT!" I hollered, and I was about to say more when the first strike was followed by another that was equally severe.

"Be quiet!" commanded Kitten. "This is an interrogation, and you'll speak when you're questioned, do you understand?" And then there was a third strike, just as painful, when no immediate response came from my lips. "I said, do you understand?"

"Yes, I understand," I said slowly and quietly. But, of course, I didn't understand. I didn't understand a lot of things: Why this was happening to me, what I'd done to deserve it, and most of all, why Kitten was doing it!

As if she'd been reading my mind, Kitten said, "I guess you're wondering why this is happening, so I'll explain." I looked around the room and saw a multitude of faces in various expressions of shock and concern as she continued. "You're supposed to be the one who leads this dance that you and I have been doing for weeks now, and you're not leading. So I'm having to lead it, and now I'd like to know: Am I anything of permanence to you, or is this only a temporary relationship of convenience that we have going? I've been waiting for days and days for you to make your intentions clear, and avoidance is all I've gotten."

"Well?"

"No, it's not a temporary relationship of convenience," I tried to explain. "It's just that... well... I didn't want to take the chance that what we had would go away if I told you how I really felt about you."

"So, then, what I hear you saying is that you've been afraid to be honest with me?"

"Well... yes." 

And Kitten smacked my ass four or five times in quick succession as she said, "And you're the one who's always talking about trust and honesty and how important they are to a relationship! Dammit, Gary Dillon, you should be ashamed of yourself!" And then she gave me another whack for good measure! My ass was burning up!

I couldn't look at anybody. All I could do was to stare at the floor and admit to myself that indeed I was ashamed. I wanted to crawl under a rock and hide, but instead, here I was being forced to publicly face up to my failure to live up to the standards I expected of everybody else.

All I could do was tell her I was sorry.

After awkward seconds of silence, she said, "Gary, the sex is wonderful, and, yes, I love what you've taught me and all that you've done for me. But I think you're still hung up over your past failed relationship and afraid to make a commitment. And so it's come to this as a desperate attempt to get through to you. If you don't learn any other thing from this scene tonight, you can remember this about me." And she drew back her arm and began swinging in earnest as she spoke.

Whack. went the wire."I'M. . ." Kitten yelled. "OW!" I hollered.

Whack. ". . .NOT. . ." "JESUS!"

Whack ". . .DAMMED. . ." "CHRIST!"

Whack. ". . .ANNE!" Kitten concluded. "OW, OW. FUCK! SHIT!!" I screamed in pain. 

Then Nigel came forward and unlocked the handcuffs to free me. 

I stood there rubbing my wrists to restore the circulation. I tried pulling my pants up, but it was too painful to get them over my hips. My ass was on fire! What happened next made me forget my own pain entirely. Kitten discarded her torture wire and went to her knees in front of me. She looked up at me and spoke quietly but clearly. "Gary, I want you, and want you to want me. I need to be yours and be with you for always, and so I am asking you now - I am begging you - even if you don't love me, will you have me as your slave?"

Her words astonished me! Of all the things that she might have said, these were the ones that I least expected to hear. Literally, I choked up and stood there mute and dumb in an attempt to process and respond to what she'd asked me. It seemed as though the entire world had come to a standstill and was waiting with bated breath for me to answer. I summoned up every bit of strength I had within me and replied: "No" was all I could say, and all at once a deathly hush fell over the room. 

In a second, the expression on Kitten's face changed from hopefulness to horror. She slumped to the floor at my feet, crestfallen and defeated, and the tears began to roll down her face.

I stood there frozen. I wanted to say more, tried to speak, but I just couldn't get the words to come out of my mouth. I could hardly even breathe. I felt as though incredible spiritual forces were working against me, paralyzing me, keeping me from saying what I wanted to say, what I desperately needed to say. Dammit, this woman whom I loved was grieving and disintegrating before my eyes, and I was powerless to intervene. Fiona began to move forward in an attempt to comfort Kitten in her despair, but Nigel held her back. I heard him whisper to her, "Stop! It's not over."

Well, I decided, even if I couldn't speak, at least I could still move! I reached down and lifted Kitten to her feet and looked her straight in the eyes, and from that moment I could talk once again.

"No," I said again, "I won't have you as my slave," and the silence in the room continued as the finality of what I'd said became clear.

"But I want you as my submitted wife, that is, if you'll have me," I added. And this time, I was the one who fell to his knees at her feet. "I love you. Will you marry me, Kitten? Can you somehow find within yourself the willingness to be the obedient wife of a failure like me? I was so afraid of losing you that I couldn't bring myself to tell you how much I've come to love you in these few days we've been together." And it was my turn to look hopeful, but not by much. I mean, why would she marry somebody like me? Somebody who didn't even have the courage to be honest with her about the way he'd felt. She was right. I was a fraud. I said one thing, but I did the opposite while all the while making those preachy, ivory tower statements about "truth" and "honesty." 

I looked away and muttered something about "not being worthy of being her husband or a Dom, either."

Kitten pulled my face around and forced me to look at her. "No, Gary. You ARE worthy of being called a Dom. The fact that you were confronted with all of this and were honest enough to admit to your shortcomings in front of all these people proves it. Only a REAL Dom would have the courage to do that. Not some pretender. And that's the reason why I choose to marry you. You, my Sir! You, my Master! My answer is 'yes.' I will gladly, cheerfully and proudly be your submitted wife! I loved you from the moment you rescued me and became my knight in shining armor." We grabbed each other and held on tight while the room resounded with whooping and cheering. And, finally, the world began turning again.

"Told you he'd get it sorted," Nigel said to Fiona, triumphantly, laughing out loud in an unusual fit of public emotion. He was the first of the many who came forward to offer congratulations. "I will need to get 'round to having your desk lamp repaired," he confessed. "After all, where do you suppose Kitten got hold of that bit of flex cable she used to stripe your arse?" He held out the Leatherman tool he carried in his pocket to demonstrate its ability to cut wires, and I laughed and clapped him on the shoulders with my hands. What a hell of a pal! 

But his statement did remind me of a pressing need.

"Wife!" I called, and Kitten was at my beck and call in a jiffy. "I have my first task for you as your newly appointed Dominant."

"Yes, Master?" she asked, radiant with joy. "Anything!"

"Good! Find me some skin lotion or liniment or something for my sore butt, please. It still really hurts, dammit!"

*** 

Seven weeks had now passed since that night when I had asked Kitten to marry me and she had agreed. Nigel and I arrived at the club to oversee the final preparations for the wedding, which was to take place there that very evening. In a little more than an hour, she would become my wife!

"An actual priest? We've managed to get a genuine, bona fide Roman Catholic priest to come here and perform the ceremony? HERE at the BDSM Club? How in blue blazes did we manage to do this??" I asked him in astonishment as we made our way inside with me carrying my formal wear in a garment bag.

"Search me, mate," Nigel replied, with a shrug of his shoulders. "I'm sure the $20,000 that we donated to the diocese to equip their school with computer equipment had nothing whatever to do with it."

"TWENTY THOUSAND DOLLARS!" I exclaimed. "Where the hell did we get twenty thousand dollars?"

"Everybody ponied up, big time. You're quite well liked, you know, and we all wanted to make sure you have a wedding that's spot on. Doesn't hurt that Kitten is such a darling, either," he offered. "Look at the way our ladies of the club fawn all over her. They've practically adopted her. Took her out and made sure she got a smashing wedding dress and even saw that she had a proper hen-do." 




Saving a Lost Kitten Ch. 07



We walked into the main playroom, where the ceremony was to take place. All the dungeon furniture had been moved against the back of the room, and the front had been arranged for the wedding itself. On one side, a line of tables had been set up to hold the reception buffet. Mistress Diana was overseeing the placement of folding chairs, the actual physical labor being performed by her slave, Bernard. She was clad in black leather, with glistening long black boots, and had her usual stern demeanor about her. 

"Set up another row, slave. There will be a hundred people here tonight at least, and you-don't-want to deal with my displeasure if anybody's forced to stand," she commanded.

"Yes, Mistress!" Bernard responded at once. Nigel and I smiled to ourselves and continued to my office, where I deposited my clothes bag.

"Well, I'm just totally overwhelmed by all the effort that everybody has put into this, and I have no idea how I could possibly show sufficient gratitude for it," I allowed.

"That's easy enough. Just agree to carry on as president of the club for the next ten years," replied Nigel, and I wasn't entirely sure he was joking. 

I fired up the sound system and started some soothing music playing in the background. Other people were beginning to arrive. Raymond and Chef Lisa came in to say that they had an enormous amount of buffet equipment and food to cart in, and could we find somebody to assist? We all went back out to the playroom and saw that all the chairs had been set up. I asked Mistress Diana if she could spare Bernard for a while, and she shouted out, "Slave!" 

Bernard came running. "Yes, Mistress?" he deferred.

"What took you so long? Go with Gary and Nigel. They need some help," she decreed.

"Yes, Mistress, at once!" he said, and we all went off to Raymond and Chef Lisa's catering van. 

Once we got there, I told Bernard that his help was needed bringing in the food and serving supplies.

"Yes, sir," he said. 

I laughed out loud. "Bernard, I'm not your Master. You don't have to call me 'sir,' you know."

"Yes, sir. I'm sorry, sir!" was his flustered response, and he went off to do Raymond's and Lisa's bidding.

Nigel and I shook our heads in amusement. "Got him trained, hasn't she?" he observed. 

Laura's Dom let us know that they were setting up her electronic keyboard and could we turn off the background music and adjust the volume for her, so it was back to the office once again. Once that was done, we returned to the playroom and were treated to the beautiful sound of Bach sonatas played to perfection by Laura, which only partially relieved the stress of too many people having to do too many things in not enough time.

It was then that an elderly gentleman in a black suit and a Roman collar was brought to us and introduced as Father Seamus Oreiley. "A grand afternoon it is, isn't it?" he opined with a wonderful Irish lilt. "And which of you two lads would be the groom?"

Nigel pointed at me. "I'm the one who has that honor," I replied. "Gary Marshall Dillon. Very pleased to meet you, Father Oreiley. Thank you for coming here to officiate," I said, with the emphasis on "here."

Father Oreiley looked around the room. "A very interesting place that you have here, so it is," he observed, while examining a Saint Andrew's Cross that was prominently on view in the back. "I ought to bring my parishioners to see all of this when I do my homily on martyrdom, I should. But for now, shall we go somewhere and make sure all of your wedding licensing is in order, and then I'll meet your bride." And so, it was back to the office once more.

Fortunately, all the forms were correct, avoiding the spectre of what Nigel called "a spanner in the works," and so we moved to the playroom once more. "I'll take you to the bride and introduce you," I offered, but Mistress Diana was there and intervened.

"No, I'LL take him to your bride! You know it's bad luck to see your bride in her wedding dress before the ceremony!" and she herded the good Father to one of the back rooms as I saw his look of amusement at Diana's bold attire.

I looked at my watch and almost died of shock! WHERE HAD ALL THE TIME GONE TO? We only had fifteen minutes before the wedding was to start! I hurried back into the office and quickly got changed into my formal wear. Nigel came in just as I was finishing up. "Aren't you going to get dressed?" I asked him.

"Already am dressed, mate," he responded. "I'm not the one getting married today, so what I have on is fine."

"You turkey!" I laughed and then got serious. "Alright," I said and took a deep breath, "let's get out there!" 

The music stopped and the room got quiet as anything when we entered and took our places at the front of the room. I noticed that all the seats were taken - the place was packed! Father Oreiley came out of the back and made his way up, standing before us, and the music began once more, the strains of Bach becoming the more familiar repertoire heard during these occasions. Someone dimmed the lights except for the one light in the entrance way.

And then I saw her as she stepped into the room, and the light on her wedding gown transformed her into a shimmering, heavenly vision. My very own personal angel, coming here to earth to make my life a fount of joy. All the people in the room came to their feet as she slowly floated down the aisle to take her place next to me. I couldn't take my eyes off of her, but she demurely kept her gaze downward, her veil covering her face. Once again, Kitten had become my spotless virgin bride!

Father Oreiley called us both together in front, facing him. He extracted a small black book from his jacket, and I noticed that it opened to the appropriate page almost of its own volition, the many years of use wearing a crease at that spot. He drew in a breath to begin speaking. . .

. . .and then he stopped. He looked down at his book and then up at the people in attendance. He seemed to be unsure of himself for a moment, and I had a second of panic imagining that he'd decided that he ought not perform this ceremony. . .

. . .and then he smiled. "I do believe I've done so many weddings over these thirty years that I could do them in me sleep," he said in a loud voice. "But something about THIS wedding, here in THIS place today, calls me to administer the vows afresh," and he closed the book and returned it to his pocket.

"Children," he began, "I'm going to tell you all a story. It took place thousands and thousands of years ago when God had just finished creating the world. He made all the fishes in the seas and all the birds in the air. He made all the animals and all the plants, he did, just by speaking them into existence. It was easy for God to do all of this because He is all powerful, although we cannot imagine how it could possibly be done. But for Him, it was effortless. And He made man, too. The first man was Adam, and Adam knew God personally in the same way that you and I know our best friends, but Adam also knew that God was the Creator. . 

"God had all the animals pass before Adam, and He gave Adam the privilege of giving names to all of them. One reason why God did this was so that Adam, and all of us who followed after him, could have a part in the creativity. It's the reason why we imagine things and make things, and it's one of God's gifts to us.

"But there was another reason why God brought the animals before Adam. It was so that Adam would see that all the animals went about two-by-two. They all had mates, but there was no mate for Adam to be found among them. You see, children, God was preparing Adam to appreciate the grand and wondrous thing that He was about to do for him. God was going to prepare a mate, a helpmeet, for Adam, because He said that it was not good for the man to be alone.

"So that night, when Adam fell asleep, God went to work! He took a part of Adam's flesh and bone and used it to create Adam's helpmeet. Some people say God took one of Adam's ribs, but the original language of the Bible is more correctly translated as 'flesh and bone,' and some Bible scholars believe that God may have taken as much as half of Adam's body to fashion her. If He did, I like to believe that He took the half that held Adam's heart. And He created woman, and she was the pinnacle of His creation, His grandest work."

I looked around the room. Everyone was caught up in Father Oreiley's story. I saw Diana seated in the back row with Bernard standing behind her, and her countenance had changed. She no longer looked angry. Indeed, she looked innocent and child-like as Bernard's hands tentatively caressed her shoulders.

"Adam woke up fully healed with no memory of any trauma," he continued. "When he opened his eyes, the very first thing he saw was this woman, this helpmeet standing there smiling before him gloriously naked and without shame. He knew at once that she was exactly what he needed, and his heart went out to her. Oh, children, she was so beautiful, so perfectly fashioned, and so full of love! Every part of her, from the hair on the top of her head to the soles of her feet, and everything in between, was created for loving!

"And God told Adam, 'She is what I created just for you, My boy. She is My gift to you! Cherish her, lad! And if any man who follows after you doubts My existence, let him look upon her, and there's the proof of it!' So Adam rejoiced and held her to him and felt her warm, soft skin and savored her fragrant, womanly aroma. She was altogether milk and honey, and the sound of her voice when she spoke his name was surely the sweetest of music to his ears. Then Adam kissed her and fondled her and brought her to his bed, and they made love to each other until they could stay awake no longer, so they slept. And then they woke up and did it all over again! Oh, how they cared for one another! And God saw it and blessed it and was pleased, so He was, and it was good. All of it was good. And to this very day, a man and a woman will cleave to each other and become one flesh, just as God designed." 

I had turned to look at Kitten, who was caught up in the story just like the rest of us, and when I noticed Diana again, I saw she was crying softly. Bernard was sitting in the chair now with Diana in his lap, his arms tenderly around her waist, and he, as a man, was comforting her gently, speaking to her softly as though to a child. It was an astonishing thing to see this transformation.

Father Oreiley turned toward Kitten and me. "Gary," he said, "will you now have Kitten to be your wife, forsaking all others? Will you love her and cherish her, and will you provide for her and the children you will have together and protect her for as long as you live? If need be, will you lay down your life for her as our Savior did for His Church?" 

"I will, Father," I answered, so choked up I could barely speak. 

"Kitten," he continued, "will you have Gary to be your husband, forsaking all others? Will you obey him and respect him? Will you teach your children to obey and respect him? Will you love him and comfort him? Will you submit to him as God commands?"

"I will. I WILL," she said.

"Who has the ring?" Father Oreiley asked, and Nigel came forward with a silken pillow on which rested the titanium Eternity collar that I took in my hands.

"That's hardly a ring!" Seamus exclaimed. "That's a collar!" 

Kitten spoke up in a meek voice. "But, Father, you wear a collar yourself." 

"Aye, child, I do! My Roman collar is a sign of my priestly consecration to God. Whereas THAT collar is a sign of," and he paused in thought for a moment, "your Godly consecration to your husband," and he laughed out loud. "WHO HAS THE COLLAR?" he said, loud and true.

"I do," said I, and I placed it around Kitten's offered neck and fastened it with the setscrew and wrench.

"By the power vested in me by the Holy Catholic Church, in front of God Almighty and these witnesses, I now pronounce Gary and Kitten man and wife. Gary, you may kiss your bride!"

The room was so quiet, I swear you could have heard a mosquito flying in there! I took Kitten in my arms, lifted her veil and kissed her fully and properly as the room erupted in cheers and applause. Father Oreiley was beaming! "Cherish her, lad," he whispered, and I replied, " I will, Father. I will!"

Nigel spoke up: "The wedding party will retire to the back room for a few moments and return for the reception. In the meantime, all of you are welcome to partake of the buffet." In the back room, the wedding papers were signed and it was all made legal and official. 

Fiona said she thought the music was lovely. I said that the best part of the music was that it didn't come from an upright piano, which Kitten thought was hilarious. She was the only one there who understood!

"Are you staying for the buffet, Father?" asked Kitten.

"Oh, no, child. I must get back to the rectory as soon as possible, I'm afraid," he replied.

From out of nowhere, Nigel produced a tray with shot glasses filled with whiskey. "Surely you can stay long enough for a taste of some fine Irish whiskey," he suggested.

"And Father Oreiley said, "Well, I expect I can always take some time for that!" We took hold of our glasses and raised them as Father Oreiley said, "May we all be in Heaven five minutes before the devil knows we're dead!" and we all laughed as we drank. 

"Wow, this is good stuff!" I remarked.

"Aye, it is!" said the Father, smacking his lips in appreciation.

"Ought to be," replied Nigel. "It came from that bottle of Black Bush Gary keeps hidden in his desk."

"You turkey!" I said once again.

"Well, now, I really do need to go," the Father said. "I do the mass every morning at Saint Thomas. I want all of you to know that the church doors are always open for you, all of you." And to me: "Take care of her, son. She's a special lady." I shook his hand and thanked him once again for what he'd done for us, all of us.

Kitten suddenly reached for him and hugged him, her eyes shut to hold back the tears that were forming. "Be blessed," he said, tenderly putting his hand on her head. Then he put his hand on her stomach when she let go of him and said, "Be fruitful and be blessed, my child." And then he was gone. What an amazing man, I thought. I took Kitten's hand in mine, and we went out into the playroom to join in the festivities. Our married life had begun.

Chef Lisa had prepared an awesome spread of food. She was dressed in her full regalia of checkered pants, chef's jacket and toque and was personally carving up and serving a delicious roast. Mischievous Lisa selected all of the food items from a BDSM theme, and we had whipped potatoes and beaten biscuits, among other things. We all ate and ate until we could eat no more and put away four cases of champagne to boot.

The wedding cake was a wonder to behold, tall and elegant! It was only when we got close to it that I noticed the ornamentation on the top. Somebody with a 3-D printer and way too much free time on his hands had created full-color, miniature replicas of Kitten and me out of plastic. She was depicted as a saloon girl from the Wild West, clad in silk stockings and a garter belt. I was dressed in chaps with a sheriff's badge on my vest and wearing a cowboy hat. Neither of us had on anything else, but both of us held lassos that were roped around each others necks, and an inscription in frosting underneath said, "Marshall Dillon and Miss Kitty - Tied Together At Last." 

Turkeys, every one of them, I thought to myself, but I smiled.

Bernard and Diana were the first to leave the party. He came up to us with Diana in tow and offered his congratulations and thanks. "We really must go," he said. "Diana's really tired, and I need to get her off her feet." With eyes only for her, he took her in hand and said to her and with affection and firm assurance, "Come, my precious one. We're going home now." And she let him lead the way. 

I took a week off from my work to honeymoon with my bride. I cheated just enough to keep up with my email. On the second day, Nigel sent me a link to a newspaper article about a shooting that occurred outside a nightclub in a seedy part of town. It seems that a certain Pluto Brown was killed by multiple gunshot wounds as a result of some kind of altercation. 

I was surprised at my reaction to this news. I had wished vengeance upon him for the way he'd treated Kitten, but now that he was really dead, it wasn't righteous satisfaction I was feeling. Instead, it was sadness. I didn't know the circumstances that had driven Pluto to become the hate-filled man that he was. I only knew that, now, he'd never be able to experience the kind of love of a good woman that I enjoyed. And that was truly a tragedy.

Kitten and I made a triumphant return to the club after our honeymoon. My "willingness" to undergo the torture actually increased my stature there, and the membership honored me with the title "President Emeritus" when I finally left office. Submissives especially looked upon me with greater respect and would often pat my ass when I passed by, which everyone found amusing. I just took it all in stride. Kitten, too, was welcomed into the inner circle with open arms. Our story became one of those legends that got embellished over time. 

EPILOGUE: Seven Years Later

It was satisfying to be the featured speaker at the grant writing seminar, all expenses paid and a hefty honorarium as well, but it was even more satisfying to return home to my wife and kids. I could hardly wait to put my key in the door and step inside. "Daddy!" both of my twin girls hollered at once and rushed to jump into my arms. "We missed you so much!" they exclaimed.

"I missed you both, too!" I answered, and I meant it, but I was looking for Kitten. She was standing at the entrance to the kitchen, waiting for her turn to be greeted. As soon as I was able to do so, I went to her and held her to me. "It's good to be back with you," I said, devouring her with my eyes.

Before I could say anything else, the twins began: "Daddy, mommy was bad. She took her big wedding necklace off today!"

"Oh, she did, did she?" I exclaimed with exaggerated bravado.

"I took it off because it needed cleaning, so I polished it," she said. Well, it did have a beautiful shine to it. "You two little snitches!" she mock scolded, and they both cackled with delight. "Now, both of you please go to your room for your nap time while Daddy and I 'talk' about some things."

They both traipsed off together dutifully. Once she was sure they were gone, Kitten said, "I missed you, too, Master. After dinner, we're putting those kids to bed and then you and I are gonna fuck like weasels! That is, with your permission, sir?" 

"Permission granted!" I said enthusiastically.

Later that evening, after we'd thoroughly worn each other out, I lay there with my head between her legs, idly plying my fingers across her stomach. 

"Master, I wish we'd turned off the lights so you wouldn't have to see those ugly stretch marks," she said. She must have been reading my mind. I had been looking at them, but where she saw ugliness, I saw majesty. I was in awe of them.

"Tell me something, Kitten. Be brutally honest. When I correct you, and you have marks from the switch across your ass, are you ashamed of them?"

"NO, SIR! Of course I'm not ashamed! Those marks prove my willingness to honor you by submitting to your discipline. There's no reason on God's green earth why I should be ashamed!" she retorted with vehemence and passion. 

"Well, then, don't be ashamed of those stretch marks, either. They're the permanent proof of your submission to both God and me. In fact, you should be proud of them. They show that you're a woman, a fertile, blessed woman who was willing to endure great pain in order to bring new lives, our children's lives, into the world. You were willing to risk your own life and submit to it. Only women are called to do that. Shame has utterly no part of it!" 




Saving a Lost Kitten Ch. 07



And we were quiet for a while, but I was thinking. Did the fact that women had to face up to the pain of childbirth mean that all women were essentially submissive, either by nature or by design, or maybe even masochistic? I didn't know, but it was certainly worth considering.

One thing I did know: Kitten was mine and I was Kitten's, and we were a family. And that made me the most blessed man in the whole effing world! 

Oh, and, gentle reader, just in case you were wondering? We did live happily ever after. 

We really did!

(the end) 

*****

Thanks to my readers for the many stars they've given out for this series. It was a fun, fulfilling story to imagine and to put into words. Perhaps someday in the distant future, long after we're all gone, a student of literature will pore through the ancient archives of Literotica in search of some submissions that are worthy of remembering, and I would hope that something that I wrote would perhaps deserve even so much as a footnote in his or her learned paper. 

Thanks go out to Shysub412, a grand Irish lass, so she is, for her expert help in tweaking the good Father Oreiley's voice. Once again, she has come to my rescue! I raise a glass of Bushmills as a toast to her and wish her inspiration for her own writing and, more to the point, happiness for now and for always. Only she knows how she was honored within the depths of this tale.

Recognition in memoriam to French photographer Jeanloup Sieff (1933 - 2000) for his elegant and inspirational nudes, especially "Derriere anglaise, Paris, 1969," and for his statement recast here by Father Orielly about the female form being proof of the existence of God.

Finally, but most importantly, all my affection goes out to you, Chef Lisa, my darling, adorable, womanly wife, for the continuing support you provide to me over my writing about my strange notions about the essence of love in its many forms. I want you and everybody who ever reads this to know that you are the world to me. I couldn't do it without you, Pooky, because you're my utmost inspiration!

Peace!

-Ham_Sandwich