0 comments/ 44314 views/ 5 favorites Nights in White Satin By: jjsharshaw "...and the colored girls say, 'do, dee-do...'" I chuckle. "What?" She looks into my eyes, my rapidly glazing eyes; smiles. "It's funny what comes into your head." "Lou Reed? Yeah, kinda weird. Feeling any nausea?" "Not yet. Will I?" "I hope not but...sometimes the first time. Just a bit more." She finishes plunging the syringe. I'm feeling light and heavy at the same time. I barely notice as she withdraws the needle and flushes the port. "Oh, shhhhiiiitttt..." She slides her body against mine, holds my face in her hands and nuzzles my throat. She feels so warm, soft. And she smells...God, she smells sooooo good. "What now?" She giggles. Softly (?), then kisses and gently bites. "I, uh...shiiiittt..." I can't suppress a giggle, "...uh, I don't think I can get it up." "Don't worry, just relax. I didn't shoot you up so we could fuck. Just relax, enjoy. This is," it sounds like a damn good imitation of Cheech Marin, "really good shit. Man, you know, primo. Man." I close my eyes and relax. Her hands and mouth are everywhere at once and I am on a cloud. "You know..." she is lightly rubbing my belly, my head cradled in her arm and her lips pressing lightly to my ear, "...you feel good right now, right?" "Uhhhhh..." Her tongue snakes into my ear. The ripples of pleasure are indescribably intense. She giggles. "I'll take that for a 'yes'. "If I understand my Christian theology correctly," the tongue is in the *ear* again... "You are not *even* presently experiencing a scintilla of the pleasure that you can expect when you get to heaven. "Can you *even* begin to appreciate that fact?" She moves; her lips encircling my sex and to my happy surprise, I am hard. "I'll just say a small prayer now...Oh, shiiiiiittttt, Jan....jeez what are you doing????!!!!" The lips leave. "You're feeling some heightened sensations, eh? It's called...a blow job." The lips return, a suck, an incredible sensation then I hear her voice again. "You were saying something about prayer?" The lips are back; I feel her tongue from the base to the tip. "Uh.... oh, yeah, ah...prayer..." my train of thought returns briefly, "...I'll say a little prayer that I get more acclimatized before I am called home." I hear her laugh then feel her weight and the incredible slick warmth as she mounts me. "Well, Scotty, the Lord's left you good hands tonight." The tongue goes back in the ear and she stretches her lush body over me. *** It's the light touch of her hand on my forehead and cheek that wakes me though I can't get my eyes to focus. She's sitting on the side of the bed, smiling down at me. She's gently pressing a cool washcloth to my face. "Hi." "What time is it?" "It's tomorrow. Close your eyes, I'm going to open the drapes." The light is blinding, or so it seems. But it is raining and dreary outside. "Didn't you have to go to work?" "Ah, you know us 'scag queens', no ambition. I called in." I must have looked pained. "Oh, don't worry. Freezing rain, they called me and told me not to come in. But if they hadn't I would have called. You needed me here when you woke up. And," she leans over me and pats my face and shoulders with the cool, damp cloth, "tonight's Friday night and it'll be my turn and you *will* be hard." She smiles with her eyes, giggles, rubs the washcloth hard in my face and gets off the bed. "Do you want breakfast for lunch or lunch for lunch?" She asks as I watch her leave the bedroom. "What time is it?" "A little after 2," she yells from somewhere in the vicinity of the kitchen. "The doctor suggests some chicken broth and toast." *** The broth is warm and salty and good. She sits cross-legged beside me on the bed in my buttondown blue oxford shirt spreading cream cheese on a bagel. "I thought smack junkies were supposed to eat like horses." For the first time since I'd been in her house she gets serious. "A) You're not a 'smack junkie' and B)," she lightens up, "the last thing I want to do this weekend is clean your horked lunch off my bed. Drink your broth." She munches on the bagel. "So I've known you for a year and I would have never suspected. And, why me?" Her grin is sheepish. "Well, it's good you've never suspected. But I really, *really* don't do a lot. It's fun. And I'm picky. I don't do street junk." "So what'd you give me?" "Hey, I told you it was primo shit. Did you see Dr. Chandrahan on the Onc Unit last week?" "I saw some Indian making rounds with all the first years following him around like puppies" "Well! Dr. Chandrahan is an adjunct professor at the med school but he only teaches every other quarter. Lives in Amritsar, India the rest of the year. Has access to *pharmaceutical* grade heroin! Buys it by the case lot out of Lahore, Pakistan, AND," she snorts like a pig as she laughs, "get this!! He's on some U.N. commission and he has a diplomatic passport AND," she fairly squealed, "his baggage is not subject to search. Can you BELIEVE IT???!!!! "I was one of his favorite residents and we developed a 'thing'. So, he brings me little care packages every time he comes. And in between visits I'm clean. There's nothing, I mean *ab-so-fucking-lutely nothing*, that compares. "And I never do it alone." "Yeah...so, why me? Why not one of the handsome young residents or I hear the anesthesiologists like their own stuff." She nonchalantly waves a hand, spreads some more cream cheese on a bagel. "The residents are all a bunch of weenies...well, except that third year family practice guy," she looks wistfully for a moment, "but he looks so wholesome and I hear he's really, like dedicated. And the anesthesia guys are a bunch of dickheads. I got high with Dr. Samuels last year. "I'd heard that he was big on fentanyl so I thought he'd like some real stuff but he horked all over my sheets on the first cc and then! Ah, he is such a dickhead!! So when I let him shoot me up he did it and left!! Oh, what a DICKHEAD that guy is!!!! He said, 'I just can't get into sex with a stoned chick.' Arrrrgghhhh!!! "So when you were showing off some of your stories to Neal that time you brought your computer in I, uh, peeked." "When? I remember showing Neal my stories but I don't remember you being around." "Mmm! There was a code, remember? You all flew out of the room. I was behind you guys and when I saw the room was full I went back to the lounge. I loved your story about Julie. It was so kinky and the bit about her using insulin keyed me to the fact that you might be my kinda party guy." "Thanks." "Now, how about a shower?" *** She kisses me and scrubs me in the shower but primarily she helps me stay upright. A cap of Dexedrine and a walk in her garden ("Hey, the freezing rain has stopped. It doesn't look to slick out back. Let's go for a walk.") And I am feeling pretty peppy. About 6:30 the freezing rain changes to snow. "This is perfect weather for doing this." She stands in a frumpy looking terry cloth robe and looks out the picture window into her front yard. "I'm going to take a shower and get ready. I'll yell when you can come up." The Dexedrine loses out against the residual smack and I doze in her recliner. "HEY!! What are you DOING?! Get your ASS up here and SERVICE your love GODDESS!!!" She startles me awake but I immediately feel alert. I walk into the bedroom. Jan gives her snort-laugh. "Feeling a little drowsy are we?" "No. Well, yeah...a little. But it feels nice." "Well..." she gets to her knees on the bed, holding the sheet to her chest like it was the first time I'd seen her, "...as long as John-Henry can party..." She falls forward, flings herself, actually, and pulls my shorts down. "Hmmm. I don't know." I pull back. "Hey! He'll party. Let's talk about you." She laughs and falls back on the pillows. "I don't know. That story you wrote about Julie and the insulin. That was soooo kinky. You might get off on shooting me up and leave me like that DICKHEAD Anesthesiologist SAMUELS did." "How'd you know who that story was about, by the way?" "Oh, you are just *so* transparent sometimes. Come here. Get me off." I start to undress as I stand beside the bed. "I've seen the way you look at her when she makes rounds. It's the same way you look at me. I *love* the way you drool..." Another snort-laugh. "Now, COME HERE!" I sit down; she sits up, the sheet still gathered to her chest. "Fluff my pillows." She commands; sounding happy and childish. I fluff. She flounces back. "Now. Everything you need is on the nightstand. There's the hep lock, a couple of tubes of Narcan and an amp of epinephrine - just in case – and the *s-h-i-t*." I pick up the black leather case and look it over. There's a small gold plate near the zipper with an inscription: "The best shit in all the world for Jan, Love Chandra" "O.K., now what?" "Put the tourniquet on me." I hit the vein on the first stick. "Very good," she congratulates. I tape the hep lock - the venous port that allowed access without having to stick the vein over and over - to her arm. She had already drawn the dose from the pharmacy vial. I plunge the needle into the lock and she sucks in her lower lip and hisses, "Yes..." "Remember, my respirations drop below 8 per minute or if..." I push the plunger and feed her a cc. She gasps as the heroin hits her blood. I complete her sentence, "...you become unresponsive, aspirate, etc., give you the Narcan." She smiles and nods, her eyes flutter shut. "Look at me Jan. I want to see your eyes while I'm doing this." The glaze on her eyes is already forming; she smiles in a daze and tries to look at me. "Give me another hit." "On the way." I push slowly. Another cc. "One more, please." Her voice is husky and quiet. I push. Her lids flutter again. She smiles, hums and sighs. I pull the needle out and lay it on the nightstand. I pull the sheet down. She stirs slightly, looks at me with heavy eyelids. Smiles again. "Have fun. Oh...uh, remember, Samuels is a DICK...HEAD." She giggles and closes her eyes. Dr. Jan Cujkati, PharmD., is a wonderful mystery. A "good" girl. 5'5", maybe 120-130. Picture Gabrielle Carteris from "Beverly Hills 90219" with Barbra Streisand's nose - sort of. At 36, she has braces on her teeth. She wears mid-calf dresses and jumpers under her lab coat. And in general looks frumpy. On the units of the hospital she is one of the "guys" with selected staff. I count among them and I count my blessings. She is thoroughly professional but also very fun to work with. And now... I touch her breast. Her breasts are middling big and loose. But they go perfectly with her full belly and hips. Her clothing hides a very nice body as well as her "one-of-guys" personality hides her sweet tooth for pharmacy grade smack. I begin my exploration of her sleek body and make a note to try to explore that hidden personality. Last night she teased and stroked me for what seemed like an eternity before she coupled with me but I couldn't wait tonight. Watching the heroin overtake her and her abandoning herself to the wave of pleasure had me highly turned on. I move down between her legs. She raises her knees and parts her thighs. "Hey, go for it..." I take hold of her right leg behind her knee and roll her back. I look at her sex. It is flowered and slick, her petals pouting out from her brown sex hair. I position myself and slowly push and remember her first mounting from last night. Her head lolls to side, her tongue wetting her lips. I hold her to the bed by the shoulders, leveraging my thrusts. She humps back. Her voice is a husky, "Do it hard, ...make me feel it..." She grunts as she humps hard against one of my thrusts. By the time I come we are both covered in sweat and breathless. I sit back and look at her. She looks ravaged and she's asleep but her breathing is deep and regular. I get up and flop into an overstuffed chair in the sitting room area of the bedroom. *** I start to get up to get something from the kitchen when the doorbell rings. I'm a little startled. It's 10 o'clock and it's snowing to beat hell. Jan stirs. "Would you get the door, lover?" "Uh, sure." I pull on my pants and shirt and head, cautiously, downstairs. I'm standing at the door. More than a little spooked. "Uh, Who is it?" All I can see through the peephole is a shadowy figure wrapped in a parka. "It is I." The voice was matter-of-fact, as if I should know whom "I" is. But it also had an Indian lilt to it. "Dr. Chandrahan?" "Yes? Sabapturan Vihar Chandrahan. I am a medical doctor." I opened the door. The parka came in. The hood came off and out popped Dr. Chandrahan. "You may call me Chandra. Sabapturan is such an odd name here in America but back home in Amritsar, well, it is rather common and the women love it and Chandra is a bit odd, in Amritsar. Amritsar is near Pakistan, you know. It's quite lovely in northern India..." I got a word in. "Doctor!" "Hmmm? Yes? Are you Scott?" "Uh, yes, yes I'm Scott. Doctor, what are you doing here?" "Well, is this not what you would call a 'three dog night' and is not our Jan a lovely bitch? We are two dogs." He smiles contentedly. "I thought we should thoroughly fuck and abuse our little bitch while it's so cold and she's in the mood, Mmmmmm? You do not mind do you?" "Chandra, you goat fucker, I forgot you were coming by." Jan is leaning, bare assed naked - slumped bared assed naked, is a better descriptor, against the door frame of the stairs leading to her room. "Well, you know, (The lilt is beginning to be just a tad annoying) in truth, you-heroin-fuck-slut-who-likely-sucks- mongrel-dogs-in-the-alley, I have never fucked a goat, though I have considered it and have been to Montana and fucked several sheep. I hear you may catch syphilis from sheep so I used condoms, which was ironic since they were made of sheep skin...." "CHANDRA! You are so FUCKING FULL of SHIT! Come up and abuse me!" Chandra looks momentarily confused. "I had my bowel movement today. But I should be most pleasantly happy to abuse your body." Jan slaps her forehead. "You IDIOT, get up here and fuck me while I suck Scott off." She turns, somewhat unsteadily, and heads upstairs. I think of Janis Joplin toppling over and banging her head. In perfect British accented English, Chandra smiles at me and motions me toward the stairs, "Please, after you. We shall enjoy her together." *** Watching Chandra in action is an education. In exactly what, I am uncertain. Jan is draped over the ottoman in front the bedroom chair. "I believe," the Indian lilt is back, "you have her mouth." Chandra is naked and starting to kneel behind her. "You know, Jan, this reminds me greatly of my time in your great State of Montana. Her name was 'Ginny', I believe," He puts a hand on her hip and prepares to mount her, his erection long and fat and in his other hand. "Yes," he stops his advance and imminent coupling and is lost in contemplation. "Yes, her name was 'Ginny' and belonged to a very nice sheep rancher named Logan, I think. Very nice fellow and Ginny was very nice too. Nice twat." Jan's voice is back to the husked whisper. She repeats Chandra's name several times before she gets his attention. "Yes, my ewe?" "Would you like me to 'baa' for you to heightened the experience?" He is quiet in thought. "Chandra, for God's sake! Mount me!!" "Wou… would you mind...very much...just a few," He slides into her sex in one long stroke, adjusts to her cunt, "...just a few 'baa's'?" She starts to protest when I take her by the hair, pulling her head up level with my cock. She gets half a 'baa' out before I push past her lips. By 3 a.m. Jan is lying sprawled, face down on her bed, snoring. Her body is slick with sweat, sperm and large amounts of her fluids mingled with KY Jelly. I have never French kissed for so long a time since high school and Michelle Davis. I held Jan tight and we kissed, sucking and nipping at each other's lips and tongues as Chandra, a devoted practitioner of tantric arts, worked his entire *forearm* into her ass. As he stroked her large intestines he bent and suckled a breast. Jan breaks with me for a moment and lazily presses Chandra's head to her tit. "Chandra, I bet Ginny didn't let you *GUT FUCK HER* nor did she have tits worth sucking." He kisses her tenderly then breaks the kiss, gives a little arm movement causing Jan to convulse, presumably (?) in pleasure. "This is a certainty. But..." another arm movement, "I did know a rather large Brahmin cow in Chittagong whom I was able to go into up to my shoulder. And...she had," another arm movement and Jan arches off the bed, biting her lower lip, "larger udders but I had no desire to suck them like I do yours. Are you in pain or pleasure, my ewe?" At first she does not answer, simply holds the arch and her breath. "Wellllll, another couple of cc's wouldn't hurt...but I...I...." "You haven't been practicing like I told you, have you?" "...I.... uh...NO. But this is soooooo weird. I hurt but the feeling is... soooo..." she arches a little higher as if to get away from it, "...soooo..." "Scott, give her a cc or 2." The British accent is back. "One can not just pull ones' arm abruptly from someone else's intestines without causing great harm." She sags into my arms as the junk hits the blood, a look of narcotic bliss on her face. 15 minutes later Chandra has extricated his arm from her ascending colon and roughly pushes his cock in her mouth. By 3 a.m. I think, no, I know, I sank to a level of depravity I have never known. We did everything one could conceive to her. Chandra leaves around 4 after helping me to clean her and the bed and the room up. *** "Did you walk here? In the snow storm?" Light conversation as he dons his parka. "Hmmmm? Yes. Yes I did walk." "Well why don't you stick around till morning?" "Oh, that would be a great pleasure but I must go and meditate before I make rounds. I shall meditate about the snow." And he's gone. *** It's 4:15 Saturday afternoon. I smell urine and see a growing wet spot on the sheet. Maybe it's time to wake her. "Jan. Jan?" I nudge her shoulder. "You've just wet the bed." She stirs, wrinkles her nose. "Oh, damn it! I dreamt I was in the bathroom." She starts to cry a little bit. I start to get a little worried. "Hey. Hey!!" She starts to doze. "Come on, let's sit up a while." I fairly drag her to her sitting room chair. She keeps nodding off. Time maybe for some Narcan. A few minutes and 10cc's of Narcan later she holds her head in her hands while I strip the bed. "Rubber sheets, eh?" She looks in my direction, tries to focus. "Let's just say this isn't the first time I've had a little bladder control problem." She moans. "Feeling like you're going to be sick?" "No, but Jesus, Mary and Joseph! What you guys do to me last night?" "The more germane question is what didn't we do to you. Chandra had his *entire* forearm up your ass." She chuckles, looks introspective: "Oh. God. I remember that. That was so weird. But then Chandra's a might peculiar." I helped her get cleaned up and then back in bed. We had a light dinner and went to bed together. No drugs and I didn't think there'd be any sex but she reached for my hand in the darkness. I held her hand until I felt her grip relax and heard her sleep breathing come on. Outside it was snowing again. Nights in White Satin Inspired by song recorded by The Moody Blues Looking around the room, she made sure the candles were in place. So many colors, shapes and sizes, yet they fit with the décor, adding a hint of mysterious shadow in one spot while dispelling shadows in another. Colors, blending with orchids arranged amid baby's breath, complementing framed artwork hanging above them, enhancing deep rich hues of hanging drapery and reflecting off gleaming woodwork, each had its place and was ready for the match. Her eyes gleamed in the soft light of the chandelier and she ran nervous fingers over the back of his chair. Breathing deeply she closed her eyes and let the scent of flowers, fragrant wood oil and pine fill her senses. Everything was in place, only the candles and firewood needing to be lit. Walking to the door, she paused beside the dimmer switch, lowering the lights until only the crystal laid out on the table sparkled quietly next to lustrous china. With a quiet sigh, she slowly pulled the doors shut and walked across the hall to the kitchen. Within this room light reigned, shining off sparkling clean counters and gleaming stainless steel appliances. The rich, creamy aroma of a full bodied Alfredo sauce wafted from the pot simmering on the stove, melding with the crisp, sweet bouquet of freshly cut herbs. Taking another pot from the cabinet, she filled it with water then placed it on the stove for the fettuccine and added a dash of salt and a splash of olive oil. From the refrigerator she retrieved the bowl of mixed greens, a plate of sliced mushrooms and a small container of finely minced, freshly cooked bacon setting them on the counter next to the waiting skillet. Turning, she picked up the container of freshly cut herbs and olive oil setting them on the counter with the greens and mushrooms. Dessert, a fresh baked New York Cheesecake, sat on the island needing only its raspberry topping to be ready. His favorite foods prepared just the way he like them, needing only a few last minute preparations before serving. Glancing at the clock over the door and noting the time, she took a pack of fettuccine from the cupboard and turn on the flame under the pot of waiting water. After another quick look around to make sure everything was clean and in its place, she left the kitchen. Walking down the hallway she caught sight of herself in the mirror he had placed on the wall at the end of the hall. It was a large, full-length mirror and accurately reflected her long, coltish stride. Biting her lip and sighing she slowed until her walk was once more graceful and fluid. He had placed the mirror there just for this reason, to make her slow down, remember her place. A doorway opened on her left and she turned into the room. This was her room, fully feminine, decorated in soft creams and sheer silks. She walked to the corner vanity, fingers already working on the buttons of her blouse. Stopping in front of another full-length mirror, she watched her shoulders twist sensuously sending the blouse flowing down her lithe form to be caught by one hand and hung on the waiting hanger. Eyes darkened with desire as she thought of what was to happen tonight. Her full, luscious breasts quivered as she breathed softly, reaching behind her back to unclasp the sheer lacy brassiere. Released, her breasts swayed gently, firm rounded mounds capped by dusky rose areolae surrounding full, thick nipples. Folding the brassiere, she set it on the vanity and reached for the button of her skirt. Nimble fingers made short work of the button and zipper and eased the waistband down. A seductive wiggle sent it sliding the rest of the way, past curvaceous hips, to the floor. Bending gracefully, she retrieved the garment, catching the reflection of her luscious bottom. Blushing lightly, she straightened and hung the skirt next to the blouse, trying not to look in the mirror and failing. The faint dusting of pink darkened and spread to the tops of her breasts as she remembered what he had said when he hung the cheval glass. Turning, she squarely faced it and looked at her reflection. Clad only in a lacy white thong, she planted her feet, shoulder width apart; straightened her shoulders, causing her breasts to rise full and proud; and stood with arms loosely at her sides. Mentally counting backwards from twenty, she slowly took a deep breath, held it for a five count then just as slowly released it. For the full twenty breaths, she gazed at her reflection, examining every inch of her lightly tanned flesh. Head to toes her eyes traveled as she continued breathing, looking, memorizing. When she completed the exercise, she hooked delicate fingers in her panties and pushed them past her hips, letting them fall to the floor, then fluidly stepped out of them. Another graceful retrieval had them in her hands and folded in a matter of moments. Laying them on top of the brassiere, she took one more look then picked up the brush. After a quick stroke through shoulder length, glossy black strands she stopped. Bowing her head, fingers tightening on the brush handle, she sighed thinking, 'at this rate I will never be ready in time.' Taking another deep breath, she straightened her back, squared her shoulders again and slowly began brushing her hair. She counted each stroke softly under her breath and let her mind wander. 'He will be home soon and I am not nearly ready. Why? Why, does this always happen to me?' "Thirty-five, thirty-six," she slowly counted. 'It happens because I can't remember to go slow, to follow his instructions, that's why!' Grinning, he watched her from the doorway, being careful not to let the mirror catch his reflection. 'Reminder to self, we need to work on her attitude. Perhaps I can work that into my plans for tonight.' His eyes began to twinkle and had she been looking, she would have known he was having deliciously wicked, devious thoughts; but her eyes were glazed, looking beyond the room into memory. " Gazing at people, some hand in hand, just what I'm going through they can't understand." Her voice was soft, seductive, as she sang the lyrics to her favorite song. "Just what you want to be you will be in the end." He softly sang, chuckling when she jumped and dropped the brush. "Damn..." Her startled look was priceless. Not for the first time, he wished he could capture this moment on film. "Tsk, tsk," he admonished her sternly. "Ladies do not curse." "Yes Sir," she meekly answered, sneaking a glance at his face. "You...." "And..." they both spoke at the same time. Pausing, he pinned her with his eyes. "And," his voice emphasizing the word, "ladies do not rush!" As he finished speaking, he could see the tears welling up in her eyes. He wanted very much to go to her, gather her into his arms, and kiss the tears away; but he could not, not at this time. He hoped the ache he was feeling did not show in his eyes. "Yes sir," her voice soft with tears. Watching his face she continued, "I am sorry Sir." "Sorry for what little one?" "Sorry for interrupting you Sir." Tears flowed down her pale cheeks and dripped from her chin. She closed her eyes tightly in an effort to stem them. Hands clenched at her sides, she swallowed the sob trying to escape her throat. Unable to watch her struggle, he paced across the room, took a deep breath and turned back to her. "The fact we both spoke at the same time was not your fault," his voice lightened into a teasing tone, "that is unless you have learned to read minds while I was gone." Raising an eyebrow, he watched, hoping to see a smile, even a teary one. He walked back to stand before her; his fingers reached for her chin, lifting it so he could look into her eyes. "You have no need to apologize." He spoke firmly yet gently. Lifting her chin slightly, she nodded her understanding. His thumb caressed her softly as their eyes met; he could feel her trembling beneath his touch. Using the fingers of his other hand, he threaded them through her hair and pulled her to him. She rested her forehead on his chest, letting his hands and body, control and support her. Biting her lip, she dared to reach up and place her hands on his chest, feeling his heart beating beneath her palm. Resting his cheek on her silky tresses, he smiled and released her chin, wrapping his arm around her and pulling her closer. He held her until her trembling subsided. Then loosened his grip and stepped back. Smiling down at her, he brushed his hand across her cheek, pausing to cup it a moment as he told her, "Go wash your face little one. Then you may finish preparing dinner." "Yes Sir," her smile was radiant. 'Even teary eyed she is beautiful,' he thought to himself, ' Beauty I'd always missed with these eyes before.' Stepping aside, he released her to do his bidding, the ache to hold her, quiet for the moment. He watched as she left the room, then turned and headed to the kitchen. Unknown to her, he had already walked the house and completed his usual inspection. Pleased with what she had done, he planned how to reward her as he waited for her. Not only had she followed his instructions to the letter, she had also planned a meal of his favorite foods. It was obvious that all she had done today was done as a labor of love. Not once has he regretted claiming her for his own. He turned the flame back up under the water, then took the lid from the sauce and stirred it slowly, inhaling the wonderful aroma. The water was just starting to boil when she walked into the kitchen. Motioning to the pot, he stepped back to allow her access. As he watched her cook, wearing nothing but a smile, he grinned. She looked so delicious; he was tempted to steal a taste, only his self-discipline kept him from reaching for her. This was a special night and he had everything planned out; and tasting her now was definitely not part of the plan, though he wished he had considered it when making his plans. Moving to the area designated for liquor, he opened the bottle of wine she had chilling, Duo Sauvignon Blanc, and poured two glasses. Putting one glass on the counter where she was working, he took his and walked to the breakfast bar. Leaning on it, he watched her and waited. "Thank you Sir," she said as she noticed the glass. Lifting it to her lips, she paused to savor the rich bouquet, green pear and white peach with a delicate floral aroma and just a hint of white pepper, then sipped letting the wine linger on her lips and tongue. She smiled, "this is perfect Sir." "I'm glad you approve my little one. I thought you might like it. I have a slightly different one for our dessert." He grinned devilishly at her. "Sir! You are n... planning on getting me drunk and taking advantage of me I hope?" she asked teasingly, taking another sip. "Perhaps," he replied, giving her his most devilish look. "I have yet to ravish a woman as beautiful as you. It might be fun." He almost laughed at the look on her face, it looked as though she could not make up her mind whether she should like the idea or be shocked. 'Ah, that has her thinking. I believe I will just let her wonder about that for a while,' he thought. Shaking her head, unsure how to take his remark, she poured a bit of olive oil in the waiting skillet and turned on the flame beneath it. Stirring the fettuccine, she retrieved a piece and walked to the sink. Rinsing it beneath cold water to cool it off first, she took a bit and nodded, it was just right. Retrieving the pot, she poured the pasta into a colander to drain, rinsing it lightly with hot water, and then returned to the skillet where the olive oil was emitting its slight aroma. Sipping his wine, he gazed at her quietly, enjoying the peaceful quiet broken only by the sound of cooking utensils. He loved watching her cook; it was one of the rare times she moved with the fluid grace of a lady. Her usual coltish quickness disappeared the moment she stepped into the kitchen. Now if only she would learn to move this way all the time, he would be very pleased. He knew she tried and also how hard it was for her, with the way she had grown up; but he was willing to help her and be patient while she learned. Smiling he thought, 'I could do anything, say anything, and it wouldn't phase her, not while she is cooking. It's as if she is were in a completely different world.' Pouring the chilled bacon into the hot skillet, she lifted the pan slightly, shaking and tossing the bacon lightly to heat it evenly. Next, she added the mushrooms and continued flipping the contents. Her deft movements and technique made it obvious she not only knew how to cook, but also had taken classes at some time. When the mushrooms were just the right color, she added the greens and fresh cut herbs, continuing to toss the ingredients until everything was cooked just right. A quick flip of her wrist and the contents slid into a crystal-serving dish. Turning off all the flames, she turned and took the pasta, pouring it into another crystal dish. Lastly, she gave the sauce a quick stir and ladled a portion into the last crystal bowl. Glancing at her Master she smiled, "Dinner is ready Sir if you care to take a seat in the dinning room." "Shall I light the candles while you bring in the food?" He asked her. "Please Sir," she answered with a soft smile. Nodding, he picked up the bottle of wine, both glasses, and leaving the kitchen walked across the hall to the dinning room. She turned and picked up the china serving tray she had ready. Placing each serving dish carefully on the tray, she took a quick look around, and then added the cheesecake and bowl of topping. The dirty bowls and containers were put in the sink waiting to be rinsed and placed in the dishwasher. The skillet and pot from the pasta sat on the stove cooling down. There was nothing left to do but eat. She picked up the tray, taking care not to spill or jostle the bowls, and walked to the dinning room. Stepping into the dining room, she paused, her eyes roaming over the room. She smiled softly, pleased with how the candles lit the room, giving it a subtle romantic glow. Master had left the chandelier dim and lit all the candles. Walking to the table, she placed the dishes to the left of her seat, knowing he would want her to serve. "The room looks wonderful little one," he told her as he rose from lighting the logs in the fireplace. "You did a marvelous job; I am very pleased." "Thank you Sir," she smiled. "I am glad it pleases you. I wanted our anniversary to be as special as the day I came to you." Blushing, she set the tray on the sideboard and moved, with grace and poise, to stand behind her chair. Walking over to stand behind her, he placed his hands on her shoulders, squeezing them lightly. "The room pleases me. The meal you prepared pleases me. You please me." He told her softly, stressing his last remark slightly. Thumbs slowly stroking along the base of her neck he thought, 'This past year has been the happiest of my life and tonight you will learn it is only the beginning.' He could feel her trembling beneath his fingers; knew she was wondering what tonight would bring. "Close your eyes my pet." His voice, soft but firm, he continued, "Stay where you are and keep them closed until I say you may open them." "Yes Sir," she replied softly. Triggered by his use of 'pet', the tone of his voice, and his command, she slipped into subspace, shivers rippling through her lithe body. Stepping away from her, he went to the door and turned the dimmer all the way down before walking around the table and stopping opposite her. He let his eyes drink in the sight of her, backlit by the multitude of candles. Black hair flowed, like delicate strands of webbing, around elfin eyes, teasing high cheekbones and full red lips. Long delicate fingers rested lightly on the back of her chair as candlelight flickered, outlining the luscious curves of a fully mature woman. Full breasts rose and fell, quivering, with each breath; nipples darkened with desire pointed proudly forward. Her eyes were closed, but he knew their usual cerulean hue would have darkened to the deeper blue of an evening sea. The evening had only begun, but the sight of her standing there quietly, waiting for his commands, completely under his control, fanned his smoldering desire. He wanted to take her right there, right then; but knowing how much time and thought she had given to this evening, he kept his passion in check, reminding himself that he had all night to use and enjoy her. Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath and slowly let it out; and then walked silently out of the room. Standing quietly, she waited patiently. She knew he had made special plans for this evening as he always did when there was a holiday or special day; though what those plans might be, what they may entail, she had no idea. She felt as if she were floating; she loved the way subspace made her feel and wished she could stay here always. She felt like a kite, soaring high above the ground, the wind pushing and pulling her gently through the sky; controlled only by the string held by her Master. Her lips parted with a soft sigh as she thought of her Master. It had been one year ago today that she walked through the front door, bold and confident, only to be told to disrobe and kneel as soon as the door had shut. While she knew she was coming to serve her new Master, she had not expected the reception he had planned. After she knelt, he handed her a list of rules and told her to memorize them immediately. Luckily, there were only a handful, but a very thorough handful. Once she could recite them from memory, she was allowed to rise and begin her service. Expecting to be used that evening, she was sent to what was to become her room to sleep alone. For weeks, he only commanded and watched her, never touching, until she began to despair and wonder what she had done to displease him. Then one night, unable to bear the pain anymore, she went to him and knelt, asking what she had done or not done to be punished by his distance. In tears, she begged to be allowed to serve him fully, pleaded to be used, only to be sent to her room to sleep alone once again. The following night he came home and called her to his study. Entering the room, she knelt at his feet, watching as he picked up a long slender box. He handed the box to her and told her to open it. Doing as instructed, she opened the box and gasped. A slender, delicate leather collar rested on cotton batting inside the box. He asked her once if it was her true, honest wish to serve him completely and fully. When she whispered yes, tears filling her eyes, he lifted the collar and placed it around her neck, telling her it was never to be taken off. Nodding, she smiled through the tears and asked permission to hug him. Laying her head upon his knee, she wrapped her arms around him and cried silently, calming slowly as his hand stroked her hair, petting her gently. Once her tears dried, he took her by the hand and led her to his room. From that moment on, the nights she spent sleeping alone in her room were rare. Sighing softly, she smiled as she remembered that night. It was the beginning of the most wonderful year of her life, one she would never forget and always cherish. Moments later she heard music and felt her Master's hand on her shoulder. "You may open your eyes pet." "Thank you Sir," her voice husky with remembered passions, she opened her eyes to see Master taking his seat. Stepping to his side, she took his plate and prepared it with fettuccine and sauce. The small bowl to his left, she filled with greens. Then, after pouring more wine in his glass, she stepped back to stand behind her chair. Smiling softly, he told her, "thank you pet, you may sit now." Nights in White Satin "You're welcome Sir." Sitting gracefully, she folded her hands and placed them in her lap. She watched as he took a bite and his broad smile told her that he was very pleased. Watching as he took another bite, and yet another, she waited for permission to fix her plate and eat. Her eyes never left his face; she loved looking at him, watching him. His usually calm face was transformed by pleasure. The lights, started she glanced up as she realized he had turned the chandelier off, that explained the play of light and shadow on his face. Smiling she turned her attention back to her Master, the man she loved so deeply that she ached whenever he was displeased. Catching his eyes watching her, she blushed shyly and her smile softened. "Come here pet." His eyes gleamed as he spoke. Rising she stepped around the corner of the table and knelt at his side, knees spread revealing her smooth mound, hands laying palm up on each silky thigh, eyes lowered respectfully. "Pet..." his voice part inquiry, part command, drew her eyes up and he smiled as they widened with surprise, "Open up." He watched as her lips parted, beckoning, waiting; then placed the fork full of pasta at her lips. Her head tilted up slightly as she wrapped her lips around the fork, eyes shining, and waited. Slowly he pulled the fork back. "Good girl." Taking another bite, he watched her out of the corner of his eye. He could tell by the glow suffusing her face that she was sliding deeper into subspace. Placing another bite at her lips, he waited as her warm full lips enveloped the fork; then ever so slowly retrieved the fork. Bite for bite he fed her, pausing often to slide his fingers through her hair, pushing it back from her face, caressing cheeks and scalp, letting her feel his love, strength, and desire. As she ate, looking forward, eyes level with the fork, her mind churned and pleasure of eating from his hand filled her, sending her spiraling deeper into subspace. Never had she submitted so completely, or so freely. The knowledge she ate only if he wished it flooded her mind and soul, breaking her free from the last of her inhibitions. She was now so completely his that she could no longer think of a life without him, without serving him. Never again would she walk as a free woman, free as the world defined it. For this day, she found a new freedom, a freedom of self. The rules and laws of man would no longer govern her life; instead, they would be governed by the wishes of one man, her Master. Music faded out as he fed her the last bit on the plate. Setting the fork down, he reached into the right pocket of his slacks and pulled out a length of gold and silver chain. Tiny links of rose gold, silver and yellow gold intertwined, braided into an exquisite collar. Enclosing the chain within his hand, he turned in his chair to face her. Into the silence he spoke. "One year ago today, you came to me; accepted my rules; submitted to my use. During this time, we have learned to know one another. Have you been happy in your service to me?" "Oh yes Sir," she softly breathed the words. "I am pleased to hear that little one. Now, my pet, is it your desire to continue your service to me? Before you answer, know this, it is my deepest wish to claim you forever, not only as my pet and my little one, but also as my wife. I have come to love you and I cherish the feelings you have shared with me. I want you to think, as this next song plays, of what life with me will mean. If you have any doubts or concerns, I want you to share them with me. Do you understand?" "Yes Sir." She closed her eyes as they filled with tears. "I will do as you ask Master." "Good girl." Silence filled the room, but the beat of her heart filled her ears in the moments before the music began. When she heard the opening chord, tears fell slowly, silently down her cheeks. Then she heard his voice, softly joining the music. " Nights in white satin, never reaching the end.." As he softly sang the words to her favorite song, she wept, head bowed; and as first his voice and then the music faded slowly away, she lifted shining eyes to his and whispered, "I love you Sir. I never want to live my life without you." As her eyes focused on his face she saw tears glistening on his cheeks. Her fingers twitched then clenched as she controlled the urge to reach up and wipe them from his face. Smiling gently, with love filled eyes, he held out the collar and waited; watched as she realized he held something and lowered her eyes, gasping when she saw the collar glittering in his hands. Hanging from the center of the collar was a silver ring and suspended from the ring was a tiny padlock. Nestled in one palm was another lock, slightly larger than the one dangling from the chain; and in the other palm was a key nestled in a thin gold chain. A voice, husky from unrelieved emotions, he asked her, "Will you accept this collar, and with it my promise to love, cherish and protect you until death parts us? Will you accept my lock, symbolizing my ownership and guardianship? If you accept I will wear this key, the key to your lock, until death parts us." "Oh yes Master," she cried out softly. "Until death parts us, it is my deepest desire and wish to serve you, belong to you and love you." Her hands lifted, reached behind her and lifted her hair, even as she bowed her head, submitting. With a soft sigh, he placed the collar around her neck, locking the clasp with the tiny padlock. As the metal, warm from his hands, encircled her neck, she quivered, heat flooded her and she felt moisture between her thighs. After he released the collar to drape against her collarbone, she felt his hands gently clasping her neck, the key and chain resting against her breast. Lowering her hands, she looked up, and his eyes captured hers. "Thank you my love... my little one... my pet." Then she watched as he took the key and fastened it around his neck. It fell gently to rest just below his collarbone. "Thank You... Master."