3 comments/ 13923 views/ 7 favorites The Collar By: Tara_Neale Sandra stared at her reflection in the mirror; triple checking every detail of her appearance. She had never been a particularly vain person, preferring instead to focus upon what was on the inside as her grandmother would have said. This night though, she wanted everything truly perfect. Six months and it was Valentine's Day. How those six months had sped by with Zane. They had met when she had messaged him about one of his popular writings on the kinky social networking site that she joined following the divorce. Yes, thanks to those stupid books, BDSM had become the chic thing, like gourmet coffee and e-readers. She had tried to read the damned things, but had soon given up in the shallow quagmire of immature characters, irrelevant backstory and manipulation. One thing had resonated though: submission. Sandra felt like it was the key to unlock her soul, a key that had been missing her whole life. Even with the key in hand though, she had been uncertain how to proceed. Recently separated after twenty years of marriage, it was so cliché: the devoted wife and mother tossed aside for a younger, thinner model. At first, she had been devastated. Her work skills were rusty to say the least; her resume was laughably thin after devoting herself to advancing her husband's career and her sons' upbringing. With the youngest in his final year of high school, Sandra had faced an uncertain future at best. But as always she had a strength of spirit that carried her through so much, including a five year battle with breast cancer. Of course, she was not immune to the darker moments of human existence. In those times, she succumbed to doubts: was she less of woman for the loss of her breasts, was that why her husband had strayed? But she refused to stay in that dark place. She had beaten the cancer; her magic five year check-up had been just weeks before and no sign of the enemy. It was something else to celebrate. Her job as manager at the local book shop was another. Books, romances in particular, had been her solace throughout much of her life. She had struggled with dyslexia as a child and still had the occasional problem phonetically with new words, but from the moment that reading had dawned like a sun rise, she had been a bibliophile. She could always be found curled up with a book in a corner while the other children ran and played. As a young mother, one of her favorite things about breastfeeding her boys had been the guilt-free relaxation of holding a book in one hand while her baby suckled upon the teat. She would often get so lost in the book that the baby slept undisturbed in her arms while the story unfolded in her mind. So when she had seen the 'help wanted' sign in the window of her favorite shop, it had seemed like fate. It was all too easy to approach the older gentleman that owned the store. They had known one another for years. An application became nothing more than a formality. Over the past year, she had been given more and more authority to the point that Jethro was little more than a figurehead that stopped by the store on his way to his favorite fishing spot along the pier. It was an arrangement that suited them both very well. Zane had been another stroke of fate. Over the past six months, she had almost forgotten the subject of that journal entry which had brought them together. But she could never forget the brilliance of the mind that enthralled her from the beginning. No, theirs was a partnership of equals, a meeting of the minds that few others could ever understand. At times, even she did not fully understand it. Everything had happened so fast; others would say too fast perhaps. But she knew, just knew, in her heart that time was too precious to waste when something was right. Sandra was happy this night. Happier perhaps than she had ever been. At forty-five, she had everything she wanted in life. A job she loved. A small but cute apartment overlooking the beach. Her sons were settled and doing well at college. And a man that she loved, respected and could entrust with her most precious gift...total surrender. She sighed and smiled as she adjusted the red corset that tucked in her waist and pushed her reconstructed breasts even higher towards her chin. She noticed the scars that extended from the cups towards her armpits, but they no longer held the same significance. Those scars had become badges of courage, a reminder of her victories. She would never forget the healing stream of tears that had flowed form her soul as she lay in Zane's arms after they made love. His fingers had so tenderly traced along the numb, ridges of those scars. She had stiffened in his arms. His voice had taken that deep and ridged tone as he commanded, "Look at me." It was one order that Sandra wanted to avoid. She had even done the unthinkable, shaking her head in denial. The firm and loud smack of his hand connecting with her thigh had overridden her reluctance. "Do not ever disobey me again," he said as his fingers returned to mapping the tracts across her chest. "Now, tell me." The story had flowed so freely then. All of it. Some things that she had not shared with anyone, not even her counselor. Her insecurities. The soul rendering pain of seeing pity in her husband's eyes the first time she had found the courage to bare them. Her withdrawal afterwards, sex becoming something to be endured in the dark. Her very womanhood thrown into question. But Zane had never allowed her to hide in the dark; physically or emotionally. He of her had demanded everything; the best of her mind, complete surrender of her body for His pleasure or pain, and of course perfect obedience and submission. She shuttered as she smiled weakly at thought if the words of her favorite poem: When our two souls stand up erect and strong, Face to face, silent, drawing nigh and nigher, .... A place to stand and love in for a day, With darkness and the death-hour rounding it. (Elizabeth Barrett Browning) It so eloquently described the love that she and Zane shared. She frowned in the mirror. When had she become so comfortable with the L word? It seemed odd that she should surrender her heart so easily after the battering that it had endured. Then again as Elizabeth Barrett Browning had said 'With darkness and the death-hour rounding it.' She had faced that death-hour and knew that this life could be a fleeting thing. Time was too precious to waste over-thinking some things. She smiled at the soft rap on the door. "Coming," her voice rang out as she made her way through the tiny central room of her apartment that served as the living and dining rooms as well as a study of sorts. Its biggest asset was of course the sliding glass doors that covered one wall and led out onto the balcony that overlooked the ocean. She had dared to open them a crack earlier and the room was alive with the brisk sea breeze and its pungent aroma. Her hand trembled as she threw open the door. Her actions were automatic as she dropped to the floor at His feet. Her knees spread wide, her cunt bare and open for His inspection. Freshly shaven, the smell of her arousal overpowered even the sea breeze. Her chest heaved and strained the confines of her corset. It was no longer the fear of discovery that had plagued her the first time she had received His instructions via text on the 'proper' way for a submissive to greet her Dominant. No, now it went much deeper: anticipation, arousal but most of all the utter completion of surrendering to her own submissive nature confident that the man to whom she submitted valued it and her. Her eyes were down, as they should be in His presence. She waited there, her hands palm up on her knees as the moments ticked by. Whether seconds, minutes or hours, it did not matter. She craved only one thing: the whispered words that were her ultimate reward. "Good girl," His deep, husky voice washed over her. She inhaled deeply as if she could soak in the words as readily as she could the air; both were life-giving to her. It was her cue; she could look up at Him now. He was not what many would consider the Dom-ly type. A greying man of middle age, He was beginning to thicken a bit around the middle. Rather than the stereotypical leather that many associated with the BDSM lifestyle, He wore khaki slacks and a plaid shirt, and a thin black tie. It was practical attire for the High School English teacher. "I made dinner," she stammered almost nervously, though she had no explanation why she should be. Except for that dark twinkling in His eyes that warned her this night would be another journey of lust, love and kink. "Food can wait," His words caressed her soul as His fingers sank into the thick strands of her hair that hung about her shoulders. She felt them tighten even as the knots of anticipation did in her tummy. His firm tug drew her head back until she stared up into His eyes. Her vision blurred just a bit as tears began to gather in the corners so firm was his grip upon her hair. He used His other hand to close the door as He tugged upon her hair until she slowly rose up to her full height. "Are you wet?" Sandra felt the heat rising in her cheeks as she nodded. Her voice was barely a whisper, "Yes Sir." A stinging blow to her outer thighs was His unspoken command to spread her legs. The burn of her skin barely had time to register before she was stuffed with His probing fingers. She bit her lower lip as her eyes closed. The orgasm was intense as the smooth muscles of her cunt grasped at His probing digits, which were massaging the bundle of nerve endings just inside her. "Cum for me, you dirty little whore." Her finger nails dug into her palms as the contractions strengthened to the point of pain. Only His Hands in her hair held her erect as the sensation washed over her for several long moments. Just as her body began to relax, His words danced through her mind, "I said, cum for me, cunt." This time she was unable to quiet the strangled scream from escaping her parched throat. She was also unable to hold back the gush of warm fluid that ran down His hand and her thighs to pool around the high heels that matched the corset. When the spasms finally passed what seemed like an eternity later, she collapsed against Him. "Hello, my love," she smiled up at Him. He returned the smile as He maneuvered her so that their lips were aligned perfectly. "And how was your day, baby girl?" She could barely breathe, let alone think as His teeth began to nibble at her bottom lip that was swollen already. She mumbled something unintelligible as she leaned closer to Him. He shook His head as a cocky grin spread across His face, "Always such a greedy little cunt, aren't you, my dear?" "Always, Sir," she purred as she brushed her body against His. "Well, tonight you shall have to wait, baby girl. I have other plans," He replied as He reached for the backpack thrown over His shoulder. "Turn around." The tingles in the pit of her stomach were back as she obeyed Him instantly. She sighed as He gathered her arms in one hand behind her back. All cares drained from her as she felt the soft caress of rope about her wrists. He wrapped it about her waist a couple of times before tying it off. She closed her eyes in surrender as she felt the touch of silk when He placed the blindfold over them. She would have stumbled if not for His sure guiding hands at the small of her back. She frowned as everything swam behind her closed eyelids. Then she was falling as He shoved her. Softness enveloped her. She was stunned as she tried to figure out where she was. But before her mind could begin to turn that quandary over, she felt her hips lifted higher into the higher as her face buried deeper into the softness. The echo of a strong bare handed slap mingled with her startled yelp as she jumped a bit at the sudden pain. "Move again and I will tie you to the bed so that you cannot," He croaked as she heard the whisper of a zipper. "Yes, Sir," she mumbled as she tried to picture which of His toys He would choose to torment her this night. She did not have long to wait as the sharp crack of a bull whip filled the silence. A tremor raced along her spine. It was her favorite. The feather soft touch of the cracker as it barely met skin. The thunderous crack that preceded it. Or the occasional pain that marked her pale skin with criss-cross red welts. Just the perfect mix of pain and mind fuck. As perfect as the man Himself. His hands were warm about her waist as He adjusted her. He lifted her upper body up until it rested against the back of the couch, she had her bearings now. Not that it mattered; she was certain whatever He did would addle her brain once more. He tenderly brushed hair back from her face as she felt the warmth of His breath dance across her sensitive flesh. "Good girl," He whispered. The smile that had begun to break across her face turned into a tiny plea as He sank His teeth into her ear lobe. His hands were firm as He arranged her among the cushions. "Do. Not. Move." Sandra inhaled deeply and nodded her head as she heard Him step back. She waited. And waited. The deafening crack of the whip filled the pregnant silence. She shivered but felt nothing against her skin. This time. He was warming up. A couple more mind fucks before she felt the softest of a lover's caress between her shoulder blades. She held back a low moan. It was followed by several of its sisters. Then out of nowhere came the intense stinging sensation and she knew that He had marked and scored her flesh. She could not hold back the moan then. He toyed with her like a cat playing with a mouse. She was captured and at His mercy, not that He had any more than that cat did. How long the whip melded with her soul she did not know. It could have been a few minutes or an hour, but she was long past caring. Her mind had gone blank, to that happy place that only He could take her. His finger nails ran along the sensitized flesh of her spine. She purred and rubbed against Him like a kitten begging for its milk. She could not form a logical thought or coherent word. The whole world was reduced to feelings and He was at the core of it all. She felt Him release her hands. He rubbed her arms, bringing the blood back into them. "Good girl," He whispered as His fingers brushed the blindfold from her face. She smiled dreamily up at Him as she squinted. Even the dim lights of the living room lamp and the fading rays of the sunset were too bright. "I know, baby girl." He flicked the switch on the lamp closest to the couch then gathered her in His arms. He cradled her much as a parent would a naughty child after a spanking. Spanking. She moaned again at the thought as she stared up into His face fully this time. As if to memorize each plane and line of symmetry. He pulled the quilt that she had sewn from the arm and wrapped her in it. He cooed and hummed to her as she snuggled closer into His arms. She smiled as her faced abraded the springy hairs that covered His chest. He had remembered even that. He knew how much she loved to be skin to skin with Him and sometime while she was blindfolded he had stripped to just His boxers. She sank further into the safe cocoon of His arms and was lulled by the sweet song of His heart beat just beneath her cheek. They stayed like that as the final rays of the sun drifted beneath the horizon, as the sun dipped into the waters outside the window. She sighed as she finally lifted her head to stare into His eyes. Never had she felt so safe, so secure, so loved. Her throat tightened as it always did around that word. It seemed so enormous. Yet at the same time so inadequate to describe the depth of feeling that they shared. His smile was broad as He pressed a kiss into her forehead, "Back to the world of the living are we?" She shook her head and pressed a kiss over His heart, "No, not really. Reality is highly overrated." The firm slap on her thigh was His answer. "Yes, well, someone promised me dinner, if I remember correctly. A special Valentine's one at that. So unless you want to taste the cane as punishment tonight, you should get that gorgeous ass moving." She chuckled as she straightened her corset. "Yes, Sir," she smiled as she drank a final taste of His lips for the moment. The kitchen was just off the main room, a tiny cupboard compared to the one that she had once been the mistress of. But that did not matter. She was happier here with Him than she could ever remember being. She puttered around, pulling plates from the cupboards and the food from the oven. She painstakingly arranged it upon the plate. She wanted everything to be perfect this night. Not that every night with Him was not perfect anyway. But this night she had something special to share with Him. She smiled as she carried the plate into the dining area. He had taken the chair He usually did, but this special night she would not be sitting across from Him. She had other ideas as she dropped to her knees at His feet. As before her knees were spread wide apart revealing her bare cunt, all of her open and vulnerable before this man. She lifted the plate of His favorite dishes as she dropped her head, "Yours, Sir." Whether she referred to the food that she had taken special care to prepare with love, her most intimate parts spread open for Him alone or her battered heart, it did not matter. All were in His care now. "Perfect," He whispered. She sighed contentedly as she lifted her head and placed the food on the table in front of Him. He reached for the fork on the table, but her hand covered His. "Not tonight, please, Sir. I want to feed you as good slave would her Master." The smile that spread across His face told her that the words she had chosen so carefully were just the right ones. She lifted the fork and knife and began to cut His food. She smiled and slipped deeper into the magical spell of her submission with each bite that she fed Him. He ate in companionable silence; it was one of those moments when words were simply unnecessary. As she placed the final bite in His mouth, she knew that she must break the spell, but was reluctant to do so. "I made dessert too, but it can wait," the blush once again rose in her cheeks as she considered the next portion of her plan. He nodded and smiled, "Yes, it can. Come here." Sandra shifted her weight preparing to stand up, but His deep voice stopped her. "Did I tell you that you could stand and walk?" She felt her stomach drop, wetness pool between her thighs at His words. When He went über on her, it always did. "No, Sir," she replied, dropping her eyes once more. "Good girl," He purred. "Crawl to me." She could not stop the quick intake of air that betrayed her shock. They had seen this at the club where He once took her. He knew that she was shocked and appalled to see women on leash, crawling after their Doms. Their games were one thing, even the naughty words that He called, things that she would never allow another man to say to her. But crawling like an animal? The silence was unbroken. All she could hear was her heart beat. She wanted so badly to look up into His face; get some sign of His intentions. But having dropped her eyes in obedience she did not dare. Instead she mulled her options over in her mind. She could stand up and flat out refuse, but that would be tantamount to withdrawing her submission and ending their relationship. She could red and end this night prematurely. She really did not want to do that though. She could yellow and they would stop to discuss her concerns. Or she could simply put her trust in this man as she had for the past few months. He had never done anything to truly hurt; physically or more importantly emotionally. Was it really all that bad? The Collar Sandra took another deep breath to clear her mind and cement her resolve. Placing her hands on the floor in front of her, she began the very short crawl that would bring her next to His chair. It was only a couple of feet and almost not even worth the thought that had gone into it. She frowned as she realized that it almost felt good; sexy somehow to crawl on hands and knees before this man. The moment she was beside Him, He placed His fingers beneath her chin and lifted her face to stare up at Him. "My very good girl. I am so proud of you." He dragged in a deep breath this time, "I know how hard that was for you, my love." She followed His eyes and saw a long black velvet box suddenly lying on the table. "But I needed to know how deep your surrender to me goes, Sandra." Her heart raced. Her mind filled with numerous possibilities. He knew that she no longer believed in marriage. Besides the box was the wrong shape for a ring. A bracelet perhaps? It was Valentine's Day after all. Lovers exchanged gifts. Why did she think that her careful planning for this special night would not be reciprocated? His fingers brushed across her cheek tenderly. Then He picked up the box and popped open the lid. The tiny creak of its hinges seemed to echo in the stillness of the room. Inside was a simple silver chain from which hung a tiny lock. Her throat tightened reflexively. She knew instantly what this was. A collar. No, her collar. If she chose to accept it. She looked up into His eyes. His expression was intensely serious, so different from the gentle lover or teasing that she was accustomed to. Different too from the Dominant and sadist that gave her that which no other ever could. This man wore His vulnerability like a proud crest upon his tabard. There was no doubt. She smiled up at Him. It was the only answer He needed. His fingers trembled as He took the frail chain from the box. She leaned closer as He wrapped it about her neck. She shivered as His fingers brushed her neck when the clasp fell into place. She had difficulty seeing when she leaned back on to her feet. Her throat was so tight that she could barely breathe; let alone speak. Her heart had not slowed even a little bit. They both knew what this meant. It was another way that they were a perfect match. These were so much more than simple games to either of them. It was simply who they were. His need to Dominate was the perfect Ying to her need for submission, her yang. And this only cemented that bond, deepened the love they shared. She reached up and curled her fingers about the tiny lock. She could almost feel a spark of something metaphysical race up her fingers. As if accepting this trinket truly locked her heart forever in His care. Her voice cracked and tears escaped the corners of her eyes as she whispered, "You're stuck with me now. Only way you get this back is to pry it from my cold dead hands." *** Zane Reynolds stared out at the pounding waves of the Pacific Ocean. He inhaled the deep rich aroma of the sea breeze. It reminded him of that night. He had never seen a more beautiful woman than the one that knelt before Him then. Yes, She was neither youthful nor anorexic. The tiny lines about Her sparkling eyes were a testament to the life and experience that made Her so interesting. Her mind the quickest and brightest of any woman He had ever known. And the scars that She wore upon Her body were only a testament to Her strength. That such an intelligent and strong creature should choose to kneel before him was the most humbling moment of his life. To see Her crawl, an act of submission that he knew was the most difficult he had ever asked of Her had taken his breath away. His gut had tightened at Her words that night. But he had little time to think upon why that was. She was like a little girl then, "The night has just begun, Sir." She had purred as She took his hand in Hers. She had risen and led him into Her bedroom. It was not the first time. They had spent so many precious moments here over the months. But the soft glow of candles made the slightly shabby room almost ethereal. She had knelt on the edge of the bed and gathered his hands in Hers. She had brought them slowly to Her lips and pressed a gentle kiss to his knuckles. He could tell She was nervous. It made her next words all the more special. "When I tried to think of something to get you for Valentine's, I could not think of anything. Floggers, whips, paddles all seemed so common. I wanted to give you something truly special. Something no one else ever could." Her cheeks glowed so brightly that he could see the rising color even in the dim candle light as she stammered. "The only thing I could think of to give you was me," she dropped her eyes and the glow deepened even more. She let go of his hands and turned, reaching beneath the pillow, she had drawn forth a small bottle with a red ribbon around the cap. She had bitten her bottom lip so cutely. Her voice was barely a whisper as She placed it in the palm of his hand. 'Booty butter' it read. His heart had gone into overdrive at those words. It was something they had discussed several times. He knew that her one experience with anal sex had not gone well. A selfish boyfriend in college. Drunken and greedy. It had been little more than rape in the end. The fact that She would trust him like this made the night even more perfect than it already was. He lifted Her face to his. Her eyes could never lie, "Are you sure, Sandra?" She nodded, "Yes, very," She whispered as Her fingers grasped Her collar. "All right then, lay back on the bed. Eyes closed and arms above your head. Honor bondage, do you understand me?" "Yes, Sir," she replied as she turned to face away and lie face down on the bed. "Not yet, my love. Roll ever," he had demanded. She had looked a bit puzzled at the command but her obedience was instant. "Spread your legs." She had blushed again as She silently complied. "Too bad I didn't bring the spreader bars, you little cunt. Wider," he had punctuated his demands with a hard slap to her outer thighs. She opened Herself even more to him. "Good girl." His hand had come down hard once more. The sound echoed off the walls of the tiny room. Followed quickly by Her startled cry that was half pain and all pleasure as his palm connected with Her mound. She had jumped a bit at the impact, "Be still or I will tie you down." He had repeated the process, landing a dozen or so hard spanks upon her open cunt until it glistened scarlet and wet before him. It was a temptation he could not resist. Kneeling before Her at the edge of the bed, he had dove into Her succulent offering. His tongue quickly found Her hard clitoris standing like a good soldier at full attention. He held it between his teeth as his tongue encircled it over and over again. He could tell that She was right on the edge of a powerful orgasm, but he was not ready. "Not yet, you greedy cunt," he commanded as he released her clit and blow across it. Her knuckles went white as She clutched the headboard. His tongue stabbed Her wet cunt like a spear, plunging over and over and over into the soft, supple flesh. Her moans rose in his ears like a church choir singing the Easter cantata. But still he refused to allow her release. He teased and tortured her for several impossibly long minutes until Her juices ran like an underground pool bubbling to the surface. He drank from the refreshing spring, lapped from Her well. She was exactly as he loved her best wet, needy and open to him. At his mercy....except this night he had none. He pushed Her higher until Her fingers released the headboard, "Bad girl," he said as he slapped the side of her thigh with his open palm and bit down on Her swollen clitoris with his teeth. She arched off the bed. Screaming, "Please, Sir!" He smiled around Her clit and toyed with it, rolling it between his teeth while his tongue licked over it once more. He released it suddenly, "Please what, you dirty whore?" "Please, Sir, I need to come," She breathed and panted as she fought to control Her body. "No," he replied. "You promised me a Valentine's present, remember?" he watched as Her face crinkled up in that funny way he loved so much. It meant that he had taken Her to the place where Her beautifully brilliant brain no longer functioned. He stabbed Her asshole with his finger and those magnificently expressive eyes widened with recognition. "Yes, Sir," She whispered breathlessly as she writhed on his finger. Her juices and his saliva were more than sufficient as he began slowly preparing her. He used just the one finger to stretch and finger Her ass for a couple of moments. He reached across the bed to where She had left the 'booty butter' when they came in the room. He chuckled at the ridiculous name as he unscrewed the cap. He gathered a generous portion and began the task of patiently working the thick cream into Her tight muscles. This time he added a second finger as he began the teasing process again. "Have you worn your plug to work this week like a good girl?" he asked. He smiled as She nodded. The idea of his obedient submissive dressed in Her flowing hippy style skirts without panties holding the butt plug in for nine hours had him rock hard. He attempted a third finger. It was a tight squeeze but he managed it in the end with the help of another dollop of booty butter. Thanks to the plug. They had been working on anal training for weeks. Rimming, fingering and for the past couple of weeks plugs. He had bought Her a set of three progressive larger ones. That first night he had barely been able to insert the smallest, which was only slightly larger than his finger. That was because of Her conditioned response to anticipate pain. She would automatically tighten Her muscles rather than relax them whenever anything came near Her ass. But they were working on that. And from the way Her ass was feeling at that moment, they were making some real progress. "I am so proud of you," he knew the power of those words and was rewarded instantly with the relaxing of her whole body. His fingers slipped fully inside then. "Good girl." He reached for a couple of the pillows at the head of the bed. He gently rolled her onto Her side, lifting Her top leg and bending it slightly. He placed the pillows under Her knee. He grabbed the jar of lubricant and took a generous portion into the palm of his hands. He watched Her turn Her head, looking at his every move as he stroked his throbbing erection. He smiled at Her, remembering all the times that they had enjoyed mutual masturbation and the hundreds of nights they had fallen asleep to hot phone sex when they could not be together like this. He moved slowly, lying next to Her on the bed. He felt Her tense just a bit as he came up behind Her, aligning his body fully with Hers. Rather than dive in foolishly like that other greedy bastard, he took his time. He ran his fingers softly up and down Her arms while he tenderly kissed Her neck and shoulders. He licked at Her pulse beating solidly in the side of Her neck. He distracted Her too. His hand came up to toy with Her breasts that were practically popping out of the top of the corset. As She always did, She drew back at his first touch. "My beautiful girl," he whispered into Her ear as his fingers slipped the stiff material down. He pinched and teased Her nipples until they stood at full attention. But he was rewarded with the most precious gift of all...Her soft moans as she rubbed Herself against his hard cock. "That's it, sweetheart," he encouraged as he tweaked and pulled on them some more. He felt the head of his cock fall into place, aligned perfectly with Her asshole. He licked Her ear as he rolled Her nipples between his fingertips. She moaned and pushed back against him. His cock slipped inside. He heard the soft intake of breath and felt Her muscles tighten around it. He bit her ear lobe and pinched her nipples. She cried out at the new sensations, but She relaxed enough that almost an inch more slid home. He held perfectly still as one hand played with her tits for a couple of minutes, pinching, pulling and rolling her nipples. His other hand shifted slowly until it was once more between Her legs. His fingers slipped between the folds and found the still throbbing little button. He stroked it softly and She arched up to meet the caress. His cock retreated from Her tight ass until only the head was inside, but when She moved back against him another inch and a half buried itself inside Her. She was panting and moving Her round bottom in time with the lazy circles that he was drawing on Her clitoris. It was hell, torture and as close to heaven as he was likely to come. Her slow circles sucked and pulled his cock further and further into Her intensely hot and tight ass as he kept pushing Her higher and higher, closer to the release that he had denied her earlier. He arched up just a fraction of an inch, but it was the first movement he had made at all. "What a dirty little whore you are. Fucking my cock with your tight ass just like the slut you are." He felt Her tighten again at the movement and his bold words but he would not allow Her to go back now. His fingers played across Her clit with just the right pressure and rhythm that he had learned would always bring Her off quickly. "Come for me, my dirty little whore," he programmed her body like he would a computer. She arched up until he almost slipped out completely. He cursed but managed to keep the head of his cock just inside. Then She slammed back against him fully as the orgasm hit Her fully. She cried out with the intensity of the feeling as Her body clinched and clutched around his. He was buried completely inside of Her now. He fought the need to take Her like a bull elephant in heat. There would be time for that later. They had the rest of their lives. But this time, he wanted Her brain to register pleasure, to reprogram itself as it were. Instead he began to rock saw very slowly back and forth in time with Her own movements. But even that was intense. He felt his own body crying out for release. The greedy part of him cried out 'no.' He wanted this moment to last forever. The feel of Her too tight sphincter spasming around his throbbing cock was like no other he had ever felt. It was perfection. But the sane and considerate lover knew that her tender ass could not take 'forever' especially this first time. So he did what he rarely did...allowing his steel control to slip, giving over fully to the needs of his flesh. He felt the release begin at the base of his spine, racing to his toes and curling them at the same time it exploded through his addled brain. He did arch up then to meet Her backwards thrust. His cock buried deeper in Her ass than he would have thought possible as his come shot out to fill it. It seemed to go on endlessly...he certainly did not care if it lasted a lifetime. They drifted slowly back to reality with Her cocooned safely in his arms. His cock began to soften still locked inside of Her bowels. He kissed the side of Her cheek and whispered, "Thank you, my love. That was the best Valentine's present ever." She turned slightly. They both moaned a bit as his cock popped wetly from Her ass. She kissed him softly, "No. Thank you, Sir." He could see the tears gathering in Her eyes and hear the crack in Her voice as She spoke, "For everything." He had been uncomfortable then. Shocked at all that he saw in those eyes. He was not worthy of that kind of trust. No one was really. He kissed Her nose and made a lame excuse, "I'll be right back." He had rushed to hide in the bathroom. He turned the tap on and waited for the water to get hot. He reached for the wash clothes. How comfortable he had become in Her home? He knew exactly where everything was kept. Exactly how She liked Her coffee. Her favorite music. Her insecurities. Her worries. Her joys. She was an open book...his to read at any time. And to a degree, She knew him as well. She had spent a few nights at his apartment. She would have known where to find the towels. But he could not fight the feeling that he kept some things hidden from Her. This amazing, awe-inspiring creature that gave so fully of Herself. And what did he really have to offer her? The water was hot now as he studied the man in the mirror. He wet the wash cloth mindlessly burning his fingers. But even the water was not as hot as Her ass had been. Her gift, it seemed, had bored a hole right into the depths of his soul. He wrung the cloth out and gave that man a final glance. He had some serious thinking to do...later. He plastered a casual smile onto his face as he joined her in the bedroom. She was still curled on her side. Her knee was bent just as he had arranged it earlier as if She could not move without his permission somehow. But her hands were tucked under her face, clutching the other pillow. Her breathing was shallow and even. Those eyes that had done such damage to his soul were closed now. He did not want to disturb her, but he needed to see to Her needs, clean Her body that she gave so freely. That he would never deserve. He washed her carefully. She smiled and whispered, "Thank you," once more. Then he washed himself before tossing the cloth into the hamper. His mind was a complete jumble as he crawled into bed with Her. He wrapped his body about Her, spooning Her then. The same position that they had taken earlier, but for decidedly different purposes. He held Her and just listened to Her breathe. He tried for a long time to make sense of it...any of it. But he failed. He kissed her cheek as she slept and whispered, "I love you." They were words that did not come easy to him. He was not sure that he would ever find the courage to same them looking into those eyes that saw more of his dark soul than he wanted to admit, far more than he probably did. But they were true nonetheless. And that was as close as he was going to get to answers this night. As he gave into the exhaustion and the complete satisfaction of his body. *** Tears clouded Zane's eyes now as he stared out at the ocean She had loved so much. Dozens of people milled about him but he knew next to none of them. The tears trickled down his cheek as he remembered his arrogance that night. 'The rest of their lives.' He had not known then just how short that could be. Would be. But then again how could he see the golf ball size tumor that boring into her magnificent brain? How could he know that just a couple of days later she would collapse in a seizure at the book store? Tests. So many damned tests. What was left of Her gorgeous hair after the chemo and radiation had to be shaved as they cut into her skull to try and save her life. It never had managed to grow back. He shook his head. If he had known? Would he have told her that night? Woken her up and looked into her eyes as he spoke those words into her soul? Would it have made a difference? He felt a hand upon his shoulder and turned to see a young man he recognized from photographs she displayed around her apartment. "Excuse me, but you are Zane Reynolds, are you not?" Zane nodded a bit shocked that he would know how he was, "Yes." The young man held out the silver locket that he had given her that night. "She would have wanted you to have this back. We would have buried her with it but since she wanted to be cremated..." His words trailed off awkwardly. Zane took the piece of jewelry. Just as he had been that night, he did not know what to say. Did Her son know what this was? What it truly meant? Did he know about their little games? Of course, none of that mattered now. "Thank you. I know you made my mother very happy. Especially those last few months," he said as he held out his hand. The Collar Zane took the hand that was offered. What did he say? What could he say to this man any more than he could have to her? Oh, he had found the courage in the end to tell her. To say those words. But unlike in the movies where the princess cries over the dying body of her love, there had been no magic. Only cruel fate that had taken the best thing that ever happened to him away too fucking soon. Just as he was beginning to scratch the surface of the gift that she was. "No, I was the lucky one. Your mother was the most remarkable person I ever knew. We were blessed to know and be loved by such a person," he said through tears. It was not enough to ease either of their pains, but it was all there was. The truth... The Collar You say "no", but I'm going to try my best to change that. * * * * * Click Here to listen: .mp3 format or .ogg format. (5.5 min/mp3) * * * * *