Long Ago in a Place Far Away

Reblogged from The Wolf's Lair:

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It was a warm summer day in 1999. I had just driven into a little backwater town in the Yakima Valley of  Washington after having traveled some two hours from Portland, Oregon along the Columbia River and over a narrow mountain road.

I parked in the gravel parking lot of the restaurant/truck stop and waited. Soon a small black car pulled in, stirring a cloud of dust as the tires crunched across the gravel and stopped at the railroad ties forming a makeshift curb.

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Revisiting the past - My first post.

Used

She looked up expectantly as he approached, his hand extended to touch her face. His fingertips traced her jaw line and teased her slightly parted lips before trailing down her throat to follow the gentle rise of her breasts.

She moaned then cried out in pain as his fingertips closed on her nipples, crushing the tender buds and cruelly twisting and pulling them. Her breath became heavy and shallow as tears leaked from her eyes; moisture seeped between her thighs as her body betrayed her.

“God!” she thought to herself, “How does he know, how can he know?”

The torment continued until her hand, almost involuntarily, came up to try to push him away. As soon as she did it she knew she would regret it. Like a flash of lightning, his hand was on her throat, pulling her to her feet. He gazed intently into her tear-filled eyes then kissed her. His teeth savaged her swollen lips, his tongue wickedly fucked the cavity of her mouth and licked at the opening of her throat. Her knees buckled as he pushed her hard against the wall.

“Whose are you?” he hissed through clenched teeth.

“I am yours, Master; yours alone.” She whispered, her eyes glistening with tears, her body trembling with mingled fear and anticipation.

“Turn around” he growled as he picked up three leather straps.

After  hesitating a moment, she began to turn. Impatiently he grasped her arm and spun her around toward the wall and pushed her against it. Her face and shoulders were crushed against the cold plaster as he pulled her arms back with her forearms overlapped. Quickly he wrapped the straps around her wrists and arms to tightly bind them together.

Dread welled up within her, yet she was becoming more aroused. Her cunt swelled and opened like a flower. Slick juices dripped from her engorged lips and trickled down her inner thighs. Her breath was shallow and quick; her heart felt as if it would come up out of her throat and burst. Tears streamed uncontrolled down her mascara-stained cheeks and her breasts shook with great, deep sobs.

Suddenly he took her by the hair and dragged her to the bed, dumping her unceremoniously on her back. Her shoulders and arms ached beneath her as she twisted and writhed trying to ease the discomfort. Working quickly he bent her leg back until the heel pressed against her thigh. A few coils of rope wrapped tightly secured her leg in this position. Quickly he bound the other leg in the same fashion, then stepped back to admire his handiwork.

Exhausted by her struggle and overcome with emotion, she lay there quietly. Resigned to her fate, she waited as he began to undress.

He watched her mottled green eyes as he grasped the tail of his shirt and pulled it up over his head then dropped in on the floor. She bit her bottom lip, watching as he stood bare-chested in front of her and released the heavy bronze buckle of his western style belt. She whimpered as he began to pull, and the broad ostrich leather band slipped through the blue denim loops at the waist of his jeans. As the tip cleared each loop she whimpered softly. When the belt pulled free and hung from his hand she closed her eyes, praying that he wouldn’t but hoping that he would.

He stepped closer as he folded the belt double, his eyes locked with hers.

“Oh God, no!” she sobbed.

His eyes pierced her soul as the first stroke landed, leaving a streak of red diagonally across her left inner thigh. “Thwack”  A flick of his wrist and the broad leather strap cut across the pale flesh of the opposite thigh. “Thwack” Soon she lost track as she writhed and twisted in her vain attempts to escape or mitigate the onslaught. her legs were raw and inflamed, laced with crimson streaks and tender pink stripes where the cruel leather left its mark.

“Whose are you?” He growled as he held the belt.

“Oh God, Master! I am yours, yours!” She sobbed.

He dropped the belt and quickly stepped out of his jeans, kicking them away and climbing up onto the bed. His left hand slowly stroked his erect cock as a finger of his right hand teased her cunt and slipped deep inside. Stroking in and out, he soon had her shaking, and writhing on the cusp of release.

Shuffling closer, he placed the engorged tip of his cock at the swollen, weeping gash of her womanhood. Leaning forward he watched as the purple head disappeared in her wanton folds.

He grasped her bound legs and pulled her to himself as he thrust his hips, impaling her to her core on his rampant cock. She shrieked and arched her back as he filled and stretched her. Every muscles and bone in her body ached but all she could feel was his thick phallus invading her very soul, breaking her resistance and claiming her as his own.

“Mine!” he grunted with each hard thrust. “Mine!… Mine!… Mine!”

“Oh God, yes!” she sobbed “I am yours, all yours, only yours.”

“Cum, cum now” he hissed as his body began to tremble.

His cock throbbed and pulsed as he thrust deep and felt her clench around his cock. Sweat beaded on his brow and his eyes locked with hers.

A blood curdling shriek cut the air as her body convulsed and her juices gushed around the thick shaft of his cock, soaking his balls and drenching the bed beneath her.

He grunted and shuddered as his seed flooded her womb to complete the conquest.

Waiting

The darkness closed in on her in the brightly lit room. The black silk band across her eyes darkened with the wetness of
her tears. Her bound hands trembled at her back and moisture leaked between her legs as she strained to hear… nothing.

“Wait” he had said, not that she could have done anything else.

He didn’t say where he was going nor how long he would be gone and he had bound her hands and covered her eyes before he
left. It seemed an eternity though the soft chime of the clock in the hall told her it had been less than 15 minutes.

A sob of terror shook her body, then, just as she thought she could 

take
no more, she heard the door open and felt the
backs of his fingers caressing her cheek.

A great sense of relief swept across her as she heard him say: “Good girl.”

Claimed!

She knelt, trembling, as he slowly circled like a predator stalking his prey. Tears leaked from her eyes as she shut them tightly. She didn’t know which was stronger, the dread that gripped her breast as his fingertip traced her collarbone or the moist heat that burned in her loins, causing her feminine core to leak onto her widely spread thighs. She shuddered when she felt his fingers under her chin lifting her face.

“Look at me, slut!” He hissed.

reluctantly she opened her eyes, meeting the intense gaze of his smoky brown eyes.

“Whose are you?” He demanded.

“I am yours; I belong to you.” She whispered as tears streamed over her cheeks.

She swallowed hard and bit her bottom lip. The fire in her loins raged as she struggled to keep her breath even and not betray her growing arousal, but he knew. He always knew.

“What is mine?” He asked; his voice low and steady, his eyes piercing.

“All of me; everything I am and everything I have is yours, Master.” She replied.

Dropping to one knee beside her, he studied her face, his fingertips tracing the contours of her cheeks and the tip of one thumb tracing her bottom lip. Her chin quivered, her breath grew shallow and fast as her heart-felt as if it would leap from her breast. His fingers closed around her throat; a firm grip that didn’t hurt her but left no doubt that he was in control and that he intended to impose his will and that she would have no say in the matter.

She whimpered softly as his lips claimed hers with a savage kiss, his teeth crushing her lower lip, his tongue stabbing into her mouth as she moaned into his assault. Her juicing cunt clenched as his fingers
closed on a taught, brown nipple, roughly pinching and twisting the swollen bud. Almost involuntarily her knees opened wider. Still holding her throat, he
looked into her eyes and roughly pushed two fingers deep into her clenching cunt. The twin digits thrust deep and twisted back and forth as he studied her eyes.

“Mine!” He declared emphatically.

“Oh god, yes!” She moaned.

Quickly he rose to his feet, pulling her up with his thumb and forefinger lodged tightly beneath the corners of her jaw. She stumbled backward as he walked her across the room to the spanking horse. Quickly spinning her around he pushed her across the thick padded surface of the bench and snapped a short leather strap into the ring of her collar. It took just a short time for him to securely bind her hands and feet to the frame
of the bench, leaving her spread and helpless for his pleasure.

She strained against the bonds in a vain attempt to see what he was doing as he moved about the room. She heard the ominous creak of a dry hinge and instantly knew that he was in the cabinet holding the canes, crops, whips and paddles. Her heart tightened in dread and her cunt clenched
and watered. She soon felt the tickle of the soft leather tip as he drew the
crop down her spine and through the crease of her ass. Her flesh rippled in
recoil against the sensation and she tried to twist away but she was tightly bound and could not move.

“Oh, god! Master!” she cried, her voice choked with mingled fear and excitement.

He continued the teasing, flicking the leather flap across her swollen labia and drawing it through the watering cleft to torment that taut bud at the apex of her sex. Her body quaked and she moaned but he continued relentlessly until she was gasping and aching for release.

“Thwack” the first stroke caught her by surprise and she cried out in agony and tried to pull away. Her hands were balled up in tight fists as the red welt raised up across the smooth, ivory skin of her ass. “Thwack, thwack, thwack” the strokes fell hard and fast, leaving her breathless, the pain searing her flesh then fading to a warm afterglow.

She waited, her body tense against the expected stroke, until she began to relax and breathe again. She was grateful for the respite
but at the same time craving more. The fiery pain was like an aphrodisiac. Everything within her cried out for it to stop but when it did she ached for more. Just as she began to think he was finished the limber rod of the crop struck again: “thwack, thwack, thwack, thwack.” The crop cut across her flesh repeatedly and mercilessly, leaving a tangled web of weeping welts. She wailed and wept, her body shaking then falling still as she gave in to relentless torment.

A strange sense of euphoria began to wash over her and she felt herself almost detached from her body. It was almost as if she had become an observer and the pain began to turn to pleasure. She barely noticed when the crop fell silent and he stepped behind her and began to push his thick, swollen cock into her wet, clenching depths. His hands gripped her hips and his raging manhood plunged repeatedly into her womanly core. Her hot channel gripped and milked his thrusting cock as he took her and claimed her again and again.

She sensed his impending orgasm and began to squeeze and milk the pulsing phallus, her own release rushing over her as he emptied his life essence onto her eager womb. The flood of hot liquid spilled into her clenching channel and seeped out around his plunging shaft, mingling with her own juices to stream down her inner thighs, leaving a streak of sticky wetness.

He slumped across her, wrapped his arms around her and held
her tightly until he regained his composure. Moving quickly he released her
from the spanking horse and held her in his arms, her head cradled against his
chest. He looked into her eyes and kissed her hungrily then held her close
until they had both recovered.

Winding his fingers into her hair, he firmly lowered her
to her knees at his feet. He leaned over her and pulled her hands back, cuffing them securely. She looked up at him, unsure of his intentions, but trusting him. He pulled her hair back, combing it with his fingers until it hung from
his hand in a thick skein. He wound a short length of silk cord and tied it securely to form a ponytail as he held her gaze. Her breath caught in her throat and a whimper escaped her mouth as he opened a nearby drawer and took out a long, curved knife. She felt the cold steel against the back of her neck as his fist tightened around the bound skein of hair.

“A woman’s glory is her hair,” he said quietly, “But a slave’s glory is her Master.”

With that he swiftly pulled the knife upward, slicing through the bundle of hair close to her scalp. The hair came away in his hand and he held it up with a smile of satisfaction. She was his, collared, bound, used and shorn; she was indeed his and would always be.

Death of a Relationship

It is not something that I’ve advertised or made anything of, but I have had two submissives under collar for more than a year. Most of my readers know and some follow my beloved Grace, “Wolfs_Grace” or “Lupobellezza.”. My relationship with the other was not as well known, though it was not a secret by any means.

In respect for her and her privacy I won’t mention her name nor will I go into the details of why I ultimately released her. Suffice it to say that it was a difficult thing for me to do and left me with a hollow feeling afterward. I also need to say that it was her request to be released though I’m pretty sure it isn’t what she really wanted. After reading her note I gave it some thought and considered the events of recent weeks and made the difficult decision to grant her request without further inquiry.

I will always have a tender spot in my heart for her and I wish her nothing but the very best in her pursuits. I will miss her and I will miss the early morning hours when we normally met for daily conversation. I know she is struggling to find her legs right now and it makes me ache to think of the pain she’s feeling, but it’s time for her to move on to the next step of her journey, whatever that might be. I will be a quiet spectator, watching her from a distance, smiling at her successes and quietly sharing her sadness at her setbacks.

Godspeed Fair Lady, Travel Well.

Stare Down

“EKG Stat!” the desk clerk barked over his shoulder as he took my information.

I had spent the previous several hours alternating between sitting in my chair gasping for breath and lying down trying to sleep only to feel like I was drowning in my own juices. Finally I gave the word and we hustled off to the emergency room.

The evening is a blur of events that I am still trying to unravel. After giving my name, address and telephone number I was hurried into the back room where a bed and a much-needed oxygen tank awaited me. The technician hooked me up to the machine and ran the program. The ER doctor came back and looked at the results and said “It’s not a heart attack” and then ordered more tests.

Let me stop at this point and say that this doctor, I don’t remember his name, was a breath of fresh air. He sat and chatted with me in his soft southern accent. After explaining my apprehension at being uninsured he said “Don’t worry about that.” He added, “I just like helping folks and I don’t care whether you pay me or not.” I could picture myself at a backyard barbecue drinking beer and chatting with him as I would with anyone else. He was very down-to-earth and had none of the professional arrogance that I often see in doctors.

After ruling out a number of respiratory conditions, including pneumonia and Valley Fever, the doctor informed me that my condition was “Congestive Heart Failure.” I lay in the bed in stunned silence as I took in the information. I knew that the diagnosis fit my symptoms and the thought had already crossed my mind in the previous few days leading up to that fateful night, but to hear it with such finality was sobering to say the least. It isn’t every day that one stares his own mortality in the face. I was determined that I would not be the ftrst to blink.

The next three days were a whirlwind of doctors, tests, medications and procedures as they stabilized me and began to bring me back to a better state. Three days, especially the long, lonely nights, are a long time to be alone with ones thoughts. The outpouring of love and support from friends and family, literally all over the world, was heart-warming and uplifting.

I realized that if a man has those around him who love him then he has everything. If he doesn’t have that then he has nothing. I may not be a wealthy man, I may be uninsured and have to deal with large medical bills, but I am rich. I am richer than an Arabian prince; I am wealthier than any capitalist.  I have wealth that cannot be taken away by a stock market crash or bank failure, or an unexpected illness. I am a lucky and wealthy man in all the ways that really count.

I am home now, diligently following my prescribed regimen and regaining my strength. I am already feeling better than I have in several weeks and I look forward to a return to full productivity. I will always have to swallow a fistful of pills twice a day and I’ll probably always have a little tightness in my chest when I breath deep, but I intend to live my life to the fullest as I take every day that I am given with gratitude and wonder.

In the end, mortality will win; it always does, but I intend to cheat him of any satisfaction in the process. I will not live my life in fear of death and I will not let the certainty of my own eventual demise rob me of the joy of life. My decisions about my life will be made with emphasis on quality of life and fullness of life rather than a slavish devotion to extending it at any cost.

This hasn’t been my usual fare and I appreciate the indulgence of my readers. My wish of you is that you all live your lives with joy, pleasure and love and that you enjoy good health as you are doing it. I intend to do the same to the best of my ability.

One Year

In Reply to Wolfs_Grace

Has it been a year only? It seems as if it was just yesterday that you were knelt at my feet, begging the favor of my collar. I seemed hesitant, reluctant, but what you didn’t know was that my heart was pounding in my throat and my senses were reeling. Did I want you? Oh God! I wanted you more than anything!

I was simply trying to “play it cool,” keep the upper hand by not appearing too eager. I was trying to be responsible and cautious too; not wanting to rush into something without both of us having looked at it with a clear eye and honest examination of our hearts.

There was so much you didn’t know about me and likewise that I didn’t know about you. Oh, I knew that I loved you and wanted you as I loved and watched for you for the previous eleven years. You were a presence in my heart from the day I first kissed you in that dusty parking lot. Your face, and your soft, moss-green eyes were ever before me as I went through my life wondering if our paths would ever again cross.

I offered you a collar of consideration and you were crestfallen but brave as I recounted every possible thing that could bring you down, hurt you and break your heart. I was deliberately painting the bleakest picture that I could and you eagerly accepted everything and pledged your unending love and undieing devotion.  Cornered, beaten and checkmated I gave you my collar and my pledge to lead you, to teach you, to take you and make you mine. I have, to the best of my ability, kept that pledge.

The path hasn’t always been easy and we have both struggled mightily at times, but here we are, a year later and the bond between us is stronger than ever and my determination to take you, hold you and keep you grows stronger with each passing day.

My kajira, my beautiful pleasure slave, the shadow of my heart, mirroring every beat, you are mine; you will always be mine. You are the queen of my heart. I have taken your realm and plundered your treasures. I have put chains on your heart and you will forever serve me at my feet, by my side and in my bed.

Yes, my beautiful kajira, you belong to me.