To Make You Feel My Love

She only had one night. One night that would have to last her a lifetime and she knew that the risk was worth it. He had agreed to meet her; but it was for just one night.

This one night would be the first and only time she would see and serve the man that she loved and adored; the man that owned her; mind, body, heart and soul. She knew that in the morning he would kiss her goodbye forever; but the she would have the one thing she dreamed of, the one thing that would get her through the rest of her life; she would have had that one precious night with her Master.

Bella had longed dreamed of being in the airport when he came back from Iraq. She dreamed of the day that he would be home safe and seeing the love of her life; the reason for her existence; and how her heart would explode with love as he walked down that runway. He was finally coming home, home to take what belonged to him, what he owned; her.

But much to her sadness; that moment was not to be hers, but someone else's. But tonight, he would meet her here at the bend of the Mississippi. She thought and fretted over every meticulous detail. Since this was her only chance and it would all be but a bittersweet memory after the sun rose; she wanted it to be in the location she loved as much as she did her Master. Everything had to be perfect; a snapshot in time to last forever.

She busied herself with the final preparations. Fruit, wine and cheese, black skirt, sheer white blouse, stockings and fuck-me shoes. Candles for light; candles for play, silk cords for the curtains; silk cords for her breast, she made sure that every detail was taken care. All of this was done out of love for him.

He had endured so much during his assignment overseas and she was so proud of him she thought her heart would burst. Continuing the relationship that they had begun took its toll on them both at times; especially training her at such a great distance. She was a tough one at times, and she is sure he pulled out most of his hair because of her. Stubborn and prideful; that was his bella, but submissive to the core when it came to him.

She checked everything one more time. It was now or never. She smoothed the hem of her much too short skirt, she was sure it didn't cover the lace tops of her stockings. Her black lace bra showed through the thin white material of her blouse. As she tried to gather herself she could feel the moisture forming between her legs and it wasn't because it was a hot New Orleans night even though it was. It was because of him. She reapplied the Mac Red lipstick, and looked through her long mascara covered lashes at the reflection in the mirror. This is where the rubber meets the road, she thought to herself.

She gathered her purse and headed out to meet him at the "Krazy Korner" bar. As she turned on St. Peter's from Royal, she swore by the rumbling inside her head and heart that Katrina was making an encore appearance just for her anticipation and private viewing pleasure. She clenched and unclenched her hands as she strode as quickly as she could past the entrance to Pat O's. The high black stilettos made this a difficult task in the broken and uneven sidewalk.

Her breathing became more rapid as she neared the intersection and the bar. She still had ten minutes. Why did she leave so early? She was so nervous regarding her appearance and the apprehension that her Master would find something not to his liking.

She turned back and almost knocked over some revelers in the process. She needed a huge dose of courage; she moved as quickly as she could into the side entrance of Pat's. She went to the left bar as she knew it would be the least crowded of all of them. As she entered the fan caught the hem of her already too short skirt and blew it up to the delight of the three drunken conventioneers. She grabbed the hem and strode purposefully to the bar where the familiar bartender recognized her and poured a Hurricane for her before she could even order. She looked at him and said "Make it a double Todd". He was surprised at her boldness but even more surprised at the attire she wore. He could see her nipples through the sheer shirt and even sheerer lace bra. Her buds were growing both from the cool fan breeze and the attention she knew he afforded her. The moisture between her legs was almost dripping onto the leather barstool. With his best New Orleans drawl, he said "Cheri'; you look good enough to eat tonight." Shivers went down her spine and her head felt as though it would explode. She blushed from head to toe; half from the powerful drink; half from embarrassment. She also knew that this little scene would please her Master immensely.

Before she could respond she looked up at the clock. "Oh shit!" she was afraid she would be late. It was almost 7:00. She threw a $10 bill on the bar and said she had to go. He called out to her, but she couldn't hear anything but the pounding of her heart.

She entered Krazy Korner at 7:00 on the dot. It was early but the crowd was already thick; she knew it would be, it was Friday night; a big sports weekend and it was a record weekend for conventions since Katrina.

She looked everywhere for him; to the left to the right, front to back. Oh god she thought; I am too late. He changed his mind; he saw me and left; she had never felt so alone in such a large crowd. Her eyes misted over with tears and her shoulders fell. Her lip was quivering trying to fight back the tears and the sob that rose in her throat.

Then without warning, she calmed. She could sense him, she knew he was there behind her. He reached up around her waist and pulled her toward him. He chuckled as he felt her body shake. It was if they were totally alone. He buried his head in the sweet peach smelling mass of hair she had grown just for him. He had told her Master liked long hair and she being the subservient slave she was, she did her best to always follow her Masters commands. The peach scent permeated every pore of her body, he moved her hair to the side to slowly lick up her neck. She sighed and moaned all at the same time. She went to raise her left arm up to hold him around his neck, but he grabbed it with his left hand and spun it to her back. She automatically threw her breast out for him and stood looking straight ahead. He was in fact holding her in bondage right there in the middle of the dance floor with everyone watching and waiting for his next move. He never said a word but went straight to his work. He would test his slut in her familiar surroundings and appraise the outcome. He slowly moved a leg in between hers as if dancing. All the while, her skirt rode up her legs. She knew he was exposing her to the group of men. She blushed fiercely at his bold moves but did not dare pull away or complain. She took a deep breath and reminded herself that he would never hurt her and by damn no one else would either. She liked the last part.

They continued "their" dance to the delight of the crowd. She was trying to get into it too. She was literally riding his leg with her back to him. His chest muscles felt so good against her almost naked skin (sheer material doesn't count for much) His hands continued their wandering adventure, they slowly crawled up to the first button above the black skirt band and he quickly unbuttoned it without her knowledge, the proceeded to undo the next one, then the next. She was so engrossed with the fact that he was there; he was touching her; and by god, he was dancing with her.

The music had stopped long before they did. She still had yet to see her Master full-faced; she only had stolen side glances because of his stance during the little strip-tease dance in which Bella wasn't aware that she was the star attraction. People were clapping and offering them drinks. She turned to look up her Master to find out what the commotion was about. He laughed and pointed to her shirt. It was completely hanging open and her nipples were peaking out over the lace of her sexy bra. To add to her shame, her skirt was unzipped and just riding on the lowest part of hips.

Her Master grabbed her chin in his hand and shot her a look making her understand that she was not to try and cover up now; he instead raised his eyebrow and motioned toward the door.

Before they moved from the spot, he re-zipped her skirt, but chose to let the blouse ride open. They left the bar hand in hand. His over top of hers as it should be. She slowed for a moment and he was almost dragging her toward the A & P. She stopped still holding on and looked up at the most handsome man alive. He was beautiful in her eyes.

She lowered her gaze and said "Welcome home Master". She reached up and kissed him on the cheek not daring yet to touch his lips. He smiled down and nodded but didn't say a word. She knew that he wanted her to take him "home" for the night.

She turned pulling him in the direction of the house she had borrowed from a couple she knew in the lifestyle for the night.

Original gas lights flickered and lit the entrance to the row house. As they entered through the original impressive door complete with skeleton key, the richly appointed living room greeted them. She had been to the market before his arrival, and fresh fruit, breads, cheeses and sausage waited in the kitchen to feed the hunger.

Ferns and flowers overflowed the second story wrought iron balcony that opened to the bedroom rich with red satins embroidered with fine gold threads. There was a strong breeze blowing in from the river tonight accompanied by a sweet smell of confederate jasmine in the air. The sounds from nearby Bourbon Street filled the space with feeling of excitement and pleasure; mystic and intrigue.

Every fiber of her being was alive. The combination of jasmine, his masculine scent and his closeness was intoxicating. She had never been so nervous in all her life.

He had trained her to be his and she knew her role. Oh god that word, "role". If this was an act in a play; this was their opening and closing night. Her heart pounded in her ears and her stomach knotted. She closed her eyes and tried to regain her senses when she felt a hand on her shoulder.

He knew her well. He was trying to settle her, to focus her. He needed her in her subservient role for him tonight. He owned her for the night; she belonged to him and he would settle for no less than the slut he trained. She was shaking.

He moved his hand from her shoulder, up her neck to softly brush her face, then to run his fingers in her hair. He again smiled at the length she had grown it for him. He moved in closer behind her, sighed and buried his face in her neck. He whispered his first words to her of the night "Bella" and firmly pulled her closer to him by her hair.

His hands roamed and groped freely over her shaking form. She felt an electrical shock with each touch. He cupped his hand over his cunt forcing her up off the ground standing on her toes. His words were husky and stern; "You are mine". She melted against him.

He spun her around in one swift movement, never releasing her hair and ground his mouth on hers, raping it with his tongue; she submitted willing; her hunger taking all that he had to give. She was trembling and floating all at the same time.

He wanted her; he wanted her to feel his love and lust. He wanted her right then and right there. But he wanted to control the situation and not give way to wanton passion. He growled as he ripped at her clothing. "Slut, you know the rules, you are not to be clothed when alone with me." She shuttered and stood back to finish undoing the black skirt that she had been instructed to wear. It fell to the floor. She stepped out and gathered it to fold it and lay it on the table. Next she removed was what was left of her white sheer shirt. The buttons that were left were scattered on the floor from his forceful grasp. First one shoulder than the other came off. It was also folded and added to the pile.

Her eyes glued to the floor, she let fall first one strap of the lacey black bra then the other. He stopped her before she finished. He wanted her to present herself to him clad only in her lace bra, matching garter belt and thong, the silk seamed stockings that encased her legs and those killer black stiletto heels. She entwined her fingers behind her head and slowly raised it to look straight ahead daring not to blink. She slowly turned for her Master's inspection of his property. She was afraid to breathe for fear of disappointing him.

As she turned her back to him, she felt the first of many smacks to her ass. A gasp escaped her lips as the pain shot straight to pleasure in her pussy. She could feel the moisture forming between her legs. Her body betraying her will.

He smiled as he saw her face admonish herself and that willful pride fight with her submissive core. He bent her over making her grab her ankles. Taking out his pocket knife, he cut the thong off from her body. He ran his hand between her legs lingering over her clit. He paused long enough to elicit a small groan from her. At that he inserted one, then two fingers into her wet cunt, slowly pulling them in and out. Without warning he inserted one of his juice covered fingers into her ass causing her to jump out of position. He reared back and let his free hand swiftly find her ass cheek. She yelped and quickly knew of her infraction, again rewrapping her ankles with her shaking hands. He marveled at the sight of his handprint on her bottom and the fact that she immediately went back into position for more of the same.

He was pleased with her even if he would not share that information. By the looks of everything and her attention to detail, he knew that he truly owned her soul. He wanted to take her in his arms and tell her how he felt, the he was proud of her, that he did in fact love her, but he couldn't, not yet.

He continued fucking her ass and her cunt with his fingers. She moaned softly "Master, Master." He wanted to take her right there and fuck her hard. He abruptly stopped, and said "Bella, are you mine?" She answered softly, "Yes Master". He said "I think my love; it is time we go to the room." She beamed. She felt the tears caress her face. She truly loved this man with all she is. The next tears fell for the realization that they only had this one night.

She turned knelling in front of him. She asked if he would like to take the food tray to the room. He answered yes and she asked permission to retrieve it and take it up the stairs. Permission granted, she slowly stood and walked over to the table. She purposely bent forward giving him a clear view of her ass and the juices he brought forward glistening on her legs.

She took the tray, nodded with eyes downcast, and preceded up the sweeping staircase to the second floor Master Suite. Her Master following close behind but not too close that he couldn't see her ass sway as she climbed the stairs.

She came to the large double doors and opened them in one swift motion revealing the grand den for their love making and play. His eyes grew wide and he couldn't control the surprise on is face. She smiled as he surveyed the room. In one corner of the room, a mahogany St. Andrews cross to match the massive four-poster bed with ironed, cotton sheets laid waiting for them. Gold silk cords held back the rich satin bed curtains inviting them in to explore and share their dreams.

Next to the leather spanking bench on the other side of the room sat a large Bombay chest filled with toys for her Master's enjoyment. On top of the chest a silver tray filled with candles of various shapes, sizes and colors along with a bottle of Jack.

On the back of the massive closet door waited floggers, crops and whips, all for the Master's choosing and enjoyment.

Between the sheer covered balcony doors sits a shelf with the finest of oils and lubes. In the center of the room a fine oriental rug of deep greens, blues, gold and reds. Concealed in the tray ceiling, a hoist chain awaits the Master's slave.

The large bathroom has a crystal chandelier over the massive, jetted tub which sits in the middle of the floor. Candles, shower gels and oils adorn the steps to the tub. The glass shower is oversized with at least ten spray heads. Both her and her Master can shower with enough room for her to bath him and tend to his needs. A satin covered chaise is in one corner; a silver champagne server sits at its side with a bottle of the finest wine chilling.

She stands at the door and waits for her Master to enter. She follows him in and sets the food tray on the table next to the massive red velvet chair that looks like his throne. She prepares the Jack and Soda and walks over to him. Beside the chair on the floor sits a large satin cushion.

She waits for his approval. She nods and walks over to the bed. Waiting there is a long sterling tray. Her collar is centered on it and on either side, her cuffs are placed. She hesitates for a moment, touching and gazing lovingly at the collar and realizing how much it means to her. If any symbol could depict her love and devotion to this man; this was it. Her eyes mist over as the thoughts of the months they spent together come flashing across her mind. Her memories are broken by the sound of her Master's low powerful voice, "Bella, come to me."

Carefully she steadies herself, picking up the tray and hoping he will not notice the tears that have again filled her eyes. She walks over and kneels on the pillow before him. With her head lowered, she offers up her collar and cuffs. Seconds seem like hours as he studies her and the tray. She is desperately trying to control the trembling of her lips and her body. He takes the collar from the tray and holds it up carefully studying both her and it. One eyebrow is raised and a glare is forming on his face. He thinks of times she fought him; the times she tried to run; the times she fought herself.

She is dying inside. This is the defining moment. He hasn't put the collar on her as she expected. He does not look pleased. She swallows hard and the tears flow freely now from her eyes. She doesn't break her position but knows she has lost her chance. He lets her run with her thoughts for a moment before he speaks. "Bella" her head snaps up to look straight ahead. You grab her chin in your strong hand. "You broke another rule" as you pull her chin forward. Startled, she looks are you directly in the eye confused. "Master?" she squeaks out. "That is two and we haven't even started" You calmly say. "First the clothing; now the second." "Both of which you will be punished for." "You are always to wear my collar in my presence." "That collar is worn out of your devotion and respect to me and in my ownership of you." "You displease me slut." She falls to place her head on your feet. She sobs openly and begs for your forgiveness.

As she is begging at your feet, she is sobbing uncontrollably now and her heart is breaking. She says to herself, "Oh God, what have I done?" I didn't know if he would want to put my collar on me or have me already wearing it. Oh God please, if he will forgive me and not leave me now, I will do whatever it takes to please my Master. I will surely die if he walks out on me right now."

Your heart is straining. You don't want things to be happening this way. You lean up in your chair; reach for her hair to slowly raise her up to you. You don't say a word and pull her hair up out of the way. Her tearstained face looks up at you slowly. You nod your head and she reaches up to hold her hair for you. You take the collar and place it around her neck locking it into place. You feel the tension in her shoulders release, and the reprieve wash over her when she hears the small padlock click. You grab the collar by the ring and pull her to you. You kiss her with such passion her knees buckle under her. This woman does belong to you. You own her, even if for one night.