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I felt so weakand helpless. Any resistance was only token. He was so big, strong andathletic and I so small effeminate and weak. And as if that weren'tenough, I was dressed like a little sissified, androgynous faggot.He placed his lips over mine and forced his powerful tongue down mythroat. The stubble; the masculinity of it was a little off-putting, butthe sheer helplessness of my situation and the humiliation of being soforcibly seduced by a man in front of the bemused eyes of countlessother men and women in a crowded bar was so arousingly humiliating.Shortly thereafter we left the bar with him grabbing me by the wrist. Ihad no will power. I was just following him wherever he wanted to go.He led me to a shop off Decatur Street which was a leather and fetishshop. He bought a pair of steel handcuffs, a steel chain leash and heavyleather bondage helmet with nose whole, a zip opening at the mouth andno eye holes.I was thinking about pulling out - telling him sorry, but I wasn't. Inna began to hum as she sewed the tunic in her lap. She’d told me yesterday it was for her husband, and that it was the first she’d ever made for him herself. I knew she was taking great pride in it, as she would softly hum to herself now and then as she sewed, a beautiful hum of a song I think. Although I couldn’t be sure. It was early still, and outside a window, I could see the morning mist covering the hills. Standing, I moved to the window and gazed out on the land. It really was a pretty place, if not brutal. The hills were soft and green in the mist, and even the cliffs looked soft. I stared at the cliffs, and wished. Cien I wish you were here. I closed my eyes and sighed before slowly opening them. I stared at the cliffs and saw some sort of movement. Men? I mentally shook my head. No, there was no one ever up there. But my heart still wished. It wished for Cien, and to be held in his arms once again. To be loved by him again. He’d never admit it, but sometimes I would.
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