I watched her intently from the moment she entered the room. She was beautiful. She was sexy. She was arousing. There was just one small problem. She wasn't with me.

She had arrived with another guy. He wasn't anyone I recognized, and she certainly wasn't anyone who had been at one of the club functions before. I would have remembered her. Since I was working that night as a Dungeon Master for the play area at the monthly party, I introduced himself and promptly came to the conclusion that the guy she was with was a putz.

His handshake was like a limp dishrag. He wouldn't or couldn't make eye contact. I asked who had been their contact into the event and the guy was evasive. All he seemed to want to talk about was his experience and training as a dominant and a Master. It didn't take me long to know that if I didn't take my leave, I would say something that would offend someone, and things would probably go bad. I backed away quickly and left them to themselves, but I could not take my eyes from her.

She was tall. The fact that he was only about 5'6" made her seem all that much taller, especially with the 5" heels she was wearing. I judged her to be in her late 30's. She was striking. Long blond hair. Long legs. Full breasts and a marvelous round bottom. Did I mention that I am a connoisseur of behinds?

She was wearing a short, ruffled skirt that just barely covered her quite wonderful ass. She wore stockings with the heels and the garters were in full view. I had not yet determined if she was wearing panties, but that was high on my priority list. She wore a leather bondage corset that was all black leather, straps and buckles. I could see that it was laced quite tightly. It was a good thing that it was laced that tight because I was convinced that was the only reason it managed to contain her full bosom. It seemed to defy the laws of nature. If she sneezed or bent over, I was sure it would fail. I was tempted to go and find a pepper shaker and waft a bit in her direction just to test my theory.

I managed to stay just in ear shot of them without looking like a stalker. It wasn't too hard. He was totally oblivious to anything around him that wasn't directly associated with what he was doing or saying. He was still yammering away to anyone who would listen. It was tiring, but I wanted to find out as much about her as possible. It soon became obvious that I wasn't going to learn much from him as his favorite, and apparently only subject, was himself.

All the time I spent shadowing them around the room I never heard her say more than one or two words. She followed him obediently, responding when he spoke to her, in monosyllables. She would not respond to anyone else, and she kept her eyes straight ahead and focused somewhere in the distance. I was about convinced she was on drugs or had some other impediment.

I soon got distracted as someone asked me a question that required me to take my attention away from that physics defying bosom and that perfectly delicious ass. I was about to return to my quest in search of an answer to the panty question when I had to go and deal with a problem in the play area. When I returned, they had seemingly disappeared.

I wandered around the perimeter of the large play area where I could see both the center of the room and the tables scattered along the periphery of the play space. I was on a mission, but it kept getting interrupted as friends stopped me to chat or I had to deal with various other questions and problems. I was in the middle of dealing with a dispute over the use of a bench, when I heard it.

It was a piercing scream. Understand that hearing screams at one of our events was not unusual. Such sounds usually barely registered with me. This one was different. It was not a scream of pleasure. It was a scream of intense pain. I immediately turned to locate the sound and saw a large group of people clustered around an area off to one side. I hurried across and shouldered my way through the crowd.

Once I found the center of the group, I was met with my old friend the putz. He had her restrained to a frame, bent almost double with her legs secured and spread wide. Her wrists were secured near the floor. The marvelously full bottom was turned upward and in full view. I noted that she was not wearing panties. Mission accomplished.

I also noticed that he was holding a 4 ft signal whip. That would explain the deep cut and welt that ran diagonally across her ass from high on the right side to low on the left side. It was severe enough that blood had already run far enough down the back of her thigh that it was staining her stocking. I also noted that she was sobbing almost uncontrollably. The fact that he had drawn blood with the first contact of the whip told me that he was not at all experienced with the signal whip. I looked down at her face and saw eyes filled with fear.

As I had approached from slightly behind him, he did not see me step closer. As he raised the signal whip and prepared to deliver another blow, I simply gripped the tail of the whip and held it. He pulled up sharply when the whip failed to come forward and looked around at me somewhat perplexed.

I smiled.

He turned and with an indignant and disdainful tone of voice asked me just what the hell I thought I was doing interfering between a Master and his slave.

I quietly answered that I was the Dungeon Master at this function and that I needed to assure myself that everything was ok here, that everything was happening in a consensual and safe fashion and when I was satisfied, the scene could continue.

He looked at me with what I considered a look that should kill. It came more as a look that might frighten my old grandmother. He really did not do intimidation very well. What it did more than anything was make me want to laugh. He pulled the whip again. I held it tightly and, with a jerk, pulled it from his hand and coiled it quickly. By now the crowd was much larger. We were suddenly the center of attention.

He went ballistic. He informed me that I was out of line, that he was the owner of this slave and that he would kick my ass if I interfered any further. I exercised an amazing amount of self-restraint. I took a deep breath and quietly informed him that no one would be doing any ass kicking and that while he may be the owner of said slave, she also had a say in what was going on as we held to a strict rule of consensual play with safe words.

He promptly took a step toward me, and I simply gave him my "you are about to die" look and he pulled up sharply. Apparently, my intimidation skills were on point. It may have been the look. It might also have been the two other Dungeon Masters who promptly showed up behind me, both much bigger and much younger than me.

I stepped around him and knelt so that I was close to her head. The corset was still managing to contain that bosom. Well, that answers that question. There are some things that science just can't explain. I leaned in and asked her for her safe word. She just looked at me. I asked her again if she had a safe word. She shook her head slightly. I looked in her eyes and thought I saw just a hint of the damsel in distress look which of course immediately put me in shining knight mode.

I stood and turned back to the putz. I told him that he had broken the group rules. His slave admitted that she did not have a safe word. I asked if it was true and watched as he shuffled his feet, looking down. I asked again a bit more forcefully. He muttered no.

I sighed. I told him he was done, and he would leave the building. He looked at me and tried to look intimidating again. Practice was not helping him. This time I did chuckle a bit and I think he started to speak but thought better of it when my other two compadres stepped up beside him. My attention returned to the damsel in distress. I looked at that gorgeous behind and was really depressed that I had to take her loose and let that short skirt cover that most alluring view. Despite my own wishes, I turned and released her wrists and then her ankles. I helped her stand and then I turned her to look into her eyes. She met my gaze steadily, without looking away and without flinching.

I asked her if she wanted to leave with the putz. She glanced at him and shook her head. I asked if they were married. She shook her head no again. I asked again if she was sure she wanted to stay. She nodded.

I turned to him and simply told him he could leave. He sputtered and blustered. She was his property. She was his slave. She would go with him! I let him carry on for a few minutes then leaned in close and spoke to him quietly enough that no one else could hear. I told him quite plainly that it wasn't his decision and that if he made a scene I would have him trespassed and the two other men who were standing beside him, in their official capacity as local police officers, would be required to take his sorry ass to jail. His eyes got big, and he backed up a step. He turned immediately and made a beeline for the door.

One of my muscular friends asked me what I said to the guy. I grinned as I told my friends that I had explained to the putz that the two of you were cops. My friend laughed. The fact that he was a ballet teacher made it that much funnier.

I turned back to her. She was standing quietly. I looked about the room and motioned to one of the submissives who I knew. She came forward. I asked her to take this woman to the powder room, get the first aid kit and tend to the welt. She nodded and they left.

I turned around, to find that the crowd had dispersed, the good stuff now over. It is funny how the imminent possibility of someone getting punched was of so much interest. I went to the bar and ordered my usual, an unsweet iced tea. I was thirsty. Being assertive was hard work. I drank the entire glass and then asked for another. This one I sipped. I felt a touch on my shoulder.

I turned to find her standing behind me. I asked if she was ok, and she nodded. I looked at her and asked if she could talk? She smiled and then I heard the voice. Captivating. She told me yes, she could talk. I began to question her about the putz, and she told me the story of their meeting and her subsequent decision to serve as his slave. That is another story for another time. Suffice it to say, she realized she had made a mistake early into the relationship but had maneuvered herself into an untenable situation. Now she was without prospects. She had her ID and a few personal effects, but nothing else. She had no money. she had no place to go and no way to get there. She suddenly burst into tears. That only served to put a bright sheen on my knightly armor.

I stepped forward and her arms went around me as I pulled her close. I tut-tutted to her, told her it would be alright and that we would find her a place to stay until she got back on her feet. She looked up at me with those eyes. Jesus, what eyes. Did I tell you that I am a sucker for eyes like that? I was still cognizant enough to hear her say thank you.

I started looking around for the submissive who had tended to her earlier. I saw her, motioned again and she came over. I asked if she could take in a stray for a few days and she agreed. I turned to our now wayward sub and realized I didn't know her name. There wasn't much else I didn't know about her based on what I had seen earlier. She smiled and said "Clarisse."

I nodded and told her my friend Sara would take her home and she could stay there for a few days. She looked at me with those eyes. Christ what eyes. I felt as if I was going to fall into them and drown.

She asked if I would check on her tomorrow and I said I would. She asked if I would come to see her, and I said I would. She asked if I had a submissive and I said, no I don't. She asked if I lived alone, and I said I did. She asked if she could just come home with me, and I said OK. Now understand. I don't just let unknown women talk themselves into my home and my life without question. On the other hand, who was I to turn down such a request. It may have been that knight in shining armor thing, or it may have been that by now I was seriously in lust.

To be honest, if she had asked me to jump off the golden gate bridge, had wiggled that ass at me and then batted those eyes, I probably would have jumped.

To make a long story a little shorter, she did go home with me. That was 10 years ago. I haven't been away from her for a single day in all that time.

You know. I should look that putz up and tell him Thank you for being a putz. If he wasn't, I wouldn't have met the best part of my life.