Swallow Ch. 05

swallow ‘s Return

(c) 1997, 2015 LordFalco

Note: swallow’s Return comes 18 years after Chapter 1, contains flashbacks, and in intended to be the closing chapter of the swallow series.

***

Ring, ring, ring.

Damn phone. I was busy wrestling my sofa into the rental truck. After 25 years, the farm was for sale, a requirement of a marriage that did not endure until death do us part. I had begun packing up all my possessions and memories into storage.

Since the obligation to sell, it was a whirlwind of activities with the real estate agent. Paperwork, cleaning, repainting, staging. “We need the house and property prepared for what the BUYERS want to see, not what YOU want your home to be,” the agent had chided me, when she surveyed my eclectic personal décor.

Ring, ring, ring.

So everything that made my home mine – my wall-to-wall bookcases, my computers, my artwork, the kitchen, the bedroom – had to be packed and the house made as empty yet inviting as possible. Weekend after weekend, I suffered through strangers traipsing through open houses, and their hushed and critical comments amongst themselves on how they would redecorate or renovate my house.

I sighed and pushed the sofa into place in the truck. The call was probably yet another showing. The drill for showings was simple: clean the house, and vacate the premises while strangers and their agents were allowed to look, inspect, poke and prod to their delight.

Ring, ring, ring.

It was a showing. “We’ve got a buyer that wants to see the house and property this afternoon at 1:00 pm,” the real estate agent said. “But the buyer does want you there so you can answer questions.”

I replied with as little sarcasm as I could muster, “Sure thing. I don’t have anything else to do on a sunny Saturday afternoon.”

“And I hope you’ve managed to do more cleaning.” It continued to be a sore spot between the agent and me, because apparently, the property was not selling due to my slow pace of cleaning.

“I’m working on it,” I managed to reply through gritted teeth, before I hung up.

***

I was busy typing up a work report while finishing my lunch, when I heard a car drive up. I glanced up at the wall clock. 12:58 pm. At least this buyer was on schedule, I thought. More than once, the people were early or late, sometimes by several hours. I was determined to finish my sentence before the door knock could beckon me, so I plowed on with the report. The sentence turned into three sentences, then a paragraph, then an entire section. I heard no knocking, not even steps onto the porch.

That was strange. I saved my file, and looked out the window. There was a mini-van parked under the shade of the willow tree by the barn. But no people were to be seen. I walked out onto the porch and looked around. It was quiet and still. Suddenly, there was a bang of a door. I looked up and noticed the barn door was open; a gust of wind pushed it back against the wall.

What the hell were they doing in the barn, I wondered. Rather rude, if they didn’t bother checking in with me and real estate agents knew better than that. A tinge of anger rose within me at the basic lack of respect for what was still my property and home. I stomped my way across the dusty driveway to the barn, and stuck my head through the barn door. The torrent of expletives and sharp words I had prepared to unleash on the buyers or real estate agent never made it past my throat.

A lone female figure knelt on a carefully laid out horse blanket in the middle of the barn floor. Her milky white skin was dusted with freckles that everywhere, but especially on her neck and shoulders. The shoulder length hair was sun kissed to almost a rusty blonde, but one could tell she was really a red-head.

Could it be…?

I stepped inside the barn, the heel of my boots clacking against the concrete threshold. Her back tensed and she straightened her posture even more. I took slow measured steps towards the figure until I stood behind her. Her well rounded buttocks sat against her heels. Her back was straight, perhaps even slightly arched so as to allow her breasts to display fully. Her knees were placed wide apart in a 90 degree V, and her hands rested palm up on her thighs. Her head was level and she looked straight ahead. I had not seen such perfect kneeling posture in a long time. 18 years to be exact.

{Flashback}

18 years.

There was something on her mind that weekend. In the close and trusting relationship that we enjoyed, it was near impossible to not know each other’s feelings and emotions. We were like open books to each other.

It had seemed like every other weekend. She drove up to the farm, and awaited me in the barn. As usual, she was nude and in the submissive kneeling position, offering herself to me.

I greeted her as I always did when she was in her position. She was wet and excited, of course. That was never a problem for her. But the tension of her muscles that I felt on her body, as I held her so intimately close to me, was different. I instantly knew there was something.

{End Flashback}

I dropped to one knee behind her. With my right forefinger, I reached out to gently stroke the top of her right ear. Her head tilted ever so slightly, but quickly snapped back to position. I touched her again, stroking the length of her ear down to her earlobe, circling it so I could hold it between finger and thumb to tug on it ever so carefully. My fingertip continued its journey, along the back of her ear and looping down along the soft nape of her neck, brushing aside hair until it sat on her shoulder. Spreading all my fingers, I resumed the journey down her back, touching that soft familiar skin with only the very tips. Her breathing had quickened and shortened, and I could see the muscles on her back reacting to my touch. As my fingers descended, I gradually removed them one at a time until only my middle finger remained. I circled her tailbone, brushed down the first inch of the valley between her ass cheeks, before leaving her body. There was a soft whoosh as she finally exhaled; she had held her breath through the entire time I had touched her back.

{Flashback}

I had cuffed her wrists and ankles, and had the collar – my collar – around her neck in the barn. But we had come inside the house as I wanted to know what was on her mind.

She walked quickly into the living room, a cup of hot green tea in both hands. She knelt down beside the soft leather chair where I sat awaiting her. “My Lord,” she said, offering me tea.

She had learnt well; between her personal eagerness to excel and no hesitation from me to mete out the necessary discipline on her lovely backside for mistakes, she perfected the art of submissive service. But I also had noticed a change today. Where she would normally kneel with knees apart, to offer me a saucy hint of her desires, she knelt with her knees together today, as a perfect serving slave would.

I accepted the offered tea. She placed her hands on her lap. “You know there are no secrets between us, my swallow,” I said.

“Yes, my Lord,” she replied in a whisper, her head looking down. I sat on my chair, while she knelt at my feet.

{End flashback}

I placed my left hand on her shoulder, and she held her breath again. But now, instead of exploring her back, my hand move over the top of her shoulder, brushed the top of her arm and I filled my hand with breast. They were perhaps just a little softer, but still an enjoyable body part that filled my hand. The nipple pressed against my thumb and I stroked it a few times. And as I remembered and expected, it elicited a quiet moan from her.

My right hand moved to her waist just above her hips. Again, a little softer, yet also a more curved. My hand wandered forward, brushing across the expanse of her stomach. Her breathing was ragged, quick short breathes between long stretches of holding it in. My hand wandered down until I felt the mound of her vulva, those fleshy lips of her womanhood so warm in the cup of my hand. I let my middle finger slide along her slit; she was wet with excitement.

{Flashback}

“I love you, my Lord,” she whispered. “And I’ve given myself to you. You have taught me so much. You have allowed me to give myself wholly to you, but you have respected and loved me absolutely in return. But now, I am torn. I…”

“You have found another.” There was a lump in my throat. Although I knew this day would come, I had hoped otherwise. Eleven years separated us by age. That, by itself, was not insurmountable. But the many expectations of reality – careers, friends, family, personal goals, life experiences – were all additional factors.

“Yes, my Lord… and no. Yes, I think have found someone. But not someone who can be like you. And as much as I like the company we work for, I feel I need to do something else. So, I am planning to move away.”

I reached down and lifted her head so I could look in her face. Her deep green eyes were wet with tears, and her lips quivered. “I have always told you that our relationship is a mutual power exchange. And that you are a submissive only for as long as you wish to serve. That you belong to me, only as long as you wish to wear my collar. As difficult as it may be for me, I release you from my service.”

And in a wholly un-submissive manner that I was willing to overlook, she burst into tears, came up into my waiting arms, buried her head in my neck, and whispered “My Lord!”

{End flashback}

Holding her like that, I pulled her close so that she was pressed against me. I leaned my face forward until my lips were against her ear and I whispered. “My swallow!”

***

“You are the last person I expected to see today,” I said. “You have moved back?”

“Yes, quite a few years ago, actually. But…”

I finished for her, as I knew what she meant. “We had our separate lives to live.”

She nodded. “Recently, though, I started thinking about you again. Well, that’s not true. I have always had you in my thoughts.”

The time we spent together burst forth from the furthest recesses of my memories. “And you’ve come back today, because you want to be mine again?”