Long Is the Way

Chapter 1 - Through A Glass Darkly

* * * * *

*SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK*

The thick leather paddle whipped into Owen's bare ass repeatedly. Just when it was starting to feel good, the blonde young woman behind him stopped.

"Are you OK? Am I going too hard?"

"I'm fine, Mistress Jade. Harder, please."

She'd already asked the question, or some variation of it, at least a dozen times. It was starting to get ridiculous. Her inexperience was showing more clearly with every act. Caution was fine, especially when it was your first session with a new sub, but at some point the Domme has to trust the submissive to use his

safeword

if he needs to. Owen was growing restless and annoyed.

He squirmed on the St. Andrew's cross, repositioning himself slightly as he waited for the next round of blows. His wrists and ankles tugged on the leather ties. They weren't even that thick. Owen knew he could rip them out of the padded boards if he wanted to. It wouldn't even be difficult. Not for a man of his strength.

Owen was 5'10" and two hundreds pounds of well toned muscle. His strong arms, thick legs and chiseled back had been forged through many hard years in the military. Discipline had been the central feature of his entire adult life, so Owen knew when it was being imposed properly. Mistress Jade's voice inspired no fear or awe. Nothing she'd done so far represented even a fraction of the hardship and pain he was used to. And that was the problem.

*SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK SMACK*

Another round of increasingly firm spanks belted out. They ceased just as the pain was growing delicious. She stalked around behind him, inspecting his ass and hesitating.

"Hmmmm... I think I almost left a welt."

Owen rolled his eyes.

'Oh yeah, that'd be a real shame...'

"Quite the tough guy, aren't you?" she continued. "Alright then. I'll get the whip."

"Yes, Mistress Jade!" Owen replied. He smiled at the wall, inches from his face.

'Finally!'

At last, Owen was going to get what he wanted. Their play had built slowly throughout the evening. Upon arriving, she'd ordered him to strip naked. Mistress Jade had demanded foot worship and he'd obediently licked her boots from heel to tip. She'd outfitted him with a collar and leash and walked him around on all fours. The woman in green latex had Queened him for a spell, smothering him with her rubber clad ass.

That was all fine and good. Humiliation and worship had their place. Owen enjoyed most activities that female dominants typically utilized in their play sessions. But that wasn't the real reason he was there. Owen craved pain. His deepest desire was to writhe in agony while bound and helpless. To feel the ever increasing waves of torment until the supernova of endorphins cascaded through his body. He didn't just want it. He needed it.

Owen heard the uncurling of the long leather strand behind him. Mistress Jade swished it back and forth a few times, the whip whistling through the air as she took a few practice twirls. Owen relaxed his body and closed his eyes. He waited for the first delicious slash of stinging leather.

*CRACK CRACK CRACK CRACK*

The whip bit into his flesh with wonderful ferocity and Owen drank real pain for the first time that night. Unfortunately, two of her slashes also landed across his lower back. Maybe she'd been aiming for his ass, but if she was, her aim sucked. There were too many important bones, nerves and organs in that area with little protection. If she did it again...

*CRACK CRACK CRACK CRACK CRACK CRACK*

Two into his upper back, one into his lower back, two across his ass and finally one along the bottom of his thighs. Low. Much too low. The last one had come close to the back of his knee. If she hit that dead-on, it could put him down for weeks.

'Fuck this.'

"Red!

RED

! We're done!"

His sudden yell startled Mistress Jade, her slender body jolting in the glossy latex cat suit. "Oh! Oh, I'm sorry! Are you alright?"

"Yes, yes, I'm fine. Just untie me, please."

"Of course."

The young woman set the whip aside and hurried to his bound form. She undid the thin leather straps around his wrists and ankles. The rattled Domina studied him, looking worried as she set him free.

"Did I hit a bad spot?" she asked as Owen turned around and immediately headed for the door.

"Almost" he answered over his shoulder.

Owen walked down the hallway and turned into the bathroom where his clothes were waiting. He dressed quickly, relieved himself and washed his hands before heading out.

As he approached the front door Mistress Jade was waiting for him. Her arms were crossed below her shiny bust. She looked mortified. "I'm really sorry. It's just... Well, I'm kinda new at this. Still learning the ropes."

"Ya don't say?" Owen replied. He met her warm hazel eyes briefly before reaching for his wallet.

He'd already paid for the session in full, but on the table nearby was a tipping receptacle beckoning him. Beside it was a small sign that read:

All tips are appreciated! =)

Owen wished he had a note that said:

'Don't endanger people's spine and ligaments.'

That would've been a fitting

tip

to go with the fifty dollar bill he tossed into the glass bowl.

"Thanks. Have a good night" he said with a nod to the young blonde.

She opened the front door, biting her lip as she did. "You too. Thanks for coming! I'll do better next time."

"Yeah, next time..." he responded with a gruff chuckle as he walked into the night.

* * * * *

Owen felt relaxed for the first time that evening as the effects of the booze started to kick in. He'd been waiting to take his second shot of the night as he listened to the laughing and conversations around him. There weren't that many patrons still at the

Tin Gimlet Lounge

at this hour on a week night, so it was easy to single out voices behind him. He downed the remnants of his drink and knocked on the counter before nodding to the bartender.

"I'll have another, Chuck. When you get a minute."

"Of course" the bald man smiled and attended to him right away. He set down the glass he'd been cleaning, picked up the bottle of Jack and poured another shot with skillful ease. The stout, burly bartender set it down in front of him with a grin. His mirthful expression faded as he reflected on how glum one of his regulars had seemed all night.

"You OK, Owen? You look like your dog just died."

Chuck was the perfect bartender. Not just because he knew how to toss bottles around and fix a million drinks, but he was great at reading people. He knew when to give you distance and when his customers wanted to talk. Owen never would've admitted it, but he definitely wanted someone to chat with. He'd thought about texting his buddies and seeing what they were up to, but decided against it. Owen didn't want to infect anyone else with his mood. But Chuck was always there to listen and he considered it part of his job.

"Yeah, I'm alright. Just... my other vice didn't work out, so I came here for the second best thing." Owen held up the glass of golden whiskey in salute.

"Your other vice, huh? What's that? Gambling? Coke? Women?"

The amused soldier smirked and nodded, confirming his last guess. "Third time's a charm." He set the drink back on the counter and sighed.

"Ah, sorry it didn't go well. You'll get her next time."

"I'm hoping she gets

me

next time."

"Gets you how?" he looked confused.

"You know... understands me. There was no chemistry with this one, that's for sure."

"Ah, yes. That's always a risk when meeting someone new. Well, I hope the next one is a better match."

Chuck disappeared briefly to serve another customer. He was back in no time, eager to converse and cheer up one of his favorite patrons.

"So what do you think of this?" he asked, pointing to the TV behind him above the bar. "That's good news, right?"

"What news?" Owen asked, glancing up at the screen with a furrowed brow. He rarely paid attention to the talking heads and corporate propaganda mills.

"You didn't hear? The president announced we're pulling out what's left of the troops. Everyone's coming home!"

Owen snorted. "You really believe that?"

The bartender shrugged. "Why wouldn't I? We've been there way too long if you ask me."

"Exactly" Owen responded before taking a sip of his whiskey. "We've been there for twenty years and they've been saying we're leaving for twenty years. They all say

mission accomplished

and that we're leaving. We never do. Not really."

"But they've begun bringing the boys home. It's pretty official, isn't it?"

Owen shook his head. "They pull us out, they push us back in. We're America's

big dick

. The re-deployments don't get nearly the same coverage as the withdrawals do. Even if every last soldier was pulled, there'd still be contractors there fighting. Most of them are former soldiers getting paid way more to work security for some big corporation. And they longer have to follow the UCMJ."

"UCMJ?"

"The Uniform Code of Military Justice. It's what prevents us from doing heinous shit. At least, in theory."

The barkeep looked dejected. He folded his arms over his chests. "So, we're just gonna stay there forever?"

"Pretty much. Until they launch a more profitable war."

Owen let the silence linger a few moments as some suit prattled away on the television. His gaze morphed into the thousand yard stare as he fought off unpleasant memories.

"The war is not meant to be won" he recited. "It is meant to be continuous."

"Hey, isn't that from a famous book?" Chuck asked, as he mopped the counter top with a wet cloth.

"You're thinking of 1984 by George Orwell" the young man answered.

"That's right" the older man said with a nod and a smile. "They made me read that in high school. I thought I remembered the line!"

Owen held up his shot glass. He moved it into position so the amber spirits overlaid the TV. He watched the president, surrounded by generals, make his announcement. It cut to some overpaid stenographers chattering on about the '

big news

.' The dark liquid sloshed back and forth, discoloring and distorting the lying monsters on the screen. Viewed through this lens, the bullshit was almost tolerable.

He brought the drink to his lips and downed it. That wonderful, unique smoothness of Tennessee whiskey slid down his gullet and washed his every care away. He smacked his lips and let out a refreshed sigh of contentment. Owen knocked on the bar lightly with the empty shot glass.

"But it's a misattributed quote. It's actually from the movie. A re-wording of something from the novel."

"Oh..." the bartender responded, suddenly doubting his own memory. "Shows you what I know! You want another?"

"If I can still say

misattributed

without slurring, I'm way too sober."

"I'll take that as a yes" he replied with a chortle. Chuck reached for the bottle of Jack again.

"Bet you anything they'll be sending me back within six months" Owen added as he watched the drink being poured. "There or some other hell hole. They always do."

The sympathetic barkeep placed the drink in front of him. "In that case, this one's on the house."

Owen smiled. He could tell the man wanted to reach across the bar, grab his shoulders, shake him and demand to know why he kept going back. Why Owen would march into the shit when he knew so much of it was lies, greed and pointless suffering. But Chuck didn't. The unassuming gentleman with the shiny head just listened, poured drinks and commiserated.

"You're a good man, Chuck" he said as he lifted his glass.

"So are you, Owen. Don't forget it."

The young soldier nodded with sad eyes and downed another shot. If only he could believe that, there'd be no need for another drink.

* * * * *

Owen stood, examining the the decor of the meeting room. He paced back and forth as he waited for the doctor to join him. It was a small, private practice that Dr. Elizabeth Long had founded. Only one assistant and a few rooms. That's exactly how Owen wanted it. The fewer people involved in this nonsense, the better.

The room contained two arm chairs, a sofa and a coffee table between them. The walls were lined with a few framed works of art and some of Dr. Long's credentials. She had a doctorate in Psychology and several accolades from the various schools she'd attended. There were large potted plants in two corners of the room, giving it a homey feel. The place was clean as a whistle. Owen wagered it would even pass an army inspection.

He heard the door open behind him and turned to see a gorgeous young woman enter. In her heels, she had an inch or two on Owen. Those glossy black shoes led up to creamy white calves and a tight gray skirt that cut off just before her knees. Above that she wore a white, button-down shirt that flowed around her wide hips, curvy bust and slim arms.

The doctor's long brunette hair slid down the sides of her head in a luscious wave. Her thin, black-rimmed glasses framed sultry dark brown eyes. The woman carried a clipboard and a mug of hot tea as she entered. She smiled as she approached, tucking the clipboard under her left arm and extending her right hand in greeting.

"Nice to meet you, Owen. I'm Elizabeth Long."

The words sang out in the loveliest British accent he'd ever heard. Owen closed his now-open mouth and did his best to regain his composure. He'd expected someone about his age, given that it was a relatively new practice, but not necessarily someone so beautiful. Focusing on anything but her might be difficult unless he was faced away from his new therapist.

"Likewise" he said with a nod, giving her hand a firm, but gentle shake. He never shook a civilian woman's hand the same way he did with his service buds. Those handshakes often turned into contests to see who had the strongest grip. "Should I call you Dr. Long?"

"That's fine or you can call me Liz if you're more comfortable with first names. I don't mind at all."

Owen smiled back. She was incredibly disarming. He'd been reluctant to come to this first session, but he was already warming to her. "Alright doc, thanks."

"Please, have a seat wherever you like."

He scanned the arrangement of furniture, wondering if he should go for the couch or one of the chairs. "Does where I sit say anything about me?"

Elizabeth chuckled and waved him off. "No, just sit where you're comfortable. I like to get to know my patients before I do any psychoanalysis."

Owned grinned sheepishly and nodded. He took a seat in one of the armchairs and folded his hands in his lap. He suddenly felt under-dressed in his jeans, t-shirt and woodland camouflage jacket. He had to remind himself this was a counseling session and not a date.

"Before we get it to it, would you like something to drink? I can offer bottled water, tea or coffee."

"No, I'm good. Thanks" Owen responded.

Elizabeth took a sip of her tea before setting it on the table and slipping into the chair opposite him. She crossed her legs smoothly and leaned back before un-clipping her pen and giving it a click.

"So, what brings you in today?"

"Precaution on the part of the US Army. They do a health assessment after each deployment and my last one was flagged during the debrief. The doctor who went over it decided he wanted me to talk to someone. I need to get the

all clear

before my next tour."

Elizabeth nodded as she jotted down some notes. "I see. Did the military offer you one of their own counselors to talk to?"

"They did, but I decided to see you instead. The way I see it, the Army already knows enough about me. I'd rather keep this stuff private."

"You don't trust the military's doctors to maintain patient confidentiality?"

"Oh, I trust the doctors plenty. I'm sure they're good people. But it's not always up to them. Who knows who has access to all those records, you know?"

The beautiful brunette wrote a few more lines on her clipboard. "And when is your next deployment scheduled?"

"I won't know until a month or two before it happens. Could be any time."

"Alright. Well as long as you're not called to action in the next couple months, that should be enough time to make a determination. Now, tell me... What's going on in your life right now? Generally speaking."

Owen blew air through his bottom lip and raised his arms to the sides of the chair. "I transferred to the reserves after my last tour. Decided I needed a new direction. I'm going back to school right now. Studying history and English lit."

Elizabeth smiled wide. "How nice! Do you have plans for the degree? Or are you pursuing it purely on interest right now?"

"I don't know. I guess I might be a teacher some day? Or maybe I'll write a book. No firm plans, really. I already have a bachelor's in economics. Never had a plan for that one either. Just something I did between deployments since the army was paying for it."

"What about family? Friends? Partners? Who's in the picture right now?"

"No partner at the moment. No family either. I entered the military right after high school and my foster parents passed away in my twenties. They were already up there when they adopted me. Was sort of like having grandparents instead of parents. I've got lots of buds in the army, but only a few around here. The rest are spread around the country in between tours."

The young doctor's pen continued to scribble away. "Have you been trying to meet new people? At school or social events?"

"Yeah, sometimes. It's kind of hard, especially at school. I feel like the old man at college, now. Almost everyone's twelve to fifteen years younger than me. I don't really go to a lot of social events, but I've been trying to meet women online. Had a date just the other night! Though, that one didn't work out too great."

Elizabeth nodded. "That's good that you're still reaching out. I know it's not easy, especially for soldiers returning from overseas. Trying to pick up a social life that's been on pause for half a year or more is always a daunting task. It doesn't sound like you have a lot of people in your life right now. Do you find yourself feeling down about that?"

He shifted in his chair uncomfortably. "Well, I mean... I think about it sometimes, but I wouldn't say it's a huge problem. I do pretty well on my own."

The doctor set her pen down and eyed him knowingly. "Owen. I know it can be difficult to open up to someone you barely know, but if we're going to move forward, I need you to be forthright. Anything you say to me will be kept in the strictest confidence and only used to help you, to the best of my ability. So please, tell me plainly. Do you regularly experience feelings of loneliness?"

He paused as her striking pools of succulent brown burrowed into his baby blues.

"All the time."

"Is that something you'd like to change?"

"If I'm being honest, I often think it's for the best."

* * * * *

*WHAP WHAP WHAP*

Owen groaned deeply into the leather bit between his teeth. It felt odd to have a gag in his mouth that wasn't strapped tightly around his head. He could spit the long, tubular piece of leather from his maw at any time. That was his

out

if it became too much. He could spit the bit and say the safeword. That's how Madam Payne worked.

His naked body was immobilized atop the black, leather padded bondage horse. Owen's muscles were made useless by a combination of leather straps and chains. His wrists and ankles were secured to the four corners of the metal base on which it rested. Unlike last time, there was zero possibility of his escape until the Domme beating his ass unlocked him.