When we last left our intrepid hero he had decided to drive the distance to his pet and finally have that all-important face to face meeting.

Meeting A Dear Pet, The IC Method, Step 1: Preparation

One hotel room. The more stars, the better. Thick walls are a plus.
One car.
One GPS borrowed from a family member to make sure you don't wind up in Hamtrammick, Michigan.
One suitcase.
One toothbrush.
One tube of toothpaste.
One razor.
One can of shaving cream.
One doggy dish.
Two small locks, with two corresponding keys, for the lockable collar that you have already custom-ordered and shipped to your pet.
One assortment of your pet's favorite foods and drinks, to be kept in the hotel room, to make her feel comfortable and to let her know you care. Good kitties need treats!
One to two relatively inexpensive gifts for your pet, such as stuffed animals, novelty items celebrating her favorite football team, and the like.
One diamond necklace to let her know that you are serious.
One digital camera.
One acoustic guitar.
One desire for everything to be perfect.

From the beginning I set out to make sure she knew from the very start that I was "serious" about our master/slave relationship being multi-faceted and workable. It was important to me to give the impression that I wasn't showing up for a weekend of naughty fun, only to leave her in the dust afterward. There are a lot of ways to show that sort of commitment, but the old-fashioned ones work best. Effort, time, and money. When it comes to my pet, it is easy for me to give all three.

Before the trip even started I discussed with her the need for our first "meeting" to begin with me in a dominant position and her in a submissive one. This was an attempt to defeat something that I knew might hinder us- an unavoidable sort of role reversal stemming from our location- her home town. I would be in positions all weekend that would nearly force me to defer to her- certainly not a dominant occurance even in the best of times. She would be the one who knew her way around town if we were to go out. If we were to meet and greet with her friends, she would know them well, I would be the outsider and not knowledgeable about what level of master/slave interaction was appropriate in the presence of any given person. I would be out of my element in a strange and unfamiliar city, whereas she would know it like the back of her hand. All of those factors could conspire to take me out of a dominant frame of mind, and her out of her place as my pet.

I could have picked her up at her apartment, driven her to the hotel (probably requiring her directions) and settled in there having seen her for the first time as she was telling me whether to turn right or turn left, but that didn't seem very ideal to me. No, I wanted to see her for the first time without a stitch of clothing on her, her head bowed, her body bowing unnaturally in a position of utter subservience. So, that was the order I gave. She obeyed it, and the rest was history. There was no adjustment period. We fell into our routine like two old professionals, and within minutes of first walking into the room to find her on her hands and knees, eyes averted, I was putting her through her paces- seeing her for the first time, the webcam caul pulled away from my face.

Those first orgasms were perhaps the sweetest.

Before any of that sweet release, though, there was the moment where I told her to raise her eyes and look on me in person for the first time. This was perhaps even more memorable. She did, and we locked eyes across a foot of empty air for the first time, and neither of us could help but smile. There was no hesitation in any of her responses, from the very start. My pet is the finest pet I can imagine when it comes to non-verbal communication. The trembling of her body, the quickening of her breath, these things speak volumes. With a movement of the eye or the lip she reports to me all she is feeling and all she desires. She is an open book to me, each chapter ending with the promise of something great and good. In that first eye-locking moment, I saw affection, devotion, and a happiness steeped in relief. She hadn't know how things would go from the start, I saw...but those fears were allayed...and she was very, very glad of it.

It wasn't long before I placed her collar around her neck for the first time, and locked it in place. I had instructed her not to wear it, so that I might put it on her myself, and being the good girl that she is, she was only too happy to obey. As you can imagine, gentle reader, the moment where lock clasp clicked home was one of import and power. Perhaps you remember how it felt when your first collar slid around your neck, or how it was with you and your submissive the first time you clamped something black and leathery around her neck and pulled the buckle closed.

So, how was our first night together?

Oh, constant reader! It was beyond words. Whatever I type here is just a hollow syllabic shell, a pale rendering of how it was with us. I could no more describe our first night in words than I could describe an epiphany or a miracle. It would be like asking Mohammed to write an essay on what it was like to run into that archangel. It would be like telling St. Paul to text you about what happened on the road to Damascus. I can try, but it's all just an inarticulate karaoke version of the full and operatic truth. I taught her. Trained her. Disciplined her. Tested her. Held her down. Lifted her up. Seethed into her ear the unvarnished truth of her disgrace. I controlled her and made her body thrum like a tuning fork. I took her in great, tawdry handfuls and teasing, searing bites. I marked her as my property- and even when worn to a nub, she crawled to me and thanked me for the extent to which I had reduced her.

I thought everything would be perfect the entire weekend.

How's that for foreshadowing? Snip. Next reel. Let's go in another direction. The fabled Reverse Titanic had a few more bergs to skirt before she would reach the shore.

A lot had been made leading up to our meeting about safety precautions. My pet was getting a lot of good advice on these forums, but I'll confess to now really being concerned about it, or whether or not she followed it. I know that sounds unsafe, but I had very good reason to be unconcerned- I wasn't planning to do anything that would harm even the smallest hair on her perfect little head. So while she took in all of the various preventative measures, I was concentrating more on other things. Arrange for a friend to call her and check in? Sure! Call every hour if you want, everything is going to be fine. I'm no murderer, no abuser, no asshole. Those rules are for douche bags who take advantage of women, they are rules for sociopaths and sickos.

I never thought about how the precautions could affect me. "What could go wrong?" I thought. "I'm a good guy- they can shove a hidden camera up her twat and observe me while I give her the business for all I give a fuck- nothing is going to be going wrong."

Well, doms and subs out there, let me tell you this. There's something that maybe you're not considering:

You can be the most perfect gentleman in the world. You can lay her down on a bed of rose petals and pay an orchestra to play her lullabies for the entire weekend, but none of that is going to matter if she has some unrelated medical mishap that renders her indisposed and unable to explain what the problem is. A couple of examples I can give would be severe food poisoning, an unexpected allergic reaction, or an accidental overdose of prescription medication. Each of these three things could result in unconciousness or a seizure, and each can require a trip to the emergency room, and in each case you are innocent of any wrongdoing...but in each case you're still in very hot water.

Without going into too many details, I found myself in very hot water. There was a medical emergency and for a moment I really thought I was going to lose her. It was the scariest moment of my life.

Now, I want to make absolutely clear- this is not code for: "I accidentally hit her too hard, but it was consensual so I feel vindicated" or "we got super-drunk and also did too much coke". No, it was a one-in-a-million bad break and it came at the worst possible time.

I stayed with her every minute at the hospital, that was without question. I held her hand, I carried her things, I helped fill out her chart, I put my hand on the back of her neck to cool it, I got the attention of nurses when she needed them. A gun pointed at my head would not have caused me to move.

Later that evening the cavalry arrived in the form of people who knew her. They were on the prod for me, that was for sure, and I don't blame them, considering all that might be wrongly inferred by the situation. Someone very special to them was in a bad way, and I was the newcomer, representing something very dangerous. I was escorted out into the hall and told to leave the state, or I would be arrested. The woman who told me was furious, I had no doubt that in that moment, this woman thought I was the scum of the earth. I tried to explain myself, but it was no use- not then. Not with tempers running high. The word had been spread.

But my pet was more brave than I ever could have known. I was already well-aware that she is a good and strong person...those qualities are two fo my favorite things about her. Having been told to leave, I stood outside a hospital room where I was no longer welcome. I had no plans to leave, of course- they would have to throw me in jail before I'd leave her. After that first wonderful night, nothing could have moved me. Two of her acquaintences came outside and started to make arrangements for me to drop off what she had left in the hotel. It seemed for a moment that I might be given the bum's rush and be forced to leave my dearest, my most beautiful, my perfect pet...having only been able to touch her for that one tantalizing night.

My heart felt ready to rip in half.

Then, one of her friends came outside, where I was being read the riot act. Some of the details of relationship had been leaked, and I stood there having to justify BDSM to people who thought it very harmful indeed.

"She wants him back inside," said the friend. "She's saying she'll get up out of the bed if we don't send him back in now."

Can you imagine what I felt in that moment? She'd been through hell and back- twin fluid needles jammed inexpertly into bruise-tinted punctures, her body dehydrated and worn. She was wracked with dizziness and nausea, a delicate little thing who was probably outweighed by her IV stand.

For me, she would stand and come to me. Fly to me. To my gilded cage, the door still open, awaiting her return. It was the bravest thing I had ever heard. She was half-dead but I knew in an instant it was true. She would get up to save me from this situation, if she needed to, she would pull me back to her side.

Convinced of her seriousness, the concerned arrivals softened their tone. Under her orders, they were persuaded to leave. I was allowed back inside.

Soon, it was just the two of us again. There had been icebergs everywhere. The fabled Reverse Titanic had been weaving. But we were still afloat.

I came back to visit her the next day. I brought her a stuffed animal and later a get-well balloon. We talked the day away. She seemed much better, much like her old self again.

It wasn't long before I told her that I loved her and that I wanted her to be my property, my pet, my treasure, forever.

The doctors were understandably concerned. They wouldn't let her get discharged without being absolutely sure that she was ok. So they decided to keep her until Monday afternoon at least- meaning she would spend the remainder of my trip in the hospital. My pet and I were both saddened at the news.

"I wish you could stay a couple more days," she whispered, as I stroked her hand.

"I can," I replied.

My beautiful girl was discharged on Monday afternoon. Until Wednesday morning me marked the hours with orgasms. We went shopping. We had dinner. We did everything wonderful that we could cram into such a time frame.

My pet is the greatest treasure I could ever conceive. She is the center of my universe. She is the most beautiful and perfect thing I could ever hold in my hand. I feel blessed to own her and have the chance to be with her. How amazing is she? In the hospital, semi-concious, she was handed a contrast dye to prepare her for a CAT scan. Holding the cup they had given her, she looked up at me with stunning but half-lidded eyes.

Silently asking me for permission.

With wonderment, and admiration for her obedience and deference, I granted it with a nod.

If you are reading this, pet- I want you to know that I am proud of you, that you please me more than any other could ever dream to, that I cherish you and love you, and that everything I have to give, until the day I die, will go toward fulfilling you, training you, making you feel safe and secure. In two short months you have learned more about BDSM aesthetics, theory, and tone than most slaves could ever dream of knowing. My heart bursts with pride when you demonstrate your rapidly expanding repertoire of tantalizing skills. When you worship me, I feel like a God. When you bend around me, I feel like an unstoppable force.

You are a good girl...a good, good girl. My girl. You belong to me and I would die before any harm came to you.

I love you my perfect, perfect darling. My kitten. My wonderful pet. We made it through. The fabled Reverse Titanic. A million different things have gone right, and here we are, you and I. Together. That's serendipity. That's serendipity, and I hope this voyage never ends.

- IC