Chapter 1: A Very Pleasant Evening at the Ball Park: Crushed!

With each step we took towards the turnstiles, each with its own friendly, uniformed ticket-taker, Jenny became more and more nervous. It was understandable, I supposed. After all, what grown woman dressed as an impossibly sexy Catholic schoolgirl wouldn't be nervous – especially when she's being taken to a very well-attended major league ball game on a beautiful weekend afternoon?

But Jenny was my slave. She knew the best way for her to happily get through this particular adventure was to follow my lead, and to trust in me to protect her, even as I was putting her on display.

Jenny had been my slave for about six months at this point. She'd been relatively new to the lifestyle when a good friend had taken her on as his submissive. I'd always been pleasant to her, but I kept my distance.

The reason was simple. I was waaaaay too attracted to her! Better for me to stay away and admire from afar, I thought, than to jeopardize her Master's friendship and respect for me. I liked and respected him far too much to even consider doing that.

Then her Master died, and she was devastated. Fortunately, she had good friends among the other submissives in the community to whom she could turn for support. They helped her in ways I could not.

She also turned to me. Specifically, she asked me if I would act as her Protector.

I was quiet and thoughtful before I answered her. I told her I would be honored to act as her Protector, but I could not do that.

I explained that I had very strong feelings for her, and always had. Because of that, I could not act as a Protector. It would be a conflict of interest. How could I dispassionately help her explore the lifestyle, and evaluate the interests others had in Jenny when my own desires for her were so strong?

She took the news well. What I didn't know at the time, though, was she had equally strong feelings for me.

After she'd had the time to mourn, and to sort her feelings out, she approached me to play her. The play continued over time while she gently worked her way into my heart. In the space of only a few months, she became mine. Or perhaps I became hers. It didn't really matter.

We were both very happy. That did not, however, mean I didn't make Jenny nervous every so often.

She was extremely nervous that day as we approached the turnstiles, even though she looked very fetching to me. You see, she was dressed in a not-quite sheer white blouse (no, you couldn't see her nipples through it, but it was light enough that you definitely could see the bumps), a very nice red tartan pleated skirt that barely reached to mid-thigh, white knee socks and patent leather Mary Janes we'd just picked up at the local fetish store.

She wasn't wearing a bra, on my instructions, but she was wearing a very cute pair of plain white cotton panties. In fact, the only things distinguishing her from a Catholic schoolgirl were the black velvet choker adorning her neck in the place of her regular collar, and the "slightly" (yeah, right) too-short for school skirt.

For a final effect, she wore a Rangers baseball cap, perched jauntily over her free flowing, golden red hair. I'd given it to her as a surprise and had her put it on just before we had exited the van.

Jenny herself seemed made for the outfit. She's 5'2", small-boned, and has silky smooth, creamy skin over a tuff little body. Even though she's not tall, her legs are perfectly formed, with pretty little feet, shapely calves, firm and shapely thighs and a cute, tight little ass that's to die for.

She has a dancer's body. While her waist is narrow, her tummy's not an athlete's concave tum, but is just the slightest bit rounded while still being taut and muscular, almost as if she is just outgrowing her last little bit of baby fat. Above all these charms, she sports a delightful pair of perky B+ breasts capped with small pink nipples that are perfect for her frame.

Jenny has a lot of substance and spunk to go with that hot, tight little bod, as well. She'd worked as a stripper to support herself while she worked to get her license as a practical nurse, and she'd pretty much clawed her way out of that lifestyle on her own after being pretty much abandoned by her parents. She no longer strips. Now she wears scrubs to work.

I also know of at least one instance when she stomped the instep of an unwelcome and obnoxious admirer in a bar, just prior to placing her elbow right in his solar plexus and then moving away quickly before he could hurl. She is no shrinking violet, not at all! But even with all that, as I told her parents once, she has one of the most beautiful souls I've ever been fortunate enough to encounter.

Jenny's face – well, she's beautiful. Her nose is small, just right for her, with a well formed mouth, high cheekbones and beautiful brown eyes. But perhaps her best feature is her hair. If one were to be totally non-poetic, they would call it strawberry blonde. To me, it is the color of spun gold or the white-gold color of fields of barley in the summer. To this day, whenever I hear Sting's "Fields of Gold," I think of Jenny and of her hair, spread beneath her as she would lie nude, with her feet drawn up to her cute little butt, reaching up for me and hoping I would just sink into her and consume her.

To cap it all off, with her creamy complexion, Jenny looks a lot younger than she is. She's 35, but can dress to look like she's in her late teens, if not younger.

Dressed in her outfit, she looked impossibly cute, impossibly sweet and innocent, and absolutely sexy! The hat had been the crowning touch. All I could think of as she preceded me through the turnstiles was the Joe Cocker song, "You Can Leave Your Hat On."

I was very proud of her – and also kept her close. I was sure any male with any testosterone in him whatsoever who saw her would be thinking only of throwing her over his shoulder and carrying her back to his cave. "Not going to happen on my watch," I thought!

Jenny clutched my arm spasmodically, whispering, "Master, there are a lot of bible-belt people here, especially the women, and they're going to get me kicked out!"

"Be calm, Jenny," I replied. "Your outfit is completely street-legal, you're not exposing any more flesh than many of the girls in shorts, and at least half the people here – all the males and likely many of the women - will be very happy you're dressed the way you are. If you meet someone you know we'll just tell them you're dressed that way because you lost a bet. And as for the holy rollers and old biddies, you'll almost certainly never see them again. You know I'll protect you from any harassment, don't you, little one?"