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My name is Sarah, and my life so far has been two stories. Because the first story is so painful and I'm only required to tell the second, I'll summarize with it's over. There was a bit of a gap between the end of the first story and the beginning of the second, and in that space I was a mess. I wish I could spare you the details, it hurts me just to tell them, but my Master has instructed me to tell you of this period as well, so it is there I will begin.

I am a wolf, if that was not apparent to you already, and wolves are supposed to mate for life, and as lucky as I am to be in my current position, I must say that while the instinct holds some sway on us, it is indeed a vast overstatement of what usually happens. This is where I take the liberty of skipping over parts. I was homeless, jobless, and penniless; the events that ended what I refer to as my first story had left me so. It had felt like my life was over, and in a sense, it was. My Life as I had previously known it had come to a screeching halt and kicked me to the curb. Gone then were the comforts of a house, a bed, and even a regular meal. Replacing them were various alleyways, park benches, and whatever I could scavenge or beg for food. Needless to say, I felt like the piles of garbage that were sometimes all I had to sleep on then.

If I give the impression that I was a "bum", I'd like to correct that. Every day I got up off of whatever bench or alley I wasn't kicked out of the night before, and looked for work. "Help Wanted" posters weren't in particularly short supply and I could sometimes get as many as three job interviews a week. Unfortunately, every interview followed the same routine: they'd ask my name and age, what skills I had, and my level of education. Then they would say "we'll keep you in mind" or some variant of the phrase and escort me back onto the street with their uncomfortable smiles. Occasionally I was lucky and was able to do some odd jobs for someone for a meal or a small sum of money. I didn't blame anyone but myself then for whatever happened to me during that time. "After all," I thought, "who would want to hire a woman who was dressed in smelly, dirty tatters that had once been nice clothes, who hadn't completed high school, and who you knew slept in garbage?" Those were my thoughts then. In the evenings I would beg or hunt for something edible for dinner (an effort which wasn't always successful), and then try to find someplace where I could sleep through the night. My routine was simple and depressing, and I don't think I would have lasted very much longer when I first saw him.

At the time, he wasn't my Master. That morning, he was just another face in the crowd walking past the alley I was resting in, if not, a face above an unusually up-scale suit in the crowd. I was just sitting there in the morning, propped up against the brick wall. The morning crowd was streaming past the alley on its way to work; very few people noticed the wolf in grubby clothes sitting there, and those who did look showed little kindness in their stares. In some looks there was contempt, in others humor, but the most common was pure apathy. That day when he first walked by in the crowd, he was one of the few who noticed me, but when he looked at me and I saw something different in his feline face: concern. I think he tried to stop, but the crowd was too big and too strong for him to fight the current, so to speak.

That first time I saw him, he was the first person in a long time to look to me like they might care that I was living on the streets, and thus the first person in a long time that I saw as another person and not just a face glaring at me. I felt something different then than the usual self-pity--I think it was hope--but as soon as he was whisked out of view by the stream of people it died. I reassured myself that I was still essentially worthless and still living on the streets, and I went about the rest of the day as normal. That night, though, I had something that I hadn't had since before my first story ended--a good dream.

It was a couple of days before I saw my Master again. By then, I was getting quite thin from my diet, or lack thereof. I could plainly see my ribs and the shape of my pelvis starting to emerge from my skin. I was grateful that my rags at least managed to hide my deteriorated state from the casual eye. I was in that same alley when the morning rush brought him to me again; it was one of the more reliable places to sleep at night. As it was before, I was just sitting there against the brick wall. And again as it was, the tide of people brought him past. When I saw him then, I felt that same little emotion that I thought had died. When he saw me, there was the same look of concern, but before it there was a look of happy recognition. I was confused by the first look, but I didn't really care with that glimmer of hope I felt, but once again he was whisked off by the crowd and once again that glimmer died in me. I put my head in my arms, thinking maybe I should just sleep that day, give up the never ending job hunt, and that's exactly what I decided to do. I had seen what my life was doing to my body, and I felt it was doing the same to my spirit. So that day, I just sat there in that alley, letting genuine apathy set in for the first time. Truly giving into the crushing emotions instead of fighting them. That was how close I came to giving up; if my Master had been a day or two later, I think it would have been too late for me.

I spent that morning sitting in that alley, not moving an inch. I cried silently, letting go of so much pent up emotion, and smudging more dirt into my fur every time I wiped a tear away. Eventually the morning traffic died off and people walking past my alley became uncommon, which I felt some semblance of gratitude for. As noon drew near I was actually starting to nod off. That was when I heard footsteps approaching. My first reaction was to ignore them, thinking it was just another passerby, but when they changed their course towards me, I knew something was different. As the footsteps came to a halt next to me, I sleepily turned my face up to the visitor, fully expecting it to be someone here to kick me out of this alley and into the next, but it wasn't. It was my Master. That strange glimmer of hope fired up again and mixed with the apathy and depression, resulting in a form of confusion. In his hand, my Master held a white paper bag.

"Do you mind if I sit here?" he asked me. There was no sarcasm in his voice, nothing condescending about it. He was genuinely asking my permission to sit.

A little dazzled, I replied, "S-Sure."

He smiled and sat down on the cement a foot away from me. I wondered briefly why he would risk sullying the suit he was wearing, but the thought was driven away by the smell of bread as he opened his bag.

"You know, I really have too much for myself," he began. "Would you like to share lunch with me?" I was still amazed by the sheer honesty in his voice. I suppose that's why I never thought he was making fun of me or pulling some sort of cruel joke.

I swallowed hard, feeling jittery in his presence. "Can I?" I asked in a weak voice.

He smiled again "Of course you may," he said, reaching into the bag. From it he produced two rather large sandwiches, two apples, and two bottles of water. Fresh saliva flooded my mouth as I saw this, and I managed only with quite a bit of effort not to drool. He laid out two napkins from the bag in front of us and laid a meal out on each. I was hesitant to reach for the food in front of me. He must have seen this, for the next thing he said was, "Go ahead."

I nodded quickly. "Thank you," I said meekly, reaching for the sandwich. He smiled again and picked up his own sandwich. It was difficult to resist the urge to devour the meal as quickly as possible, but I managed to remain polite in his presence. Looking back, I think that even then I must have known at least subconsciously that I was to serve this man.

At that moment, that sandwich was the best thing I had ever tasted, and after I finished it and started on the apple, that was the best thing I had ever tasted. In less than a minute I had eaten the apple down to the core and would have gladly eaten that too if I hadn't been in such nice company. I looked over and saw that he had somehow managed to keep pace with me; he was just finishing off his own apple. He smiled once. "How was your meal?" he asked in an amiable tone.

"It was good," I said a little shakily. "Thank you." I blushed a little and he smiled again. His smile was genuine too, and I found myself wondering how or why a man like this could exist, I thought then that I was the last person to deserve such kindness. My curiosity got the best of my awkwardness and my next words were out of my mouth before I could even begin to ponder them. "Why would you do this for me?"

I was shocked by my own bluntness. "Wait, you don't have to answer that." I stammered out, blushing even harder and averting my eyes. I was surprised when his first reaction was a chuckle.

"No, it's a perfectly valid question," he said. "Besides having lunch with you, I actually came here to offer you a position."

I stared at him for a moment, not quite believing what I had heard. "You mean a job?" I asked.

"Yes, I suppose you could call it that," he said. "It just so happens I am in need of someone such as yourself."

"I don't think I understand," I said doubtfully. "What could you possibly need someone like me for?"

"I believe the position could be accurately called a domestic," he said. "But there's more to it than that." He trailed off.

I waited a moment for him to continue. "Like?" I asked when he remained silent.

He began after a moment's hesitation. "If you were to accept my proposal, you would reside in my estate. Your payment would not be in dollars, but rather you would be provided for in my estate for as long as you wished to remain in the position."

I gave him a dubious look; it sounded simultaneously like the perfect opportunity for me and too good to be true. "Are you serious?" I asked. "I mean would you really just hire someone off the street like me? What if I turn out to be some kind of thief or a genuine bum?"

"You aren't a 'bum'," he said seriously. His gray fur seemed to augment the level look he gave me.

"How can you know?" I asked, a little of my pent-up frustration seeping into my voice.

"Because I saw who you were the first time I saw you sitting there," he said bluntly.

I just stared at him, baffled.

"I know this is rather confusing for you now, but I would ask that you at least think the position over," he said. "There are a few more things about it, but I doubt that knowing them would impact your decision in your current state, I'm sorry to say."

I wanted to say something then, but I had no words.

He continued. "I have to leave shortly, I have a previous engagement to keep, but I would like to meet with you again later this evening. Will you still be here, or would I find you somewhere else around six or seven?"

"T-The park," I stammered out, barely believing my honest answer. "I'm usually at the baseball field around then. Looking for... dinner." I trailed off, still shocked at my honesty, but my voice dampened by the painful truth.

"I see..." he said. "I want you to think very hard on whether or not you would like my position, I should warn you it is not something to enter lightly." As if on cue, his watch started beeping some sort of alarm. "Ah, I'm sorry, but I must leave now. I enjoyed having lunch with you." I tried to say something again, but my words had left me again and before I could manage so much as a squeak he had left, carrying with him the trash from our meal in the bag he had brought it in. Once again I was alone in the alley, only now I had something to think about--something big indeed.

I spent most of that afternoon still in the alley, deep in my thoughts. To be honest, I thought it was some sort of dream job for me, having someone to take care of me and still working, but there was a bitter voice in me left over from my first story that kept reminding me how it had turned out the last time I tried that. Every once in a while I would try to convince myself that it must be some kind of joke, that there was no way a man like him would hire someone like me, if hire was actually the right word (presently, I can tell you it was not). It wasn't until the sun had begun to set that I realized than not once in our encounter had we told each other our names and despite that weirdness, By the time light started draining from the world, I had made up my mind. Things had ended badly before, but I knew that the worst that could happen is that I would end up back where I was. I rousted myself off the concrete and headed towards the park to wait for him.

I was actually quite excited at the prospect of working for him, and I all but ran to the park. Within minutes I was standing in the dug-out, watching the small amount of traffic on the access road that ran past there. I was feeling quite anxious then, I had no way to tell time, so I had no idea how long or short my wait for him to arrive was going to be. I paced back and forth as darkness set in further, and my fate for that evening drew nearer. Full dark had set in and the moon had just risen when I heard footsteps approaching from behind me. My mind immediately seized upon the thought that it was him, and I turned around to face whoever was approaching me. Immediately I knew it wasn't him, all I could see was the man's silhouette, but I could clearly tell from his ears and his scent that he was a wolf, not a feline. Something else in the scent set my nerves off, something dreadfully familiar about that musky odor, but before I could identify it the intruder uttered a low growl. It was then that I knew exactly what the intruder had planned for me.

I turned to run then, but the intruder leapt at me, He struck me at a full-tackle and knocked me sprawling. I scrambled to get away, but he was on top of me in an instant, and he pinned me to the ground. I tried to struggle out from under his weight fruitlessly until I heard and felt my shirt ripping. Panic set in as I felt my tattered shirt torn free from me. I redoubled my efforts to get away, but only succeeded in coaxing a half-chuckle, half-growl from my attacker.

"Good," The voice growled. "You fight and tire yourself out for me. Try to save a little energy for the romance though, why don't ya?"

He gave another chuckle-growl as he slipped a claw beneath the all but worn-out strap of my bra. The breaking of my bra-strap signaled the breaking of my will. I stopped my struggling, thinking as the first tears began to flow that there was no point fighting a losing battle. It never occurred for me to cry for help; I was too far gone to fear to do anything but voice quiet gibberish as my attacker changed position to begin tearing my pants away, which he did with deliberate slowness. By the time he finished with my pants I was a blubbering mess. I had gained one articulate word--please--which I repeated over and over mindlessly, hoping somehow it would convince him to stop. In reality it did just the opposite.

He paused to stroke my buttocks and then forked his hand into my crotch. He rubbed at my clit furiously though my worn panties and it appalled me to find that I could even feel something resembling pleasure at that time. Soon enough he bored of toying with me and simply ripped my underwear away. He repositioned himself again. Even though I had stopped fighting, he was careful to keep me pinned, as he placed himself between my legs in order to begin violating me. I heard the sound of his zipper being drawn and then I could feel it pressing against me, hot and throbbing and trying to enter me. That was when I finally fell apart.

Just as he was about to claim me, harsh light filled the dugout as well as the sound of a car engine approaching. My attacker froze. The engine cut, but the light stayed. There was the sound of two car doors opening and closing.

"Hey!" an angry voice yelled. I recognized his voice right away. "Let her go now!"

My attacker remained frozen for a moment longer before muttering, "Fuck this." He let off me and all I heard of him after was his footsteps as he ran off into the darkness. I barely registered all of this in my state then. I curled up naked into a ball, sobbing, trying to become as little as possible--trying to hide myself, trying to disappear.

"Lydia, get a blanket from the trunk," the voice of my savior said.

"Yes, Master," a female voice curtly replied. I heard what I guessed to be the trunk pop open and then close a few moments later. After another moment the voice spoke up again. "Here it is, Master."

"Thank you Lydia," he said. I opened my eyes to see the silhouette of a feline approaching me with something rectangular in his hands and I cringed back from him.

"It's okay," he reassured me. "He's gone; no one here will hurt you." He knelt down next to me and put his hand on my shoulder. I winced at first, but he didn't pull back. I think that just that little bit of determination was what truly made up my mind; if only to be near this man, I would take up his offer.

"Can you sit up?" he asked me. I tried for words, but barely managed a nod.

"Okay," he said in a reassuring tone as I struggled to a mostly upright position. I felt some warmth return as he gently wrapped the blanket around me.

"Now can you stand?" he asked. I struggled for a moment, but once again managed a nod.

Events after that point are blurred in my memory. I remember my Master catching me when I nearly fell over trying to stand. I remember seeing Lydia for the first time; I was shocked by her full-white coat of fur and her deep green, feline eyes. I remember sitting in the back of his car with him while Lydia drove. My only clear memory from this time was the conversation we had at some point during the ride. Eventually I overcame my verbal block and told him I wanted the position, that I didn't care what kinks it had, that it was better than anything else I could hope to have .

"I need you to know something before I let you take the position," he said.

I only looked at him, frankly not caring as long as I could somehow at least try to repay this man.

"This is no job, no domestic service for you. If you accept the position, you accept me as your master, like Lydia has done," he said bluntly.

"What do I do?" I asked.

"I mean, what do I have to do to make you my master?" I amended.

"You would obey my command without question, and trust that what I tell you to do is for the better," he said. "It's easier to learn as you go, but if you are sure this is what you want you should begin by simply calling me Master."

I hesitated for only a second before submitting. "Master," I called him, and Master I have called him since.

After that I remember noticing the car coming to a stop, but not getting out. I remember my Master showing me the room that would be mine. I remember him asking me what my name was, and I replied it brought back painful memories. I remember him then asking me if I wanted a new name, and I asked him if he would give me one. He thought for a minute, and then asked me how Sarah sounded. I told him I loved it and it has been my name since then. I remember him wishing me a good night, and I remember thanking him one last time before going to sleep. My new life and second story began the next morning. It was a shame that I slept in.