Field Day
a short story by Janee A

"Where's that grounding rod?" Alan called out.

"I think it is still in Mal's truck," the girl replied, "I'll get it for you." She half ran and half skipped over to the old red truck, her silken chestnut hair honeyed by the bright sun of the Saturday morning. She so loved this day. Field Day was always fun, a chance to get on the radio, make as many contacts as possible, and to just enjoy the time outside with her friends in the local ham radio club. This particular day was going to be hot, although the cool dewy morning had not yet given in to the relentless summer humidity.

Pulling the heavy long rod out from under some cables, she saw the man across the parking lot, his Mazda dwarfed by his large frame. She watched him as he walked over to the rest of the group. Using the rod like a walking stick, she walked back toward the group which was setting up the ten-meter station. She scanned the group, searching for that unfamiliar face she had seen in the lot. He was working on the HF station, over under one of the canopies. She blushed when she noticed that he, too, was looking toward her, and she turned her eyes downward a bit too fast, her hands pulling at the fringe of her short blue jean shorts as she checked to make sure that her white cut-off K9INL T-shirt was exposing just the right amount of her pretty flat belly. She handed Alan the grounding rod and watched as he pounded it into the grassy ground. Aware of the big man's eyes on her, she stood a little straighter and smoothed her straight silky hair back, careful not to look toward the HF station.

The members of the radio club were very nearly all men, and the only women who showed up for Field Day were the wives of the men when it was time for the pitch-in supper. They would show up then, their poodle hair neatly coiffed, in their best housedress, carrying a Tupperware bowl of noodle salad or an ice cream and Oreo pie. The girl ate a bit on this night, a small ham sandwich, a little salad, and a bit of jello. The rest of the dinnertime she had spent schlepping food to the men who were busy working the radio stations.

It was on one of these food forays that she saw the dog, a german shepherd mix, she thought, walking along, sniffing the men of her group. She went to the dog and petted it. "She has a collar, so she is owned," one of the men said. The girl looked up, then back to the dog. Her fingers moved over the steel chain of the dog's collar. She wondered idly what it would feel like to wear that chain, and she almost laughed aloud at her own thought.

"K9INL.. K9INL.. CQ Field day.. CQ field day... K9INL.. Kilo - Nine - I - Need - LOVE... CQ Field Day..." Her voice called out over the airwaves, her tone suggesting that perhaps there was truth in her statement, and she listened, her ear close to the receiver, long hair hanging over the picnic table... static.. static... till she perked to the sound of a faint "K9INL K9INL.. N5IPT.. N5IPT.." Her finger went up, her pencil copied down the symbols quickly as she spoke, "You are One Alpha Indiana," she said, "and what is my report?" "You are 4 Alpha South Texas," the man's voice penetrated the static.

She watched as John entered this contact into the log, and she began calling out again into the depths of the still night air, "K9INL.. K9INL.. CQ Field day.. CQ field day... K9INL.. Kilo - Nine - I - Need - LOVE... CQ Field Day..." Through the fuzz, she heard, "I want the girl who needs love!" She winked to John and the kid rolled his eyes and said, "You are incorrigible," to which she replied, "yeah, i knooooow, but I do get the contacts!"

"Hey, I'm gonna go roam a little while, can you hold that frequency for me?" She knew that John would have no trouble logging his own contacts. No one could bring them in as fast as she could. She slipped out of the picnic table, stretched her long lithe legs, and ran her hands over their softness, feeling the night air just beginning to be cold on her skin. She had brought her long jeans for the night, as well as a sweatshirt, just in case she got cold. She walked the 50 yards to her silver Honda, the night quiet, now that she was far enough away from the makeshift radio station. She smiled to herself as she gazed up at the moon, its brightness nearly obscuring the twinkling stars on this clear night. Tree frogs chirped, and she heard a coyote off in the distance. She opened the back door, and she pulled her Boogies Diner sweatshirt on and pulled off her shorts.

"Oh!" she gasped as the big man's form came up behind her, pressing against her soft pink cotton panties as she leaned to get her jeans out of the car. She straightened and turned around fast, breathing a small sigh of relief as she recognized the man from before, and she said with a weak, startled smile, "Oh! it's you!..." and she trailed off as the man pressed his hips against her, holding her against the front door of her little car. "Um, I was just going to change into my jeans," she said weakly, as she felt the man's crotch pinning her up against her car. Her eyes searched his for a clue as to his emotions, and, in the moonlight, she could see only the flashing intensity of his gaze as he held her tightly. She bit her bottom lip as she felt her panties dampening, her feminine desires suddenly stronger than her instinct to escape. Her eyes moved from his eyes down to his mouth, then back to his eyes, and then she said, "Um I think.. um.. I really need to .. um.. put on my jeans now..."

Her voice trailed off and he pushed against her pubis harder with the hardness of his body. "I don't think you want to put on your jeans right now at all," the deep voice said.

She could feel the fire burning in her panties now, her passion pumping through her as she felt the man's body overpowering her. "So this is what it feels like to be taken, to be used," she thought. She was dizzy from the intoxication of his powerful man-smell. Her heart pounded; she heard roaring in her head. Her hungry body screamed out for his big hands. The girl whimpered meekly.

And he pulled back! He had interpreted her little whimper as a "no" and that was enough for him to give up on her. Her female animal body wanted to pull him back to her, to beg him to take her, but the moment was gone; he had backed off, apologized, laughed nervously, and said he'd see her back with the group.

The girl's spirit sank as she pulled her jeans up over her tight firm ass, zipping them over those damp pink panties. When was she going to meet Him? The man who could Master her, take her passion and set it free, force her to be the woman she was? She ran her brush through her soft long hair and it shone like gold in the moonlight. "Are strong men just non-existent on Earth?" she thought to herself. Why could men never see what it was that she craved, that she needed? Why did the men she meet always seem so afraid of her? And moreover, afraid of *themselves*, of their own urges?

She sighed softly and walked over in the darkness to the flickering Coleman lanterns of the HF station. He was there, as were Tom and Mal and Michael. It was now well into the night, probably about 2 or 3 am, she thought. She looked at the UTC clock and it said 0630. She could never remember what to subtract to get the local time. She went over and stood behind Tom, a little too closely to him, so that she felt the heat of his body, and she knew that he had to feel hers too. "You guys making any good contacts?"

"Well, things seem to be tapering off now," Michael said, "I think I'm gonna turn in."

Mal said that he'd stay up; he always worked the HF rig all through the wee night hours. Tom said, "Well, hey, I guess i'll go to bed too; there isn't anything going on here."

As Michael and Tom took off to their respective tents, the girl patted Mal on the shoulder. "Well, I guess it's you and me, Mal," she quipped, "since the rest are petering out on us. I'm going back over to the 10-meter."

John was swatting mosquitoes and cursing them as she approached. "Been busy?"

"Naw," John said with a smile, "but I did keep your frequency open for ya."

"You going to bed?"

"Yeah," he said, "Nothing much going on here; I think you can log 'em yourself."

"Okay," she said cheerfully, "I'll see you bright and early!"

She picked up the mic and twiddled the dial a little, moving the frequency in tiny increments. Through the silence, she called out "CQ Field Day.. CQ Field Day... K9INL.. Kilo Nine I NEED LOVE.. CQ Field Day.."

She leaned over, her ear right to the receiver, and she heard a voice, "K9INL," and that was all.

"I didn't get your call sign," try me again, "CQ Field Day.. K9INL.. Kilo Nine I Need Love.. Q R Zed?"

"K9INL," the man's voice said. Then strong and clearly, the voice said, "Go to the woods. Just as you get in there, there is a bench. Wait there."

Her hands shook as she held the mic for just a moment before she looked around. No one was close enough to have heard. Should she go and tell Mal? No, for it was very clear what she was to do. Mal's back was to the ten-meter station. She put the mic down and stepped lightly through the cool dewy grass the fifty yards to the woods' edge. She almost ran the last few steps, till she was obscured by the dark of the trees, just a glint of the bright moon falling upon the bench where she sat, hearing her heart throb and the tree frogs singing.

"You came right away," the man said. "I like obedience in a girl."

She drew her breath in quickly, almost in a gasp. She turned quickly toward the sound of his voice, but there was no more sight, no more sound; there was only the smell, the strong smell of ... a memory... she was a little girl in the hospital and they put something over her nose and told her to breathe... the same smell.... and all was gone...

She shook her head as the light assaulted her eyes, so very bright! She felt the fibers tight about her tiny wrists, and about her ankles, holding them crossed as she lay on the tile. "Oh!" she exclaimed, when she saw the big man sitting on a fur-covered lounge before her. Then as the mist cleared from her mind, she realized that she was bound and naked on the floor before this man. "Where am I? Who are you? What am I doing here?" Her questions came out in a flood.

"Oh, so very many questions," the man replied enigmatically, "and you will soon see that you have very little use for the answers." Something about his manner made her keep still. She bit her lower lip. "Kajira, I have been watching you. And i have brought you here for a specific purpose, one which you will discover soon enough," He said.

She regarded his large strong frame, and the way he held his head, and his strange accent... his voice... She felt as if she had heard this voice. Then she remembered how she had met this man. The voice on the radio. This was the same man. She trembled as she lay on the cold floor.

"Come, kajira, let's rid you of those bindings. I do not think you will be going anywhere." Something in the way he said that made her trembling cease. He undid her bindings and she noticed that they were of a soft brown leather. "Kneel before Me, girl." She complied. "Now hold your back straighter.. thrust those tits out to Me.. there.." moving his large booted foot to her knees, he pushed them apart. "Much better, girl," he said. "I like to see my girls."

She looked down at her body in its nakedness, on display for this man. She peered up to him and she thought, almost laughing to herself, that all she wanted to do was to please him. A man that she didn't even know, but a man who was strong and unafraid. Her eyes moved up his legs, slowly up to his face, strong, and undeniably handsome, though in a rugged savage sort of way. She could feel her heartrate quicken.

Holding her back straight, almost arched, her small pert breasts seemed to offer him their nipples, hard and red. Oh, how they longed for his touch! That big boot moved between her thighs again, pushing them wider apart. Her eyes followed its movement. She took her bottom lip lightly between her teeth and she brought her eyes up again to his face. "May I ask who you are?" she tried to get her mind off her aching desire for him.

"You may call Me 'Master.'

She swallowed as her eyes studied his strong jaw and she said, "Yes, Master." She remembered the man who had accosted her earlier in the evening. (Was it even the same day?) She smiled to herself as she thought about him. Would he have ever touched her the way Master's boot did? Would she have ever called him 'Master'?

The Master's finger touched her jaw, pulling her face up, but she kept her eyes low, not looking to his. The perfume of her sexuality wafted up past her nose and she blushed, as she saw his smile.

"Slavelips, girl," he said. The side of his finger touched her lips, making them come out to meet it. Having brought her lips out, he tilted her chin up, then pressed his own lips to hers, gently at first, but then with increasing fervor, kissing her, strong lips crushing against hers, bruising them with his force. She heard ocean waves as His tongue explored her mouth, taking her, her eyes closed as she felt her desire for him crashing over her.

He pulled back from the kiss and her face was awash with a fresh rosy blush, her lips red, her green eyes weak. Suddenly, she felt a calm, a serenity that only comes from being very certain, for in that instant, she was very aware of who she was and what her life was about. She knew why she was brought here, and what she had to do. "Master!" she exclaimed, "Please take me and have me for Yours! Chain me with your collar and i vow to please you in any way that i can!"

He put his head back and laughed. "Silly girl," he said, "I know you will please Me. I have already chosen you for My own and I will teach you to please Me to My will."

Her heart bursting with joy, she said simply and calmly, "Yes, Master."