Note: This story was dynamically reformatted for online reading convenience.
 
 This is a story of impure fiction, involving graphic description of
sexuality.  If this type of content offends you or you are not at 18 (21 in
some jursidictions), close this page NOW!  Any similarity to persons
living, dead or dying is purely coincidental as this is a product of my
twisted life experience and warped imagination.  Cheers!

   (D/s, rom)

   Designers of public buildings have a singular ability to make each one
different, yet ooze the same cool, antiseptic sameness to its inhabitants.
I could tell the designers of San Francisco International Airport were
chief among those architects.

   At once I knew that profile; it resonated deep in my heart long ago. 
The catch of my breath and blink of my eyes were lost in the morass of
noise and movement in the terminal.

   He had found an isolated pair of chairs strategically located by a
window.  Her back to the window and downcast eyes radiated her submissive
stature.  Her collar was unique: Thick leather, stiff too, with a wire cage
riveted suspending a noticeable stone between the points of her clavicle.

   Coursed throughout with black veins, the heart-shaped blue-gray stone
covered that soft, vulnerable spot I knew oh so well.  I would pause there,
flicking my tongue gently as a butterfly wing at the softness when kissing
my way from her Rubenesque breasts up to the Corinthian pillar of her
throat.

   Licking my lips and clearing my throat to assure passage of my baritone
voice, I set my course through the crowd and into their space.

   "Its collar is lovely," I said to her Dom stepping in close.  My voice
poured forth with as if from someone else.  Although my eyes were fixed on
her Dom's face, I concentrated on peripheral vision to see her flinch of
vocal recognition.  Whenever I used "that tone," she could never sit
totally still.  Even though all of us were on the sterile side of airport
security, sensing another Dom he quickly looked me over and concluded the
absence of a threat.

   My eyes were glued to his as she fought to maintain protocol of no eye
contact.  "Did you fabricate it yourself?" I inquired.  He looked at her
collar for a moment and then returned my gaze smiling.  "Thanks, I like it,
too.  I did make it myself."

   "A very nice piece of work," I complimented.  A nod was my farewell and
I turned on my heel.  It was obvious by his reaction to me he knew not that
I had owned her long ago and far away.  Or perhaps it was she who had
possessed me?  The melancholic sense of freedom at last washed over me. 
The irony of her stone heart in a cage made me smile.  I could not help but
hope that at the end of her Dom's flogger she might one day find her heart
of stone replaced by a heart of flesh.