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Description
                                                 Chapter One The Aftermath

Unshaven, unclean. Sitting on his floor for what seemed like the fifth sleepless night. with the same song repeating for the zillionth time. He stumbled forward, singing along with the dark industrial, his voice low and hoarse, sounding like tires on fresh gravel.

He realized that he should get up. His body kept telling him to get up, to do SOMETHING. His mind kept asking, what did he care? She left. Walked out of his life. Used him and dropped him, broken, bruised, and alone.

What is that buzz? His phone. He thought it was on silent, but it was vibrating again, "Damn it." He spat, irritated, as he dragged himself up. His uneasy feet and shaking legs carried him to the kitchen, to look for a drink, a pill, anything to numb himself again. His hand holding onto the wall to steady him, he felt it bump into a picture. He plucked the wooden frame from the wall, leaning his shoulder against the door frame.

Old playmates, and not in the conventional sense of the word. He ran his fingers over their faces in the cracked photo. He was in the center of the photograph. They were all young, or so it seemed. His hair was an unruly mess, he had not shaved before that photo and it showed. His friends didn't like it, but knew to not ask him to shave. When he did something, he chose when to stop. He knew three of them by name as well as body. The first one, Sage, whom he had known for seven years, if he could remember correctly. She introduced him to the Pet Shop, where he had met the wretched girl. He ran his fingers over the next girl, Kayta. A lithe girl with porcelin skin, wearing a brocade corset that made her sizeable breasts prominent. The last girl was Angela, a black goddess whom he had met when they were both too young, unready for what had happened.

He felt, rather than heard, the phone vibrate again. He finally dug it out of his pocket and looked at it. The name "Sage" flashed on the caller id. He growled, wanting to throw it against the ground, but fought the urge and picked it up.

"What?" Caleb greeted roughly, trying to convey his lack of desire for this conversation.

"Where in the hell have you been?" Sage practically shouted at him through the phone, causing him to flinch.

"Calm down, Trouble. I've been at my house."

"For fuck's sake, boy! Answer your phone. Kat, Ange, and I have been worried sick about you. We heard what happened, and we all know how you get."

"I'm fine. You don't need to worry. You guys never did before!" He shouted down the phone, slamming it shut in his hand.

After the call, he looked at the phone and saw he had twenty voice mails. Funny, how they remember me now, he thought in his anger. Yet when I need them, they aren't here.

It had been two years since Caleb had met what he thought was the girl of his dreams. Ophelia. It started in a backroom human pet shop, the two blissful and hell-bent years that changed everything. He still loved, and yet hated the girl. His gaze swept the room, and his eyes fell on the ornate leather collar he had made for her as a gift on the floor. It symbolized the third level, and no one had ever reached that with him. She did, and then it all fell apart, as was usual for his relationships. He knew it was partly his fault that last year of the relationship had been hell on them both. He couldn't blame her, then again, he never blamed anyone. That was one of his biggest faults, that he always blamed himself for everything when it went bad, never accepting the truth around him. When he reviewed that last year in his head, he realized that he could see that his kitten was straying from a mile away, but, as they say, hindsight is twenty-twenty.

He turned back to the old photograph; it had been at a fetish ball, he could tell because he was in all leather. He looked at the four girls around him. Oh how he wanted to talk to them. The truth was, he knew he could. But in his mind, he was punishing himself. They had told him weeks after he brought Ophelia home from the Pet Shop that she would hurt him in the end, but he was so blinded by her beauty, her perceived perfection, that he just didn't want to hear it.

Two years later, two fucking years of being topped from the bottom. Oh, sure, she knew how to be submissive, but she also knew how to manipulate, to get things done her way.

"I guess that she did get from her mom" he grumbled under his breath. A sharp knock at the door startled him out of his reverie. His eyes snapped to the door as his visitor rapped on the door again. "Go 'way," he growled. He heard what he knew was coming. A key turned in the lock, and the door swung open to reveal a buxom woman, stacked like a tank, at least, that's how he described her.

Sage, he knew she would've been there sooner or later. She had just pocketed her cell phone when she decided to knock. Strange, usually she didn't even bother knocking. Caleb slid to the floor and stared at her. "So", his eyes dropped to the ground as he spoke, "go ahead, let me have it."

Sage looked at him, "Have what? Have your ass handed to you because you were leading with your cock and not your heart? AGAIN?" she chuckled and crouched near him. "Caleb, I know you, probably better than you do these days. We've been friends since we were in school, don't you remember that?"

Caleb nodded, "Still I deserve it and you know it" he heaved a sigh and tried to get up and then he realized that he was still trashed. He got the first syllable out of 'whoa' when he felt Sage's arms bracing him and helping him up. She was about his height, with ass-length black hair, her eyes the lightest blue, and yet always seemed to darken when she was mad. They weren't stormy now, but he knew they would when she sat him down. He brushed off his pants and coughed as she continued.

"Caleb, you always do this, you know you do," she smiled at him, wrapping an arm around his shoulder. "Look at our relationship. You had me collared for what, a year? Then you ran off to be collared by a girl your age…uh what was her name again, I haven't talked to her in a while," she scratched her neck in thought. "Oh yeah, Angela right?" He nodded. "Well, what I remember, is that you left me, and I didn't see you for about a year and a half. Then, out of the blue, you came back, all sad and brokenhearted because you had to break away, for the simple fact that she was a slut. Those were your words at the time, and as I recall, she still hangs around sometimes." Sage looked over to the photo that Caleb had in his hand, "I also remember, she still hangs around you now, not so much a slut now that she's settled down a bit. The point is, you were just thinking with your cock and not your heart, weren't you?" Caleb nodded his answer.

"Yes, I know, I do this constantly", he sighed. "I forget the good girls in favor of ones that can just give it to me easy. I did it with you, I did it with a lot of girls when I was in high school. Then again, I didn't even realize any girls were hot for me then, because I mean…" He shook his head, remembering what he was like back then. He was a heavier set guy, with bad skin pockmarked with acne, which his greasy hair didn't help at all. "Would you have dated me?"

There was a loud smack as she slapped him once, hard, and stepped away from him, leaving him leaning against the wall. "I did date you. For three years, thank you very much. Did you forget that or something?" He cringed away from her. His cheek stung, and he wanted to cry but he dared not, because it would make him seem weaker than he wanted to be. This was Sage he was talking to, someone he respected with all his heart.

"No." He finally got out. "That I could never forget. You were one of the first that let me be myself and let me explore. I also realize that I treated you like crap," he looked down at his hands. "I mean, as you said, I left you for Angela. Look how that turned out." He got up and stumbled into the kitchen to actually get the drink he meant to earlier. Sage stopped him, sat him down in a chair, and poured him a glass of water. "Awww, c'mon...." He protested.

"Look Caleb, I won't admit that you haven't been stupid. In all honesty, all men are, they always are. They don't see what they have in front of them." She sat the glass of water in front of him and started to rummage through the drawers and cabinets of the kitchen, pulling out frying pans and supplies for breakfast foods. He had completely forgotten about food and was famished. As he watched her, he realized what he had missed most about Sage. No matter what, she was there for you when you needed her. She may disappear for awhile, but she was always right there to take care of a friend who was stupid with women, or one that had tried to commit suicide. If he remembered correctly, that was how they met. He let his mind wander back but as he was he heard someone come through the open door.  Caleb and Sage both had forgotten to lock it. Neither one was surprised when Kayta strolled through the door.

"Hey, Sage", she ambled over to her and slung an arm over Sage's shoulder, giving her a half-hug. She then strode over to his side, giving him a big hug as greeting, as per her usual trait, "I see you beat me to, the poor Dragon's side tonight." She shot over at Sage.

"Yeah, well you know if you'd get something faster and more maneuverable, you'd probably get here with me." Sage remarked, hinting at the obvious fact that she rode a Ducati motorcycle instead of the 2000 Mustang GT that Kayta drove. Then again, Caleb remembered that Kayta had said something along the lines of, "I would rather have four wheels and, a steel cage, than two wheels and crotch rot." Then again, he never really understood what the big fight was about, he enjoyed either ride.

Kayta sniffed the air, then looked at Caleb pointedly, "You know, you really need a shower." He  nodded an acknowledgement,  but didn't move at her instruction. He was still wrapped up inside of himself, though two of his best girlfriends were in the room. He still felt alone, hollow and ashamed.

"Sage, are you planning on taking Caleb here to the fetish ball at Erotic Nighshade later this week?"

Caleb started at the name of the club and grumbled, "Don't want to go back there, might run into her..."

Sage laughed, saying "Actually, no, you won't, Caleb. Not if I have anything to say about it."
Being as disgruntled as he was, this warmed him, yet made him angry at the same time, and after having a few drinks he couldn't hold back. Sage saw it coming from a mile away, and shrugged. "Go ahead, you get it out of your system, then I'll explain. I know you're going to fly off sometime, and I don't feel like shouting over you."

"Why the fuck would you do that, Sage?!" Caleb got out of the chair unevenly. It felt like the world was spinning.  The drink mixed with his anger, and never in a good way. This had happened many times before. He knew that they meant well, but him being drunk never helped matters.

"You didn't see fit to interfere when I chose her, after I showed you her, and you inspecting her for yourself!" He was fuming, his breath was coming out unevenly and he could feel himself losing control of his anger. "None of you did, yet now, NOW, that I'm broken, you've decided that 'Oh it's time to help Caleb, he's a helpless little baby….'" His sentence trailed off there as he felt his stomach give a heave and he shoved his way to the sink, and his stomach evacuated everything that was in him. He then passed out bent over the sink, which even to his unconscious mind, was a blessing in disguise.

Description
                                                 Chapter One The Aftermath

Unshaven, unclean. Sitting on his floor for what seemed like the fifth sleepless night. with the same song repeating for the zillionth time. He stumbled forward, singing along with the dark industrial, his voice low and hoarse, sounding like tires on fresh gravel.

He realized that he should get up. His body kept telling him to get up, to do SOMETHING. His mind kept asking, what did he care? She left. Walked out of his life. Used him and dropped him, broken, bruised, and alone.

What is that buzz? His phone. He thought it was on silent, but it was vibrating again, "Damn it." He spat, irritated, as he dragged himself up. His uneasy feet and shaking legs carried him to the kitchen, to look for a drink, a pill, anything to numb himself again. His hand holding onto the wall to steady him, he felt it bump into a picture. He plucked the wooden frame from the wall, leaning his shoulder against the door frame.

Old playmates, and not in the conventional sense of the word. He ran his fingers over their faces in the cracked photo. He was in the center of the photograph. They were all young, or so it seemed. His hair was an unruly mess, he had not shaved before that photo and it showed. His friends didn't like it, but knew to not ask him to shave. When he did something, he chose when to stop. He knew three of them by name as well as body. The first one, Sage, whom he had known for seven years, if he could remember correctly. She introduced him to the Pet Shop, where he had met the wretched girl. He ran his fingers over the next girl, Kayta. A lithe girl with porcelin skin, wearing a brocade corset that made her sizeable breasts prominent. The last girl was Angela, a black goddess whom he had met when they were both too young, unready for what had happened.

He felt, rather than heard, the phone vibrate again. He finally dug it out of his pocket and looked at it. The name "Sage" flashed on the caller id. He growled, wanting to throw it against the ground, but fought the urge and picked it up.

"What?" Caleb greeted roughly, trying to convey his lack of desire for this conversation.

"Where in the hell have you been?" Sage practically shouted at him through the phone, causing him to flinch.

"Calm down, Trouble. I've been at my house."

"For fuck's sake, boy! Answer your phone. Kat, Ange, and I have been worried sick about you. We heard what happened, and we all know how you get."

"I'm fine. You don't need to worry. You guys never did before!" He shouted down the phone, slamming it shut in his hand.

After the call, he looked at the phone and saw he had twenty voice mails. Funny, how they remember me now, he thought in his anger. Yet when I need them, they aren't here.

It had been two years since Caleb had met what he thought was the girl of his dreams. Ophelia. It started in a backroom human pet shop, the two blissful and hell-bent years that changed everything. He still loved, and yet hated the girl. His gaze swept the room, and his eyes fell on the ornate leather collar he had made for her as a gift on the floor. It symbolized the third level, and no one had ever reached that with him. She did, and then it all fell apart, as was usual for his relationships. He knew it was partly his fault that last year of the relationship had been hell on them both. He couldn't blame her, then again, he never blamed anyone. That was one of his biggest faults, that he always blamed himself for everything when it went bad, never accepting the truth around him. When he reviewed that last year in his head, he realized that he could see that his kitten was straying from a mile away, but, as they say, hindsight is twenty-twenty.

He turned back to the old photograph; it had been at a fetish ball, he could tell because he was in all leather. He looked at the four girls around him. Oh how he wanted to talk to them. The truth was, he knew he could. But in his mind, he was punishing himself. They had told him weeks after he brought Ophelia home from the Pet Shop that she would hurt him in the end, but he was so blinded by her beauty, her perceived perfection, that he just didn't want to hear it.

Two years later, two fucking years of being topped from the bottom. Oh, sure, she knew how to be submissive, but she also knew how to manipulate, to get things done her way.

"I guess that she did get from her mom" he grumbled under his breath. A sharp knock at the door startled him out of his reverie. His eyes snapped to the door as his visitor rapped on the door again. "Go 'way," he growled. He heard what he knew was coming. A key turned in the lock, and the door swung open to reveal a buxom woman, stacked like a tank, at least, that's how he described her.

Sage, he knew she would've been there sooner or later. She had just pocketed her cell phone when she decided to knock. Strange, usually she didn't even bother knocking. Caleb slid to the floor and stared at her. "So", his eyes dropped to the ground as he spoke, "go ahead, let me have it."

Sage looked at him, "Have what? Have your ass handed to you because you were leading with your cock and not your heart? AGAIN?" she chuckled and crouched near him. "Caleb, I know you, probably better than you do these days. We've been friends since we were in school, don't you remember that?"

Caleb nodded, "Still I deserve it and you know it" he heaved a sigh and tried to get up and then he realized that he was still trashed. He got the first syllable out of 'whoa' when he felt Sage's arms bracing him and helping him up. She was about his height, with ass-length black hair, her eyes the lightest blue, and yet always seemed to darken when she was mad. They weren't stormy now, but he knew they would when she sat him down. He brushed off his pants and coughed as she continued.

"Caleb, you always do this, you know you do," she smiled at him, wrapping an arm around his shoulder. "Look at our relationship. You had me collared for what, a year? Then you ran off to be collared by a girl your age…uh what was her name again, I haven't talked to her in a while," she scratched her neck in thought. "Oh yeah, Angela right?" He nodded. "Well, what I remember, is that you left me, and I didn't see you for about a year and a half. Then, out of the blue, you came back, all sad and brokenhearted because you had to break away, for the simple fact that she was a slut. Those were your words at the time, and as I recall, she still hangs around sometimes." Sage looked over to the photo that Caleb had in his hand, "I also remember, she still hangs around you now, not so much a slut now that she's settled down a bit. The point is, you were just thinking with your cock and not your heart, weren't you?" Caleb nodded his answer.

"Yes, I know, I do this constantly", he sighed. "I forget the good girls in favor of ones that can just give it to me easy. I did it with you, I did it with a lot of girls when I was in high school. Then again, I didn't even realize any girls were hot for me then, because I mean…" He shook his head, remembering what he was like back then. He was a heavier set guy, with bad skin pockmarked with acne, which his greasy hair didn't help at all. "Would you have dated me?"

There was a loud smack as she slapped him once, hard, and stepped away from him, leaving him leaning against the wall. "I did date you. For three years, thank you very much. Did you forget that or something?" He cringed away from her. His cheek stung, and he wanted to cry but he dared not, because it would make him seem weaker than he wanted to be. This was Sage he was talking to, someone he respected with all his heart.

"No." He finally got out. "That I could never forget. You were one of the first that let me be myself and let me explore. I also realize that I treated you like crap," he looked down at his hands. "I mean, as you said, I left you for Angela. Look how that turned out." He got up and stumbled into the kitchen to actually get the drink he meant to earlier. Sage stopped him, sat him down in a chair, and poured him a glass of water. "Awww, c'mon...." He protested.

"Look Caleb, I won't admit that you haven't been stupid. In all honesty, all men are, they always are. They don't see what they have in front of them." She sat the glass of water in front of him and started to rummage through the drawers and cabinets of the kitchen, pulling out frying pans and supplies for breakfast foods. He had completely forgotten about food and was famished. As he watched her, he realized what he had missed most about Sage. No matter what, she was there for you when you needed her. She may disappear for awhile, but she was always right there to take care of a friend who was stupid with women, or one that had tried to commit suicide. If he remembered correctly, that was how they met. He let his mind wander back but as he was he heard someone come through the open door.  Caleb and Sage both had forgotten to lock it. Neither one was surprised when Kayta strolled through the door.

"Hey, Sage", she ambled over to her and slung an arm over Sage's shoulder, giving her a half-hug. She then strode over to his side, giving him a big hug as greeting, as per her usual trait, "I see you beat me to, the poor Dragon's side tonight." She shot over at Sage.

"Yeah, well you know if you'd get something faster and more maneuverable, you'd probably get here with me." Sage remarked, hinting at the obvious fact that she rode a Ducati motorcycle instead of the 2000 Mustang GT that Kayta drove. Then again, Caleb remembered that Kayta had said something along the lines of, "I would rather have four wheels and, a steel cage, than two wheels and crotch rot." Then again, he never really understood what the big fight was about, he enjoyed either ride.

Kayta sniffed the air, then looked at Caleb pointedly, "You know, you really need a shower." He  nodded an acknowledgement,  but didn't move at her instruction. He was still wrapped up inside of himself, though two of his best girlfriends were in the room. He still felt alone, hollow and ashamed.

"Sage, are you planning on taking Caleb here to the fetish ball at Erotic Nighshade later this week?"

Caleb started at the name of the club and grumbled, "Don't want to go back there, might run into her..."

Sage laughed, saying "Actually, no, you won't, Caleb. Not if I have anything to say about it."
Being as disgruntled as he was, this warmed him, yet made him angry at the same time, and after having a few drinks he couldn't hold back. Sage saw it coming from a mile away, and shrugged. "Go ahead, you get it out of your system, then I'll explain. I know you're going to fly off sometime, and I don't feel like shouting over you."

"Why the fuck would you do that, Sage?!" Caleb got out of the chair unevenly. It felt like the world was spinning.  The drink mixed with his anger, and never in a good way. This had happened many times before. He knew that they meant well, but him being drunk never helped matters.

"You didn't see fit to interfere when I chose her, after I showed you her, and you inspecting her for yourself!" He was fuming, his breath was coming out unevenly and he could feel himself losing control of his anger. "None of you did, yet now, NOW, that I'm broken, you've decided that 'Oh it's time to help Caleb, he's a helpless little baby….'" His sentence trailed off there as he felt his stomach give a heave and he shoved his way to the sink, and his stomach evacuated everything that was in him. He then passed out bent over the sink, which even to his unconscious mind, was a blessing in disguise.