Thinking that made me angry. So I took a shower, cooked some breakfast, and am now sitting in front of my big, wide window overlooking a park and doing some meditative yoga.

I’m a strong woman. I feel like I shouldn’t have to tell myself that, but it’s true. I’ve been through worse. I trust Ian – or as much as a woman can trust someone in that situation. Never have I heard a bad word about him in the club. Although I’m not privy to why he and subs go separate ways, I’ve never thought it had to do with his behavior.

No, everything negative I feel is solely due to me.

It takes a lot of nerve and resolve to go up to a man and say dominate me. Perhaps too much. As a Domme, I don’t have to think about my pride or my self-worth. It’s ingrained into me as a part of my role. If I submit? It’s going to be at the forefront of my mind.

Even so, Ian said I didn’t have to do anything. He wanted some casual sex if I was up for it. Doesn’t matter. This whole submission thing is in my head.

If I’m ever going to try it, Ian is the only man I’ll trust with it.

Shit, don’t ask me why! I’m trying to meditate here. And yet all I can think about is Ian Mathers shoving me against two walls and fucking me as if he’ll never have the chance to do it again. As if the world is ending. As if he can’t get enough of me or my body. Usually when men act like that around me, it’s because I’m their Domme. It’s so different having a non-submissive man slather you with attention like that.

It’s noon. People are enjoying the park. Here on my enclosed balcony, I can see their colorful heads moving around, playing games, eating food, jogging… it’s all so peaceful.

I’m at peace.

It won’t be so bad. I’ll go to his place, I’ll do whatever he wants, but at the end of the day I’ll still be the same person. Some women go through gay experimentation – or so I hear. Me? Maybe I’m experimenting with submission.

A deep breath takes me over. In several hours, it will be Ian Mathers taking me over.

***

Two hours later, I receive a text from him. “Instructions.” Hm. Well.

It’s a list of requests. Mostly apparel. I was going to dress girly, but it seems he has other ideas. Multiple lines of text, each one describing what he wants me to wear, appear before me.

He’s a meticulous Dom. I’ve never required my subs to wear anything other than skin.

This is going to be interesting. Perhaps not as interesting as how much my body tingles as I go through my closet, looking for items close enough to his descriptions, however.

I’ve never dressed up for a man before like this. I’ve never followed his instructions, knowing that what I’m doing is meant to arouse him. His tastes, not mine. The way I do my hair, the jewelry I wear, even my underwear… it’s all for him. And me. We pretend it’s all for him.

Maybe this submitting thing is easier than I expected. A part of me can’t wait to see what tonight has in store.

 

 

 

 

Chapter 24

 

IAN

 

I’m a nervous wreck.

Me, a Dom. A man who is used to being in control. Now I’m being given the ultimate control by the woman I least expected. The woman I expected to want me the least. And now the woman I expected to submit the least.

I want her so badly. She consumes my mind all day.

I eat lunch with my father and some of his friends. We take the old-man party to a lounge to waste away the afternoon. Men with forty years on me talk about the good ol’ days and chide me for still being a bachelor. Yet they pour me more drinks, and my father clicks his tongue.

“Don’t want to hear any talk about women right now,” he mumbles. “Ian needs to be focusing on his work, or at least until the hotel is taken care of.” Of course, he beams at me in that know-how way. He’s a man. I’m his son. He wants proof of my virility without actually knowing the details. I’m allowed to wait for marriage, however. I admit it’s not something I think about, even as I turn thirty.

Every man I’m sitting with has a daughter, granddaughter, or niece who is looking for a “nice” man. I know that code talk. I also don’t doubt I’ve seen some of these young ladies at The Dark Hour. Maybe I’ve fucked a couple without realizing it.

I’m not thinking of them. I’m thinking of Kathryn.

Tonight, she’ll submit to me.

We’ll see.

I should be excited. I am. This is a once in a lifetime opportunity. Men can’t buy experiences like this – not often. Dominating a Domme. Guys salivate at it. I get hard at the thought. There are many aspects of BDSM, and one of them is helping a sub give up utter, complete control. When that sub is usually dominant? It will either be the best sex of their life…

Or the worst.

Many don’t indulge more than once. Maybe they enjoyed it, but it’s not something they want again. I’ve heard about it over drinks, in secret, from other male Doms. You’re hard pressed to find a Dom who has never subbed at least once. We’re quiet about it.

I’ve never subbed. Never interested me. Then again, it’s never interested Kathryn Alison.

Until now.

Until she picked me.

We have an early dinner where I’m offered more drinks, but I decline. I need to keep a level head for tonight. I’m entering my headspace. My headspace. The Dom’s world where I mentally prepare to initiate a beautiful young woman into my sort of play.

It won’t be the first time. But it’s Katie.

On the cab ride home, I think of her wearing the outfit I assigned her. Breasts pushed up. Pussy spread. Her lips all over my cock as I pull her hair and call her whatever name she wants me to call her. I’ll tie her up. I’ll deny her the use of her senses. I’ll make her beg for my cock… and what I keep inside of it.

I wouldn’t be a very good Dom if I didn’t claim a sub like her. Even if it’s one night, I want her to know what I truly feel like inside of her. No condom. No pulling out.

During one of our late night conversations she told me she has an IUD. Got a lovely description of it being put in and how much cramping it caused. I have a hard stomach, but even that made me cross my legs and wince. I never thought I’d be using the information as leverage to have unprotected sex with her.

Unprotected. Fuck, I’m hard in a taxi. What I would give to have a hot woman in my lap right now. Sucking me, fucking me… I don’t care. It’s taking every bit of resolve I have to not hop into my condo and jack the fuck off.

I get the place ready. Make sure I know where everything is. Put out some wine and check the fridge for food in case she shows up hungry. I’m playing a long game tonight. I want to make sure she’s comfortable and into what I’m offering.

I don’t want to scare her off. Even if it ends up with me simply driving my cock into her, my face buried in her throat, I don’t care. Dominating her will be a bonus.

See? She’s doing strange things to me. I don’t get this nervous preparing for a date in my own home. I can’t let her see me nervous. From the moment she steps through that door, I am a man in full control.

Damnit, Kathryn, why are you putting this pressure on me?

***

At 8:10, when I’m thinking about texting her to make sure she’s not standing me up again, someone buzzes my door.

I’m ready. That’s what I tell myself when I step away from my desk and make sure the cat is locked up in the library so she won’t disturb us. Knowing her, she’ll be conked out until 3am when she begins her next stint of crazies.