Playing Dom

by Sky Corgan

  Playing Dom

  SKY CORGAN

  Text copyright 2014 by Sky Corgan

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without written permission of the author.

  CHAPTER ONE

  Moving sucks, and I never would have done it if it hadn't been out of necessity or obligation or some other stupid fucking feeling that causes you to do something that completely goes against the grain of your desires. It couldn't be helped though. Well, maybe it could have been if I was some asshole who didn't give a crap. I couldn't imagine letting her die without seeing me again. She deserved at least that much.

  The shit part was having to see him too. He had beaten both of us when I was growing up. Her to the point of death once. Why she stayed with him I was never able to understand, but once I was old enough to leave I got the fuck out of there. He would have kicked me out if I hadn't of left. I was always such a fucking inconvenience to him, just something he had shot out of his cock and had to tolerate for eighteen years. Tolerate was a gentle term compared to how he treated me—how he treated us.

  He should have been the one to end up with cancer, but as they say, the good die young, leaving the rest of us monsters behind. My mother was a saint. She always had been. She tried to be the perfect mother, the perfect wife, the perfect woman, but it was never enough for him. I begged her to leave with me, but she wouldn't come. Watching them together as I grew up was my first taste of dominance and submission. He was the alpha; she was the omega, and if I wasn't his pup, I'm pretty sure he would have killed me somewhere along the way. Our blood bond was the only thing that had kept him from beating me to death, and he seemed to like to check the color of my blood often to make sure that I was his.

  You'd think with such a background, I'd never take an interest in BDSM, that my mind would be too scarred from living in a domination hell to consider putting someone else through something similar, but they say that every man secretly wants to marry their mother, more accurately someone like her. Even though I swore to God that I'd never be an abusive asshole like him, I still craved the need to be served by women, both domestically and sexually. I craved the need to dominate, and so that's what I eventually became, a Dominant.

  Maybe the move was for the best. Things had been shit for me for a while. In my eight years as a Dominant, I only ever had one good sub. That was in the beginning, and my stupid ass had let my feelings get the best of me. When things got really serious between us, she had wanted to change the dynamic of our relationship, replacing the mantle of sub with the word girlfriend. Things went downhill from there as I lost control of her. I still kick myself in the ass for letting things get like that. She was the one who got away, not as a woman, but as a sub. When I wanted to change things back to the way that they were before, she refused, and the relationship crumbled. My body still aches for her at times, the perfect submissive she was. That's over now though. After we broke up, she stopped talking to me. I chased her like a pathetic love sick puppy for about a month . . . until she got another boyfriend.

  No one has really satisfied me since. Perhaps my standards are set too high. Maybe I've been comparing everyone to her, and they've failed the test. Since Hannah, my trial subs have either been too clingy or only want to play in the lifestyle. While I feel the need to dominate, I also like my free space. I don't want someone around me twenty-four-seven. But I also don't want someone who will only come around when it pleases them. That's not submissive behavior. That's them putting themselves in control. It's funny how many people think they're submissive but really aren't. It's the same with Doms though. There are so many fake ones out there, so many men who either don't really have dominant qualities or who take things to the extreme and only use their title to lash out at innocent victims.

  It was my last trial sub who finally made me want to take a step away from the lifestyle though. She was the distant kind, but she had a brilliant mind and a body to die for. I had never got to fully have my way with that body before I found out she had a second Dom behind my back. Fucking bitch. With so many people giving the lifestyle a bad name, or breaking the rules to fill their own personal agendas, what was the point anymore. It seemed like there were too many fakes, more chaff than wheat, too much hay not enough needles. I was tired of looking for that perfect girl—that perfect sub.

  So after I got settled back in my hometown, I went on a random fuckfest. Condoms were abound as I racked up the notches on my bed post, so many that if they were literal, I might have needed to replace the headboard a few times. No matter how many girls I slept with though, I always left their beds with an empty feeling. Something wasn't right inside of me, and no amount of sex was going to fix it.

  I settled into my new job, went to visit my mother, and avoided my father the best I could. Just seeing him lit a fire inside of me that wanted to consume and kill him. The rage demon awakened, and I had to remind myself of all the years of therapy it took to quell it. He wouldn't hurt me now. He'd be stupid to try. Because if he did, I would break him.

  Back then, I was a skinny little shit. It was easy for him to over power me and beat me down. Now though, I had packed on the pounds, and it wasn't fat. Hours of tirelessly lifting at the gym had my body looking like it was carved out of stone, and I could hit just as hard. No one was ever going to beat my ass again.

  There were other perks to being fit. Women were easy to come by, and so I went through them like toilet paper. Use and discard. Use and discard. The ones that clung to me, I quickly wiped away with indifference. My body wasn't the only thing that had grown over the years. My ego had inflated as well, and I had become somewhat of a cocky son of bitch.

  For the first few weeks back, I felt out my surroundings and got a taste for the women in the area. So much had changed in the eight years that I'd been away. All the friends I'd known before had either moved or got married and had kids. It made me feel like the odd man out, but family had never been in my plans, and I wasn't particularly interested in hanging out with a bunch of soccer moms and dads who probably spent most of their time gushing about their brats.

  Bedding women was quickly getting old though, and I had other craving that were resurfacing. As fucked up as it was, seeing my mom and dad together reminded me of the things that were missing in my life, not the typical things that most people feel are missing from their mundane lives, but the darker cravings.

  I knew better than to seek out what I truly wanted, that disappointment would be waiting just around the corner, as it always was when I felt weak and tried to reintegrate myself into the lifestyle. Despite the nagging voice in my head to let it go though, I found myself in front of my computer, searching a fetish website for local munches.

  “Fuck,” I grumbled after jotting down the address for the next munch. Why couldn't I stay away? Why couldn't I just fap and fuck like a normal guy? This couldn't lead anywhere good. It never did.

  Exhausted from a long day of boring work as a health insurance salesman, I tossed myself down on my bed and shoved my hand in my boxers, grabbing my cock and filling my head with thoughts of her. Hannah. The perfect submissive. She cooked and cleaned and fucked like a Goddess. My mind went straight to memories of her shapely thighs as I pulled my dick out and began slowly stroking, the way those thighs would quiver when I ran my tongue up the inside of them, moving closer to the heat of her pleasure core. Just a touch was almost enough to throw her over the edge; she was so attuned to me. Never before had I been more in sync with a woman in every way possible. And then her fucking feelings stepped in and ruined it all. Not just hers, but mine. I had wanted her impossibly bad,
in every sense of the word. And I had been so afraid of losing her that I was willing to give her whatever she wanted to keep her by my side. But in giving her what it took to make her happy, I had lost what made me happy. The scale of our relationship tipped to imbalance, and the weight of our differing needs was our downfall.

  I sighed at my limp manhood, feeling defeated by Hannah's memory. Even after so many years, she could still both inspire and destroy my pleasure with a single thought. Tonight was on the destructive end. It was a no-go. That's why I tried not to think about her as much as possible. She still crept back into my mind every time I considered the lifestyle, probably because I held hope that I'd find someone like her—someone that could invoke the deepest part of my inner Dom, someone whom I could own completely.

  ***

  Doubt and self-annoyance wrecked me as I drove toward the location of the munch. What in the hell was I doing? This shit was going to be a disappointment. It always was. Still, I continued forward, following the all-business voice of the woman who gave me directions from my GPS. To distract myself, I tried to imagine what she'd look like in person. She was probably the pencil skirt and blouse type, with short auburn hair and glasses. Mmm, yes, glasses.

  “Tch,” I snorted at myself. What a time to get an erection. That might make introductions awkward. 'Hi, I'm Micah, care to shake my dick?' Half the women there would probably jump at the chance. Most of them were hungry for more than just dominance.

  I pulled up in front of the Mexican restaurant where the munch was being held and hung out in my car until the bulge in my pants subsided. I would be late, but what did it really matter. This was just a waste of time anyway, something to help pass another boring afternoon.

  I walked inside and to the back of the restaurant towards the private area, not really knowing what to expect. The notice on the website said that the group was casual, so I wore a pair of jeans and a fitted shirt. No point in looking too shabby, in case there was someone of interest there.

  Friendly faces greeted me, and I was welcomed into the fold with introductions before I took an unoccupied seat toward the end of the table. It wasn't long before I realized that everyone was already paired up. Dom/sub. Domme/sub. Dom/slave. I was the odd man out. It didn't matter though. I hadn't come to get back into the lifestyle anyway. I was just killing time and trying to make friends. I needed friends. I couldn't just keep going around fucking half the city.

  The chat was idle and random. I tried to get in on it whenever I could, though they seemed like a pretty tight-knit group. It would take a while for the awkwardness to wear off, but if I continued to come around, they'd eventually accept me. That's how these things usually worked.

  To help kill the tension, I grabbed a beer from the bar area. The restaurant was fairly casual. You went up to the counter to order food and drinks. There were no waitresses to serve you. Normally, I might have found that to be a bit annoying, but it worked in my favor today, giving me a chance to get away from the strangers and compose my thoughts.

  Fuck all, I was bored though. It sucks trying to talk to strangers, especially when they're so immersed in their own group. Maybe if they weren't all coupled, it wouldn't be as difficult. Being a single Dom though, I really didn't have anything to offer any of them by being there.

  When I returned to the table, I found that a new couple had arrived, and one of them had taken the liberty of high-jacking my seat. No one had said a God damn thing to them. I was fucking pissed.

  My grip tightened on the neck of my beer as I was forced to pull a chair from another table and bring it into the private area. The ruckus was enough to make everyone turn their attention toward me. That's when things got worse. The new couple looked like any other random strangers when I was checking out the back of their heads, but when they turned around, I realized that I knew the guy, and my blood instantly began to boil. Should have fucking just turned around and walked out.

  Chet Goines. Dom asshole extraordinaire. I'd known him from back in the day, when I was still a pup and inexperienced in the lifestyle. He had a mean streak the likes of which none had ever seen, and judging by the nasty look he was giving me, that hadn't changed. There was no recognition behind his beady brown eyes though, and for that I was grateful. Hopefully, he had forgotten my name along with my face. This guy was a bully to the extreme. Memories of his verbal degradation came back to me like a gust of foul wind. This one enticed the same feelings that my father did. I wanted to beat his ass. Not just because he harped on me eight years ago, but because he's the epitome of what every Dom should not be. He uses pain as a weapon, not for pleasure, beating his submissives and treating them like worthless dogs. There's no love in his heart for anyone. And as horrible as that makes him sound, as much as you'd think no one would ever want to be with someone like that, he was never without a sub. Most good subs just want to please, and there are plenty of women out there that are conditioned to be in abusive relationships. It's a sad thing, really.

  The creature on his arm was absolutely stunning, and my stomach rolled in jealousy at the sight of her. How did a guy like him land a submissive like her when guys like me continuously ended up empty handed? Of course, her looks said nothing about her personality, but I was so riled up that I was willing to let my dick take over logic. All in all, I was just angry, and any other kindling I could use to fuel that fire, I was going to dig up, even if it wasn't real.

  From that point on, it was best for me to just blend in. If Chet Goines was part of this group, then I didn't want anything to do with them. Blending in was easier said than done though, especially when one of the Doms decided to introduce us.

  “Micah Payton. Why does that name sound familiar?” Chet said, and when he spoke, everyone listened as if his voice demanded they pay attention.

  The only person who didn't appear to be stirred by him was the girl on his arm. She stared at me, doe-eyed and curious. Good fucking God was she hot. There was a soft sexiness about her, and a naivety that I couldn't place. Usually, Chet's subs were always cowering, afraid to raise their eyes from the floor, lest they invoke his wrath. Chet was not opposed to disciplining publicly. I saw him punch a woman across the face once. When I stepped in to stop him from beating her half to death, I ended up in a pile beside her with a broken nose. The guy was big and bulky and strong, and I was no match for him back then. Now, things were a bit different, though I still didn't want to cross his path if I could avoid it. Hearing my name on his lips sent a cold shiver down my spine, but not out of fear so much as anger. Shit was about to hit the fan. I knew I never should have come here.

  “I don't believe we've met,” I lied, trying to derail the oncoming train wreck.

  “No. I'm pretty sure I've seen you somewhere before.” He pointed at me with an accusing look. “The question is where.”

  “I'm fairly sure we've never met.”

  “You're lying,” Chet snorted. “I remember now. You were that scared little cunt that used to come around here about ten years ago. The bitch boy who wanted to be a Dom. Didn't your daddy beat you all the time?”

  “Chet, that's not very nice,” the Domme chastised him.

  “When have I ever been nice?” he practically spat at her, and she instantly recoiled, the mood in the room twisting with a tension that was suffocating. “That is who you are, isn't it?” Chet turned his attention back to me.

  “Ah, and I think I remember you now.” I pretended to have an epiphany. “Aren't you the guy who used to beat his subs til they ended up in the hospital?” I shot a warning glance directly at the woman by his side.

  “What I do with my subs is none of your concern, boy. I suppose you're here looking for a Domme to cock-fuck that little ass of yours.”

  “I don't participate in the lifestyle anymore. I just have a continuing interest in it.”

  “Pfft. I'm not surprised. You were never lifestyle material anyway.”

  That was it. I'd had enough. I'd done my best to play nice, but I wasn
't going to continue to sit there and let this asshole bash me into the ground. “I was more of a Dom than you ever will be,” I said, letting some of the cockiness into my voice.

  “Is that so?” The hatred in his eyes took an amused turn. “I guess that explains why you're not a Dom anymore, but I still am.”

  Everything in me wanted to reach across the table and introduce his face to my fist, but the more logical part of me said that I should just leave. I wouldn't give him the satisfaction though. The least I could do was make him miserable for the duration of the munch, and the best way to do that was to stay put and stand my ground. Besides, if I walked now, it would be like submitting to him, and I damn sure wasn't going to do that.

  “So, lovely, what's your name?” I turned my attention to the girl at Chet's side, speaking pleasantly as if Chet wasn't even there.

  “Talia,” she answered, her name rolling off her tongue like honey to my ears.

  “Don't waste your breath on him.” Chet wrapped a meaty hand around her arm. “He's a nobody.”

  “This is a munch, not your dungeon,” I reminded him, eying the way the girl's flesh bulged slightly in his tight grasp. If he gripped much tighter, she'd bruise. “We're all here to make polite conversation. I was simply doing just that. No reason to get your panties in a knot.”

  He snorted again, “Don't you mean your panties, pussy boy?”

  “Chet, that's enough,” the Domme growled at him. “Leave him be.”

  “You stay out of this,” he barked at her.

  Her expression said she wasn't going to back down, but her body language spoke the opposite. She tensed a bit and sat back in her seat, giving over control. It made me sick to my stomach to see so many people afraid of him, even after all these years.