by Sky Corgan
“So, gorgeous, how did you end up with an asshole like Chet here?” I addressed Talia again. She studied my face for a moment with those amazing large brown eyes of hers, and my mind filled with thoughts of twisting that pretty face into other expressions. Pain and pleasure and lust.
Talia opened her mouth to speak, but Chet quickly spoke over her, “You're just asking for an ass beating, aren't you, boy?”
“You're more than welcome to try.” I bared into him with my gaze, and the temperature in the room raised about ten degrees with the tension between us.
“We'll have none of that.” The Domme stood, trying to force her dominance on both of us, though after the previous display, the effort fell flat. “If you guys are going to fight, then you can both leave. We're here to have a pleasant meal together, and you're ruining it.”
“He should leave.” Chet pointed at me like a child. “He's the newcomer.”
The Domme's eyes shifted to me as if waiting for an explanation, but it was one of the other Doms who spoke in my defense. “Chet, you started it. This guy hasn't caused any problems. I don't know what the back-story is with you two, but if neither one of you can control yourselves, then you should both leave.”
Chet and I stared at each other for several seconds. The veins in his thick neck bulged, and I could almost see the thoughts rolling through his mind—thoughts of beating me to a bloody pulp. On the other side of the table, I sat cool and composed with a sly grin playing on my lips, trying my best to hide the stress and anger raging within. If he wasn't leaving, then neither was I. Even if he did leave, unless he challenged me, I was staying put, bound and determined to win this little game of wills.
“Stop talking to my girl,” he growled at me.
I turned my attention to Talia. “Perhaps that would be for the best, sugar. If I don't stop talking to you, he'll beat you for it, since he can't beat me.”
I wasn't lying, and in the back of my mind, I felt guilty for provoking Chet to this level, not because I didn't enjoy getting under his skin, but because I knew she would suffer for it later. She seemed so oblivious to everything that was going on, to the danger she was in. How he had managed to hook her in, I didn't know, but I highly doubted she knew what was coming.
“I think it's best we go ahead and wrap this munch up,” the Dom who had come to my defense sighed, eying us warily. He was smart enough to see that neither of us was planning on leaving, and the longer we all sat there together, the worse of a time everyone was going to have.
“I think that would be for the best,” the Domme agreed, nodding at him.
The tension in the room began to lift slightly as everyone stood. At least, I felt it lift off of everyone else. For Chet and I, it was higher than ever. I'm sure we were both wondering what would happen when we got into the parking lot. He was riled up; I was riled up. It was the perfect storm for violence.
To my surprise though, instead of taking the opportunity to attack me, Chet used his grip on Talia to drag her out to his truck before climbing into the driver's seat and pealing out of the parking lot. Part of me ached to watch them go, knowing that I had just dealt Talia a large hand of punishment for things she hadn't even done. She would endure lots of abuse for things that weren't her fault. That was part of being Chet's submissive.
“Sorry for that,” a familiar voice said from behind me as my eyes followed Chet's truck into the distance. I turned to see the Dom who had ended the munch walking towards me with his sub at his side.
“I'm sorry as well.” I turned to him, genuinely feeling bad that my presence had messed up their social event.
“Chet's just—”
“I know what Chet's like,” I cut him off, trying to hide the anger from my tone.
“As much as I'd like to kick him out of the group, he's been here from the beginning. You can probably understand why our group is so small,” he laughed uncomfortably.
“No one wants to be around assholes like him,” I commented bluntly.
“That's good to hear you say.” His expression went serious. “I hate to be unwelcoming, but we'd appreciate it if you didn't show up to anymore of our munches. I'm sure you're a great guy, probably better than Chet, but you know hierarchy rules and all.”
Fuck. If I wasn't pissed before, I was fuming now. Why was I getting kicked out? I wasn't the one who had caused the problem or even started it. Fuck these people. They were all fakes, submitting to an abuser, not even a real Dom.
“I understand,” I replied stiffly.
“It was nice meeting you though. It's a shame this had to happen.”
Save your false sentiments for someone else, you cowardly asshole.
There was nothing left to say and no point in pretending to be friendly. I clenched my jaw as I turned from them and went to my truck, balling and unballing my fists to keep the anger at bay. It had been a long time since I felt like this, so ticked off that my vision was flashing red, so riled up that I just wanted to destroy something, anything. I couldn't let them see that though. I refused to let them see how much everything had gotten to me. This was best saved for somewhere else, somewhere I could release the pent-up aggression.
By the time I got back to my apartment, my knuckles were white from the tight grip I had kept on the steering wheel while driving home. Looking at them made me think of Chet grasping Talia's arm, the marks that his fingers would leave from biting into her skin. What were they doing right now? What was he doing to her right now? I didn't even want to think about it.
When I walked inside, I immediately went to the punching bag in my living room and threw a few jabs at it. Every strike landed straight in the middle of Chet Goines' face, paying him back for the broken nose he had given me so long ago. The effort was less than satisfying though, and as the tension drained away, it shifted to worry, worry for Talia.
Maybe it was because it had been so long since I'd been around anyone in the D/s lifestyle, or because she didn't seem broken like all of Chet's other toys. Perhaps it was because she was ridiculously fucking hot. Whatever the case, my mind seemed obsessed with Talia, and once the aggression died down, arousal took its place.
Fuck all. I grumbled at the persistent erection pressing uncomfortably against my jeans, waiting to be stroked to completion. I should probably go out and get laid, find some easy ass to fill the void inside of me temporarily and make me forget about her. It would be the smartest thing to do, but I felt so mentally exhausted from the munch that I wasn't sure I could conjure up enough suave words to get the job done. There's an art to seducing women. It's all about presentation and flirting and flattery. A few kind words go a long way when coupled with a dominant gaze. Usually I enjoyed the chase. Tonight it just felt like work.
Ultimately deciding to be lazy, I took off my clothes and stepped into the shower, trying to wash away the nagging need that plagued me. Talia. What an exotic sounding name. An exotic name for an exotic woman. Her body was a foreign playground to me, a place I'd love to explore. My hand drifted down to my cock as I thought of her walking away from me. She had been by Chet's side, but it was easy enough to block him out. All I could see was a tight ass in a blue jean skirt begging to be grabbed, legs that went on for miles, and long black hair that cascaded down her back with a soft curl to it. How I wanted to twist my fingers into it, to tug her head back and claim her neck with my lips. I could show her what a real Dom was like, one who gave pleasure through pain, not true agony. He would ruin her. He always ruined them. And that thought killed all of my desire.
CHAPTER TWO
Boring. Dear God was my life fucking boring. Wake up. Go to work. Visit my mom. Come home. Change. Go out. Find someone to fuck. Go to sleep. Rinse. Repeat. It wasn't like that every night. Sometimes I skipped the finding someone to fuck part, but when my bed was empty, my soul felt empty, so for the most part, I stuck to a pattern of finding a soul socket at least twice a week, someone I could plug into to fill the emptiness inside.
There was no point of hoping for an
ything else, that my life would be anything else, that I'd ever find more. With Chet's nasty ass lining the BDSM social circle, I was out of the loop. And what did it matter? I didn't really want to be a part of the lifestyle anyway.
I tried to swallow my memories of the girl at the munch. Talia. Wasn't she in for a treat when she realized what kind of monster Chet really was. It wasn't my concern. That was their life, not mine. If she wanted to be a victim, that was all on her. There was nothing I could do about it.
Time to integrate myself with the herd as best I could. Normal relationships weren't my forte, so fucking would have to do. Empty. Full. Empty. Full. That would be my soul until I got too old for anyone to want to fuck me anymore. Then what? Maybe I could find a friend with benefits, someone as emotionally distant and fucked up as I was. That would be the best course of action.
Days passed, and while I had told myself that I wouldn't think about Talia anymore, I couldn't help but wonder what had happened to her. Had she been punished for my outburst with Chet? It wasn't really a question of if as much as how badly. The thought made my stomach twist. She was a sweet girl, a beautiful girl who didn't deserve to be treated like that. No woman deserved to be treated like that.
Against my better judgment, I got up on the fetish website one afternoon and looked up her profile. All of her pictures showed her smiling, that glorious bright smile that could light up a room. There were also some sultry images of her that lit up parts of me. She had nice perfect tits, not too big, not too small—the kind you just want to wrap both palms around. I bit my bottom lip as I scrolled through her pictures, my cock quickly forming a lump in my pajama pants. Then I scrolled back up to the top of her profile and frowned at her status. Owned by Master Chet.
Fuck all. What was I doing? I had no business bothering this girl, much less looking at her. It would only make things worse for her in the end. Still, I couldn't seem to keep myself away. Sending her a friends request was stupid. If Chet saw me on her friends list, she'd definitely earn a beating. If I just sent her a message though, it would be more discreet.
I chewed at my thumb nail as I opened up the messenger, staring at the blank field provided to type my correspondence. This is a bad idea, dude, just let it go. She's not going to listen to you anyway. They never do.
Though my mind screamed at me to close out of the website, my fingers went to work typing, “Hey, this is Micah. You may remember me from the munch last week. I just wanted to make sure you're alright.”
It sounded stupid and sentimental, but I hit Send anyway, sighing afterward and raking my fingers through my hair. What was I doing? I should just leave the poor girl alone.
Frustrated with myself, I took a final look at one of her more intimate photos before turning off my monitor and forcing myself away from the keyboard. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. She probably wouldn't respond anyway, so I wasn't sure why I was fretting over it so much. Once Chet truly dug his claws into someone, that person did whatever they could not to anger him. His wrath was deadly. She'd be smart not to message me back. Who was I kidding? She wouldn't message me back. Why had I bothered?
With a sigh, I flopped down onto my bed, rubbing my erection over my pants before pulling it out to give it a proper beating. An image of Talia naked in the shower played in my mind while I pleasured myself, a shiny new coin for my spank bank.
I lay there breathless afterward, covered in come and loneliness. Was this what my life had really boiled down to? Dreaming and fantasizing and never having what I truly wanted. I needed to get over it, to delete my profile on the fetish site and move on. It was a great place to find girls to screw, but having an account there just tempted me to want to fall back into the lifestyle. The fact that Talia was there didn't make it any easier. There were always other websites, more vanilla websites. Those would be better to join if I wanted to suppress my urges. Hanging out on the fetish site was just torturing me.
With new resolve, I climbed out of bed, cleaned myself off with a sock from the laundry hamper, and slid back in front of the computer to turn my monitor on. A pop up on the screen caused me to give pause. It was a message from Talia.
She said, “I'm fine. Thank you for your concern. I'm sorry that Chet was such an asshole to you.”
Holy shit, she had messaged me back. Was this for real? I starred at the screen like an idiot for several moments, blinking and re-reading the message, a sly smile playing across my face. My horny cells instantly refueled as I imagined the words coming from her lips, those delicious looking lips I so desperately wanted to kiss. Did she even know how wrong it was for her to talk to me, how much Chet would disapprove?
Thoughts played through my mind. Devious thoughts. Horrible thoughts. Thoughts of doing the unthinkable, of swooping in and trying to steel this amazing creature from Chet's grasp. If he found out though, she would be the one who paid for it. As much as my attraction bloomed for her, I needed to stay away, for her sake.
I closed the message and sighed, knowing better than to respond, to try to befriend her. It wasn't worth the risk of her getting beaten for my selfishness. Maybe if she messaged me again I would pursue it. The temptation was too sweet, and my willpower only extended so far.
Briefly, I thought about deleting my account again, but knowing that she had responded, I couldn't do it. Perhaps it wouldn't hurt to keep the account, to check on her from time to time and see if her status had changed. One thing was for sure, her relationship with Chet had a time limit. No woman could ever tolerate him for too long.
***
Another week passed, and I had to give myself a pat on the back for staying away from the fetish website. I had my account set up so that any messages I got would be forwarded to my email address. Instead of logging onto the website, I just checked my inbox everyday for a message from Talia. Nothing ever came though, and why should it when I never responded to her. I was quite certain she wasn't thinking about me like I was about her. I was just a stranger who had graced her presence for half an hour. She had no reason to think of me.
It was surprisingly dead at work for a Friday. Usually on Fridays, we got people in droves, considering a lot of them had been paid. What better way to spend your paycheck than on health insurance. Sarcasm abound.
I was thankful for the silence. Fridays for me were like Mondays for most people, a horrific day of stress and overtime. That didn't appear to be the case today though. When it was this dead, I typically just fucked around online. Our boss was fine with it, and there was no activity monitoring or website blocking in place. Hell, I had watched porn one time at work, and no one had given a shit. My boss had even walked right past my desk and leaned in to see if he could recognize the girl in the video. He was a cool guy.
I decided to check my email between watching YouTube videos and was surprised to see a message from the fetish website. My heart skipped a beat as I instantly thought of Talia, more specifically the inappropriate pictures I had seen of her. My mouse quickly rolled over to click on the email, and a slight frown creased my lips as I realized that it wasn't from her. It was a message from some local Domme I had never spoken to before, inviting me to a play party that she was hosting on the following weekend. Peculiar. People were usually careful about who they invited to their play parties, so I knew this was probably going to be some lame, fake event. It might be more fun than bar hopping though.
I clicked the close button and stretched, wondering if Chet and Talia would be there. Unfortunately, there would be no Talia without Chet, so I had to factor him into the equation too. Maybe there would be a Chet without Talia though, depending on how badly he had last beaten her. The thought made my jaw tighten and anger rush through my body unbidden. Stop it. You can do nothing about it.
If this Domme had sent the message to me, a stranger, I was sure she had sent it out to everyone else who claimed to be into the lifestyle in the area. That meant it would be a big event, a much larger group than was at the munch. That meant I might be able to find someone
of interest, someone unencumbered by a Dom. No. You said you weren't going to get into this anymore. Your time in the lifestyle is over. It's best to just move on.
I knew I should delete the email, but I also knew that I'd regret it if I did. There was no harm in letting it sit in my inbox festering like a contagious disease, making me sick with curiosity to the point that when the next weekend rolled around there was little question in my mind about whether or not I would attend. Hope ignited inside of me, a hope that shouldn't be there. Not that I would see Talia, but that I would find someone, someone like her, someone I shouldn't be searching for. It was a hope that would be extinguished the moment I stepped onto the scene, I was sure. The handful of true Doms and subs would likely already be paired up, the rest of them, fifty shades of fake just trying to live a little. Why did I keep doing this to myself?
While fetish wear was allowed, I decided to dress normally for the event. I wasn't really looking for anything other than entertainment.
The party was being held in a small warehouse on the west side of town. When I pulled up to it, the only thing that made it look conspicuous were all the cars parked out front. Invitations had definitely been sent to tons of people on the fetish website. There was no way there was this many serious practitioners of the lifestyle in the area. The last time I had attended a play party here, D/s was still a little known thing. Now that it had been thrust into the limelight and glamorized, a lot of people wanted a taste, mostly women, which really only worked to my benefit.
I made my way to the door and stood behind a pair of giggling girls in poorly stitched latex. Their outfits were so cheap and costumey that it was almost embarrassing. The only thing keeping me from rolling my eyes was the fact that one of them turned to look at me. All I could do was smile politely until they pressed on to hand their invitations to the door man/dungeon monitor. His leathers were a lot more impressive, and his bulky size and dominant stare left no question as to which side of the D/s spectrum he landed on. This guy was strictly business.
