Playing Dom

by Sky Corgan

  “I'm going to ramp the intensity up a bit, okay?”

  Ramp the intensity up? What he was doing now wasn't intense at all, just pleasant. I couldn't imagine what he possibly meant.

  Deciding to place my safety in his hands, I nodded, curiously waiting for what was to come, feeling my heartbeat quicken again with anxiety. The tails of the flogger left my ass, and my body instantly tensed in anticipation of him striking me. That was the only possible meaning for ramping things up.

  But then another sensation came unlike any I could have imagined. Instead of the flogger being slapped across my ass, Micah directed it between my legs. The tails licked up at my clit, causing a pleasurable pressure against my pussy lips accompanied by a delicious sting to my sensitive nub. I groaned shamelessly, my arms trembling under my own body weight. By the second strike, I felt my rolling desire bubbling to a head. It only took two more swings before my orgasm peaked to the surface. I thought about telling him to flog me faster, but then instead slipped a hand down to rub my climax out the rest of the way.

  Micah was good with body cues. He stopped flogging me the second I reached down and waited for me to finish. It felt strangely erotic knowing that he was patiently watching me orgasm.

  When my pleasure subsided, I stood, making sure I stayed facing away from him as I stepped back into my teddy and pulled it up. Gotta leave some things to the imagination. I smacked my lips as I turned around, looking satisfied.

  “That was fabulous, slave. Thank you.”

  He laughed, “You still insist on calling me slave after I had you on your hands and knees like that.”

  “Shut it.” I grabbed the flogger away from him and gave him a hard smack on the hip, making him wince. “You were only able to do that to me because I allowed it.”

  “I was able to do that to you because you trust me. You could have received the same treatment as a submissive, maybe even better treatment.”

  Better treatment? Was there such a thing? I felt pretty darn satisfied with the way things had gone. He hadn't really flogged me, but I certainly had a new appreciation for floggers.

  “I told you, I'm not interested in being a sub anymore. Don't push the subject.” I tried to put on a serious face, crossing my arms over my chest.

  “And I told you that I'm not a slave, but yet you keep insisting on calling me one.”

  “You make a good slave.”

  “A slave that doms.”

  “It's called topping from the bottom. I thought you'd know that.”

  He rolled his eyes. “It's not topping from the bottom if I don't actually want to be a bottom.”

  I waved at him dismissively before sitting down on the sofa. “Whatever, slave.”

  “You're incorrigible,” Micah huffed.

  “Exactly. That's why I'm the Mistress. On the other hand, you've been rather well behaved. I think subbing suits you.”

  “Fuck all. What do you want me to do now?”

  I thought for a while. “I want you to attend a munch with me.”

  “A munch?” He looked utterly repulsed by the idea.

  “Yes, a munch. I believe I'm ready to present myself to the community as a Mistress.”

  “Are you sure?” Micah quirked an eyebrow at me.

  “Mhm. I've rather enjoyed these two sessions with you, and I think I'm ready to move on.”

  “But you haven't really learned anything,” he told me hesitantly.

  “I've learned enough to know that I enjoy being a Mistress more than a sub. Bossing you around has been awesome.”

  “It's not about bossing someone around.”

  “That's part of it though.”

  “Only a small fraction.”

  “Seems like the biggest part to me.”

  “If that's what you truly think, then you'll be no better than Chet.”

  My anger flared. “Don't you dare compare me to that asshole. Don't you dare!”

  Micah sighed, “I know you're not like him. You're too kind to be cruel, but you also don't have enough of an understanding of what you're doing to claim to be a Domme.”

  “Ugh. Just go home. I'll make a perfectly good Mistress. I don't need you validating me. If I have to wait for that, then it will never happen.”

  “Talia, think about it. We've only had two sessions together. What you learned prior to that was all hands-on from being with Chet. You didn't even know what aftercare was until I showed you. And every time we've done things together, you've made me top from the bottom. I know you're scared of being hurt as a sub, but you honestly weren't meant to be a Domme.”

  “You don't know anything about me,” I spat at him, standing defensively. “I think you've taught me all I care to learn tonight. Go home, slave, we both have work tomorrow.”

  The patient look on Micah's face disappeared, and what was left honestly frightened me. This wasn't the first time I had frustrated him, I was sure, but it was the first time he had really let it show. He was just as fed up with me as I was with him.

  With an agitated snort, he threw his hands up at me. “Fine. But I'm not going to a munch with you. Chet's all over this fucking city, and I'm not interested in getting in another fight on your behalf.”

  “I don't need you to defend me.” I stood my ground.

  “Good, because I won't be there to. Just hope you don't need rescuing again, princess.”

  My heart ached as he turned and walked towards the door. It felt like all the control was slipping out of my grasp. I didn't want him to leave, but I was too disgusted to stop him. Part of me feared that I might never see him again, and I definitely didn't want that. Still, my pride kept me rooted in place. If he wanted to be an asshole to me, then he could just leave. I didn't need him anymore.

  My confidence deflated when the door closed behind him, my straight stature slumping before I tossed myself back down onto the sofa and groaned into my hands. What purpose had getting angry served? He was only trying to help, and lord knows he was more educated on the lifestyle than I was. Perhaps he was right. Maybe I wasn't cut out to be a Mistress. That didn't really make sense though, considering that I did enjoy telling him what to do. It was nice to have my pleasures met by a man with a gentle hand. No, I was definitely in the right on this one. Whether he liked it or not, I was a Mistress, a good Mistress. He was just too stubborn to see it, and that was his loss.

  ***

  Despite spending the rest of the week informing my lifestyle buddies that I had made the switch to being a Mistress and garnering their support, I still felt nervous as hell when it was time to attend the munch. I had spoken to just about everyone but Chet. He wasn't worth my time, and while I hoped that he wouldn't show up, I was certain that once word got around, he'd make it a point to be there. If I could just get through this one munch with him, I'd feel like I earned my stripes.

  Sure enough, when I pulled up into the restaurant parking lot, his truck was there, every bit as imposing as he was. My breath hitched when I realized he was sitting inside of it, waiting. When our eyes met, horrible memories rushed to me like a montage of bad, and by the time I parked and killed the engine of my car, my hands were shaking on the steering wheel. All of my confidence melted away, and I slipped back into subspace. Not the same subspace that being with Micah caused, the kind where I felt secure and knew that I could trust him with my body, but the kind where only fear existed. Fear and sickening anticipation.

  I stayed in my vehicle, wringing my hands around the steering wheel, my knuckles a pale shade of white. I needed to recompose myself before I stepped outside, before I faced him. That opportunity wasn't allowed me though. Before I even had time to get my breathing back under control, Chet was knocking on my window, causing me to cry out in surprise. It felt like there was a monster standing outside of my car, and a thin sheet of glass was the only thing separating us. What would I do if he tried to strike me or grab me? The thought was terrifying.

  You can't show him your fear. He'd like that.

&nbs
p; Mustering up every ounce of courage I had, I wrapped my hand around the door handle and opened it, feeling the poisonous air between us rush in to sicken me. Be strong.

  “What do you want?” I snapped at him.

  “Whoa there, cowgirl. I just thought I'd come pay you a little visit.” Even his smirk looked menacing.

  “You can visit me inside.” I slammed my car door, brushing past him to go into the restaurant, taking long strides to make sure he couldn't catch up. Thankfully, he didn't try, and as soon as I was inside and seated with everyone else, I felt a lot safer.

  I wish Micah was here, I thought as Chet took the seat directly across from me, eying me like he was trying to put me in my place. It felt like the tension in the room rose by ten degrees with his presence.

  “So, I hear you're trying to make the switch to Domme,” he said casually.

  “I have made the switch,” my voice was full of confidence, but on the inside, I was trembling and afraid, wondering if he could see right through me.

  “You were never a good sub,” Chet snorted, “but you'll make an even worse Domme.”

  “It will just take her a little while to learn the ropes,” Mistress Marian chimed in.

  “Dominance can't be learned. It's a quality that you either have or you don't. This one isn't dominant, she's just a confused little bitch,” he insisted.

  “There's no need to get rude,” Sir Mark said to him.

  “I'm not being rude. I'm just stating a fact. She doesn't know what she's doing. She's been palling around with that Micah douche who doesn't know his dick from his ass.”

  Tension twisted inside of me to the point of boiling anger, and I could stay quiet no longer. “For your information, Micah's a better Dom than you'll ever be. He's been teaching me the right way to be a Mistress, not how to use the lifestyle for abuse, like you do.”

  Chet laughed, “The guy has no balls. That's how he knows how to be a Mistress.”

  “Trust me, he has balls. I know. I've seen them.” I glared at him across the table, and his anger flared right back at me.

  “Slut.”

  “Enough with the name calling,” Sir Mark chastised us. “If you two can't behave together, one of you will have to leave. I'm not having another munch ruined because people insist on arguing.”

  It seemed obvious who should leave, but when I looked at Sir Mark, I wasn't quite sure he was on my side. Internally, I raged at the fact that everyone was afraid of Chet. Why were they working so hard to keep him in the group when he was the one causing all the drama? I could understand now why Micah didn't want to come. Even though I wasn't very educated in the lifestyle, it felt like I was in the midst of cowards and fakes. These people were generally nice when you got them one on one. Together though, with Chet in the mix, they all submitted to him. It was infuriating.

  “You know what? Fine.” I stood abruptly, pointing across the table accusingly at Chet. “You guys enjoy your fucking bullshit munch, but know that he rules all of you. He may not be physically abusing you like he did me, but he's psychologically dominating you, and until he's kicked out of the group and not allowed back in, he's going to continue to poison the lifestyle and give us all a bad name.”

  Everyone was staring at me, but no one agreed or said anything, all sitting there like sheep afraid of the wolf that kept them in line.

  “Oh boohoo. Go cry a river and drown in it, you little cunt.” Chet grinned up at me, knowing he had won.

  Never before had someone pushed me past my breaking point. Anger infected every cell of my body, not just at him, but at everyone there. I'm not sure if it was a surge of confidence or blind anger that made me do it, but I picked up the margarita of the sub who was sitting next to me and threw it, glass and all, at Chet's face. He brought his hands up to dodge, but it was a split second too late. Margarita went all over him, and the edge of the glass hit him on the forehead before falling to the floor and shattering into a million pieces.

  After that, everything seemed to move at blurring speeds. The screeching of chairs across tile echoed in my ears as people stood. Chet threw himself at me over the table, and I jumped back to avoid him. His fingers grazed my shirt, though he wasn't able to get a grip. Within seconds, Sir Mark had a hold of him around the waist. Chet turned on him, and it was sheer pandemonium. Fists were flying, chairs were toppling over, people were screaming, and Chet was quickly gaining the advantage. I ran around the side of the table to pounce on Chet and put him into a headlock, but just as I was about to grab a hold of him, he swung his elbow back and clocked me right in the face. Then I saw stars for half a second before everything went dark.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  So insufferably stubborn. She wasn't a Domme, no matter how much she insisted she was. I had submitted to the fact that this was all just a game to her. Talia was the angel to Chet's devil of fake Doms and Dommes, a sweet version of someone who used the lifestyle to get what they wanted, damn the rules. If only she would wake up and realize that she could still get what she wanted while being a submissive. She had all the makings of a great submissive; she just refused to accept the role because of what Chet had done to her. Could I really blame her? He had beaten her and abused her and showed her nothing but pain and hatred. Who would want to be a submissive after that? No one. That's who.

  I felt a bit guilty for letting my anger get the best of me. I was actually having fun until she said she wanted to go to that munch. Why was it so important for her to rush things? There wasn't anyone she needed to prove herself to. Telling Chet that she had switched sides would only make him ridicule her. I couldn't understand why she'd want to put herself through that.

  When the weekend rolled around, I stuck to my guns. There was no way I was showing up to that munch, not when I knew what the outcome would be. I couldn't help but worry about Talia though. She may think those other Doms and Dommes were her friends, but she was walking into the lion's den. No one was going to back her up if Chet got out of hand, and knowing him, he would. Hopefully, she'd have enough sense to walk away. There was no point in arguing with a brick wall. The wall wins every time because it doesn't have ears.

  I wanted to stay upset with Talia because of her stubbornness, but at the end of the day, I did care. Too much. Who was I kidding, I liked the girl a lot, more than I'd liked any girl in a long time. She was sweet and fun and funny and adorable . . . and oh so sexy. For as much as I hated subbing to her, the fact that she always made me do stuff to her had me enjoying even that. What had she done to me?

  On Saturday night, I sent her a message asking if the munch was everything she hoped it would be. She didn't respond. Maybe it had run late, and she was having too much fun. Perhaps I had been wrong. Those people knew her well, probably better than I did. They could have embraced her lifestyle change with open arms. I snorted at the thought. Pretenders, the lot of them.

  The next morning was the same thing. No response. I still tried to justify it, thinking that maybe she got too drunk and hadn't woken up yet. Sunday afternoon came and went though, and by the time Monday rolled around, I was beginning to wonder what the fuck was going on. My mind went wild with possibilities. What if Chet had gotten her to go home with him and had hurt her? Or what if I had really pissed her off, and she didn't want anything to do with me anymore?

  I sat at my desk, silently brooding, wondering why I cared so damn much. She was just a girl, like any other. Not a girl, but a woman, capable of making her own choices, her own mistakes. I felt a strong need to protect her though, to take her under my wing and teach her the right way to do things. It was pretty obvious that she didn't want that. She was stubborn and willful, probably not as good of a sub as I kept trying to convince myself. Lust had blinded me. Lust and something else.

  I sighed. What if she had gone back with Chet? What if I had pushed her too far? What if I had ruined something amazing? Hanging out with her was fun, even if I didn't particularly enjoy being the slave.

  My confidence was falte
ring by the second, and my need to get her back was rising. I had never had her to begin with, but I wanted her. How I wanted her, to finish what we had started, to ride the relationship into whatever direction it took us. Maybe being Dom or sub wasn't that important. Perhaps I just wanted her.

  The thought of giving in to my carnal need for Talia made me disappointed in myself. She was everything I had been looking for though. Beautiful and interesting with a fiery personality. I could search forever and never find another girl like her again. Was it worth giving her up over my stupid pride? The answer was no. But if she wasn't responding to my text messages or emails, then how could I ever hope to get her back?

  I messaged some of the other people who had attended the munch, hoping to find out what had happened. The response I received was shocking. There had been a fight, and apparently Talia had left in an ambulance. My heart ached as I read the words, adrenaline pumping through me while I typed furiously on the keyboard to try to get more details. Mistress Marian was being vague, which pissed me off, but there was nothing that could be done about it.

  I thought about calling all the hospitals to find out how Talia was doing, but I didn't know her last name. That problem was easy enough to rectify by doing a reverse search on her phone number. With the information in hand, I called all the hospitals I could think of. It was a daunting task, one that had to be carried out when I was off work. Eventually, I got a hit though, and I was surprised to find that she'd been transferred from the hospital to the county jail on assault charges. It took another round of phone calls for me to track her down. Thankfully, her bail had already been set, so I was able to pull the funds out of my bank account and go rescue her.

  While I waited for them to release her, I tried to figure out what I was going to say. Should I act proud that she stood up to Chet, even if it landed her in jail? Should I chastise her for going to the munch when I had clearly told her it was a bad idea? Certainly, some type of lecture was in order. But when she walked through the door, all I could feel was relief.