Provoking the Dom: Stella's Submissiveness Challenge
By
Alicia Roberts
Provoking the Dom: Stella's Submissiveness Challenge
Copyright 2012 by Alicia Roberts
This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only.
This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental.
Adult Reading Material
Disclaimer: The material in this book is for mature audiences only and contains graphic sexual content. It is intended only for those aged 18 and above.
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Provoking the Dom: Stella's Submissiveness Challenge
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Stella is a strong, independent woman and she sees no reason why a woman would allow herself to be dominated by a man. When she meets Morgan, a casino owner with whom she feels a powerful attraction, she derides him for being a Dominant.
But Morgan challenges her to be his Submissive for a week, and Stella stubbornly accepts, determined to prove that any woman can be a submissive without enjoying it.
During the challenge, Morgan employs all his tricks to make her admit she enjoys it. He insists Stella behave like a proper submissive, and this includes being constantly naked, allowing him to touch her intimately, and accepting spankings and other punishments for her mistakes.
Stella is determined to emerge from the challenge with her heart intact – but will that be possible?
This is Part 1 of the Stella's Submissiveness Challenge series.
Chapter One
I walked around the casino slowly, watching the gamblers win and lose, the excitement on the floor palpable.
I tried not to glance up at the security cameras. Morgan had once told me he spent most of his time watching the floor via those cameras, and I wondered if he could see me – but looking straight into a camera would just make me look desperate.
I was here in the casino he owned and managed, the Treasury, because I liked the vibe, the rooms were comfortable, and the service was great. Not to see Morgan. Or at least, that's what I told myself.
Of course, I let my friend Mandy know I was here – she was Morgan's cousin and had introduced us. I sent her another text to say the casino floor was buzzing. I wondered if she'd told Morgan I was here. She probably had.
I'd first met Morgan a few months ago, and since then he'd flown down to Madison to see Mandy a few times, and I'd met him each time. A few weeks back, Mandy and I had taken him up on his offer to stay at the Treasury for free, and we enjoyed a short Vegas holiday.
I thought Morgan and I shared a strong attraction, but I could be wrong. He was tall, with chocolate eyes and dark hair, and we were always making little jokes and teasing each other. Mandy had mentioned that since meeting me, he'd flown down to Madison more often, probably using her as an excuse to see me.
At that, I'd asked her if Morgan had a girlfriend. My subtlety was lost entirely on Mandy, who laughed and said, "No, but he probably has a Submissive."
Looking at my confused face, she'd explained that Morgan was into the BDSM lifestyle. When I went home that day and Googled BDSM, I realized why Morgan had never actually asked me out or made a pass at me. He clearly liked meek, weak women, and I was anything but weak.
I like to think of myself as an intelligent, independent woman, and a life of obeying some man and allowing him to torture me was not one that appealed to me. So I decided to forget about Morgan.
But here I was, down at the Treasury Casino, hoping to run into him. I wasn't sure what I thought might happen between us, but I hadn't been able to get him out of my mind. So when my three-day blogging conference, held at another Vegas hotel, had ended, I found myself here, ostensibly looking for a "holiday." I run a popular food and cooking blog, and taking a few days off wouldn't hurt business.
I lost a few rolls of craps, enjoyed a quick lunch in a cute cafe, and did some window shopping. By the time I had dinner, there was still no sign of Morgan. I changed out of my jeans into a slinky cocktail dress and found myself in the bar, ordering one Long Island iced tea after another. I brushed off advances from losers, allowed myself to get a bit tipsy, and finally asked the waitress if there were any other clubs or bars in the casino.
She reeled off a list of names, and then finally said, "We've also got a BDSM club called Masquerade, but you're clearly not into that stuff."
"How do I get there?"
"I'm pretty sure you won't like it." Her voice was dripping with doubt.
I took a long sip of my drink. "No," I agreed, "But I just wanna see what it's like."
"Okay…" She still seemed doubtful, but told me to go upstairs, walk past the boutiques and turn right.
"Gotcha," I said and grinned.
I finished the Long Island iced tea and left before I could change my mind, and found myself walking past the boutiques. There was a door at the far end of the corridor with two large bouncers standing in front of it. There was no sign it was a happening nightclub or bar, so I stood there until a man dressed in black walked past me and showed the bouncer his driver's license. The bouncer nodded and handed him a dark blue Venetian mask, which the man slipped over his head.
I watched him walk in and gulped. At least I knew what to do.
It probably wasn't as bad as I thought it would be. I showed the bouncer my ID and he was about to hand me a mask when his walkie-talkie buzzed.
He moved away and muttered into it, and I couldn't hear what he'd said. But when he came back, he put away the blue mask and handed me a sparkly white one instead. I saw the two men exchange looks, but I don't mind white, so I smiled and walked in.
There was a coat room, but the girl smiled and refused to take the cover charge from me, so I walked past into the inner room.
Everyone was wearing dark blue masks, and they all seemed to be watching something. I turned to see what they were watching, and gasped when I saw the stage.
A man in a leather hood stood on one side with a whip in his hand. In the center of the stage there was a naked girl, her eyes bound with a blindfold, her arms handcuffed and tied above her head, and her legs spread wide and attached to a straight metal bar.
The crowd was rumbling, and I saw the man walk up behind her and caress her ass, whispering something in her ear. The girl smiled and nodded, and the man moved back and began to whip her slowly. I could tell he wasn't using all his force, and the girl began to moan. Her face was awash with pain, and the man stopped briefly to ask her something. She nodded again, and he started whipping her faster this time, quicker and with more force.
I was incredulous – a look of pleasure started to come over her face, and the crowd started to cheer him on. I glanced around; everyone seemed to be excited and aroused by the scene.
And then I saw Morgan.
Our eyes met and my breath caught. Morgan's chocolate eyes were twinkling under the lights. He wasn't wearing a mask, and he was staring straight at me, a thin smile playing on his lips. I blushed, hoping he wouldn't think I was enjoying this. Oh wait, I was wearing a mask. There was no way he'd know it was me. I looked away, ignoring the tingling I felt.
But then he walked up to me, and said, "Had enough yet?"
I pretended not to hear him, and continued to hope he didn't know it was me. He grabbed my arm, and walked me out, pulling off my mask.
"Hey!" I gasped angrily, my arm burning where he held me. "How did you know it was me?"
I frowned with indignation and Morgan laughed and let go of my arm. "You do know I've got cameras all over this place, right? And that you were the only
one in there wearing a white mask?"
"Hmmph," I snorted derisively. "I hope you don't think I liked what was going on in there."
Morgan's tone was light and uncaring. "No, it was quite clear you hated what you saw."
I sneaked a sideways glance at him. "Hmm."
He didn't seem to be sarcastic, but he seemed to be laughing at me silently. "And why exactly did you hate it?"
This was exactly the chance I was looking for! I launched into a slightly tipsy tirade as we walked into a nearby cafe and sat in a quiet corner. I told him how inhumane it was, how barbaric that the girl was being treated like an animal, how all men were pigs...
"Hang on," he interrupted me. "You did notice there were women in the crowd too, who were having fun?"
"Hmm. Well, fine, the whole BDSM crowd are pigs. And the poor woman was being whipped! In public! Naked! Why would she allow that? Why would someone do that to her?"
Morgan was looking at me steadily, his chocolate eyes glinting under the warm cafe lights. "Did you notice she seemed to be having fun? And how about the fact that she didn't ask him to stop, and she seemed to be enjoying the whole thing?"
I stared into his eyes and felt myself sinking. "People are nuts." That appeared to be the only explanation.
Morgan shook his head seriously. "There are some people who really enjoy this kind of thing. Not necessarily being whipped in public, but just being a submissive, and allowing their man to take care of them."
"Sure, maybe some wimps, or some gold-diggers, desperate to please their rich dude."
"You'd be surprised. Many Submissive women are very successful and powerful in their careers – they like to loosen up in their personal lives and let someone else take care of them at home. The woman on stage today – she's a high-powered attorney during the day, and the man whipping her is her husband. They've been together twelve years now."
"I see..." There didn't seem to be much to say to that, but I was suspicious and sure I was missing something. I stared at the coffee which had just materialized in front of me, wondering if I was overlooking something obvious because I'd drunk a bit too much.
Morgan was watching me closely. "You know, most women tell me it's a lot of fun being a submissive."
I snorted. "I'm sure they say that."
"Why are you here, Stella?"
The abrupt question caught me off guard and I looked at him, trying not to feel the sparks running up my spine, suddenly aware of his strong, oceanic scent. "Umm… Right. I came for a blogging conference and then I thought I'd have a break so…"
"No, not that. Mandy told me. I meant, why are you here, in my casino?"
He was staring at me, trying to draw the truth out of me, but I refused to give it to him. Why would I tell him that I'd been dreaming about him, fantasizing about being with him? I would never admit that. "I came to the Treasury because I liked it here last time."
"I see. And why did you go to Masquerade?"
I shrugged. "I was curious."
We stared at each other silently, the air throbbing between us, and I decided to sip my coffee.
Morgan leaned forward. "How curious are you?"
My heart leaped into my throat. "What do you mean?"
"I mean just that. Are you curious enough to want to try it out?"
I gasped. "Are you seriously hitting on me? And I hate that stuff, ew!"
Morgan chuckled. "I don't think you hate it, I don't think you even know what it is. But forget about it, you're far too childish to last more than a day as a submissive."
I narrowed my eyes. "Don't try that trick on me."
He shrugged. "Whatever. It's up to you. Not everyone has it in them to be a sub."
"Are you kidding me?" My pride flared up, "I could be a sub anytime I wanted, I could be a perfect sub and nobody would be better than me."
"Hmm." He looked at me and finally said, "Why don't we make a bet?"
I was wary. "Like what?"
"That you can't last more than a day as a sub. If you like being a sub, I win. But if you last a week as my sub and you don't like it, you win, and I'll buy a one-year, $300,000 banner ad on your blog."
I closed my eyes. This wasn't happening. I'd wanted to be with Morgan for so long, and now I had a chance. But I didn't really want to be a sub, and Morgan clearly wanted someone who was into BDSM. If we didn't do this, I knew him well enough to know he'd pretend the whole thing had been a joke, and I'd probably never be with him. Or worse, he'd laugh at me for being chicken.
And besides, why did he think I was some kind of loser who couldn't be a sub if she wanted to? I was sure I wouldn't like it, but my blog hadn't been earning much the last few months. When I won the bet, the money he mentioned would come in handy.
I took a deep breath. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad. I could do a lot with $300,000. "Fine, the bet's on."
"Done."
We shook hands and Morgan said, "One week. You're my sub, and we'll see how long you last."
I nodded. "It's late and I'm a bit tipsy. Why don't we settle it tomorrow?"
"Right. Tomorrow, at 5. My office."
Chapter Two
I looked around the conference room. It was glass-paneled, and if someone walked past I'd see them.
The official setting made our bet seem ludicrous. Or maybe it made the whole thing seem even more intimidating? I couldn't decide.
Morgan sat opposite me, waiting for me to either read the contract or back out. This was my last chance – I could claim I'd been too drunk to know what I was saying, he'd say he'd been teasing and we'd both move on.
Or I could do the mature thing – admit to myself that I was curious about what it'd be like to be with Morgan, and that I was too proud to back down at this stage.
An assistant in a severe black dress arrived and left two coffee mugs and plate of cookies in front of us.
"How do you work like this?" I sighed, munching into a cookie.
Morgan grinned and sipped his coffee silently, waiting for me to sign. The electricity buzzing between us was obvious, but I was nervous about going into things like this. All my previous flings had been either drunken one-night stands, or started like a normal relationship with dates and making out, before we moved into the bedroom. A BDSM "fling" seemed strange and scary, and having to sign an actual contract beforehand seemed a bit preposterous.
I was worried about what the BDSM would involve, but at least the contract was clear on "no fire play, no heat play, no electricity play," and a couple of other things that sounded sufficiently off-putting to me.
"I'm going to add something here," I said, once I'd finished going over it. "We're not going to have sex." The idea of having sex with someone after signing a contract about it seemed so cold and clinical to me.
Morgan looked at me like I'd just sprouted horns. "What the hell are you talking about?"
"I've read up on BDSM," I said smugly, "I can be your Sub even without having sex. Lots of couples do non-sex BDSM stuff."
His eyes narrowed and his face turned appealingly dark. "I'm sure they do, but there's always something sexual involved to make it actually BDSM. They don't just stand around doing dishes all day."
I shrugged. "That might be, but you're not putting your, you know, into me."
He raised an eyebrow. "So that's your condition, you don't want my 'you know' in you?"
I smiled. "I'm sure it's tiny. But that's not my point…"
Morgan started laughing before I could go on. "Stella, I intend to show you just how 'tiny' my cock is before the week finishes."
I blushed, groaning that my jab had backfired. "But you're not putting it in me."
"Fine. I can do that. But don't kid yourself that this isn't about sex." He leaned forward and looked deep into my eyes. "Because this is all about sex. And there are a lot of other things I can do to make you scream."
We held each other’s gaze for a few seconds, my heart beating wildly till I finally looked down at the contract again. "An
d there's not going to be bondage."
"I can't agree to that. BDSM is all about bondage."
"But I don't like the idea of being tied up."
"No can do. If you're not willing to get tied up, you might as well admit you're chicken and back out right now."
I sighed. "Fine. And I guess this means you want to go ahead with spankings and stuff."
"Absolutely. Remember, the bet ends after a week. If I can get you to admit you like BDSM by that time, I win. But if you last a week with me, and after all that time you decide you hate BDSM, you win."
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