Don't Come

by Jessica Gadziala

  And all that was just from a Google search.

  There was also what I had learned about her from the emails, from texting, from calls, from being with her.

  Like she was a novice.

  Like most of what she knew about BDSM came from porn or movies. She hadn't delved deep. Not yet, anyway. Maybe because she was trying to fight it, wasn't sure if it was just a fantasy or a desire.

  And, let's face it, most BDSM porn was just about the act, not about teaching, educating.

  Because, well, that was my job, I guess.

  That was what a Dom did to a novice.

  They taught them.

  They brought them in.

  They explained the significance of the different aspects of the lifestyle.

  Which put me in a pretty fucked situation.

  If I was going to do this - and do this right - I would need to detail all of this to her. But how could I do that without her learning that a training collar was significant when she was wearing mine around her neck, and I had no fucking idea how that had happened.

  "Yo, boss, this is important," Fagan called the next day as I was still sweating the issue at my office, not getting a fucking thing done.

  "Sorry. What is important?"

  "Your invite to the annual BDSMPA event," he clarified.

  "When is it?" I asked, knowing I couldn't avoid it, even if I genuinely wanted to this year.

  "Friday. This Friday. I have put a reminder into your phone calendar every week for the past two months."

  "You're a better assistant than I am a boss," I admitted. "I'm going. I have to."

  "So enthused," he said, jotting that down. "Are you bringing your new plaything?"

  I don't know how this happened.

  For a man as controlled as I was in all ways, my mouth never ran away from me.

  But right then, it did.

  "I collared her."

  I had never seen Fagan's head shoot up so fast.

  "Pardon me?" he asked, brows shooting up. "I know I must have misheard you because I know that my boss is a serial connoisseur of submissive women. He has never put a collar on anyone. So those could not have been the words I heard come out of your mouth. Or I developed a rapidly growing brain tumor and am having an elaborate hallucination."

  "You heard me," I agreed, exhaling hard as I tossed the pen I had been tapping back into the holder.

  "Okay. Let me get this straight. You met a woman a few days ago..."

  "We've been talking for months."

  "Alright, rewind. Pause. And play this for me. With the subtitles on, please."

  "Met on the D/s app. We clicked, but she is a novice, so she was hesitant."

  "And instead of breaking the connection and moving on to the next woman... you decided to bring her in?"

  I understood his confusion.

  Because he was right.

  I liked my submissives trained already.

  I liked them knowing exactly how they were supposed to behave, and exactly how casual this was between us.

  I didn't bring anyone in.

  I wasn't a Dom who trained.

  Case closed.

  "Yep."

  "For... months you've been texting and talking to her? What kind of talk? The Get on your knees and worship my cock like a good girl kind of talk or talk-talk?"

  My hand raked down the side of my face as I took a deep breath. "Both."

  "So, you're saying you know the woman in more than a Suck it, lick it, whip it, spank it way."

  You had to appreciate the man's flair for language.

  "That's what I'm saying."

  "For months."

  "Do you want to take notes? You don't seem to be grasping this."

  "Because, boss, it makes no sense."

  "Yeah, tell me about it."

  "So, you're interested in... more with this one."

  Was I?

  I guess that was the question, wasn't it?

  She was different, that much was clear. Otherwise, I wouldn't have invested so much time in this already.

  What was different?

  I didn't know.

  I respected her drive, the passion when she spoke about a project she was working on. I liked her occasional humor. And the way she snarked at me sometimes without giving it a second thought. Because she didn't just see me as a Dom like all my other subs had. Because, I guess, I gave her a little more of the man.

  And maybe a part of me - a part I genuinely did not understand because it wasn't how I thought I was wired - liked her innocence to the lifestyle. I liked how she relied on me for her information, how she didn't come in half-cocked with some bullshit she learned online or from romance novels. I liked how my hands were the ones guiding her into every act she had secretly wanted for years, but had never trusted someone enough to lead her through.

  Trust was always a drug.

  But it was one I thought I had developed a tolerance to.

  Why, then, was I somehow high off of hers?

  "Does she understand the training collar?"

  "Not unless she went home and looked it up. I think she thought I was just replacing the play collar."

  "You need to explain this to her," Fagan insisted, a bit uncharacteristically serious. "Don't be that shithead Dom who takes advantage of a sub's ignorance."

  He was right.

  He was one-hundred percent right.

  I owed her a real education.

  And honesty.

  That was what she deserved for giving her trust over to me.

  "I am going to put you down as a plus one when I RSVP," Fagan said, shaking his head. "You figure your shit out in the meantime. At least she will be allowed in if you decide to bring her."

  "Thanks," I said, meaning it.

  I needed to give him a raise.

  He was supposed to be my assistant, but lately, he was becoming a bit of a sounding board as well. He didn't get paid enough for that shit.

  "Don't mention it," he said, getting up, and walking back toward the door. "You took on a responsibility with her," he told me a moment later, after I thought he had left. But he had been studying me instead. "Do the right thing."

  Do the right thing.

  Right.

  But what was that exactly?

  The right thing would have been never to have put a collar on her without thinking it through, without her understanding what it meant and accepting it.

  That was the right thing.

  But I had fucked that up already.

  Hell, the right thing would have been to leave her to a Dom who was looking for commitment in the first place. There were plenty of good ones out there. Ones that would do what I did, but do it with wining and dining and all the other accouterments that came with a real, lasting relationship between equals in life and a Dominant and a submissive in the bedroom.

  That was what she deserved.

  Not someone who traded subs like playing cards, never getting used to the feel of them in my hands before moving onto another.

  But here we were anyway.

  In a clusterfuck of a situation.

  The fair thing would be to walk away.

  Before it went further. Before her feelings started to get confused. Before I went ahead and made any more unplanned decisions.

  But I didn't think I could do that.

  I was in too deep.

  I wasn't done.

  I wanted to see her helpless, chained to the bed. I wanted to see her face when I got to take her pussy for the first time. I wanted to hear her moans when I owned her ass as well.

  What I had gotten so far was too good. Too good not to get more. Get it all.

  It was selfish.

  And it meant I had to straighten out this fucking collar situation.

  As soon as possible.

  I reached for my phone, shooting off a text, something that was becoming the new norm for me - another thing that didn't happen. My phone, as a whole, was for work. And that was it.
/>   Until her.

  Hell, other subs never got my actual cellphone number. That was just asking for the need to get it changed if you got one who wouldn't accept the end as the end. They always got a call app phone number.

  Adley had my real number.

  She had more access than any woman ever had before.

  DOM: Do you have any plans for Friday night?

  There was a long enough pause for me to wonder if she was being slow on purpose, if she was trying to make it seem like she wasn't waiting on my call or text, even though I knew she was.

  Adley: Not this week, no.

  Somehow, I doubted she had them next week either, was just feeding me that line, so I didn't think she was at my beck and call.

  Because she was, as I had accused her the night before, very controlling of her life. It was something I understood very well.

  DOM: Interested in checking out a BDSM-themed event?

  Adley: What would that entail exactly?

  I felt my lips curve up. She wanted to know exactly what she was getting into. I suddenly wondered how the hell she had ever agreed to meet me, to keep coming to my place, never quite being sure what was in store for her.

  DOM: You in a dress and heels that I will send you. Some makeup. Coming with me to an event and maybe speaking to some people. Others might be doing scenes. We won't. I am not sharing you. Not even just for a scene.

  Adley: So, we can just... watch? Watch other people do what we do?

  DOM: Yeah, we can watch.

  Adley: Okay. That sounds interesting.

  DOM: It starts at eight. But be at my place at seven. We can eat first.

  And I could fuck her first too.

  I planned to fuck her tonight.

  And I had a feeling it was going to be a new addiction.

  So I needed some time to get my cock inside her before we hit a club to watch some scenes together.

  Adley: Okey-dokey. Sounds fun. I'll see you later. I need to get back to work.

  Okey-dokey.

  Fucking okey-dokey.

  "Oh, hell," Fagan said, coming in with a fresh cup of coffee for me. "He's smiling at his phone. Is this some Multiplicity shit? Are you a clone of my real boss with a slightly different personality? Is that what this is? 'Cause I need the original model back to get some work shit done. If I remember correctly, they kept getting dumber and dumber as the cloning went on."

  Leave it to Fagan to reference a fucking 90s movie that everyone else forgot existed.

  "Are you coming to the BDSMPA event?" I asked, taking my coffee, choosing not to respond to his comment since I was a little off-put myself that I was apparently grinning down at my phone like some fucking lovesick teenager.

  "With my collar on," he agreed with an eyebrow wiggle, excusing himself back into his own office.

  If I knew him - and I did after all these years working so closely together - he was going to try to get Adley away from me and have a chat, feel her out.

  Then he would bring her up again at work on Monday.

  I sighed, dropping my phone in my drawer and closing it.

  That was a problem for Monday.

  Right now, I needed to get some goddamn work done without her constantly invading my thoughts.

  I had a feeling it would be much easier said than done.

  EIGHT

  Adley

  I powered through, somehow getting work done - and getting it done well - despite not being able to focus because DOM had, well, sort of offered to take me out.

  Sure, it was BDSM-related.

  But it was out.

  In public.

  Like what we had wasn't such a dirty little secret.

  Ugh.

  I was being ridiculous.

  I powered down my computer, making myself a quick dinner, then sipping another cup of lukewarm tea that had been soothing my throat all day, then showered, dressed, and made my way back to DOM's, only realizing when my door was being opened for me that I had been absentmindedly toying with my collar the whole ride.

  "Miss Adley," Richard greeted, doing so with a bit less of a stiff look like maybe he wasn't figuring me for an escort anymore.

  At least not showing up how I was dressed today, I guess.

  There simply seemed no need to dress up when he wanted me naked when I was there anyway. So I went for plain leggings and a roomy orange sweater that came halfway down my thighs and maybe suggested I was trying to hide some post-winter fluff behind the baggy midsection.

  "Richard," I greeted him with a smile as I walked past him and inside.

  DOM was slow to answer his door, leaving me outside and overhearing the neighbors talking about some stock that was about to go through the roof.

  If I had an investment portfolio, I probably would have taken their advice. I mean, look at the building they were living in.

  "Adley," DOM called, sounding almost amused.

  "Yeah?" I asked, turning back to him.

  "What are you doing?"

  "Oh, picking up some stock tips," I told him with a little smile, "from your neighbors."

  "Since the husband has filed bankruptcy three times, might want to think twice about that," he told me, moving aside to let me come in.

  Where I found something odd.

  A bowl in the center of his island.

  Full of fresh fruits.

  I turned back, brow raised, to find that he almost looked... sheepish. But that couldn't be right. This was DOM. He didn't have a sheepish bone in his body.

  "In case you want something to eat," he said, trying to brush it off, but it felt somehow significant. He kept nothing in the house for himself, but was willing to stock up for me? Just in case? Even though I hadn't asked for it? "I got some drinks for the fridge too. If you don't like what's in there, let me know. I'll have my assistant restock with shit you like."

  "Assistant?" I asked, interest piqued as I went to the fridge to look over the options. And I mean options.

  Individual orange juice, cranberry juice, Snapple, La Croix in lemon, and two types of normal soda.

  "She covers her bases, huh?" I asked with a smile as I pulled out a cranberry juice.

  "He," he corrected, watching me. "And yes he does."

  "A male assistant. That's interesting."

  "Why?"

  "Aren't men who are wealthy and powerful always supposed to have blonde bombshell assistants who wear sexy secretary dresses and heels to work?"

  "Wealthy and powerful?" he asked, leaning back against the wall, head ducked to the side a little.

  My brow lifted as I waved an arm around his place. "You live in a hotel."

  "Powerful?" he pressed, to which I gave him an eye roll because, well, come on. He flogged me the night before. He commanded I do things that I had never done before. Weak men didn't do that.

  "Alright," he conceded with a ghost of a smile. "But no. I don't ever have female assistants."

  "Why not?"

  "Because they might do exactly what you said."

  "And be a distraction?" I asked, not seeing why a man wouldn't want to see a beautiful woman at work.

  "And think I would want them because of how they look and dress."

  "And you wouldn't?"

  "I think you understand pretty well what I want from a woman, pet. These women don't. What?" he asked when I must have been giving him a look.

  "You've only given me little pieces, but you're a pretty interesting guy." Whoever you are.

  I had never been the kind of woman to do so, but I suddenly wondered if there was a piece of mail or a prescription bottle in his medicine cabinet for me to figure out what his damn name was already.

  "Well, you've given me a lot, maybe without realizing it," he told me. "And you're a pretty interesting woman, Adley."

  It was just a little compliment. Certainly not the first or even the best I had ever received. But it still turned my belly warm and liquid.

  "Thank you," I said, meaning it.

&nb
sp; He gave me a small nod, moving to stand fully. "Come on," he said, jerking his head toward the hall before moving down into it, leaving me to follow.

  My belly twisted in a mix of nerves and anticipation - a combination I was starting to accept as a new normal around him, not as something to be worried about.

  What he had to offer me were things that were new, that tested my boundaries, that I wasn't sure if I would like or not. And that was nerve-racking.

  But I also knew from experience now that I could trust him, that he was always watching me, always paying attention, always making sure I remembered my safe words.

  I was safe with him.

  It gave me the freedom to let go.

  I had no idea how amazing that could feel.

  Until him.

  When I walked in, his back was turned, fiddling with something on his dresser where I knew he had kept his toys the night before.

  "Get into position."

  I stopped a foot in the door, brows drawing together.

  "Um... what position? Sir," I added last minute.

  He turned back toward me, giving me a long, penetrative look before putting down whatever was in his hand and striding across the room toward me, ducking his head down to keep eye-contact.

  "When we come in here," he started, tone patient like a teacher with a new student who was behind in the curriculum, "you will automatically take off your clothes. All of them," he specified. "Then you will turn toward whatever direction I am in, get down on your knees, clasp your hands behind your back, lift your chin, and lower your gaze to the floor. That is your position. Understood?"

  I swallowed a little hard and gave him a nod.

  I had to greet my Dom as a true sub.

  Naked with my face up so he could look at what he possessed, but with my gaze down in respect.

  "Get in position, pet," he demanded again, turning, and walking away.

  With that, I stripped out of my clothes, leaving me in nothing but my collar as I moved in a few feet, away from my pile of clothes, went down on my knees on the cold, unyielding hardwood floor, clasped my hands behind my back, lifted my chin, and lowered my gaze.