A Date With A Dom: Prelude to Requested Surrender

by Murphy, Riley

  Although David was mad that someone was trying to take advantage of her, he still didn’t see why she’d felt the need to hide the guy’s presence. Worse, that she’d let him believe contractor Joe was actually her girlfriend. It made no sense.

  Ethan stretched his back. “Admittedly, she’s a pushover and comes off as kind of spacey sometimes, but that’s no reason for the guy to try and pull this kind shit.”

  David’s wheels were turning as he looked away. No one knew Lacy the way he did. She was smart and funny, but that wasn’t what drew him to her. It was the sense of loneliness that surrounded her. Even in a crowded room, with all her friends at her side, she seemed alone. Or maybe forsaken. Probably because most of those people did write her off as being a flake. But he hadn’t. “She’s not spacey.”

  “You may be right about that.”

  He looked back. “Oh?”

  “Yeah. Apparently she’s figured out a way to get the things she wants from him after all.”

  David narrowed his eyes. “How?”

  “That my friend is for you to figure out, and when you do tell me. Colin was pretty tight-lipped about it though, so be prepared.”

  David would be. He sat there preparing himself for nearly an hour after Ethan left. Lacy had made a mistake, but so had he. He never should have given her enough rope to hang herself. What he should have done was tie her up so tight she wouldn’t have been able to fuck-up this bad. He’d been patient and careful with her. Going against his better judgment at times, all in the name of getting her used to his lifestyle, but no more. He thought about the annual trip she was planning to take. How dead set on going she was even after he’d asked her not to. Now there would be no asking. She wasn’t going. Period. That decided, he dialed a familiar number and waited.

  “Store of O.”

  “Ken? It’s David Hollan.”

  “Hey,” the store manager drew this out. “Long time no speak. How have you been? What do you need?”

  “I’ve had better days, actually. You wouldn’t happen to have a Queen Ann in medium in stock, would you?”

  Ken whistled and then said, “Someone’s been naughty, eh? Let me check. Yep. Anything else? You want it delivered?”

  “A paddle, and no thanks. I’ll be swinging by shortly to pick them up.”

  “Great. Are you looking for straight bamboo or do you want something a little tamer like The Butt Burner, Sting Factor or Attitude Adjuster?”

  “Straight bamboo. Also with the Queen Ann, I’ll need the heavy duty padlocks.”

  “Store policy so I have to ask. You want these items gift wrapped?”

  “No.”

  David thought by the time he stopped at the store and drove to Lacy’s place he’d be in a better frame of mind, but he wasn’t. Seeing Joe’s pickup truck in her driveway didn’t help.

  He rang the bell and when no one answered he walked in. He was half way through hall when he spotted him. “Joe?”

  The guy was shirtless with his pant legs bunched to his thighs as he kneeled on a flat mat that was dusted with something. Small particles of some kind. He would have guessed it was uncooked rice, but from this distance it didn’t look like it.

  “Mr. Hollan?” Joe continued to face the cement block wall with his arms up and hands behind his head. “Is Mr. Whiteleather with you?”

  “No.” David frowned as he examined the big guy’s perfectly submissive pose. What the fuck was going on here? “Is Ms. Pembrook at home?”

  “She’s taking a bath.”

  Bath huh? David stalked over to the chair Joe’s shirt was slung over. Grabbing it up he went to the guy and held it down to him. “Here, put this on and then I’m going to kindly ask you to leave.”

  “But the timer hasn’t gone off.”

  David looked around and when he spotted the egg timer—the one he’d bought for her—sitting on a box. He wanted to smash it. Instead he picked it up and forced the dial to zero so it tinged. “There, it went off now.”

  Joe’s eyes shot up. “But—” One look and he was smart enough to whisper, “Yes, sir.”

  David had a look around and knew that Ethan had been right about one thing. The change in materials. The light and bright décor Lacy had told him she wanted was now earth tone with a Tuscan feel. He turned to confront Joe on this, but then was glad when he saw the guy was gone. Now was not the time to tackle him over this. He needed to deal with Lacy first.

  Heading to the couch, he put down the heavy brown bag and scowled. How was it that she was ready to leave and fall off the end of the earth for two weeks, as she called it, when things were in such disarray here? The veterinary clinic’s grand opening was in less than a month and she was still living out of boxes. He’d always thought her meandering through life was a by-product of her being easy going, but it was more than that. Much more. She needed him.

  He stared hard at the bathroom door as another truth came to him. The direct counterpoint to that? He needed to be needed. Really needed. Not for inconsequential things. Not for money or sex, but for something more integral. A purpose that was hard to define, because it was all-consuming and irreplaceable as it consisted of deeper life lessons. Soul changing shit. No one ever talked about the journey a good Dom took to commit himself to a sub, but here it was. The quintessential line drawn in the sand for him to accept and cross, or deny and turn away from. And here he’d been stepping forward with gusto while she had turned away with one foot planted at the exit and the other on the proverbial banana peel.

  Why was she leaving now?

  When he looked down and spotted her airline ticket, he was just about to reach for it but then noticed the leather portfolio off to one side on the table with images scattered around. They were precise and graphic sketches. His first thought was that they’d been taken out of a textbook. They were of a size and certainly good enough to be templates but then he noticed the signature at the bottom of each one and frowned.

  “Well I’ll be damned.” Picking up the closest drawing, he examined the delicate printing. Script so elegant and neat it would make his tight-ass architect jealous.

  Lacy Pembrook, Prague, 2013

  He recalled her mentioning that she’d been to Europe to study a new surgical technique for hip dysplasia in dogs. These images were step-by-step details, labeled and charted, outlining the OR procedure in a clear and concise manner.

  When David flipped through about five pages he came across the renderings of the before and after surgery sketches of Troja, an eight-year-old German Shepherd. The transformation was amazing. No doubt about that, but Lacy’s drawings were poignant and so real the texture on the dog’s coat looked three dimensional. In fact, each and every drawing was so realistic and perfect that David was left wondering why she didn’t pursue a career in art. In his mind that type of career suited her far better than being a veterinarian. A nine to five clinic job with being on call 24/7 for emergencies just didn’t seem to spell Lacy. Not the Lacy he knew.

  “Now this,” he whispered when a colorful picture fell out of the back of the portfolio as he went to put it down, “has Lacy written all over it.”

  He held up the comical painting and grinned. It was a caricature. A frog standing like a man and dressed in tux. The smooth James Bond-like reptile had a bright red ascot tied around his neck and sported shiny cufflinks on his shirt sleeves. He was in the process of doling out a spanking to a woman who was bent over a bar stool. On the bar top there was a plate with what looked like—

  “Unfucking believable.” His head snapped up and he scowled at the bathroom door before he bent down to better examine the image again. Yes, they were. Kale chips. And the woman? She was human-like with exaggerated features, but there was no denying that her blonde hair and green eyes were all Colin Reneaux. Actually Colin Whiteleather now. Aquabond’s cufflinks sealed the deal. They were black with EW inscribed in gold. Why if Ethan ever saw this he’d—

  That thought vanished when he came across another page. Only
this picture had a slightly different Aquabond. He still wore a tux and cufflinks, but the similar black with gold inscribed initialed links, read TB instead. Even without the initials he would have known this represented Ted Basel, his other business partner, as the frog was holding Ted’s specialty, homemade applesauce. A mason jar filled to the brim and the dark haired woman kneeling at his feet and dressed like Cat Woman had to be Jo Nehr. He’d heard about the infamous poker night where she’d worn the cat suit for her Dom.

  Spying a third picture angling out from under the stack of pages, he didn’t want to look but he had to.

  And there it was.

  Him as Aquabond this time. He didn’t know whether to be impressed or disappointed when he took in the sight. It was he and Lacy all right. She was crushed up against his back as he played piano. Funny, he didn’t recall telling her that he played. And as he examined the image something else came to him. In the first two a position of power was definitely detailed between the couples and yet in this one? The playing field looked to be even.

  Interesting.

  But dead wrong. Especially now.

  Carefully he replaced the pictures, all the while thinking. Planning as he sat there listening to her move around the bathroom now that she was done her bath. Any moment she’d be out and he could launch his tweaked plans for her. Because now if she wanted a relationship with him she was going to have to earn it.

  He was a patient man. At least until she opened the door and stepped out. Then his patience went out the window and a cold calm settled over him as he prepared himself for the trial ahead.

  Lacy exited the bathroom feeling like a million bucks. With her thick, white terrycloth robe wrapped around her and her yearly escape plans in motion she was brimming with confidence. Yes, everything was turning up roses. Things with David were still on the upswing and Joe was finally manageable now that she was giving him what he wanted. Maybe she’d even get the carpeting she’d planned on for the spare bedroom. Excited at the prospect, she was going through a mental color pallet while at the same time rubbing a towel against her hair to dry it, when she walked forward and spotted a man’s black shoes on the floor in front of her. Joe wore steel-toed boots and besides, his timeout wasn’t finished, was it? She probably should have brought a watch into the bathroom with her.

  “Oh. I didn’t know—” She looked up and then stumbled back a pace. David was seated on the side of her couch. Impeccably dressed as usual. His coal black suit, whiter than white shirt and orangey-red tie always set him apart from a regular guy. Combine that ensemble with killer hair—god she loved how that edgy mass of jags and shags reminded her of bedtime. Sex. Fucking—and her pulse sped. But it was just the right amount of stubbly shadow on his jaw and cheeks, topped by those brilliant hazel colored eyes, that pushed him right over the top of male perfection for her. “David. What are you doing here?”

  A thousand things ran through her mind at once and not one of them were good. She tried not to look too distressed with that thought as she shot a glance to the porch. Empty, thank god.

  “Hi.”

  He was so self-possessed. It was that, more than anything else, that made her heart race and butterflies take flight in her stomach. His sense of calm gave her the hope that by some miracle he hadn’t run into Joe. “Hi.” She felt like a silly school-girl ready to melt all over her crush as she repeated, “What are you doing here?”

  “I brought you something.”

  His tone was deep and even, but there was darkness in his eyes that made her shiver. She didn’t know why. “You did? For my trip?”

  “Come here.”

  He held out his hand and she got instantly nervous. Forcing a smile she didn’t feel, she wondered if he had seen Joe. Act natural. Tossing her head in a shake, she casually draped the towel over her shoulders and stepped forward. “I really wasn’t expecting you.”

  “I know.” He pulled her in between his legs and returned her smile.

  “You’re acting strange. Is everything all right?”

  “I want you to close your eyes.”

  When he grabbed the lapels of her robe and slowly pulled them apart a surge of shyness skated through her. Which was really stupid considering what they’d done via texting and on a few of those dates, but that wasn’t the same as being naked in front of him, was it? Hadn’t she decided getting naked with him in person would wreck everything like it usually did? “David.”

  “Come on, close your eyes and keep them closed for me.”

  This is what attracted her to him. Right from the first night she’d met him he seemed quiet and in total control. When he spoke it was as if his words were more important than anyone else’s. Not that he was arrogant, it was just…yeah, she still couldn’t put a finger on it. Looking at him now, she had no idea why she had this intense need to be connected with him. Whether by phone or touch, she just did and that worried her. A want was one thing and a need another. But that was her problem, not his.

  With a sigh, she brushed the hair off her cheek and made her decision. She’d finally give in and physically sleep with him even though she knew that doing so was the first step to the end of whatever it was they had going on. Too bad. She had hoped to take her fantasies about him away with her. To savor and embellish until she returned in a couple of weeks and faced harsh reality. “Okay.”

  She took a steadying breath and closed her eyes.

  “Very good. Now”—he used a knee and forced her thighs apart—“spread your legs. Yes, like that. Keep your eyes closed and count from fifty to one.”

  She silently got to forty-six and he interrupted her.

  “Out loud. From fifty.”

  “Fifty. Forty-nine.” Her robe slid off her and she hesitated.

  “Forty-eight,” he spoke the hoarse reminder in her ear.

  “Forty-eight,” she repeated and felt something cool and smooth slip between her legs. “Forty-seven. Forty-six.” Was it lingerie of some kind? No, it was hard as it pressed against her. She frowned. “Forty-five. Forty-four.” Was that a belt he was cinching to her waist? “Forty-three…” By the time she got to thirty she was convinced it was a leather thong-harness for a swing maybe? When she hit twenty and heard a couple of click-like snaps she felt the weight of whatever it was settle on her. She was thinking this was a bit of overkill for their first time together. But then David wasn’t a normal guy. He liked specific things. Different things that normally got her hot, wet and bothered so why was she worrying?

  “Three. Two.”

  “Wait. Don’t open your eyes just yet.”

  “But that’s not fair.” She gave him her best pout even though she wasn’t sure he’d see it. “I counted down.”

  “You did and when you do what I want you to do you’ll always be rewarded.” He punctuated that promise with a caress that made her toes curl. Stroking the heat and hardness of his warm palms from her hips, over her stomach and rib cage until he cupped each one over her breasts in a gentle squeeze. She could barely breathe. “David…”

  “Ask permission.”

  He shifted so her nipples were caught between his knuckles as he pulled on them and applied pressure. The action worked like a conduit between her breasts and core. Heat, god, the heated tingles spread from there outward. “Can I open—?”

  “May. May I. Say it.”

  Slightly bizarre and sort of OCDish, but whatever floated his boat. The sooner she took this party to her bedroom, the better. “May I open my eyes?”

  He tugged on her almost irreverently before he let her go. “You may.”

  Boy, that was easy. She could get used to—she looked down and panicked. “What the fuck—?”

  “Language.”

  That one word stopped her cold. He meant it. This wasn’t him being playful. And the contraption he’d just locked on her wasn’t a prop. Why would he…? Her eyes widened and were drawn like steel to magnet toward the porch. He knew. She didn’t know how but she was sure he knew about Joe.
>
  Her first thought was to divert attention. Her second? If she did the first successfully, all was not lost.

  She dropped down so fast she almost fell into the side of his thigh. Grabbing up her robe she fought to get it on as she stood and took two tripping steps backwards. “What is this?”

  She knew exactly what it was when her hand felt through the terry cloth—a chastity belt—she was just stalling for time.

  “An intervention.”

  The way he said this was so blasé maybe she’d jumped to the wrong conclusion. Maybe Joe had left before—

  “I’m sorry to interrupt. I need my keys.” Think of the devil and there he was. All red faced and hesitant as he came in through the sliders and went to the table where he’d left his wallet and stuff. Why hadn’t she noticed his things there before? Wait.

  Joe was here.

  Now.

  Holy. Moly.

  She shot a look at David and knew the word guilty was stamped all over her face. “David.”

  His eyes never wavered. “Apologize.”

  “Of course. I’m sorry. I—”

  “Not to me. To Joe.”

  She frowned and clutched at the lapels of her robe. “Wh-why?”

  “You’re the reason I had to ask him to leave.”

  “But I—”

  “Now.”

  She jumped even though he whispered that word. Maybe because he whispered it, she couldn’t be sure. All she knew was that she had to say something, so she gave Joe the apology she should have given David with a few much needed changes. After all, David was the one she’d wronged to some extent. Joe was only just now caught up in it. “I’m sorry, Joe. I should have told you about David. We had a—”