Knocked Up by the Dom: A BDSM Secret Baby Romance

by Penelope Bloom

  The anticipation is almost as enjoyable to me as the act itself. I also feel a sense of hesitation I’ve never experienced before. It’s not that I’m unsure, it’s that I’m not willing to do a single thing to hurt or scare Emmaline. The relationship between a dom and sub is based on trust and mutual enjoyment. Some doms like to turn their subs into girlfriends. They blur the line between sex and the heart. I always swore I wouldn’t fall into that trap. Then I let Lana in. I trusted her and I’ve been paying for it ever since.

  Keeping Emmaline at arm’s length should be my goal. I’ve learned not to get attached a thousand times over, and yet here I am, teetering on the edge of crossing the line again. I’ve been trying to convince myself the power of my attraction to her is only because I’ve been away from this lifestyle for so long. I’ve been sexually starved, and she’s the first morsel I’ve laid eyes on in years.

  When I saw her it was like getting hit in the chest with a sledge hammer. No other woman in the club came close to having the same effect one me. I had to have her. And getting a taste of what she had to offer only made me that much hungrier. So I decided to meet her outside the club, maybe hoping I would learn she was just some vapid, money hungry woman. Instead, I found someone driven, strong, and admirable. Even though she wouldn’t tell me the details, I could tell she has pushed through more adversity than most people do in a lifetime, and she’s still striving for more.

  I crack my neck, blinking my eyes a few times to try to focus my thoughts somewhere less dangerous. I call up an image of her perfectly round ass and the way goosebumps rose across her skin. My cock hardens immediately. I remember watching the red blossom from where I paddled her. From when I punished her.

  I need to find her.

  I move through the lobby slowly, swiveling my head as I search her out. I see the lobby is more deserted than usual, and I notice the few couples remaining are also heading towards one of the play rooms. I follow, curious, but still intent on finding Emmaline. A pounding beat reaches my ears as I step into the hallway. Inside the playroom, the music washes over me. It’s heavy, thick, and sexual.

  The room is full. Doms in masks and subs in outfits ranging from sheer dresses, leather spandex, and lingerie lounge and sprawl on the couches and seats filling the room. It’s too much to take in with one look. A sea of flesh. Bodies move together in slow concert, hands working, hips, moving slowly to the heavy beat of the music, and mouths pressed against each other. Some subs pleasure their doms while the doms look toward a stage set up at the far end of the room.

  There’s a woman strapped to the ceiling by three leather straps. Two are around her thighs and one is looped behind her shoulders. Her face is toward the ceiling and her neck is thrown back luxuriously as she moans. Bright lights illuminate her and the three strong men circling her, making even the smallest blonde hairs on her body glow with light. All four people are completely naked. One of the men runs his fingers down the length of a leather whip he holds. He cracks it against the ground, testing its weight and eyeing the woman meaningfully. She flinches, gritting her teeth in anticipation.

  Two of the men stop at either side of her, plunging their mouths down against her erect nipples, biting and sucking until she strains against her bonds, moans escaping through her clenched teeth. The man with the whip skillfully brings a blow down against her thigh. Her body jerks and her moans grow louder. I notice the way the man wielding the whip only hits hard enough to bring the blood to the surface of the skin and leave a temporary red line. No broken skin, no blood. No lasting harm. It makes sense that he knows what he’s doing, or the Club wouldn’t have allowed him to take part in a demonstration.

  “Pretty hot, isn’t it?” asks Dean.

  I turn my head slightly, realizing I’ve been standing in the doorway for over a minute just watching. “Not my style,” I say.

  He sniffs. “Then you’re out of style, Logan. I don’t see what’s not to like.”

  His sub is at his side, head bowed obediently, even though I can see in her body language that she wants to look toward the stage. He has trained her well already.

  “It’s just not for me,” I say. “I like things to be more… personal.”

  He shakes his head. “It doesn’t get much more personal than that.”

  “You’d be surprised,” I say. I finally find Emmaline. She’s at the far end of the room, watching the display on stage with a furrowed brow and confusion written all over her features. “Excuse me,” I say, pushing past Dean and moving through the room toward her.

  I make sure my mask is still properly in place once more. Many of the members know my identity, but there are often new women brought in to fill roles. As much as the club tries to guarantee anonymity if we wish it, a non-disclosure agreement is still just a piece of paper. If my involvement in this club leaked to the public, it would undo all the work I’ve put in to clean up my image. All the more reason to stay away from Emmaline now that I’ve revealed my identity to her.

  I move behind her, leaning close until my lips are only inches from her ear. “You’re staring,” I say chidingly.

  She jumps, sucking in a quick breath as she turns away from the display on stage to face me. Her eyes meet mine and then she remembers at the last second to look down, assuming a submissive posture.

  “Do you like to watch?” I ask.

  She shakes her head. “I-I don’t know.”

  “Sir,” I add.

  “Sir,” she says.

  I take her in, from the way her hair is curled into perfect ringlets that fall over her bare shoulders to the way her golden skin glistens in the dim light. She wears a strapless dress that presses into her tits, pushing into her soft skin and making her tits pillow upwards. The dress clings tightly enough to her that I can see the slightest curve of her stomach and trace it down to the raised mound of her pussy.

  I force my breathing to slow. I’m the one in control. No matter how much the mere sight of her turns me wild. I’m in control.

  “Come,” I say.

  She hesitates.

  I suck in air through my nose, feeling my nostrils flare. I’m in a dangerous state of mind. I want this so badly I don’t know if I can control myself like I need to. Seeing her think about disobeying me has me dreaming up ways to punish her. Every possibility ends with her screaming in pleasure, body shaking with orgasm.

  Emmaline licks her lips and lowers her head, clutching her hands in front of her stomach and moving to follow me.

  I grin down at her. “That’s good, Kitten,” I say, smirking. My smirk widens when she shows no sign of being irked by the pet name. Giving it to her is part of marking her as mine, and I want to do everything I can to make it abundantly clear she is exactly that. Mine.

  I lead Emmaline toward the hallway where I can take her upstairs and find a private room, but I slow my pace before we leave the room. I turn slightly, looking again at the stage and thinking of the way she was watching when I found her. I would rather take her somewhere private, but I don’t know if I could control myself right now. I want her so fucking bad I can’t be sure I would stop at her limits. I can’t be sure I wouldn’t find them and keep pushing past.

  Fuck it. I’ll take her here in this room. I stop and she bumps into my back. I turn toward her, loving the way her eyes are wide with fear. Even while fear is written all over her face, she still runs her eyes down my body hungrily. She wants it so badly. She’s such a natural submissive, I can hardly believe she’s never been trained before.

  “This way,” I growl, leading her toward the back of the room. I briefly consider making her stand directly in front of the stage, but I want to test her limits, not shatter them. I pin her to the back wall, pressing my chest to hers and bending my neck to whisper in her ear. “You’ve misbehaved, Kitten. You were watching the woman on stage get fucked by those men. And you liked it, didn’t you?”

  She gasps, squirming slightly against me. “Yes,” she breathes.

  I bite my l
ip. “Then you’re going to watch them while I finger fuck you. And don’t even think about cumming. Do you understand?”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  “Where do you want this?” I ask, holding my hand up to her face. The room is dark, but I notice her makeup is a little thicker than usual, especially on one side of her face. If I wasn’t so turned on, I’d probably give it more thought, but the hunger in her features quickly distracts me.

  She looks at it, eyes full of lust.

  “Show me,” I say.

  Her chest heaves, and as much as I want to take two handfuls of her perfect tits, I refrain, waiting.

  “Don’t make me repeat myself, Kitten,” I warn.

  I see her eyes moving around the room, taking in the dozens of couples and the moaning woman on stage. She’s nervous, but she has no reason to be. None of them are even looking our way. It’s just a mental barrier, one she likely hasn’t thought of testing.

  A tight ball of excitement grows in my chest. I had almost forgotten how much I loved bringing a willing sub to her limits. Watching Emmaline’s eyes while she internally battles her dirty desire to let me finger fuck her in a room full of people and her desire to do the modest thing is almost better than cumming.

  Her hand tentatively rises to my wrist and she gently tugs, but I’m merciless, and I resist slightly, making her pull like she means it, practically begging for my hand between her legs. She pulls harder, face scrunching slightly with the effort. I drag my finger down her chest and stomach as I let her lead my hand where she wants it. I trace a line down her thigh, finding the hem of her short dress and then reversing direction as she directs me. I use my free hand to pin her hands over her head.

  I move my hand up her dress, cupping the inside of her thigh and finding her hot, wet slit through the panties she wears. Cotton panties, and I would bet money they are white, just like I told her to wear.

  “You wore the ones I asked you to because you knew I would see them. Didn’t you, Kitten?”

  She swallows hard, nodding her head. Not good enough. I want to hear her say it.

  “Didn’t you?” I rasp in her ear.

  “Yes, Sir. I wore them for you.”

  Fuck. My cock throbs like it’s about to explode. She has no idea what she’s doing to me.

  “You knew you were going to let me between your legs tonight. Didn’t you?”

  She nods, whimpering as her eyes squeeze shut.

  “You’ve been thinking about it all week. Haven’t you?”

  “Yes,” she gasps as my fingertip finds her clit. “Yes, Sir.”

  I take my time enjoying the way she feels through the panties. I cup her ass, my hand pressed tight to her by the tightness of her dress. I hike the dress up over her hips. I feel her stiffen slightly as I do, so I lower the dress back down, making sure she’s not so far out of her comfort zone that she doesn’t enjoy herself. Every bit of this is for her. Pushing her too far would defeat the purpose.

  I palm her pussy, moving in slow passes across her sensitive skin, absolutely loving the way her cotton panties are soaked and sticking to her. I want nothing more than to drive my fingers inside her right now, and then plunge my cock in her tight hole. Not yet though. Restraint. A woman like Emmaline is a once-in-a-lifetime type of submissive, and rushing things would be criminal.

  I look down to her eyes and see they are closed. “Open your eyes,” I say. “You wanted to stare, so now you’ll stare.”

  She opens her eyes, staring toward the stage like the good little sub she is. I move my hand inside her panties, passing over her mound and finding her wet slit. She sucks in a breath and holds it when I find her clit.

  “You only get to cum with me. Alone,” I whisper in her ear. “You’re mine. Just like your orgasms are mine. If you cum without me, I’ll know.”

  She nods, eyebrows pulling together in effort as she tries to hold back the pleasure.

  I work her mercilessly, circling her clit with my thumb as I plunge two fingers into her opening. She’s so fucking tight. Her pussy clenches around my fingers. I curl my fingers back, finding her G-spot as I work her clit.

  “Do you like that, Kitten?” I ask.

  “Yes,” she moans.

  I smirk. “Careful. If those moans get much louder you might draw a bigger crowd than the woman on the stage.”

  She presses her face into my chest to stifle her moans.

  “Eyes on the stage,” I remind her.

  She pulls her head back, the struggle of holding back her pleasure all over her face. I’m tempted to keep going, to make her fail just for the excuse to punish her again. I would if she wasn’t obeying me so well. I can see how hard she’s trying, so I finally pull my hand back, letting my fingers slide out of her. Her mouth opens and she quivers as I leave her. She leans forward slightly, both relieved and regretting the absence of my touch. I raise one wet finger to my mouth and suck her sweetness off, meeting her eyes as I do. I raise the other finger to her lips and watch as she takes it in like a good girl and sucks it clean. Her lips and tongue are so hot and soft around my finger. I can only imagine how good she would feel on my cock. I don’t think I’ll be imagining for long.

  28

  Emmaline

  I follow Logan out of the crowded room, legs still weak and head still light. The thumping music of the room fades as he takes me through the hallway lined with rooms and up the stairs. I can’t believe how close I was to cumming. I could have. I could have actually came with a man for the first time in my life. All I had to do was stop holding back the wave, but he wouldn’t let me.

  I could feel his huge cock pressing into me as he fingered me. I’ve never wanted anything as bad as I want to feel it inside me, stretching my walls. Logan is a real man. He’s powerful, confident, and he knows how to give me what I need. I didn’t know how badly I wanted… no, needed that until him. Now that I have a taste of it, I’m practically starving for more.

  All thoughts of decency, my worries about the business, problems in my personal life, and the way things with Ronnie and my mother are quickly deteriorating are pushed into the deep recesses of my mind. Logan’s presence leaves no room for anything else, and it’s a distraction more welcome than words can describe.

  He leads me into a room that’s elegantly decorated. A four-poster bed takes up much of the space, but there are racks of toys and tools for punishment like there were in the room he took me to last weekend. My skin tingles at the memory, and I hope with all my being that he doesn’t dismiss me again without bringing me the satisfaction I so desperately need.

  In a short period of time, being with Logan has already become more than something simply sexual. It’s an emotional step I didn’t know I needed to take, but now that it’s in front of me, I’ll do anything in my power to keep it.

  He paces in front of me, powerful breaths making his broad chest rise and fall. I can almost feel his own need to take and dominate me. I want to just tell him to, but I know that wouldn’t be my place as his submissive. His submissive. I find myself asking the question at the front of my mind before I have time to stop myself. “Am I yours?” I ask.

  He pauses in his pacing, eying me through his dark mask. He seems to hesitate with his choice of words before he finally speaks. “You can be. If you wish it.”

  The promise hangs between us, almost like something tangible I could reach out and touch if I wanted to. “I do,” I say quietly, almost in a whisper.

  “Then you need to understand my rules. If you’re to be mine, I can’t have you disobeying. Do you understand?”

  I stand somewhat awkwardly, still just inside the room while he looms between me and the bed, watching me carefully. “I think so. Yes.”

  “Yes, Sir,” he corrects.

  “Yes, Sir,” I say.

  “Good. The most important thing for you to understand is that you are mine only as long as you wish to be. If you wish to be released, you only need to say so. However, if you leave, you leave. We will par
t ways and that will be the end of our relationship together.”

  “Relationship?” I ask. “Sorry,” I say quickly, realizing I’ve interrupted him.

  “No need to apologize. I want to make sure you’re extremely clear about the terms of our arrangement before we take it further. Yes. This is a relationship of sorts. It will be more intense than any relationship you’ve previously been in. It will be more inclusive, more intimate. It will be more. When we’re together, you will be mine. Heart, body, and soul. You will do as I say when I say it. You will place complete trust in me and know that my desire is to explore the limits of your fantasies, but not to push you beyond those limits. After today I’ll have a document drafted for you to sign so that I can have a better idea of your hard and soft limits. Beyond that, our relationship will be based entirely on trust.”

  I frown. “This feels so formal.” Some of the sexual excitement has drained from me, even though there’s still a faint throb in my core. What he proposes sounds so different than anything I’ve ever imagined. I’m overcome by a powerful sense of curiosity and tentative excitement, but it also scares me. It sounds like he could hurt me if he took advantage of my trust, just like Ronnie hurts my mom.

  He stands motionless, looming like an angry god while he waits for my response. Trust… The word keeps repeating in my thoughts. A relationship completely built on trust? I want to agree to it. I’m drawn to the idea, even as I know there’s no way I could completely trust someone else. My life has been a long, never-ending line of betrayals. Trust only leads to pain, and I’m not here for more pain. I’m here for the money, and I’m here for the chance to experience something I’ve been missing my entire life. If I have to tell him what he wants to hear to get that, I’m not proud of it, but I’ll do it. I just have to hope that trust comes with time, because I can’t stand the thought of watching Logan walk away. Not now. Maybe not ever.

  “I trust you,” I say.

  The smile that slowly spreads his lips is not kind. It’s full of promise and darkness, and I’m ashamed by how much that thrills me.