Knocked Up by the Dom: A BDSM Secret Baby Romance

by Penelope Bloom

  “Should you set a timer?” I ask when I see he’s about to leave it.

  “Nah, he just said around thirty minutes. We’ll remember.”

  “Okay,” I say, trusting he knows what he’s talking about.

  “Come on,” he says, grabbing two wine glasses and leading me out to the back patio.

  The sun has almost fully set when we step outside. The sky is stained a dark purple above the treetops and hills behind his house. We’re only a couple minutes outside downtown, and I’m amazed by how much open space there is around his property.

  “Wow,” I say, taking in the view. “I thought you’d need to drive hours to find this much space inside the city.

  “Yeah,” he says. “It’s a nature preserve so the city couldn’t touch it. One of the perks that came with putting a house here.”

  I sip the wine as I sit down in one of the patio chairs. I’ve never been a wine drinker, but it has a sweet, fruity taste that I can’t complain about. He sits beside me, sighing as he sinks into the chair.

  “You know,” he says, eyes focused on the hills behind the house. “I've come to a lot of realizations right here in this chair. You spend so much time struggling and fighting to reach the top, and then once you've made it you wonder if it was all worth it in the end. You find yourself asking if it's everything you thought it would be. Were you chasing it because you had your eye on the prize or was it just because you liked the chase?"

  “Which one was it?” I ask.

  “I don’t know that it was either for me.. I think I was using the work and the money to distract myself. Every time I stopped too long to catch my breath, I’d feel like I wasn’t making use of the life Sarah sacrificed for me. I had it wrong for a long time though. I thought I needed success to make her sacrifice worth it. As if every dollar was a weight on the scale, and if I just put enough money on my end I could finally balance it out. I thought when that happened, the guilt might go away.”

  He scoffs and sips his wine. “It was never the money. I realized that in this exact chair a few months ago.”

  “What about happiness?” I suggest. “I mean, people always think money will make them happy. But I don’t really think they have as much to do with one another as people think. Sure, if you have no money it’s pretty hard to be happy, but...”

  He turns to look at me, smiling slightly. “What do you think I need to be happy, then?”

  “Love,” I say, without thinking. Once I realize the implication of what I just said, it takes all my willpower not to bury my face in my hands in embarrassment.

  The smile on his face widens. “Hmm. So you think love is the key to my happiness. What is yours, then?”

  “Well--um, I mean, I…” The moment hangs between us. If I say what I’m really feeling, I feel like I’ll be taking a step over a precipice I can’t undo. I’ll be launching myself forward in this thing between us so quickly it will be hard to stop. “I just want to graduate college,” I say finally.

  “Right,” he says, leaning back in his chair and sipping his wine.

  We sit a long time talking about nothing and everything in between. I focus less on what he says and more on how he looks when he says it, marveling at the perfection in the way his lips form the words or the power in everything from his eyes to his hands. He puts me at ease like no man ever has, and after a short while, I feel like I could tell him anything.

  “You know,” I say, still grinning from the story he just told. “This is the dumbest thing,” I say, shaking my head at my lap and grinning. “But the only reason I let my friend talk me into this--”

  “Oh, shit,” he says, hopping up and running in toward the kitchen.

  I watch him get up and jog to the kitchen. I smell it a split second later. Something is burning. And just like that, my resolve to tell him the truth about why I really agreed to meet him at the restaurant goes up in smoke, too.

  He’s already opening the oven and batting away the billowing smoke with a towel when I get inside. He pulls the charred remnants of whatever his friend prepared for us from the oven. “You like your food Cajun style?” he asks, coughing.

  I laugh. “We weren’t out there that long. How did it get so burnt?”

  “Well, his instructions said three hundred degrees, but I figured what’s the point of a fancy oven that can get really hot if I don’t use it. So I put it to six hundred and was just going to pull the food out in half the time.”

  I grin. “I don’t think it works like that.”

  “Yeah. Apparently not. You like pizza?” he asks.

  53

  Jackson

  I toss the pizza box in the trash and admire the sight of Brianne on my couch. Long legs, full breasts, and hips that are begging to be used as handholds while I take her from behind. I’ve tried to take things as slow as I can with her. My little virgin.

  I sit beside her on the couch and turn her sideways so I can work the stress from her shoulders. She rolls her neck. “Oh my God, that feels wonderful,” she sighs.

  I knead my fingers into her neck and shoulders, all the while imagining what will come next, how I will use her and how much she will enjoy being used. I notice the movement of my fingers is pressing her top forward in a way that lets me see straight down her shirt. Her tits look impossibly soft resting in her bra, and it’s all I can do to stop from taking them in my hands right now. I’ve waited this long though, and I can wait a little longer.

  I’m not going to spoil my virgin by rushing things. I want her first experience to be transcendent. I want her to remember tonight for the rest of her life. I want it to be so explosively powerful that she can’t even think about it without getting wet for me.

  She looks back and me and notices where my eyes are. She moves like she’s going to cover herself, but hesitates, clearing her throat and deliberately placing her hands down beside her on the couch.

  “You don’t need to feel anxious around me, Princess,” I say. “I know this is new to you. But all you need to do is follow my lead. All you need to do is obey. Let me be your dom, and you won’t ever forget this night.”

  “I will,” she says quietly.

  I squeeze just a little harder on her shoulders, just the slightest bit to remind her.

  “Sir,” she adds, biting her lip. “I’ll submit to you, Sir.”

  “That’s all I ask. Now, how about a tour?”

  “Right now?” she asks.

  I give her a dark look. She still hasn’t learned to not question me, but we’ve only just begun our training. She has so much to learn and I am so deeply going to enjoy teaching her.

  “I mean. Yes. A tour would be wonderful, Sir.”

  “Come on,” I say, leading her up the hanging staircase in the foyer. I take her down the hallway, passing several doors as we go.

  “Do you normally skip past half the house on your tours?” she asks.

  I smirk at her over my shoulder. “I never said a tour of the house.”

  “Right,” she says quietly.

  I can sense her nerves. There’s no avoiding it though. We can dance around it all we want, but in the end, I have needs. She may not know her body well enough yet to know it, but she does too. From the moment we first met, I’ve felt the insatiable desire to have her in all the ways I crave and to have her reach a fever pitch.

  I lead her into my master bedroom. She does a slow spin, taking in the room. “Great room,” she says. “Love it.”

  “Come,” I say, moving to a door at the back of the room. I open it and let her inside my playroom. It’s my first time in here since Karen, and for the first time since she passed away, I try to ignore the guilt. It may be my burden to bear, but Brianne deserves better than to have me distracted right now. She deserves my full and complete attention. And that’s exactly what she’s going to get.

  “This is… Wow,” she says.

  My playroom has red walls and marble floors. Various devices line the walls, most of which have never been used.
There are racks of toys and tools. I don’t take any particular pleasure in any one method. My enjoyment has always come from the battle of wills that takes place in a true dominant submissive relationship. I’ve been with many types of submissives since I first got into this lifestyle. Some are so willing to submit it’s impossible to enjoy. Some are so unwilling I’ve had to call scenes off before they even finished. It still remains to be seen what kind of submissive my princess will be, but I have a feeling she’s going to be absolutely fucking incredible.

  There’s a clatter of chains as spreader bars fall to the ground in a heap. Brianne yelps and jumps back, hand still extended toward the bars she was obviously touching. “I’m sorry,” she whispers.

  I turn toward her, feeling the dom in me rising up. This room brings it out of me more strongly than anything else. In here, my power is absolute, and she’s going to learn that tonight.

  “I’ll tell you this once, Princess, and I expect you to obey the first time. Perfect and complete obedience. I will never expect less. Disobey me, and you will be punished. Am I clear?”

  “Yes, Sir,” she says.

  “Go to the foot of the bed. Get on your knees, and place your hands on the end of the bed. Now.”

  She jumps at my command, hurrying to the foot of the bed and doing exactly as I ask.

  I turn my back on her, searching the wall until I find the right flogger. It’s a simple affair with dozens of buttery soft leather strips. With enough force, it can leave a nice mark, but it’s the perfect way to introduce her to punishment. I can make it sting without leaving any lasting damage. Just the right taste of pain to heighten her pleasure, nothing more. For now.

  I move slowly toward her, feeling no rush to hurry this along. She’s in my control now. Every moment I delay only reinforces my power over her. Like the good girl she is, she stays motionless. Obedient.

  My cock stiffens when I see the way bending over nearly has her skirt pulled up high enough for me to see her panties.

  I kneel beside her, pressing up against her hips. “When I ask you to kneel, Princess, I expect your ass to be where I can see it.”

  She nods, raising her hips at my urging until I can see her pink panties and the growing line of wet fabric against her pussy. I swallow, fighting back the primal urge to tear the panties off right now and give her the pleasure her body is begging for. It’s not easy to resist, but I’ve done this long enough to know how much more I want the reward of restraint. Anticipation, pain, submission, domination: they are all just tools for reaching the most powerful levels of pleasure imaginable, and I wield them all masterfully.

  I reach to the bedposts and grab the soft ropes that are bound to either side. The ropes have a slight give to them and the fabric is soft enough to prevent chafing. I tie both around her wrists, giving her just enough slack to be comfortable, but not enough to feel like she could free herself if she wanted.

  “Are you comfortable?” I ask.

  “Yes, Sir,” she says, head still down.

  “Good. Now, we’re going to play a game. Truth or the flogger. I ask you a question. You tell me the truth, or you get punished. Do you understand?”

  She hesitates, but nods, eyes darting to the side to see what I’m holding. They widen slightly when she sees it.

  “First question,” I say, standing behind her where I can see the still growing wet spot on her panties. She’s fucking loving this. I smirk. “Are you really a virgin?”

  “Yes, Sir,” she says.

  I can see her chest heaving with quick breaths. Her heart must be racing.

  “Truth,” I confirm. “Good. Has a man ever put his fingers inside you?”

  “No…” she says slowly. “Sir.”

  “Truth,” I say thoughtfully. “Does anyone know about our arrangement?”

  A slight pause. “No.”

  I click my tongue and sigh. “Punishment, then.” I could easily reach her ass as she is, but I want her to know how deeply she’s in my control. I yank the skirt down to her knees. She sucks in a sharp breath and I see her tense her muscles in expectation of the blow, but she doesn’t protest. So fucking perfect.

  I bring the flogger down just hard enough to give her a sting. She jumps a little and gasps, but I see her relax just a few seconds later. For someone brand new to this, even the slightest taste of pain will be enough, and I have no desire to make her hurt anymore than she has to for her pleasure’s sake.

  “Let’s try that again. Does anyone else know about us?”

  “My friend,” she says quickly. “Lacey.”

  “Good,” I say. “Next question… When was the last time you touched yourself?”

  “I… don’t--” I can tell she’s about to lie but she lets her head fall, knowing I’ll see through it. “Three days ago.”

  I bite my lip, smirking. “And what did you think of when you touched yourself?”

  “I can’t remember,” she says. “I just--”

  I bring the tails down on her ass just a touch harder this time, just hard enough to let her wonder how far the pain can go. She gasps out loud this time, more from surprise than from pain.

  “I thought of you,” she breathes.

  “My dirty little Princess,” I chuckle. “What did you imagine I was doing to you?”

  “I--thought about you kissing me. Just… not on the mouth,” she says. Her back is to me, but I can sense the embarrassment and shame radiating from her.

  If she’s going to be mine, she needs to learn not to apologize for her lust. I lower myself to one knee beside her so she can look into my eyes. “Listen to me carefully,” I say quietly. “Your desires are the most beautiful and pure things in that lovely head of yours. Feeling shame for them would be a tragedy. I want you to embrace your lust. Feel pride in your passion.”

  “Yes, Sir,” she says, looking away.

  “Now, I want you to say it. Where did you imagine I was kissing you?”

  “Between my legs,” she says slowly.

  I grin, moving behind her and kissing the inside of her thighs. I can smell her arousal and it makes my cock so stiff it hurts. She smells so fucking sweet I can hardly wait to taste her. “Here?” I ask.

  “A little higher,” she says hesitantly.

  “You’ll have to be more specific. Tell me exactly where you fantasized I was kissing you?”

  “My… pussy,” she says.

  The smile on my face is predatory, but she can’t see it. Thinking of her imagining me eating her pussy is turning me on like she wouldn’t believe. I picture her in her dorm room at night, tucked under the blankets and touching herself while she wishes I was there. She must have been so wet for me.

  “When you imagined this, were you on your back or on your knees?” I ask.

  There’s a long pause. “Neither,” she says.

  The predatory smile on my face turns absolutely feral when I realize how wild my little Princess really is. “What position were you in?”

  “I was, kind of… I was sitting on your face.”

  If she keeps surprising me like this, she’s going to completely ruin my well laid plans to drag this out. I don’t know how much more I can take. I rush to untie her from the bed posts. Once she’s free, I help her to stand, and strip off her shirt. Her tits are lifted by the tight fabric and then they bounce down, making me clench my jaw to keep from burying my face in them. I move close to her so I can reach behind her and unclasp her bra.

  She’s tense, but she doesn’t fight me.

  The bra falls to the floor and her perfectly pink nipples are already hardened to points for me. I let myself indulge for a moment when I bend to kiss her nipple and circle it with my tongue. Her body shakes and she sucks in shallow breaths. I grip her panties by the elastic band and yank. There’s a quick pop as the elastic snaps. I toss the torn panties to the ground, leaving her absolutely naked.

  “Are you going to take off your clothes? Sir,” she adds quickly.

  “Would that make you mor
e comfortable?” I ask.

  “Yes, Sir,” she says shyly.

  I think over her request for a moment. I normally strive to keep my submissives outside their comfort zones, especially at first. It’s only by pushing limits that I can bring them to new levels of pleasure. But my normal resolution to be the perfect dominant falters. Right now, the idea of letting her live out her fantasy exactly as she imagined it has me more aroused than anything else.

  “Was I wearing clothes when you touched yourself and thought about this?”

  “No, Sir,” she says.

  “Very well. But if you want my clothes off, you’ll have to do it yourself.”

  Her eyes widen slightly, and the red flush in her cheeks completes the perfect picture. Long, curling hair, soft features, innocent face, but a body made for sex. She’s a woman so perfect for my tastes I couldn’t have imagined her any better. I love that she only hesitates briefly, presumably because her desire to have my clothes off is so much stronger than her fear of stepping out of her comfort zone.

  Her delicate fingers go to work on me, unbuttoning my belt first. I raise my eyebrows. “You’re starting with my pants?” I slip out of my shoes and kick them aside while she clutches my belt.

  Her eyes dart up to mine and she opens her mouth, but I lean in to kiss her hard before pulling back. “I wasn’t complaining,” I say.

  She smiles a little and continues, struggling a little with my belt before finally tugging it free and pulling my pants down. She’s about to move to my shirt when her eyes find the bulge of my cock. The look of slight fear and mingling amazement nearly makes me laugh. Brianne swallows hard and starts undoing my buttons. Her fingers fumble with the third button and in my impatience, I rip my shirt open, sending buttons clicking to the floor.

  She grins, stripping my shirt until I’m only in briefs and my socks.

  “Do I need to take off your socks, Sir?” she asks.