“I’ve been in charge of my surroundings for two-thirds of my life. Falling into a role of Dom was a no-brainer. I enjoy ensuring the women in my charge are taken care of. It started with my mom and moved to my sister. Sasha doesn’t need me anymore. She’s a grown woman. She has a Dom of her own. I’m sure she much prefers taking orders from him than she did me.” He chuckled to lighten his speech.
He could tell by her breathing that she was still on the line and listening closely. “That must have been hard, Rowen. I’ve never known that kind of financial hardship.” There it was. A small piece of Faith. A piece he’d already suspected but now had confirmed.
“It was all I knew. I never thought about any season of my life as being hard at the time. It just was. I made it work. I was never homeless or went without food. I was able to go to college, and I’m part owner of a business. Sasha is well-rounded. She has a degree. She’s happy. I did okay. We had everything we needed. I wouldn’t have wanted it any other way.”
“You did amazing. I’m not sure I would have had the strength to survive everything life threw at you. Sometimes I think I’m weak. Perhaps that’s why I hide behind submission.”
“Whoa. Stop right there. Only the strongest individuals are submissive. You know that. You didn’t enter this lifestyle last weekend.”
She sighed. “Yeah, people say that. But I’m not sure it’s true for me. I think I use submission as an excuse. It’s easier for me than facing… Well, it’s just easier.”
He’d been making headway, and then she’d caught herself and cut herself off. “Faith, stop. Think about what you’re saying. You know better. I’ve seen you in action at the club. You obviously have a dominant controlled side. I’m going to assume whatever you do in your real life entails you being in charge. I bet you step out into the world with your head high and your game face intact. Am I wrong?”
“No.” Her voice was barely audible.
“Then you know good and well that the people in the highest stress jobs who spend their days taking care of the rest of the world are the ones most likely to come home at night and turn that power willingly over to someone else.”
“Yeah, I know.”
“And you don’t think that applies to you?” He leaned forward, setting his elbows on his knees. Was he reaching her?
“Maybe. Though I’m not sure I deserve it.”
He winced. “Sweet girl, we all deserve to have whatever we need. If it helps you restore your energy and calm your mind to submit, then that’s what’s right for you. But I think you already know this. I think you’ve been in this kind of committed relationship before. I’d even bet it was with your husband. Which means you’re afraid to put yourself back out there again. And that’s understandable.”
She said nothing. He knew he had gotten to her on some level.
“Faith, you’re being too hard on yourself. This is a huge step. Take some deep breaths. Slow down. No one’s pressuring you.”
Her next whispered words were so soft he had to hold his breath to hear her. “What if I want someone to pressure me? What if I don’t like slow? What if I’m feeling like there’s too much silence in my life and I need to hear someone else’s voice to help me go on?”
Rowen pushed to standing, his heart racing. He needed to be careful. She was vulnerable.
Who the fuck was he kidding? He was vulnerable too.
“I need you to be sure what you’re asking for, Faith. I can be inside your apartment in ten minutes giving you what you need. But I’m worried you aren’t as ready as you’d like to be, and you’ll be traumatized if you jump back in too soon.”
“It’s not just that. If I were a selfish bitch, I would tell you to take the wheel that controls my life and steer it anywhere you see fit, but you know nothing about me. So that’s not fair. You gave me all of you in two days. Over and over in so many ways. I’ve given you nothing.”
“Then you’re not ready. You have your answer. Faith, I’ll be honest with you. I like you. A lot. More than I should. But you’re right about one thing. It’s not fair for you to hold back relevant pieces of yourself when and if you give yourself to a new Dom.”
He needed to rein this in a bit. He was overstepping his bounds. She was not his. Chances were, she could never be his. If he pushed her, he might hurt her. Hell, he might get hurt too. Wishful thinking was not going to make her the perfect submissive his mind had managed to conjure.
Step back, Rowen. Arm’s length.
“I’m not saying that Dom is me. I’m just suggesting you allow yourself to open up and reenter the world. There’s another Dom out there for you. You can live again. I know it must seem impossible right now, but you will get there.”
His hands were shaking. His voice was too. She was so raw and open. He wanted to claim her. Force her to see how well they clicked. This magnetism between them was unlike anything he’d ever felt. He wanted to own her.
But that was absurd. And he knew it. She knew it. He knew nothing about her, and whatever she was withholding was important enough that she guarded her secrets close to her chest.
This was nothing more than a long scene. A Dom helping a submissive back into the lifestyle. He needed to keep reminding himself of that fact.
They’d met two days ago. Two days, Rowen.
While he listened to her breathe, he ran a hand through his hair and closed his eyes. Even the first night he’d watched her perform, he’d known he wanted her. His cock had been so hard he’d locked himself in his office to relieve the pressure.
Her breaths grew heavier. What was she thinking?
He continued, rounding the couch and gripping the top of it with his fingers. “Here’s what we’re going to do.”
“Sir?”
Damn that voice. Damn the way she slid back into a submissive role and gripped his aching cock with one syllable. “You do not stray from this week’s plan, understood?”
“Yes, Sir.”
“Follow my orders every day. Text me in the morning and at night. Answer as many of my questions as you can manage each day. Ask me anything that comes to mind that fills a hole in what you’d like to know about me.”
“Yes, Sir.”
Perhaps he wasn’t being fair, but he didn’t give a solid fuck. He was in the fight of his life against an unknown enemy. He wanted to own her. Possess her. He wanted her to give herself to him freely and without hesitation. All of herself. Until she could do that, they were simply playing around in the fringe of the lifestyle.
She moaned, shocking him. Had she slipped her fingers into her pussy as soon as he’d taken control again?
“Faith,” he stated sharply.
“Yes, Sir.” Her voice was too dreamy.
“Fingers off your pussy. Now.”
“Yes, Sir.” The deflation in her voice made his pulse pick up.
“Have I made myself clear?”
“Yes, Sir.”
Maybe he needed to pick things up a bit. Toss a larger bone her way to lure her in. The odds were stacked against him without seeing her, but he needed to stay strong and play this out. Not just for her well-being, but his own.
But, no one said he had to fight fair. He simply had to fight from a distance. “I’m going to send you some new toys tomorrow. Do not open anything without permission. Be prepared to face a few challenges, mental and physical.”
“Yes, Sir.” Breathy. Sexy. Yes.
“What hours of the day will you be home?”
“I’ll be here until noon and then won’t return until late, Sir.”
What the living hell did this woman do with her time? “Perfect. Expect a delivery at ten. Call me when it arrives. Don’t open anything without permission.”
“Yes, Sir.”
“Do not touch yourself again tonight. You don’t have permission to come. Go to sleep, Faith.”
“Yes, Sir.” Deflation. Also sexy. Yes.
He smiled. “Good night, Faith.” And then he ended the call. He couldn’t have
gone another second. He needed to catch his breath as if he’d been fighting a real actual battle with his fists.
He had to pull himself together. He had some planning to do before morning.
Chapter 12
Faith didn’t fall asleep for a long time, but when she did, she slept hard. She woke up at eight, refreshed. After a quick text to let Rowen know she was awake, she grabbed her computer, propped against the headboard, and stared at his list of questions while she held her thumbnail between her teeth.
She needed to answer some of them. Give him more of herself. Not just two, but several. In good faith. To show she took him seriously and was still invested in this experiment.
Was she using him?
Damn, it felt good to be with someone who understood her. It seemed Rowen understood her from the moment he first saw her. Eerie in a way.
How much could she give him?
I was probably twelve when I realized I was submissive. That may sound crazy, but I was an avid reader. I read everything I could get my hands on. My parents had a cleaning woman who always had books with her. One day she flipped out when she caught me reading one of them. I thought she was going to have a heart attack, until I made her a deal. I swore I would never tell anyone she let me read her books if she would get me new ones every week. That was the end of my innocence.
When I was twenty-two, I discovered there were clubs for people like me. I had just graduated from college. Until that point, I had never met another person who openly admitted they were interested in BDSM. The first time I went to Breeze, I was shaking so badly it’s a wonder I didn’t pass out.
I observed for weeks, always worried someone inside the club would think I was an imposter. Always worried someone I knew outside Breeze would find me out. None of my family members know I’m in the lifestyle. Eventually, I relaxed and learned to trust that people at Breeze would never out me.
Although I had fantasized for ten years about being dominated, that wasn’t the path I took. It scared the hell out of me to allow someone to top me. I had done my research. I understood conceptually it was a power exchange. But I couldn’t bring myself to bottom for anyone.
So I learned how to be a Domme. I was good at it. People complimented me. I knew I fulfilled people’s fantasies. Just not my own.
I also learned how to submit by default of course. But until I met Victor two years later, I never did more than one scene with any one Dom. Just enough to understand how a particular instrument or apparatus felt on the receiving end.
Victor was eight years older than me. He seemed ancient at the time. Thirty-two. He was in the navy. I didn’t know anyone in the military. He approached me and convinced me to do a scene with him. I never went back to dominating.
Until after he died.
Faith hit send on the email and then closed her computer, slid off the bed, and headed for the shower. Day three and it was already second nature to shave herself bare. After she set the razor down, she flattened one palm on the tile wall and stroked through her folds with her other hand.
Five minutes was a long time when the objective was to get horny but not tip over the edge. She had to remove her fingers several times to stop the momentum. Before this week, she had never managed to come so quickly. Not even with her husband. She squeezed her eyes closed at the memory. If he’d never died… If she’d never met Rowen… Would she have been missing out on something?
It hurt. She hated letting her mind go there. Her relationship with Victor had been amazing. She’d never wanted more. Another wave of guilt slammed into her. It felt wrong to not only find another Dom but then to compare him and find he had qualities even Victor hadn’t demonstrated.
Rowen had a hold on her that was not like any other relationship she’d ever been in. It felt as if he were in the room, watching, staring, ensuring she didn’t cross the line he set.
And she did not. Lying wasn’t her strong suit. Disappointing him gave her the chills.
Did he realize what a grip he had on her?
Today was going to be a test of her sanity. Yesterday she had worked from home, taking calls, making arrangements. Today she had to leave the house. In a skirt. Without panties. Her pussy bare and wet and wanting.
It was going to be a challenge.
As she finished drying with one of her favorite luxuries—a towel that cost enough to make most people cringe—her phone buzzed on the counter.
She snagged it to see Rowen had texted.
Rowen: I’m proud of you, sweet girl. You worked hard this morning.
Faith: Thank you, Sir.
Rowen: Delivery at ten. Does that still work for you?
Faith: Yes, Sir.
She glanced at the time. She could still get coffee and a bagel before the latest mystery delivery person arrived.
Sure enough, she was licking the last of the cream cheese from her finger when the doorbell rang. She wiped her hands and hurried across the floor to shrug into her robe and open the door.
This time the delivery person was a woman. Barely twenty-one. She smiled and held out a large black bag. She had gorgeous blond hair with the ends dyed fuchsia. She also had an eyebrow piercing and a tattoo that ran down her right arm. It was an intricate row of colorful flowers like someone might arrange across the middle of a table.
Faith wished she had been born into a different life. One in which her parents wouldn’t have disinherited her for coming home with a tattoo. Of course, she was a grown woman now. What was stopping her from getting a tattoo or a nose piercing?
The woman glanced down at Faith’s body and giggled. “Nice robe. You being punished or something?”
Faith’s face flushed. The robe. Good grief.
The woman’s word choice was interesting. Was she in the lifestyle?
Before she could respond, the woman spoke again as she handed Faith the giant bag. “Someone really likes you,” she said as she winked. “Enjoy.” And then she was off.
Faith closed the door, locked it, and hauled the heavy bag to the kitchen table where she set it on the surface. As soon as she shrugged the stupid robe off, she picked up her phone and texted Rowen.
This is a really heavy bag.
Two seconds later, her phone rang.
“Hey,” she whispered.
“Hey, yourself.”
“You don’t want me to open anything? What is all this?”
“The packages are numbered. I’ll tell you which ones to open and when.”
“Okay, Sir.” A rush of excitement made her giddy. Like it was her birthday and all the guests had brought her gifts. Except she doubted there was anything in the black bag she would open in front of people even at a bridal shower.
“Put me on speaker and find the box numbered one.”
She tapped the screen, set the phone on the table, and rummaged through the large discreet bag for the package labeled One. There were eight items in total, each wrapped in black paper that made her reconsider the bridal shower and go with a fiftieth birthday instead. “Got it,” she declared before she could stop herself from sounding like a kid at Christmas. It was the size of a shoebox.
Rowen chuckled. “If I had known it would be this easy to get you excited…”
“Sir, I’ve been excited from the first moment I saw you,” she blurted out, also without thinking.
“I like that.” His voice was lower, sexy, deep. “I wonder when that was?” he mused.
She shivered and hurried to change the subject. “You, uh, want me to open this?”
“Yes, sweet girl. I do.”
Her fingers shook as she ripped into the paper to reveal a box. Also plain and black. Geez. Finally, she managed to open the box itself to expose a blue padded compartment. The item in the center made her stop breathing.
“I take it you got the box open,” he teased.
She pursed her lips as she stared at the very real-looking dildo. It was shaped exactly like a penis. It was even flesh colored. She swallowed as she picked
it up. The base had a suction cup.
Faith was not a prude. Far from it. However, she didn’t own a dildo. Not like this one. She had several vibrators, which she used externally, but nothing like this that wasn’t electronic.
“Sweet girl?”
“I’m here, Sir.”
“Where are you, exactly?”
“Kitchen table, Sir.”
“Good. Attach it to a chair, right in the center of the seat.”
He had to be kidding…
Of course he was not kidding. She pulled out the chair she’d recently sat in to eat breakfast and pressed the base of the cock right in the center. Nerves crawled up her spine.
“Faith…”
“Yes, Sir.”
“Find box number two.”
“Okay.” She was far less excited than she’d been five minutes ago. Who knew what box number two held? At least it was significantly smaller and not nearly as heavy. “I have it, Sir.”
“Open it, sweet girl.” The tone he was using was new. Playful Rowen. Amused.
She opened it with much less enthusiasm, relieved to find a bottle of lube.
“How wet is your pussy, Faith?”
It had been wet. It had been wet for days. It had been wetter from the moment she heard his voice. But as soon as he asked her that specific personal question, it went from wet to soaking. “Pretty wet, Sir.”
“Good. Nevertheless, I want you to squirt some of the lube on your hand and grip the cock just like you would a man’s, jerking it off to coat it.”
She popped the lid, but her nerves had a hold on her. Obviously he intended for her to fuck this dildo while he listened. The concept was kinda hot, but she’d never done such a thing. As she spread the lube onto the dildo, she commented, “This gives new meaning to the term phone sex.”
“I so wish you had me on video.”
“You are so never going to get me to do something like that.” No way would she risk pics or videos that portrayed her naked, and certainly not fucking a dildo in her kitchen.
Obeying Rowen: Club Zodiac, Book Two Page 11
