by Sir Nathan
Dominique
By Sir Nathan
Chapter 1
In five years I’ve had four ‘dates’, and none lasted more than a few hours. They didn’t feel right. Nothing ‘clicked’. But I haven’t been completely out of the picture. On occasions I was called upon for demos, and happily agreed, pleased my skills were appreciated. And I’ve been involved in a number of scenes with my friends. I wouldn’t say I ‘dropped out’ of the lifestyle completely, but I certainly wasn’t an active participant.
Perhaps I was marking time, unready to return. Or perhaps it was fate. Or maybe I talked myself into believing it was one or the other. In those days, random thoughts swirled through my mind like fire in the hearth. They scorched each other to ash as the flames danced, and I contemplated yet another day of emptiness. I was moribund and morose. Rebecca would not have been pleased.
She would have crow-barred me out the door and into someone’s arms just to give me a smile, no matter how long it lasted. She hated seeing me unhappy. But she was gone. I knew that. Though it took me twelve months to make my first visit to her grave, I finally managed it. I go twice a year now. The dates of her birth and death are almost six months apart.
Three weeks ago, I was returning from the cemetery on what would have been her thirty-second birthday, negotiating the tight bends down the side of the hill, when on a whim I pulled over to watch the sun setting over the sea. Drawing my jacket around me as the colours played and the salt breeze whipped my hair, I pondered the fact that I found beauty in most things, as long as they were pure and simple like the sunset.
At face value, one would say my life was simple, maybe even too simple. I worked, and I came home to an empty house. My friends suggested I get involved in something, or give a chance to one of the submissives they knew. Most often I would decline, but sometimes I accepted, usually ruing the fact as my performances rarely crackled.
I wasn’t depressed, just numb. And unfortunately, short-tempered.
I didn’t have the patience to work through the baggage a long time submissive often carried. I knew that was unfair, especially as I could hardly expect an experienced sub to want to work through my own baggage. I want simplicity back ... I didn’t want to be alone, but I didn’t want to butt heads with someone who thought they knew everything, either. I wasn’t in the mood, and I hadn’t been for years.
It was about eight p.m. one Friday night, almost five months ago. I remember because I’d been looking forward to a quiet evening at home, sipping cognac in front of the fire. It had taken a few phone calls and a great deal of convincing to get me out of the house in the first place.
I had just arrived at the designated location for our local ‘munch’ when I saw her hovering outside the front gate of the residence, biting a nail. I didn’t recognise her, and the poor girl was so obviously nervous that I couldn’t help but feel sympathetic. “Can I help you?” I asked, ready to reassure her that she’d be safe if she chose to stay.
“Um ... No! Sorry. I mean ... Oh, it doesn’t matter!”
With those few words, I doubted she could have expressed her fear and confusion more succinctly. Hurriedly covering her face like a criminal, she took off into the night without looking back.
During the meeting, I couldn’t say I paid much attention. I should have stopped her leaving. I should have told her it was okay to be afraid. She had touched something inside me, and I couldn’t get her frightened face out of my mind. Our brief, anonymous encounter lit a candle, and for a few short months it flickered.
I arrived early at each of the next two meetings and waited outside, hoping she might show, but she never did. I have attended meetings since, but I haven’t looked for her. In my heart I knew she had given up and would not be returning. The pragmatist in me moved on.
It took me weeks to work up the courage to attend my first ‘munch’. I remember spending most of that day trying to stay positive and busy, and to ‘not think about it’. When the time finally rolled around, I chose my navy skirt and jacket, hoping that ‘power dressing’ would make me feel less vulnerable. I was still scared shitless.
No amount of reading had prepared me to cross the threshold into the BDSM lifestyle. I read enough to know a munch wasn’t a fearful experience. I knew what to expect. I just didn’t know if it was really for me. I thought it was, but I just didn’t know. I drove there in a daze and arrived a few minutes early. Climbing out of the car, I hesitated on the sidewalk out front.
No matter how hard I tried, I just couldn’t bring myself to push through the gate and go in. I was on my second fingernail when a tall figure loomed over me and, in a deep voice, asked me a question. I can’t even remember exactly what it was, or how I replied. All I remember was needing to get out of there and finally doing it, hiding my face and hardly believing I had the audacity to make it as far as I did.
After that I made a decision. No more BDSM stories! Sideswiping ‘the lifestyle’ was completely unnerving and was as close as I’d ever get. I couldn’t do it again. I was a wimp, pure and simple. Consigning my desires to the realm of fantasy, I forever pushed them to the back of my mind.
Still, sometimes in the dead of night I would wake in a cold sweat and cry myself to sleep again, wondering what was wrong with me.
About two weeks ago, I actually got away from work on time. In an unusual confluence of events, I also happened to have caught a train that day, rather than driving. I was standing on the city platform, waiting for the train home, when I saw her standing alone in the crowd of commuters. For a moment I thought I was seeing things, but as I made my way closer, I realised I was not mistaken. I had to stop myself from approaching her directly. Instead I took a few breaths and tried to think.
I didn’t want to frighten her by coming right out and telling her I saw her at the munch, unless I thought it was absolutely necessary. I didn’t want her to think I was stalking her. I was privy to information about what might interest her, yet I was still a stranger to her. Shaking my head, I pondered the fact that I didn’t even know her yet, and was already seeing myself with her. God, she looked even better than I remembered.
The train that balmy summer evening was crammed full of commuters, but as it picked up speed, I managed to find myself against her. Her scent clouded my mind and my cock responded against my will. We were pressed together like sardines and I tried to move back an inch or two, but as fate would have it, the train jolted and I caught her as she stumbled. For a delicious moment, I held her with my thick cock pressed against her hip.
“Sorry,” I whispered, watching the blush creep up her neck and flow to her cheeks. Damn, I thought. How lovely ...
From the corner of my eye I noticed him looking at me on the train platform. He was handsome, tall, dark-haired and greying at the temples. He was immaculately dressed and I tried to stand straighter to keep his attention. Feeling the hairs rising on the back of my neck, on more than one occasion I confirmed his nearness with a sly glance. There was something about his eyes that intrigued me, but I couldn’t bring myself to look right at him. Not yet.
The train arrived and in the usual confusion, I thought he was gone. I have to admit, I was a bit disappointed. I was hoping he might have talked to me. In the crush of the carriage, I almost fainted when I realised he was right next to me. Chewing the inside of my cheek, I stared out the window and tried to stay calm, but inside I was churning. Who was this man who had such an effect on me? The smell of him was intoxicating, and each time I felt his body make contact with mine, I held my breath. This is like a dream, I remember thinking. Suddenly the train shuddered and I thought I might fall. He caught me with his hand around my shoulder, steadying me against his hard body, and our eyes met. Up close, they were incredible. They were jade green and flawless. Bu
t there was much more than just the colour. In a split second I felt his pain and his strength, his calmness and his intensity. Then I felt his cock against my hip.
‘Sorry, ‘ he said quietly, the look in his eyes disappearing, replaced by one of curiosity, as though daring me to react. I almost swooned. My pussy moistened wickedly and I blushed fiercely.
Sitting at my vanity and recalling all this, I felt the heat again as I stared into the mirror. I was mindlessly plucking my nipples as I reminisced, and hadn’t even realised I was doing it. My clit was throbbing softly, trying to get my attention. I’d been like this for hours, waiting for the evening to arrive.
Most of the guys I’ve been out with stumbled through our dates with inappropriate comments intended to amuse, or turned into octopi as soon as they were drunk. Hell, it was bad enough feeling like I was doing them a favour going out with them in the first place, but that’s how some of them made me feel. The others seemed like arrogant assholes, and I certainly couldn’t bring myself to indulge them either. I wanted something more complicated. I wanted someone I could please. I wanted someone who appealed to me on different levels and who I could respect as my intellectual equal. I wanted him to have at least ten years more experience in life than me and to be confident in himself. I really wanted to desire him physically too. I hoped my expectations weren’t set too high.
In my dreams, I knew I would find him one day. Or he would find me.
I stood and pulled the slinky black silk dress over my naked body and pulled down the hem. I can’t believe I am going out in just this, I thought, shaking my head. Reaching behind myself, I felt the material end a few inches below my ass.
My eyes travelled up my body in the mirror. I smiled at the points my nipples were making in the silk. Goose bumps rose on my skin and tingles began in my pussy again. Sitting down in front of the mirror, I decided ‘less was better’ and opened my makeup kit, letting my mind wander back.
At least a week of teasing had gone by, and I was at the point of giving him embarrassed smiles when he acknowledged me with a nod of his head on the train platform. I was starting to wonder if he was gay or married or something. I wasn’t laying it on thick, I wasn’t capable of that, but I thought I was making it obvious that I was available if he wanted to ask me out. Maybe I wasn’t being as obvious as I hoped.
I had almost bumped into him, right there on the train platform on the way home from work just this afternoon. Never before in my entire life had I asked a man out, yet before I knew what I was doing, I blurted out an invitation to have a drink with me.
“All right,” was all he said. He wrote down a time and place on a business card. He also wrote, ‘Black silk dress, red heels. Nothing else.’ I couldn’t even respond as I read the words. I could hardly believe they were there, right in front of me. As I held the card in my shaking hand, I wondered how he could assume something like that? How did he know I wouldn’t slap him? ‘Andrew Hodges’ it said on the card. I could barely squeak out ‘Dominique Harris’ before he disappeared into the crowd.
God, I thought. If he’s a Dom, I’ll just die.
I have plans, I thought for the first time in too long. Dominique was her name. Dominique Harris. And I had a date with her.
I was quite surprised when she asked if I’d like to have a drink with her. I wondered if I had misjudged her personality. But there it was, ‘the fear of rejection’, right in her eyes. I couldn’t bring myself to tease her when I was actually proud of her. Besides, I was waiting for her before the turnstiles, to ask her the same thing when she bumped into me. As a crowd pushed past us, I wrote the name of a local bar and the time to be there on one of my business cards. I added what she should wear before placing it in her hand. I slipped into the crowd and away, wondering whether she would lose her nerve again.
I arrived at Alfredo’s ten minutes early and she was right on time, dressed exactly as I had requested. ‘Black silk dress and red heels’. I had to assume she was wearing nothing else, however it was quite obvious she was braless. I smiled and told her I was impressed. To be honest I could barely tear my eyes from her.
“Let’s get a drink,” I said, trying not to pay her too much attention. At this stage of our ‘relationship’ I had particular ideas about how things should proceed. Of course, she still had no idea I had seen her outside the munch meeting. I had already decided I would see how far she would let me go before I came clean with her. It was going to be fun and I was looking forward to getting to know her.
Opening the door of the bar and holding it for her, she flashed a smile at me before heading inside. The door swung closed and I gently took her by the elbow, guiding her over to a corner booth some way from the bar itself. I asked Dominique if wine was okay and when she agreed, I motioned to a waitress and ordered for us. She returned with a bottle and glasses and I dismissed her to pour myself.
We introduced ourselves again and engaged in small talk. Dominique was delightful, and she hung on my every word. She flirted with her eyes but kept her distance, like a puppy unsure of its new owner, wanting to please yet afraid of making a mistake.
In a quiet moment I touched the back of her hand and she withdrew it into her lap, blushing prettily. I softly chastised her. Leaning into her, our shoulders touched and I told her to sit with her ass directly on the leather seat. “If I want to touch you, and you withdraw, you must be punished,” I whispered, wondering what she might do.
“I-I can’t do that,” she protested weakly.
Staring into her wide eyes, I said, “You can and you will.”
With no further hesitation, she lifted herself slightly off the plush leather corner seat and slid her dress up the back of her thighs. I imagined she was feeling very wicked.
I felt so naughty. Firstly, I didn’t go out without undies on. I just never did it. I wasn’t that kind of a girl. Well, in my fantasies maybe, but not in my actual life. I was so excited by the possibilities that were opening before me that the beginning of the evening was just one big blur. The way he talked to me... it was like he already knew me. I couldn’t stop myself from doing what he asked me to do. Not even when he told me to sit with my ass against the leather seat. I trembled when he had placed his hand on my bare thigh and took my glass from me, gazing into my eyes.
“I have a confession to make,” he said softly.
I remember thinking, Oh God, this is where he tells me he’s married. But what he said shocked and aroused me more than anything anyone has ever said to me before. His voice was quiet, but deep and strong.
“I know you,” he said, staring right into my soul. “Do you understand? I ... know ... you.”
“Y-Yes. But wait, how?” I was suddenly terrified. What if he was some crazy who had hacked into my computer?
“Don’t be afraid,” he said softly. “We are in public and you are safe. I saw you outside the munch about six months ago. I hoped to find you, I will admit. But until a couple of weeks ago, I had given up.”
“I-I don’t believe it.”
“You know it’s true. No one else could possibly know.”
“You tried to help me ...”
“I asked if I could, yes.”
“I-I’m sorry I ran away. I lost my nerve ...”
“And what about now?”
“I can’t believe it.”
“Listen to my voice, and believe. I am going to teach you things that will change your life forever ...” he said, touching me under my chin with a fingertip, “... if you will let me.” My heart was hammering in my chest as he watched my face intently.
“Oh, my God,” I whispered.
“I want you to please me. And I want you to find pleasure in pleasing me. Do you understand?” he asked, taking my hand in his.
“Y-Yes,” I breathed, trembling.
“I want you to tell me your secrets, as I impart mine to you. There will be no walls between us. I must know the truth always. And you must know that displeasing me will draw punishment.”
/> “Oh!”
“I want to teach you, and nurture you, and help you to grow into the person you want to be. Who do you want to be, Dominique?” he asked.
“I-I don’t know ... I don’t know if I can do this ...”
“You can stop me at any time.”
“Oh, my God.”
“Tell me you want to learn.”
“I do ...”
“Tell me you hate me.”
“Nooo ... I couldn’t!”
He touched his finger to my lips and held it there. “Good girl.”
God, I blushed. Good girl. It had been years since I had been called a good girl. Why did hearing it from his lips make my entire body flush with heat? I rolled my hips a little and could feel how wet I was. This can’t be happening to me! I squirmed where I sat and wondered what his reaction might be if I kissed his finger. What would he do if I kissed it and drew in into my mouth with my tongue? If I sucked on it gently? All of a sudden I was feeling incredibly horny and I shuddered as his next words rang in my head.
“Agree to let me teach you.”
“I ...”
He shook his head slowly. “Not yet, Dominique. I would like a considered response, not a rushed one.”
“O-Okay.”
“Is your cunt wet?” he asked quietly. My jaw dropped. In my fantasies I used that word, and others too. I blushed crimson and stared at my hands in my lap. “Well?” he asked. “I am waiting, and you shouldn’t keep me waiting.”
I opened my mouth, wondering what would come out. “Y-Yes,” I gasped.
“Good,” he said, smiling and handing me my glass.
In a dumbfounded stupor, I sat there listening to the melody of his voice, nodding where it seemed appropriate and sipping my wine, tying to get a hold of myself. Thoughts and fantasies were zinging through my mind and across our conversation. Some of them were so distracting I had to concentrate to keep from asking him to repeat himself.
And his eyes were dancing. Animated and alive. He seemed genuinely happy with me. Surely this wasn’t real. What was I getting myself into? Suddenly I was speaking. “I don’t know if I can do this!”
