by Mimi Tulane
He drew his mind back to the lovely vision in front of him just in time to hear her timid question. “Mac, when did you decide you wanted to become a Dom?”
Once again his cock twitched in his pants and he gave himself a mental command to simmer down. But fuck him! Her voice purring across his eardrums was enough to make him consider doing a switch! There was nothing sexier to him than a strong, confident woman. A vision of her standing above him while he knelt submissively at her feet got him uncomfortably harder. He’d always been Dominant, but for Imani, he’d be anything she needed, her Boss, her friend, and her lover.
With a slow, deliberate smile, he replied, “Quite a while ago, when I was a much younger man, I’d been involved in a scene and knew without a doubt that this was my calling. You could say it chose me.”
Nodding her head, her soft hair brushing the tops of her creamy shoulders, she seemed satisfied with his answer. “What called to you about it? I mean, when I look at you, you just don’t seem like the type,” she said, groaning then rushing on. “Mac, I’m sorry, that came out wrong.”
Mac shook his head no quickly to reassure her. “Your question did not offend me, Imani, if that is what you’re worried about.”
Wanting to reassure her and to keep the line of open dialogue between them, he sought to put her at ease. “It’s okay, Imani, you are welcome to form an opinion. However, if you will allow me the opportunity, perhaps I can broaden your scope of enlightenment? Don’t be afraid to ask me anything you wish.” How could he let her know that he welcomed her questions, that this was what he had been hoping for, a chance that would allow him to openly discuss his lifestyle with her. He wanted nothing more than to introduce her to his world. If he was honest with himself, he harbored some concerns of her rejecting him because of it.
Imani took in his request. “Mac, I have to be honest with you. To someone like me or to the outside public, BDSM comes across as a sexual thing. Most of the movies and books out now only confuse me more,” she said.
“I can understand why. What you have come across is mostly vanilla glamorized versions of the lifestyle or something much worse, porn that propagates misconceptions, focusing on kink not facts,” Mac replied. “Let me ask you a question if I may? In your opinion, what type is the type to practice BDSM?”
He saw immediately when he asked her directly for her views she became uncomfortable. He would wait her out. Patience was something a Dom needed to have a firm grasp on. When she tried to pull her hand from his, rather than answer him, he gently restrained her. One fact that had not escaped him about Imani was that, despite her feisty demeanor, she did not take to uncomfortable situations well and responded by closing herself off. She was rarely confrontational and would prefer to evade than respond if the subject was too touchy.
“Imani, it’s okay if you’re not comfortable with us talking about this. But I’d like us to approach this openly, together. Take your time, but I’d like you to answer the question if you can.”
Mac had spent time making calls earlier that day and a call to Jocelyn was one of the first. She’d explained to him at length certain things she knew of Imani when he’d spoken to her of his desire to pursue her. Jocelyn let him know in no uncertain terms they’d come to blows if he ever thought of breaking her dear friend’s heart, then provided him with a few “insider tips” to help facilitate their courtship. She also hadn’t passed up an opportunity to point out how slow he was in admitting to feelings she’d known he’d had for her best friend, and her comment of, “About damn time!” was taken in stride. They had both shared a good laugh at his expense. Yeah, he’d been slow to figure out that what he wanted and needed had been sitting faithfully at a desk right outside his office!
From the first moment he himself laid eyes on her, he could think of nothing else. Trying to remain at a professional distance this long had tested him. He truly appreciated this time spent over dinner and dessert. He now understood her nature a bit better. Imani was a sweet spirit and loyal to a fault, which kept Jocelyn in overprotective best-friend mode, and he truly understood that better now. He knew he’d be much worse where his woman—and he did consider her his—was concerned.
The hardest thing for Mac on his journey to accepting his feelings for Imani had been watching the train wreck of a relationship she’d had with her last boyfriend. Rather than confront his meandering ways, she had simply retreated into herself, closing off her beautiful, vibrant energy. He recalled the emotional state the bastard had left this beautiful woman in. After her breakup, she didn’t leave her place for weeks except to report to work. It killed him to see her hurt. The last thing he wanted was for her to retreat from him. That fool had taken her for granted then broken her heart.
He promised himself that would never happen with him. He wanted her more than he thought possible and it scared him, which was a first. He desired to see her blossom and flourish under his firm but gentle guidance. He would not be content with this becoming some casual fling. Mac wanted ownership, in more ways than one. He could no longer be content to enjoy just a working relationship with Imani.
* * * *
The subject of Mac’s lifestyle had finally come up. Imani was learning a great deal over the course of their meal together. “I guess I always envisioned some leggy bodacious broad, wearing latex, and a bowl cut.” She felt a bit lame when she finally answered Mac’s question. It was becoming increasingly apparent she was a novice to this subject. As much as she wanted to know more, a part of her was feeling totally out of her league.
She owed him to at least be honest, even if her views came across as naïve. When he held her hand, not allowing her to retreat, she saw he genuinely wanted to know her feelings and what she thought. He was actively seeking to open a discourse into the subject of which she was longing to know about and was not going to let her shy away from it simply because she was uncomfortable.
Her first and only frame of reference she had to draw from came from the porno movie she had bought off the pay-per-view channel. It had been her attempt at “research.” After watching that, she had spent hours on the net looking up the different toys and terms she’d heard.
Growing frustrated, she had concluded that if the things she’d seen in that film were all there was to BDSM, she knew that she’d never embrace a life that included it. No way!
Mac saw the indecision on her face. Nodding gravely, he replied, “There’s nothing offensive to what you are saying, Imani, even if there was, I’m not easily offended, baby girl. But I won’t have you ignorant of the facts or of me.”
Imani’s eyes widened from his endearment. She found she liked how she felt when he called her baby girl. “Mac, why do they wear so much latex? It just seems a bit much.”
“Kink attire can, for some, heighten a pleasurable encounter, but it has less to do with the psychology of our lifestyle and more or less is a personal preference.” He spoke candidly without a hint of condescension. “It’s like when you choose to wear your favorite perfume. You wear it because you derive some type of enjoyment from it. The scent appeals to you personally. Maybe you like the effect it has on someone when they smell a particular fragrance on you. And I do enjoy the smell of your Chloe, by the way,” he murmured deeply.
Imani licked her lips nervously and blushed. Mac had given her a gift card and flowers for her thirtieth birthday. She’d purchased the perfume and some lingerie with it. She marveled that he even knew the name of it! “It’s my favorite perfume,” she said shyly, her heart rate quickening as their conversation grew more intimate.
“Why are you curious, Imani? Tell me how you feel, baby girl. I’d like to know. Part of being a Dom is to understand the needs of your submissive. Communication is key to a healthy Dom/sub relationship, no different than with a vanilla relationship, for that matter,” he amended.
“I think, for me, I want to understand why someone would give themselves over to another so completely. I find it a bit unsettling,” she said hesitant
ly.
“Imani, the power exchange is the ultimate gift of the submissive to the Dominant and is not to be taken lightly or misused. If you must know, true power lies with the submissive and any Dom worth his salt will own up to that fact.”
Imani was amazed at the brutal honesty that Mac was displaying as they discussed his lifestyle. He answered her questions frankly and didn’t seem to mind her naïve views. She still, however, had a few reservations. She wanted Mac to be hers without question. Yet he lived a life that was foreign to her and went beyond fantasy. Mac was the real deal. Even he stated he didn’t go about broadcasting his lifestyle choice. How would she explain having a relationship with a Dominant man to her family and friends?
She readily acknowledged his lifestyle wasn’t for the sexually repressed. She could imagine how her parents would take the news. Not that she would tell them. She was an adult and her sex life and her relationships were her own business. Still, would having a relationship with Mac change who she was as an individual? Pushing her doubts aside, she smiled softly when he teased her about her discovery of his flogger in his desk drawer. His next question brought her back from her musings and caused her heart to return to its erratic beating.
“Imani, when I came into the office earlier today, you were deep in thought. What were you thinking about?”
Imani felt her face heating up. She knew he wanted her to be open, honest, and really there was no other way to be with someone she cared for. Looking into his warm, chocolate eyes, she spoke barely above a whisper. “I wasn’t thinking, but fantasizing about something. It’s something I do often, actually.” She hesitated.
“Go on,” he encouraged her.
“I was fantasizing about being spanked…by you.”
Imani lowered her gaze and stared at the table. She couldn’t look him in the eyes at the moment. She was afraid of what she might find there.
Mac reached across the table to gently cup her chin, lifting her eyes to meet his penetrating gaze. “Is that what you need from me, Imani? Do you want me to give you your fantasy? Would you like for me to spank you, baby girl?”
Imani felt time stop. Days of fantasizing, of longing had all come to this moment in time, here with the two of them. She whispered her need to him in a single word. “Yes.”
Nodding his head, he signaled for the waiter to bring the check. The time had come for them to continue this conversation someplace private. His home. With the bill settled, he rose smoothly from his seat and held his hand out to her. “I’d consider it a great honor if you would allow me to awaken you.” His voice held no judgment, his words no condemnation.
Imani placed a trembling hand inside his large palm. The warmth of his touch traveled deep within her, sending a delicious pulse she felt deep inside her core. Mac was willing to indulge her fantasy! She stood up a bit shakily, feeling somewhat unsteady. Mac pulled her to him, to offer his strength and allow her to lean upon him for comfort.
“Do you trust me, Imani?” he asked her quietly before wrapping his massive arms about her.
“Yes, Mac, I do,” she replied.
Nothing more was said as he led her out of the restaurant. Tonight he’d give her anything she wanted, and she wanted him to give her a spanking.
Chapter Five
All during the ride to Mac’s house, Imani’s mind began to whirl with thoughts. Just a mere few hours ago she was still in her comfort zone of fantasyland. Mac had been near but unattainable and she thought she had been okay with that. Wasn’t she? The man deftly maneuvering his vehicle though his gated community was still the Mac she knew, her competent if not somewhat forgetful boss, right? As if he could sense her mood growing pensive, he slid his large hand across the seat of the sedan and clasped one of hers, bringing it to his lips to kiss, and then placing it back onto her lap.
They pulled onto the circular drive smoothly with Mac stating as he turned off the engine, “We’re home.” Two words that spoke of an unmistakable context, as in we belong here, together. Imani sat quietly waiting, allowing her eyes follow him as he exited the car to open her door.
Despite their talk at dinner, she was still having doubts. What if after all of this she found she couldn’t accept a lifestyle that included BDSM? Would he still want her? How could she face him at work knowing about such an intimate part of his life? She wondered if she was making a grave mistake in coming home with Mac.
* * * *
Opening the front door, Mac led her inside. Grace, his housekeeper, had already left for the night. As she often did, she left on a lamp in the foyer to greet him upon his return home. He used to feel living a solitary life of bachelorhood was all he had to look forward to. His choice of lifestyle had left dating a nearly impossible task.
He’d had a few relationships previously. When they progressed to the point of him disclosing his lifestyle, well, the results had been disastrous. He kept his life private after that. He threw himself into work and when the need arose, he frequented the BDSM clubs and sought out like-minded company. He told himself that was all he needed. Spending time with Imani over dinner tonight made him realize he was fooling himself.
Glancing briefly at Imani’s sweetly smiling face, he allowed himself a brief fantasy of his own, of a much different homecoming with her there to encircle his neck with her loving embrace, and her lips to greet him with a gentle, “I’m glad you’re home, Mac, baby. I’ve missed you so much today!” Maybe after tonight, the need for fantasy could be placed behind them both.
From the first day that Imani Stuart had breezed her way through his company’s doors, she had systematically nestled her way inside of his heart. He had just been too damned stubborn to see it, preferring to keep a professional distance while inwardly seething at the mere mention of any man’s name from her lips. He also hated to admit to himself that past hurts kept him from acknowledging that what he wanted and needed was now within reach. Thanks to Imani’s curiosity about his lifestyle, he felt relieved to be able to share this part of his life, something he had never been able to do before. Even so, he feared her knowing would scare her away.
“Come with me. I’d like to show you something.” Mac brought Imani to his study.
* * * *
At her quizzical glance, he flashed her a sexy smile then strolled over to his bookcase. Mac’s private study was one of her favorite rooms within his home. He had such class and taste, something she initially had not attributed to his seemingly laid-back demeanor and down-to-earth approach to things.
Before she’d actually visited his home, she had figured he was the quintessential bachelor, living a confirmed lifestyle that included sports memorabilia, a beat-up fridge full of beers and a stripper pole hidden in his bedroom! Wrong! Jonathan Mackenzie had impeccable taste. From décor to music, he would not be pigeonholed into any stereotype. The large oak bookcase in his study was filled with an eclectic range of books. Eastern philosophy sat next to Westerns. Detective stories and a few classics were cozied up alongside of popular lit and reference materials. He even had a few graphic novels.
Grinning, Imani arched her brow. “I’ve seen your study, Mac, or have you forgotten that like you forgot your file?” she teased playfully.
Mac wagged a long finger for her to join him, then once she was standing beside him he pulled one book in particular, springing the trigger that opened a hidden doorway.
“Mac, where the hell are you taking me?” she asked, a bit alarmed.
Winking, he replied, “To my dungeon. You need answers, I want to supply them.”
Imani gave him a wary sideways glance. She should have known her overly curious nature would be her undoing one day! “Sure, why not?” She gave her reply flippantly but her heart rate had picked up a notch. Mac held out his hand and she took it, allowing him to lead her on further still.
There was only one word that came to mind when she walked down the flight of stairs that led to Mac’s dungeon and laid eyes on his private domain. Wow!
�
�You don’t keep a pet dragon down here, do you?” she quipped nervously.
Mac was all smiles. “Medieval times fascinate me, so when I built my dungeon, I incorporated a bit of that time frame into the décor. No need to sacrifice style for functionality,” he teased back. Imani shook her head and smiled as she continued to sweep her gaze about the dungeon. “However, I can assure you there isn’t anything in use here remotely archaic.”
Imani took in the stone walls bedecked with electric wall sconces made to resemble lit torches. Something in the center of the dungeon caught her attention. Oh my goodness, is that a torture rack? Mac quickly assured her it was a padded table built to resemble the device, where he could use restraints on his sub but not to inflict the type of barbaric punishment its predecessors had been made to. Imani inspected the table and noticed that beneath it was a built-in shelf that held various leather ties, cuffs, collars, and ropes. There were also blindfolds, and she held one particular item up to him quizzically.
“That’s a ball gag, Imani. I have several types of varying sizes.”
“You want your submissive to be silent as you, ah, punish her?”
Mac walked over and plucked the gag from her hand to demonstrate its proper use. “A common misconception with gagging is that one is trying to silence an individual. If I were to strap this on, sound would still be heard. The ball part fits behind the teeth, then straps onto the head like so.” Mac became a living illustration for her benefit, then removed the gag, taking it over to a built-in sink that resembled a trough and turning it on by pressing a lever with his foot.
“A person wearing this particular gag will experience some slight drooling. From the feelings it provokes and from the appearance of the sub, who is seemingly helpless and humiliated, the experience of gagging can incite pleasure for both the Dom and the sub.” Imani watched as he cleaned the gag then left it to air dry, hanging it on a row of pegs above the faux trough.
