The music wasn’t particularly loud, but the bass was definitely thumping through the floor. My flogger whipped his backside to the beat; it was the easiest way to get him close to subspace.
Gabe hadn’t achieved it—yet. But he would look at me with those dreamy eyes after I had reddened his ass, and I knew he was close. I never really cared before if the sub achieved it, but I loved Gabriel Burton. I loved him with everything in me, and I wanted him to get there.
Not every sub could do it, but I knew Gabe could. Again, it was in his eyes. His masochistic ways were so easy to manipulate, it was so easy to push his buttons. A simple spanking over my knee was enough to send him into a frenzy of delight. His groans would resonate throughout my body, his moans would reverberate in my ear, and his cock would harden from just a few good smacks.
I know what you’re thinking. A CEO—a submissive? How could a respectable man be into such a thing as BDSM?
One of the biggest misconceptions about submissives—any submissive: male, female, non-binary, trans—is that they are not strong, independent people, who have successful jobs and grow. How could they be? What independent person lets another top them, control them, torture them, use them? However, submission is not an act of weakness, but an act of courage. You are trusting someone else with your well-being, touching the spectrum of sublime pleasure by submitting to someone you wish to serve. Letting go is not a sign of weakness, but a testament of the strength to step into a scene and come out stronger than you once were, to build a connection with your top. That is why the most successful people, who boss people around all day, are usually submissives. Because they have the strength.
And, honestly, Gabe was the strongest person I knew. He had been through hell with his ex, as well as being kidnapped by my ex and flogged with a chain flogger. He was tortured, and not in the sexually charged way. I felt awful for it … he wasn’t prepared to take the torture, and I could tell that he would never let anyone else but me top him because of that experience.
It took almost two months before I was able to use the flogger again. Even then, it was gentle, until he said he could take it. I had to build trust once again, though in reality, Gabe walked into the BDSM world trusting me. Unsure, yes. But, he still trusted me. He knew I would keep him safe, yet I really hadn’t when Patrick kidnapped him.
It was a snowy New Year now; six months had gone by. Julius had opened his club, Xposed, and I was Domming full-time. Instead of being stuffed up in an office in a pantsuit, I was now stalking around clad in leather and PVC. Sometimes I had Gabe in tow, his cock locked in chastity, and I would lead him with a little leash attached to his leather-studded collar.
Gabe towered over me, but I still was the Domme—I had the power; I had the confidence. No one could match me in the club. You needed confidence and stamina to be a Dominatrix, a Dominant in general. You had to have the strength to carry your submissive and their wishes out.
Not that I could physically carry Gabe. He was my lumberjack, my mountain man. He was big, rugged, tall, muscular. It had only been when I moved in with him that I realized that he worked out to maintain his physique. He never faltered in his personal progress to achieve the perfect man’s body. He was built like a bodybuilder, his waist a little thin, his chest broad, large and dusted with curly hairs that I loved to pull wax out of when we did wax play, which I knew he hated.
Of course, my favorite part of him was his beard. What? You expected me to say his chocolate brown eyes? Well, yes, they were a favorite. But, in reality, I loved the feeling of his beard on my skin. Soft, yet a little rough at the same time. It drove me wild. I never wanted him to shave it off. In fact, I forbade it.
We didn’t have a contract yet, though we had discussed it before. He was already mine, so why bother with one? Not every D/s relationship did it. It was an option. The same with collaring. I had hoped Gabe would ask me for it; I didn’t know how to go about telling him that though. I was still uneasy with the relationship, as I hadn’t been in a serious one since Patrick, and that had been a little rocky and ended even before he went psycho and I shot him.
I was trying though. I was living with him. He was my submissive. It was as serious as it could get … unless he asked me to marry him. Though, he had been married before, so he was a little more sensible when it came to that subject. Living together and bondage was one thing; marriage was a serious matter.
I wasn’t ready for it anyway. I loved Gabriel Burton with everything in me, but the thought of marriage made me sick to my stomach. I wasn’t ready … not yet.
Once I had reached thirty strokes, I let up on Gabe. He was shackled to one of the two St. Andrew’s crosses in the room, his ass bright red, as I hadn’t gone easy on him.
I walked up to him and ran my fingers through his hair. “Do you need a drink?”
He sighed heavily, catching his breath, that dreamy look in his eye again. He shook his head.
“I’m going to unshackle you, and you’re going to go to one of the private rooms. You’ll lie down for a little while, then I will come get you and we’ll go home,” I said lovingly, stroking his neck a little.
“Yes, Mistress,” he panted wearily.
I unshackled him and helped him down, then smiled at him and patted his butt a little, making him wince. “Good boy.”
He turned, his cock still stuffed into the cage, though by now he didn’t mind it so much. I never kept him in it for more than three days. That was when he’d been really bad and called me a bitch in midscene. That was a hefty punishment; he was pleading to be let out by the third day, even though I’d sentenced him to a week. I caved, as I often did, but not without penance being served. He’d licked me to orgasm and I forced him to let me ride him without him coming before I let him have a little release.
I watched him as he marched to one of the private rooms.
“Tsk, tsk,” a voice said.
I turned to see a man who was probably about five foot ten, his hair a dusty blond in curls, though it was cropped short. His eyes were on me, a smirk on his face, and his arms were crossed. He was obviously a submissive, as he was naked, but he didn’t have a collar, even for the evening, so he wasn’t owned by anyone.
“Excuse me?” I asked.
“You are much too soft with him,” he said with a British accent, deep and baritone.
I cocked my head to the side. “Too soft? You speak out of turn, slave.”
He stood to his full height, which was actually a lot taller—I was wrong, he was at least six foot. He walked up and stood before me.
“You need a real submissive. One that can challenge you,” he said.
I blinked a few times, as I had heard it all before. “And you think that you can do that? Again, you are speaking out of turn. Where is your Master or Mistress?”
“I don’t have one,” he said, walking around me.
“And you identify as a submissive? With that attitude?” I asked.
He nodded, smiling widely. “I do. And I bet you that I could rock your world, Mistress Ava. I can give you the brattiness that you crave. Your present submissive is just too … easy.”
I frowned, not impressed by him, though his icy blue eyes were quite breathtaking. “If you want to be my submissive, there’s a waiting list. Talk to Marten. He can put you on the list once you pass the qualifications.”
“Qualifications?” he asked, smirking. “I’m sure I can pass with flying colors.”
“Then see Marten,” I said, turning to follow Gabe. As I walked past the man, his hand came out and he squeezed my ass.
I wasn’t really shocked; I turned to him, grabbed his ear, then squeezed and pulled on it until he was forced to his knees.
“You never, ever, touch me without permission, slave,” I said.
“Yes, Mistress,” he said, with a little laugh.
I let go of him roughly, causing his head to whip back. “Let that be the first warning.”
“Yes, Mistress,” he said, eyeing me hungrily.
I kept my head held high as I headed after Gabe. I had to admit that, yes, my heart was racing from the pure brattiness of him, this submissive. I should have asked his name, looked out for him on the list. No doubt he would ask Marten and pass the qualifications. There was sort of a backlog of submissives, as I was a popular Mistress at the club, though it was an exclusive club and only certain members of the kink community were allowed to be down in the dungeon. It was a way to stop crowding and misuse of the premises. We had Dungeon Monitors, the best ones, but too many people and Julius would need to hire more DMs, and then it would be even more crowded. His system was working though. Julius was a smart businessman, as well as an experienced Daddy-Dom.
I walked in to see Gabe asleep on the bed with silvery silk sheets. I couldn’t help but smile, since he was beautiful, lying there. Was I really getting soft? Perhaps my feelings for Gabe were starting to soften me. I had never been attached to my submissive before. And at the same time, I couldn’t go too hard on Gabe yet. He was seeing a therapist for the nightmares and cold sweats he had been experiencing. His scars on his back were an ugly reminder. Thankfully, he couldn’t see them on the daily, like me.
I climbed on the bed and ran my hand through Gabe’s hair, down his face and onto his chest. He stirred, looking a little more bright-eyed when he saw me.
“Are we leaving, Mistress?”
I nodded. “We are. Head to the dressing room and get changed.”
He looked down at his cock cage. “May I remove the cage?”
“Hmm,” I said, thinking. I could be cruel … I wanted to be. I also wanted to fuck him pretty badly. “Maybe, since you were a good boy tonight, I will give you a little treat.”
I removed the key from around my neck and undid his chastity device. I then began stroking him and watched as his cock grew to its full glorious seven and a half inches. He was also circumcised, which was a preference of mine. I loved the look of it, though I appreciated an uncut cock as well. In reality, a cock is a cock.
His breath became ragged as I stroked him. I eyed him seductively as I leaned down and took him into my mouth. I rarely, very rarely fellated him fully to climax, but I felt that we both needed it at that moment. I had only ever gone down on one other man, letting him come in my mouth, and he was now dead. Sure, I liked to tease with my mouth, but letting a man spurt his seed into your mouth was an intimate thing. I only did it with Gabe.
I sucked the tip of his cock, licking at the frenulum as I looked up to him and our eyes met. He wasn’t going to last long, which was preferable, as I had to speak to Julius before we left.
I took him fully in my mouth, deep throating, which was a selective talent—I could only do it if I suppressed my gag reflex by squeezing my thumb in my fist. Old trick, but it worked.
His whole body went into a frenzy; he bucked beneath me as I grabbed the base of his cock and started to stroke, coming up for air. I jerked him a little until I could see it in his eyes; he was going to come. I sucked on the tip of his cock until I felt it jerk, not removing my mouth as he came, spurting in three long gushes.
I swallowed, licking from the base up to the tip, making him shudder one last time, as a little bit of cum came out, one last bit, which I licked up.
“Christ,” he said, letting his head fall back.
I smiled, wiping my mouth. “Now, take a few minutes before showering and getting changed. Meet me out in the car.”
“Yes, Mistress,” he panted again, his head obviously stuck in an orgasmic cloud.
“I’m going to talk to Julius and get my worksheet for tomorrow night,” I said, slapping his thigh and making him jerk.
“Yes, Mistress,” he said again.
I got up from the bed and grabbed a water bottle from the little fridge, sipping at it before heading out of the room and leaving Gabe to compose himself.
I walked through the maze of rooms until I came to where Julius was sitting with a curvy redhead on each arm. I knew one of them to be Rachel, as I had worked with her before. She was a masochist like Gabe, a little pain slut. I even got her to orgasm by flogging her. She reached subspace no problem.
Julius isn’t all that much taller than me, and I sit at five foot nine. He had no shirt on, but leather pants, and he watched one of the other Doms work a submissive on a spanking bench.
“Ah, Ava,” he said, a lick of a French accent on his words. “Good night with Gabriel?”
I smiled. “Yes, as usual. I’m still trying to ease him back in.”
“These things take time,” he said, handing me a clipboard with some papers on it.
I looked at the Dom and his sub, who he had over his knee as he spanked her. She was giggling with each stroke, wiggling her butt.
“You look distressed,” Julius said.
I turned to him. “Do you know of a new submissive here? He doesn’t have a Mistress or a Master, no Dominant in sight. About six foot, blond, blue eyes.”
“Hmm, sounds like Reichen Shepherd,” Julius said.
“Reichen,” I echoed. “What’s his story?”
“I’m not sure,” Julius said. “He got in because he dropped a name.”
“What name, may I ask?”
“Lady Scarlet,” he said.
My brow rose. “Lady Scarlet? One would think she would have curbed his bratty nature. She doesn’t go easy on submissives.”
“No, but sometimes you can’t tame them,” he said. “Sometimes they have a wild nature in them.”
I nodded. “True.”
“What did he do?” he asked.
“He grabbed my ass,” I said, unimpressed.
“You should show him a thing or two on the cross,” Julius said with a wink.
My mind started to spin, thinking of how far I could go … could I go further with Reichen Shepherd than I did with Gabe?
I shook my head, running my hand through my hair. “Anyways, I’m off with Gabe.”
“Short session tonight,” Julius said, looking back at the submissive, who was now being tied up by the Dom.
I then recognized the Dom—Gideon Shaw. He was known for his work with Shibari—an ancient art, rigging the submissive with a beautiful display of bondage that goes with the curve of their individual bodies. I had been to a few workshops for it and loved rope play, but Gabe wasn’t a Rope Bunny. He didn’t get off from the simple touch of a rope, though he did enjoy bondage.
My eyes widened with surprise. “You got Gideon?”
Julius smiled, impressed with himself. “Indeed. He’s doing a demonstration before I book him for a Shibari workshop.”
Gideon, who was much like Gabe in looks, only he was clean shaven, didn’t even bother looking up from his work. He was a buff man too, with strong hands that knew how to knot you up with the best of them.
I was surprised that Julius was going through the formality of a demonstration. Gideon was well-known, noted in the kink community. Every Rope Bunny knew his name and creamed at the sound of it.
I looked at my worksheet, which was broken up into three time slots for Friday night; I had two one-hour sessions, as well as one three-hour session. I also had time set aside to rest between sessions, as well as make my rounds at the club. It was a busy night, though, to have three clients. I had to make sure I had enough tricks up my sleeve.
“Ava,” Julius said.
“Did Reichen upset you? Overstep his bounds? Make you uncomfortable?” he asked seriously, though softly.
I shook my head. “It’s nothing I can’t handle. As you said, he needs a few on the cross, as well as a firm hand. I can handle it, if need be.”
Julius smiled. “Good.”
“Well, I’m going to head out now, I’ll be here at my usual time tomorrow,” I said, pulling the sheets off the clipboard, as they also had the health stats and questionnaire that was to be filled out by everyone.
“Is Gabe coming tomorrow night?” he asked.
I shook my head. “No, he has work. Big presentation on Monday.”
“Ah, too bad,” he said with a frown.
“Anyways, goodnight,” I said, with a little wave.
I looked at Gideon who smirked at me as I passed. I thought he had been too engrossed in his work to bother with me, but he obviously liked what he saw. What man didn’t, really?
I found Gabe getting changed in the change room, a wet towel beside him. He hadn’t washed his hair, which was for the best, as we were in the middle of a deep freeze in Toronto, and I didn’t want him getting sick.
“You ready to go?” I asked.
He nodded, opening up the locker and pulling out my long coat, which he helped me put on.
“You got your worksheet for tomorrow?” he asked.
I nodded, holding it up. “Yup.”
“Any names we know?” he asked, stepping back.
I shook my head as I looked over them. “Nope. One of the one-hour sessions is a woman though. Should be fun!”
He smiled a little as he put on his shirt. “A woman. That’s a first in a while.”
I frowned. “I know. I guess I’m too intimidating.”
“Sometimes,” he said, grabbing his leather jacket and putting it on. “But it’s what I love about you.”
“Come on, slave,” I said, taking his hand. “Let’s go home.”
“Yes, Mistress,” he said in a husky voice.
My father was trying this new thing where he was trying to be there for me, to show his support with the whole BDSM thing. So on most Fridays, we went to lunch. I had the days off, as I worked nights at Xposed from Thursday to Monday. I had Tuesday and Wednesday off, and I usually spent them with Gabe, going out to dinner, doing couple stuff.
I walked into the restaurant. My father, a stocky man with a bald head and sparkling blue eyes, was already sitting at the table. He had a smile on his face, and he waved at me as he saw me. I gave a little wave back, as the host led me over with a menu. He then pulled out my chair for me as I sat down at the table.
“Ava, honey, how are you?” my father asked.
The host put down my menu before bustling off. I nodded. “I’m good; things are good.”
“At the club?” he asked.
I nodded again. “Yeah, it’s good. Busy.”
When my father found out about the BDSM thing, he wasn’t too supportive. But, after getting shot and seeing me almost losing my life, he seemed to warm up to the idea and leave it, as it was my lifestyle and it would stay that way. As long as no one found out in the real world, in his world, everything was fine. I was good at keeping it to myself. Really, whose business was it anyways?
“Gabriel is doing well. Looking at making him Chairman of the Board,” he said.
“Yeah, he told me,” I said, eyeing him. “Why are you so happy? Usually, you’re sullen when you talk about me and Gabe.”
“Well,” he said, still smiling, “I have some news. It may shock you, but I’m sure you’ll recover.”
“Oh?” I asked.
“You see, Carla … she’s pregnant,” he said, beaming from ear to ear.
My brow furrowed, a feeling of disgust running up my spine. “Pregnant?”
He nodded. “Yes! Six weeks along.”
“Wait a minute, you were going to serve her divorce papers,” I said.
“Well, we had some problems, but—”
“And when did she tell you this?” I asked. “It didn’t happen to be when you were talking about divorcing her, was it?”
“Ava,” he said, his smile melting away as he sighed. “The timing is—”
“Suspicious! More than suspicious. Did she show you a sonogram at least?”
He went a little quiet. “No, not exactly.”
“So, you’re taking her word for it? Even if she is pregnant, how do you know it’s yours?” I asked.
“Ava!” he scolded. “I don’t understand why you have to do this every time we speak of Carla.”
“Because she’s scum,” I said under my breath, turning in my seat and crossing my arms.
He was aware of how she’d acted when he was in hospital after Patrick had shot him. She was eyeing his inheritance like a rabid wolf looking at Miss Piggy. Of course, little did she know that all the money was going to me in the event of his death. Sure, she’d be left with a little something, but not the whole shebang, like I would. Not that I cared about the money. I cared about my father and his well-being.
The waiter came and put down a glass of wine for me, looking at both of us. “Are we ready to order?”
“Yeah, I’ll have the field green salad,” I said. “Dressing on the side.”
“And I’ll have the pasta and tomatoes,” my father said, handing his menu over.
“Excellent. Thank you,” the waiter said, and he walked off with our orders.
“Ava, aren’t you excited?” my father asked, getting my attention. “Come on now; you’ll be an older sister.”
“With nearly twenty-nine years between us,” I said.
“And that matters why?” he asked. “Age is just a number.”
I shook my head. “Are you going to get her tested? Get the baby tested, if there’s even a real baby?”
“Yes,” he said. “We have a doctor’s appointment on Tuesday. It will confirm that she is pregnant and then, when the baby is born, we’ll have a paternity test done.”
“Great. She gets to leech off of you the whole time she’s pregnant. What if it isn’t yours?”
“Why do you always have to trample on my happiness?” he asked angrily. “This is a joyous occasion.”
I shook my head again. “It’s not. You and I both know she made this up. I bet you that you’ll find your joint account drained and she’ll be dust in the wind by the time you get home tonight.”
My father actually looked hurt. I hadn’t seen him that way since my mother died when I was six. I wasn’t sure if it was the fact that I was pointing out the obvious, or because it was obvious. He was a sixty-year-old man. She was only thirty. He was old enough to be her father. And now he was going to father this baby? I didn’t buy it. Especially since she only mentioned it when he was going drop the D-word.
I sighed. “New subject.”
“All right,” he said. “How has therapy been?”
I nodded. “It’s okay. Gabe isn’t too enthused about it, but my own sessions are going fine.”
“Didn’t you say that you’re doing sessions together as well?”
“Yeah, which is where he’s not enthused. He doesn’t like to talk about what happened in front of me. I don’t know, I guess it’s shame,” I said. “We’ll get to the bottom of it, eventually. That’s what therapy is for.”
“And what of the future with you and Gabriel?” he asked.
“What of it?”
“What do you see in the future? You haven’t had a stable relationship like this before.”
It hit me hard, but it was true. I took a deep breath. “I don’t know. It’s sort of between me and Gabe, so I want to keep it that way, like our Dominant/submissive relationship.”
He looked around, checking that no one heard. “And the therapist has no problem with that dynamic?”
My brow furrowed. “Of course not. It’s healthy sex.”
He shook his head. “I don’t want to talk about this. You know it makes me uncomfortable.”
“You brought it up!”
“I just want to know if you two plan on getting married,” he said.
I licked my teeth, feeling uncomfortable; the word “married” made my stomach heave. “I don’t know. It’s too soon for that, Dad. Christ, it’s only been six months!”
“You already live together,” he pointed out.
“Because that works for us!”
“And marriage won’t?” he asked.
I shook my head, looking away from him. “I don’t know. I don’t even know if I want to.”
“Why not? What if it works out?”
“What if it doesn’t?” I asked, my voice raising a little. I calmed myself and looked down at the table. “I don’t want to be known as Gabriel Burton’s second wife.”
“You won’t be,” he said. “I see the way he looks at you.”
“Yeah, ʼcause you’re an excellent judge,” I said, my brow raising a little.
“Ava,” he said.
“New subject,” I said.
It went along like that, each subject getting heated until one of us said “new subject”. We didn’t talk about Carla anymore, nor Gabe. It was silent as we ate our food. I would say it was awkward, but I was used to it. It was the usual with my father.
I looked at my watch after our plates were taken away. “I have to hit the gym and shower before tonight.”
“You work tonight?” he asked, taking out his credit card and tapping it off the table.
I nodded. “Always on a Friday night. Same with Saturdays. Sometimes I skip Sundays, but that’s usually paint night in the club portion.”
He nodded, uncomfortable again. “I see.”
“Anyways, thanks for lunch.” I paused. “I think,” I said under my breath.
“All right. I’ll call you, honey,” he said.
“Okay,” I said, getting up from the table and waving at him awkwardly.
I headed out of the restaurant and to my car. It was a brand-new Chevy, as my old car got pretty beat up by Patrick. I decided on getting a new car instead of fixing the old one up. I liked the thought of having a new car, new place to live, new life.
I sat in the car for a few minutes, waiting for it to heat up. I shook my head, as my thoughts were on Carla and her new scheme. Pregnant? Yeah, right. I didn’t buy it. I backed out of my space and headed to the gym, which was where my best friend, Ash worked.
Ashley Donaldson was a six-foot-three-inch Greek god. He was a personal trainer; he loved what he did and was damn good at it too. He sometimes tagged along when Gabe was unable to go to the club. He wasn’t a submissive, but he played a good one. He wasn’t into pain or humiliation, unless he was giving it. Even then, he wasn’t really a Dom.
I showed my key card on my lanyard to the girl behind the counter, and she scanned it. I then headed in, putting my stuff in the locker room before heading back out onto the floor. I looked around and saw Ash talking with a busty blonde—one I recognized as the hostess from Bar None. Charlotte. I smiled a little, glad that he was at least playing nicely. I didn’t know if he was interested or what, but Charlotte had it bad for Ash. She was like a lovesick puppy around him.
I walked over to them, smiling lightly.
“Hey Ava,” Charlotte said with a large smile on her face.
I nodded to her. “Charlotte.”
Ash looked at me, his eyebrows raised. “You ready for a workout?”
I could see it in his eyes that he was playing nicely but wanted an out. I nodded, giving it to him. “Yeah. I have an hour before I need to get home and shower.”
“Right. Well,” Ash said, looking at Charlotte. “I’ll see you.”
“Okay,” she said, dare I say hopefully?
Ash and I walked away from her and headed over to the treadmills. “So?” I asked.
“Ugh, don’t start,” he snarled.
“Whoa, someone is testy,” I said, getting on the treadmill as he started it up.
He sighed, hanging his head before he looked back up to me. “I haven’t had sex in almost a year.”
“Annnnd this is supposed to be news to me?” I said cheekily, starting to run on the treadmill as he upped the pace.
“Charlotte is more than enticing,” he said.
“Well, give her a chance then,” I said. “What would it hurt?”
“Um, her? I could hurt her,” he said.
I jogged on the treadmill, shaking my head. “Come on, Ash. You can’t be celibate forever.”
“I jerked off this morning. Not so celibate,” he mumbled.
I smirked. “Oh. No wonder you’re testy. You hate jerking off.”
“I’d rather have a tight ass to sink into,” he said, running his hands through his short black hair. “But that’s not gonna happen.”
“It could with Charlotte,” I said.
“I’m not interested in dating her though,” he said. “It would just be a fuck. A really good one, but still a fuck. I’m over that. I’m pushing thirty; I need to settle down and stop being a walking hard-on.”
I frowned as I began to pant from the speed of the treadmill. “Well, I can’t help you. I have my own relationship to worry about.”
“Things not going too good?” he asked.
I felt sweat fall down my forehead and nose. “It’s fine. I’m just worried I’m losing my touch.”
“Losing your touch? How so?”
“Well, it was pointed out to me that I may be going a little soft on Gabe,” I said between breaths. “I don’t know if I am, but I can’t help it since he’s a little broken right now.”
“He went through a lot,” he said.
I turned the treadmill off, stepping to the side of it as it slowed and stopped. I panted. “I know. I just don’t want … well … ”
“Yeah,” I said, stepping off the treadmill. “I want to go at it, balls to the wall. I want to make him beg me for mercy and really dig deep. I want him to reach subspace.”
“He still hasn’t?”
I shook my head. “No. I think part of it is me.”
“How do you mean?”
“I mean, I’m going too soft, and he needs to have his limits pushed to reach it.”
“But not yet. He’ll get there, and you will too. Isn’t it all a part of BDSM? Reading your partner?” he reminded.
I nodded. “Yeah. That’s true.”
He patted my back. “Well, then just give him a little more room to breathe. He’ll get there.”
“Yeah, I know. I just … stupid submissive getting into my head,” I said.
“Submissive? Not Gabe,” he said.
“No, not Gabe, some other guy. Bratty little thing,” I said.
His brow furrowed. “Uh-oh. You always liked the bratty ones.”
I sighed as I headed towards the machines. “I may like bratty ones, but I’m now in the lifestyle in a different capacity. I’m fully booked and not taking on another submissive full-time like Gabe.”
His brow raised. “You’ve thought about taking him as a full-time subby?”
My brow furrowed as I thought about what I said. “No … ”
“The thought crossed your mind though,” he said.
“No,” I said, looking back at him. “I’m just saying that he would need a full-time Domme to break him of his brattiness. I can’t be the one to do that, though no doubt he wants me to.”
“Is he good-looking?” he asked.
“Well … yeah,” I said, remembering his accent. “But most submissives are.”
“Unless they look like Bill,” he said with a smirk. “The foot kisser.”
“Ugh, so glad that he isn’t allowed down in the dungeon,” I said.
“Why isn’t he?”
“He broke the rules. Stole a woman’s shoe and pissed in it,” I said, sitting down at the leg press. “Julius has a no-tolerance policy for that kind of stuff.”
“Jeez,” said Ash, obviously disgusted.
“Yeah. So, anyways, it doesn’t matter what he looks like. It just matters that he’s trying to get into my head, and so far, after only one stupid encounter, it’s working.”
“Didn’t Gabe get in your head when you first met?” he asked, leaning against one of the machines.
“Not my head, more like my system … like, I couldn’t help it; I wanted him so badly.”
“And this guy?” he asked.
“I like the thought of Domming him, but that’s about it. Teaching his bratty little ass a lesson.”
“Then do it,” he said.
“I can’t; I have a waiting list,” I said. “I mean … well, I could one night when I’m doing my rounds. But not a full-on session, which is what he needs.”
“A good spanking?” Ash asked with a wolfish grin.
“Yeah, with my paddle as well as my bare hand,” I said. “Anyways, we working out? I have work tonight.”
“Whenever you’re ready,” he said.