Adventurous Me

by Deanndra Hall

  I wondered if this would come up and, even though I’ve thought about it, I still don’t have an answer. “Honestly, I don’t know. I mean, I like him a lot. But I don’t think he likes me. Well, maybe he likes me better than he did before, but still not much. I wouldn’t think that’s a question I even have to consider.”

  “I think you should.” What? Really? Surely not. “If not Clint, who? Is there anyone you’d consider allowing to collar you?”

  I shrug. “Maybe Steffen, but I don’t know.”

  “Were you hoping your name would be drawn with Steffen’s?”

  I’ve asked myself that a million times. I shrug again. “At first I think I was glad it was Clint. But after some of the things that have happened and the indifferent way he’s treated me at times, I started thinking about Steffen. He doesn’t strike me as someone whose personality is a toss-up. He seems pretty even-tempered.”

  “But you said things have been better between you and Clint.”

  “They have. I pulled a stupid stunt the other day, well, not really, it didn’t start out as one but it turned out that way. He punished me . . . and it was pretty harsh. Then afterward, he was very kind and sweet, and we’ve had a good time since then. He was very careful to make me see how I would’ve felt if he’d done the same thing I did; actually, he intentionally did something similar to drive home his point. And it’s been fine since.” I stop, then add, “But I feel like I’m always waiting for the other shoe to drop.”

  “Do you think he’s helped you grow sexually? Really pushed your limits?”

  “Yeah, I do. He set some things up that really threw me for a loop, but they were good learning experiences. He’s very erotically creative. Sometimes he fucks me hard and uses me like a slut, even talks to me like one, and other times he’s quiet and gentle and it feels like he’s making love to me.” I look down at my hands. “It’s very confusing. I really don’t know what’s going on most of the time.”

  “But do you think this is a positive experience?” Dave sounds almost apologetic.

  I think for a minute. “Yeah. I do. But for the wrong reasons.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I think it’s really helping me see what I don’t want in a Dom. And I’m really sad about that.” Then something shoots through my brain and I panic. “Oh, god, please tell me you’re not going to tell him what I say!” I’ll be in trouble for sure.

  Dave’s face takes on a concerned look. “No plans to, just general discussion with him. But I think I’d like to call the two of you in together and talk to you. Can you do that?”

  A tremor runs through my body and I’m pretty sure Dave sees it. “You have to make him promise not to punish me for the things I say or I just can’t say anything.”

  Dave’s shoulders square. “You just let me know if he even tries and I’ll put a stop to it. That’s against the code. I’ll not have that. You don’t have to be afraid, Trish. Clint’s not that unfair.”

  Yeah? He should have to be Clint’s sub for two weeks. He might sing a different tune.

  When we’re done, Dave hugs me and says, “Go back over to my office and send Clint over. And thanks, honey.”

  “No, thank you. I love you, Dave.” I realize what I’ve said, and then I throw in, “You know, like you’re, well, it’s more . . .”

  He laughs. “Don’t worry, little one. I love you too. You’re just special to me, and I know I’m special to you.”

  I hug him again. “You are. You always will be.”

  Once I’ve pointed Clint across the hallway, I settle in to wait. The pictures Dave has around on the walls are interesting, and I look at them for awhile. I peruse his bookshelf; not the books I thought I’d see. Instead of The History of Bondage in America, he has a couple of Stephen King books and some Dean Koontz. I tear a piece of paper off his notepad and doodle, but that’s boring. But when I glance over at his credenza, I see something I hadn’t noticed before.

  The envelopes with the pairings in them.

  I know every couple has a number, but I don’t know what ours is. I rifle through, trying to find some kind of order, and then I figure it out: It’s the order in which we’re being interviewed. I know there are five couples after us, so that should make us sixth from the back. I pull the envelope, listening carefully for footsteps or voices, and open it.

  There’s my card. And with it . . .

  Steffen Cothran. What the fuck? I don’t understand. I pull open the next envelope and it’s two names I don’t recognize; same for the next. The third after me opens and there’s Clint’s card. The name with it is Katrina Brandon. She’s the sub Steffen’s got for the two weeks.

  I hurry and put the envelopes back in the right order, then sit down and try to figure out what’s going on. But I know one thing for sure.

  Dave threw the drawing. He wanted us together, but I’m not sure why. Does Clint know? If he did, would he say anything? Was it his idea? I’m pretty sure the answer to that question is no. I’m still sitting there, reeling, when Clint opens the door. “He wants us together,” he says without a hint of emotion.

  I follow him up the hall and back into the big room. Clint waits until I sit before he does. Then Dave begins. “I really thought I should get the two of you together in here and talk. Trish, you brought up some things that were bothering you. I think you should tell Clint about them.” I sit, mute. “Go on, honey. The two of you need to air this.”

  It’s impossible for me to look at Clint, but I should keep my eyes averted anyway, so it’s okay. I sit for awhile before I’m able to say, barely above a whisper, “Sometimes it seems like you really like me, and sometimes it seems like you want me anywhere but near you. And it’s hard to spend time with someone when I don’t know how they’re going to treat me from one minute to the next.”

  He doesn’t say anything for quite some while – at least two minutes. The wait is terrifying. When he does, he starts with, “Trish, look at me.” When I finally look up at him – and it’s hard to do so – he says, “Sometimes I don’t know if I want you around or not.”

  Wow. Why don’t you tell me how you really feel?, I want to scream, and I feel my lip begin to tremble. “If you don’t want . . .” I start, but he stops me with a finger to my lips.

  “Honey, I’ve got a lot of issues. I’m still having a very hard time. It’s not you, it’s me.” He stops and his cheeks turn pink.

  “Yeah, but it’s not fair to take it out on me,” I tell him.

  “I didn’t realize you thought that I was. I don’t think I have, but I’ll be more careful about that from now on. I don’t want you to think I don’t care about you, because I do. I want this to be a positive experience for you, and I want you to learn all you can.” He pats my knee and leaves his hand there. I can feel its warmth through my jeans.

  “Okay. I guess.” I don’t know what else to say. “But I never know if you’re going to kiss me or kill me. It’s hard to be around someone like that.”

  He nods. “I will admit I come across like that, I’m sure. Again, not you – me. But as your Dom, I should be the one constant in your life, the one point of contact you can always trust and confide in, the one person you’re always sure has your best interests at heart. I’m guessing you haven’t felt that way. I’m really sorry, and I need to work on that. Fair?” he asks. I nod. “I really do like you, Trish. I feel more comfortable with you than I have with anyone else. If nothing else, I’d like for this to end with us being friends and you feeling like you can call on me if you need anything.”

  “I’d like that too. I really do like you too, Clint.” I want to say, I think I’m falling in love with you, but no way would I do that.

  “That makes me feel good,” he says as he smiles at me. I have to admit, I love to see him smile.

  “Now, Trish, Clint has some things he needs to say to you. Go ahead,” he says, motioning to Clint.

  “You’re far too concerned with what others think. I don’t mean
just about when we’re scening publicly; I mean what others think about how you look or what you’re saying. There’s nothing wrong with you. You’re a lovely person, and I want you to know that you don’t have to worry about what anyone thinks. I do think you’ve gotten over some of the stage fright sexually, though. The incident with the hikers was an eye-opener for me. You’ve grown in your openness and you’re really beginning to own your sexuality. You should be proud.” He gives me a tiny little smile – god, he’s sexy when he does that.

  “Thanks. That’s a nice thing to say,” I manage and try to smile back.

  “One thing that does bother me is your flirting. A Dom won’t put up with that.”

  I frown. “I didn’t realize I was flirting. I don’t mean to.” That’s the truth.

  “Maybe you’re not, but it certainly seems that way to me. That incident with Steffen . . .”

  “I told you, I wasn’t flirting with him. He was flirting with me and I was trying to get him to go away. I didn’t want to get in trouble.” He starts to say something, but before he can, I say, “And before you tell me that I must have invited it in some way, let me assure you that I didn’t even know he was anywhere around until he started in on me. It seemed like he just came out of nowhere. And regardless, if you’ll remember, you punished me – fifty lashes. And made me walk through the club so everyone could see. Even though I didn’t do anything wrong. So even though I wasn’t flirting, I would never do it again if I were. Which I was not.” I’m almost panting by the time I finish.

  “I’d really like for it to stop.” That’s all he says.

  “Okay. Well, let’s try this. If you think I’m flirting, tell me. I want to know what I’m doing that looks like flirting to you so I can stop. Will you do that? Because I don’t know what else to do.”

  “Yes. I’ll gladly do that if you think it will help.”

  “Well, I’d much rather you told me so I can figure it out than to keep accusing me of it when I’m not doing it, at least not to my knowledge.” I’m feeling a little shaky now.

  Clint reaches over and takes one of my hands. “It’s okay. We can work on it. Don’t get upset with me, please?” I nod.

  “Anything else?” Dave asks.

  Clint looks a little embarrassed. He looks directly into my eyes and says, “If we’re making lo . . . having sex, and I use your real name, I’d like it if you’d do the same for me.”

  I’m wondering where that came from. “Okay, that’s doable. I just didn’t want to be labeled impertinent.”

  He chuckles. “Won’t happen, I promise. But I’d really like that, okay?”

  “Sure! Not a problem.” For some reason, that makes me very, very happy.

  “So!” Dave says, slapping his knees. “Master Clint, do you have a lot more adventurous things planned for our girl here?”

  “I do indeed. But she’ll have to wait to see what they are,” he says and winks at me. He’s never winked at me before. I take that as a good sign. “Looking forward to that, Vännan?”

  “Yes, Master, I am.”

  “Good!” Dave seems satisfied. “You two go on. I think if there are any other issues you’ll work them out. You’ve got another week. Make the most of it.” With that, he escorts us out of his office and goes in search of the next couple.

  We walk to the car in silence, but once we’re both in, Clint turns to me. There’s a serious look on his face, one unlike the other serious looks he wears, and he asks with hesitation, “Trish, can you tell me exactly why you came into the lifestyle? Why is it that you’re looking for a Dom?”

  I think for a minute, and then I try to articulate it, but it’s hard. “Well, I sort of fell into it. Literally. I kinda fell onto Dave in a bar and he gave me a card for the club. But when I got here, it seemed like, I don’t know, like I’d been looking for something and it felt like I’d found it. Do you know what I mean?”

  He nods. “But what do you want in the long run? What can the lifestyle give you that a plain vanilla relationship can’t?”

  There’s no good way to describe it, but I know the answer. “I’m not looking for someone to just love or have a relationship with. I’m looking for someone to bond with, seriously bond with. I’m looking for someone who can fill a spot in my life that no one else can, someone I can trust. And I want it to be with someone who’ll stretch me, help me reach my fullest potential, won’t let me stagnate. Someone who’ll offer me enough that I wake up every morning happy to see what the day will bring, not dreading the same old ho-hum thing. I’d like a little adventure, that’s all.” I stop and look at his face; he’s watching me intently, his eyes never leaving mine. “Does that make sense?”

  He starts the car and puts it in gear, his face never giving away his feelings. “Makes perfect sense. All the sense in the world,” he says and pulls out onto the street.

  “It works like this.” He fills the soft plastic bottle and hands it to me. I hold it and squirt it out the little holes. “Three times. There are three in the package. Empty the stuff that’s in them, rinse them thoroughly, and fill them with warm water. Think you can do that?”

  Clint’s teaching me proper techniques in anal sex preparation. I had no idea this was part of it all and I’m a little surprised Dave didn’t teach me this earlier, so I blurt out, “I didn’t know I was supposed to do this, Sir. I’m sorry for before now.” This is embarrassing, and I feel my face burning.

  “No one taught you. I’ve just dealt with it up until now. But you need to know how to do this.” He leans up against the vanity in my bathroom. “Go ahead, try it.”

  “Here? With you standing there?” Now my face is burning.

  “Yes. With me standing here. I fuck it, for god’s sake. What difference does it make?” He’s got a look on his face that tells me he can’t understand my trepidation. I put the bottle and wand under me and try to line up the wand with my asshole. Once it starts in, I must make a face because Clint says, “As far in as you can make it go, which should be all the way. Then just squeeze but try to keep your hand out of the way.”

  It’s grossly uncomfortable, but when the water runs out, so does some stuff I really didn’t want to see. “Please, god, tell me that’s not been . . .”

  “A little bit. It’s to be expected. But not anymore. The next bottle, please.” I do the same thing again, and less comes out with the water this time. “One more time.” The third bottle goes into me, and this time it comes out clear. “Perfect! Now it’s my responsibility. If I want you to do this, I have to tell you beforehand. Do not do this unless I tell you to. It’s not good for your body to do it every night, so if I want to fuck your ass, I’ll tell you and you can prepare. If I don’t tell you and decide I want to take you anally, that’s my issue, not yours. Understand?”

  “Yes, Master.” That wasn’t so bad, I think. I don’t mind it at all.

  “Good. Now I want to fuck that squeaky-clean ass of yours,” he grins. Before I can get up, he holds me down on the toilet seat and squats down in front of me, his eyes level with mine. “Trish, I know some of this doesn’t seem very sexy, but trust me, I find it very sexy that you’d prepare yourself for me this way. It shows me that you take my comfort and satisfaction seriously. And I appreciate it.”

  I’m shocked that he’s said any of that. “Um, thanks. No, wait, you’re welcome.” He chuckles. “I don’t really know how to respond to that.”

  “Just say, ‘Master, I want you to fuck my ass,’” he laughs.

  I start to laugh. “Master, I want you to fuck my ass,” I repeat. “Right now!”

  There’s lots of squealing when he grabs me up, throws me over his shoulder, and plunks me down on the bed. “Kneel up close to the headboard and use it to hold yourself upright. Now arch your back to give me access to your pretty little pucker.” I do exactly as he says, and he coats his cock with lube and shoves it into me. I moan out and clutch the headboard.

  He fucks up into my rear entrance while his hands wind
around my torso, his fingers gripping my nipples. He squeezes and twists them mercilessly, and I’m overcome with fire and heat, moaning and crying out, wanting every inch of him deeper and harder. If it were dark in the room, I truly believe the sparks from his hands on my skin would be visible. The pounding he gives me is insane, and I beg him for release. In response, he continues tormenting one nipple while he reaches down to my clit and strokes it with the other hand. “Keep your back arched!” he barks as he strokes my plump nubbin, and I writhe and grind against him as his dick plunges hard and deep into me.

  “Master, may I come?” I pant out.

  “No! You’ll wait for me.” I do, and I’m glad. In just a couple of minutes he grunts out, “Come for me, sub!” and I explode just as he unloads into my tight little hole, his white-hot batter filling me to overflowing. After he’s thrust into me several more times, he says, “Lie down. I’ll be back in a minute.” I hear him in the bathroom taking a piss, and then the water running, and I know he’s probably washing his cock. He doesn’t want to take any chances of spreading bacteria into my vagina, and I appreciate that.

  When he comes back, he says, “May I ask you a question?”

  “Sure!” He wants to know something about me? That’s a first.

  “How old are you?”

  Hell – I hadn’t thought it would be that. “Um, forty-nine. How old are you?”

  “Thirty-five.” I almost gasp. He’s younger than I thought. Guess it’s that always-serious look on his face that makes him seem older. Then he asks the obvious question. “Trish, does that bother you? Being with a younger man?”

  I shake my head. “No! Of course not. I’m flattered, really.”

  “You shouldn’t be. You’ve got a beautiful body. You should be proud.” He smiles at me and I blush. I’ve never thought of myself as being anything other than somewhat attractive.

  “Does it bother you? Being with someone older, I mean?”

  “Nope. None of anyone’s business, and I like the way you look and feel. Your age isn’t a problem for me.

  I’m happy for that, but I’m puzzled. Why in the world would it matter? I’ve only got another six days and then he’ll send me away. So who cares?