To each side on lower pedestals sat his Collar of Intent. He had explained its significance as being the equivalent of going steady or even that of a pre-engagement ring. The other collar boasted a silver plate on a two-inch wide black leather band. Engraved in simple block lettering with LE’s property, this was his Collar of Consideration, the engagement ring of the lifestyle.
His fingers cupped her chin, once again drawing her back to the present. She lifted her gaze to meet his.
“You may rise, little one.”
She wanted to scream ‘no!’ at the top of her lungs. Although his collar no longer encased her throat, she was compelled to do his bidding.
He extended his hand to her and assisted her rise from the floor. Offering a tentative smile, her gaze remained fixed on his, and she whispered a small prayer that he wouldn’t notice the tears she struggled to withhold. Pain crushed her chest. Her heart ached. She needed him. She wanted that coveted position at his feet.
“I have trained you well, I see.” The corners of his mouth lifted, and his eyes softened.
“Very well, Sir.”
“Tell me what troubles you.”
His knuckles grazed down along her cheek, and she pulled on all the strength she had to keep tears from slipping past the fragile barrier.
“I don’t want to disappoint you, Sir. You have been an excellent teacher and have earned my highest respect.” She paused. The lump in her throat made it impossible to continue.
The silence stretched uninterrupted, and she twisted uncomfortably in place. He did not prompt her to go on, but she knew he expected her to fully communicate her feelings and thoughts. Her heart raced, and her palms grew damp. I should just kneel and offer myself to him. She shuffled her weight to the other foot.
“Sir...if you will allow me to speak and act freely.”
“Of course, dear.”
She inhaled deeply while taking a small step back and slowly lowered herself to the floor at his feet once again. With her chin lowered, she took a silent, stabilizing breath, again. He remained silent and unmoving. He knows what I am about to do. I know he does.
“Sir,” she began, her voice soft and breathless to her own ears. “Over the past four months, you have shared your knowledge and stretched your patience with me. I know you could have ended our sessions at any time, and I’m forever grateful and indebted to you for persevering. I have blossomed under your care and guidance. I can only hope that you are as pleased with my progress as I am.
“While I am sure others before me have offered their gift of submission at the end of their training, I must impress upon you that I am totally without direction since the removal of your training collar. I have realized in these last few weeks that I crave your happiness. It makes me complete and very comfortable with life. Now, I feel as though I’m floundering.
“Sir, I wish to serve you. As your submissive. You have become the center of my existence. To know that I have pleased you, now pleases me. It is those moments that I live for. The trace of a smile on your lips. The way you tilt your head to one side and wink as if we share some intimate secret. You have always been fair and consistent with punishments.
“For me, I could find no other dominant even if I searched the world over, that could satisfy my needs as you do. Therefore, Sir, I humbly beg you to accept my gift of submission and allow me my heart’s and soul’s desire to spend my life in your service.”
Morgan fell silent and waited. And waited. She grew nervous, her body trembled inside. Anxiety became a crumbling wall, and her dream of his acceptance began to suffocate under the debris. Oh dear God, please let him want me. Her mind raced back over the previous months she spent under his tutelage.
She’d been new and just learning about the lifestyle. All her life she had known she was different. She craved pain. In her early puberty, she would inflict her own forms of pain just to see how much she could tolerate. She’d experimented in the shower, hot water spilling over her tender skin until she could no longer stand the burning. In her mid-teens, her pain tolerance moved in a new direction. Along with her sexual awareness came a new craving for pain, and she began pinching and twisting her breasts and nipples whenever she masturbated.
Even the guys she dated in high school seemed inadequate in lovemaking. There was little attention given to her desires. Hopping on and getting off had been their only goal. Or, so it seemed to her. Nothing they did ever brought her close to orgasm, unless they performed oral sex. Their technique lacked...something. During that time, she’d had no idea what that something was other than her body craved more. She wanted more. She needed more.
A Rose of Any Color: MaleDom: A BDSM Anthology
Chapter Two
Her friend, Celeste, had introduced her to the dominant and submissive lifestyle. Morgan latched on to it with both hands and held on as if it were a lifesaving device. She devoured books and information on the Internet about the lifestyle. She found a local club near her home and immediately joined, attending munches, play parties, and demonstrations.
It was through one of the club’s demonstration seminars that she first met Evan. Tall, dark, and utterly vogue. With a devilish grin, he was the opposite end of a magnet that all the submissives gravitated towards. Handsomely dressed in the most impeccable style, he towered above the other dominants. His presence rippled throughout the room. Exuding dominance, he commanded all to bow to his whims without uttering a single word. And without arrogance. In fact, she didn’t think he realized the air of authority and importance that cloaked him. Submissives swooned at his feet wherever he happened to be. They clamored for his attention and enthusiastically volunteered to participate in any demonstration he conducted. Just to be in the realm of his world for only a short span of time created a fireball in the pit of a girl’s stomach, sending delicious quivers of excitement straight to the apex of her thighs.
Larger than life, she thought.
Every hair in place. His beard and mustache neatly trimmed. His hands. Oh, those hands, she mused. Large hands. And sure. Steady. Perfection with a capital ‘P’.
She had stood in silence. Her gaze soaked in every detail of the striking portrait he presented to the world. She’d noticed the leather crop in his hand. An extension of the man himself.
Her gaze lifted back to meet the dark, intelligent eyes trained on her, she gulped in air. It lodged somewhere between her mouth and her lungs. Unable to break away from his intent stare, Morgan struggled with her constricting throat. He inclined his head just enough for her to see it. With one raised brow, he’d rattled her quiet corner. There had been no trace of a smile on his lips.
She dipped in a curtsy and lowered her gaze. She regained her erect stance, once again meeting his gaze. Without further gestures or words, his eyes directed her to join him. With no hesitation, she stepped forward out of the crowd, immediately taking a kneeling position at his feet.
“Very good, girl,” he murmured.
His hand stroked the top of her head, and she shivered from the point of contact all the way down to her toes. Morgan had no recollection of stepping forward, much less kneeling at his feet. What in God’s name had possessed her to come forward in the first place? Startled at the idea that perhaps he held some type of power over her, Morgan searched her mind for answers. Something in his eyes beckoned to her inner submissive.
“I would like your assistance and assume you have consented by your position. Am I correct?”
“Yes, Sir.” What! Am I out of my mind? What the hell is he doing? How the hell was he managing to elicit her darkest responses?
“Rise.”
She raised her chin just enough to see his extended hand. Placing her fingers in his palm, she trembled. The warmth of his hand as it closed around hers startled her. A keen sense of their bodies merging engulfed Morgan, and she gulped. Her stomach knotted. For just a fraction of a moment, their thoughts appeared to mesh. Her hand had been swallowed in the largeness of his. Warm. Comforting. Domi
nant. His grasp was firm, and she rose from the floor, moving to stand behind him, off to his side. Had she witnessed a wisp of a smile? Had the corners of his mouth tipped up ever so slightly in that nanosecond?
“Lesson one for each of you.” He spoke in a tone so low that an avalanche of silence fell over the group. “With all your begging and pleading to serve, I chose none of you. And without uttering a single command, the chosen one knew to step forward. Immediately, she kneeled at my feet without my direction. Each. One. Of. You,” he said, his gaze raking over the submissives, “could learn from her example. Without verbal instruction, she took her place behind me. But, not out of my peripheral field of vision.”
Evan stepped aside, turning to cast his gaze upon her once again. She lowered her eyelids, her chin dropping just enough to exalt his position and that of her own.
“Raise your eyes and tell me who has trained you, girl.”
She did his bidding, her gaze meeting his dark eyes. Her voice muted and husky, she replied, “I haven’t been trained by anyone, Sir.”
“Tell me who it is that you have served?”
“No one, Sir.”
Silence. His gaze remained transfixed on hers, and her body hummed from the nearness of his. She shivered. That same feeling she’d experienced earlier when he had stroked her head.
“Tell me your experience in the lifestyle.”
“I am relatively new, Sir. I’ve read books and information online. I joined this club to be around others that I could observe, and those who share my preferences.”
“And for what length of time does ‘relatively new’ translate in to?”
“Almost two months, Sir.”
“Only two months?”
“Yes, Sir.”
Exposed and on display. But his persona commanded nothing less than openness from her, which she found hard to deny. Part of her struggled against the undeniable urge to bare her soul to him. The other side wanted to share everything within her. Morgan realized her body was perfectly at ease. No stressors raged through her.
His nearness created a warmth and familiarity, although she knew nothing about this man. Other than his dominant history among the patrons of the club, she had little personal information about him. But that didn’t deter her inner core from reaching out to him. She was drawn to him on some unexplained plane.
His gaze grew darker. Still leveled on her, and without a single syllable or movement, the heat between her legs increased. Morgan trembled. Flames licked up from her pussy, swallowing her whole and creating waves of pleasure that seeped into every crevice of her. Tingles danced, and she sucked in her breath, holding it until the dampness spilled out to moisten her inner thighs. The heat in her cheeks seared her face. Even her ears burned, and she knew the blush was crimson red. Positive that everyone saw the physical reactions of her body to him, she willed herself to maintain her place on wobbly legs.
Evan placed his hands at her waist and held her steady. His uncanny ability to read her like an open book amazed her. He leaned in close, and his breath washing across her cheek rustled the hair next to her ear.
“You will never come again without my permission. Is that understood?” His deep voice held a husky, yet disciplinary, quality.
Her legs buckled, and he pulled her to him, cradling her against the hard wall of his chest. She sank into his arms and recovered slowly from the orgasm.
“I heard no response,” he said.
His impatient tone shoved her out of her euphoric state.
“I understand, Sir,” she mumbled over the constricted muscles in her throat. Morgan thought she’d choke on each word. Her voice sounding strangled to her own ears.
“That’s good, girl,” he said, pausing. “Are you better now?”
She tested her legs and nodded. “I believe so, Sir.”
Gently, he set her away, a smile teasing his lips. He held onto her a moment longer before he removed his hands and broke eye contact.
Never in all her life had she been so embarrassed. To orgasm in front of a crowd with nothing more than a look from a dominant that she didn’t even know. She’d just put the term ‘slut’ in a whole new category, she thought.
He rotated in a smooth, measured spin to face the spectators in the room. How did he do it? she wondered. He appeared so unaffected by what had just transpired.
* * *
The swish of his crop brought her out of her ruminations and back to the present. Evan remained silent, and she supposed he was deliberating. More than likely, he was weighing every word she had spoken. Morgan knew it had not been perfectly executed the way she had planned it. But, it came from her heart. From the deepest depths of her soul.
“Your words were well chosen, girl.”
Finally. She restrained herself from jumping up and screaming ‘yes’ at the top of her lungs. He was pleased with everything she had said. That’s one obstacle out of the way.
“Thank you, Sir.”
Silence. Pregnant pauses killed her. Patience wasn’t one of her strong suits, and he had recognized it early on. A lot of his techniques during the training had centered on that one fault.
His hand brushed the top of her head. “Your devotion to me is quite evident, girl. Any Dom would be proud to call you his property.”
The room grew heavy under the lack of sound. He’s choosing his words too carefully. He isn’t going to accept my submission. She wanted to cry. Nothing hurt as much as the pain in her chest at this moment. She wanted to speak her safe word to let him know she was no longer capable of tolerating the pain. It was too much to handle. Red. Red. Red. Oh dear God, please.
“Morgan.”
Her name ushered past his lips to her ears, startling her. He never called her by her name. Ever. It sounded alien coming from him. She trembled, and a tear slipped in silent resignation down her cheek. It was over. Her dreams shattered with the utterance of her given name.
“Stand and look at me,” he said.
Like a thousand times before, Morgan placed her hand in his, and he helped her to her feet. With all the strength she possessed, she lifted her gaze to his. His eyes kissed hers in somber waves. Evan placed his palm against her cheek, a tender smile playing at the corners of those soft, strong lips.
“I am honored that you have offered your gift to me.”
Morgan heard the ‘but’ loud and clear and the pain in her chest made it impossible to breathe.
“Before we discuss this, you may retrieve your clothes and return here.”
“Yes, Sir.” Morgan curtsied and spun away on her heels to go dress. Once in the bathroom, she leaned back against the door. Clinching her eyes closed tightly, she fought back the wave of disappointment. Thousands of agonizing little knives, each cutting away at her soul couldn’t have hurt more. He didn’t want her. She had completed her training under him, but had failed to please him enough that he would want her forever.
She pushed off the door and swiped the back of her hands across her cheeks, wiping tears away. I won’t allow myself to disappoint you, Evan. Even with your rejection, pleasing you is my goal. I’ll abide by your wishes with every heartbreaking breath I take. Staring at her reflection in the mirror, she wondered what it would have taken to reach that part of him that he kept so protected. So hidden from those around him.
Realizing he would be displeased if she took too long dressing, she splashed her face with cold water and donned her clothes.
Minutes later, she stood before him. The end at hand, she willed herself to remain the strong submissive he had trained.
“Would you care to sit?”
“No thank you, Sir.”
His gaze lingered on her mouth. Then leisurely followed the curves of her body, returning to her face moments later. The smoldering embers of passion in his eyes made her breath catch in her throat.
He cleared his throat. “My intentions have always been professional. While I’m not inhuman, I not only control my subs, but myself as well. I have known
many subs that have fallen prey to the emotional roller coaster they experience at the end of training. It’s not that I am saying you don’t feel everything you do right now, because my experience over the years has shown me that once a submissive fully understands themselves, they have given over to their true self.
“You experience emotional and physical aspects of relationships on a whole different level. Starting with this one. You’ve reached your inner self, and the thoughts and emotions you feel are much more intense. And, they are much more intense because they are no longer superficial or hidden. It goes much deeper and encompasses a broader area of your soul. Do you understand?”
I understand you are turning me down as gently as possible. How’s that for understanding? Her heart was breaking, and right now she saw no means for repairing it.
“Yes, Sir, I do understand.” There, she said it. It was what he needed to hear to know he had done his job well.
His stare intensified. The scrutiny of her face, her eyes, her mouth through that dark gaze was going to be her undoing. She didn’t want to disappoint him. Not even now with his rejection. His happiness meant everything to her. She would deal with her pain once she had gone home.
“Good, girl. This is what I want you to do,” he said. “Go home, and I will contact you in several days. I want you to keep a journal of all your emotions until I make contact. Understood?”
“Yes, Sir.”
“Will you be okay driving home, or would you like me to call you a cab?”
“I’m fine. Really.” She forced a grin to her lips.
“I will be in touch,” he said. And, leading her upstairs, he saw her out the front door.
He stood waiting, framed in the doorway, until she was safely inside her car. Once her motor purred to life under the hood and her headlights splashed the front of his house in brilliant blue-white beams, he disappeared behind the door.
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