Goddess: A Femme Domme Erotica Novel

by R. J. Castille

  As I continued to massage Gordon, I felt a warmth low in my belly. I felt encouraged that he had handled my severe onslaught so gallantly. Yet, I was conflicted with emotions that were better left outside the arena. It was difficult to maintain a business relationship in this world, or the alternate reality, once one has crossed the line that I currently teetered off. I almost sighed out loud as my fingers and palms continued their circular patterns until the red tone of his skin appeared to diminish slightly.

  Using my hand to grasp his shoulder, I indicated for him to roll over onto his back. Gordon winced as the fabric of the sheets contacted his tender flesh. I let him settle into the crook of my arm, I saw his chest rise and fall briefly as he sighed in the comforting position I now held him in. I continued to cradle him there for quite some time, actually enjoying the closeness I felt with him. He was so vulnerable and I did my best to comfort him until he was breathing slowly, apparently calm enough to address him again.

  His eyes fluttered open when I cleared my throat. When his eyes locked onto mine, I could no longer resist. As I began to lower myself toward his awaiting erection, his look changed to that of ultimate desire. In an instant, I could feel that my emotions were reciprocated and it gave me the drive to express my feelings in the way I am best at. When my lips closed onto the tip of his hardened cock, he groaned out loud. I swirled my tongue around his tip and shaft as I lowered my mouth to the base of his length. My nose prickled by his course hairs as he reached the end of my capacity. I pulsed my head up and down quickly, forcing his length deeper inside me with each movement.

  The sounds that escaped his mouth were heaven to my ears. His pleasure was apparent as I stroked him with my mouth relentlessly, his hips beginning to thrust forward as he neared his climax. When his hot fluids erupted into my mouth, I was further aroused and licked it off him greedily.

  Gordon’s chest heaved as he attempted to breath off his elation. I smiled to myself as I patiently waited for him to regain his composure.

  Curling my body around him in a protective position, I drifted quickly off to sleep, the memory of his complete surrender still fresh in my mind. If I could see myself from the outside, I would see myself smiling as I fell into a deep sleep like I had not experienced in quite some time. Gordon Roth was indeed mine, I just had to figure out how to keep in as such in both worlds.

  -31-

  By Wednesday morning the next week, I was seated in the waiting room of my doctor’s office. I struggled earlier in the week with the same symptoms as before. Nausea and vomiting along with elevated temperatures as well as an occasional cold sweat. It was quite miserable and I was looking for some answers. When they lady behind the counter called my name I became hopeful that this visit would not consume my day, but I soon discovered she was simply returning my identification and collecting my out of pocket office visit co-pay. I handed her my Driver’s License, insurance identification card and my Visa debit card as my form of payment. She nodded at me and plucked away at the keys on the computer to her left. After a short time, she returned my documentation and asked me to take a seat and wait to be called. Again.

  Meanwhile, I was vaguely aware of the need to empty my bladder. I ignored it as long as I could until I felt I would burst. When I could no longer take the pressure, I approached the reception desk and asked if I could possibly use the restroom. She regarded me with raised eyebrows, a look of irritation etched onto her dark features. Raising one finger in my direction, she reached into a drawer to her left and retrieved a clear cup with a lid sealed with a label. Several marks were molded into the plastic in intervals, indicating how much was contained in the receptacle. I understood without a word what this gesture entailed. Nodding at her, she reached down and pressed an unseen button, a buzz sounded to my right, releasing the door into the back office.

  I filled the cup to the line they had placed on the side of the cup in Sharpie and continued to relieve the pressure in my bladder. Screwing the cap back onto the sample cup carefully, I set it down on the edge of the sink. I cleaned myself before rising and pulling my pants and underwear back to their original position. The warm water flowing from the faucet offered some comfort as I washed my hands and dried them with several dark brown, coarse paper towels. I placed my sample inside the cupboard that was on the wall next to the door, making sure it closed completely before hurrying out of the room .

  After what seemed like forever, a petite nurse peeked her head through a door to the right of the reception counter and called my name. Resisting the urge to raise my hand and jump to my feet crying “BINGO” as I did so, I hurried in her direction. The kind nurse took me through the typical vitals, recording each measurement as she performed her initial duties. Height, weight, blood pressure. I was soon escorted into an exam room where I was asked a series of questions related to my recent health. My last menstrual period, which I honestly struggled to recall, the birth control pills I took to prevent unwanted pregnancies proved to make my monthly visitor hard to predict or calculate cycles accurately. She nodded and scribbled my answers as I attempted to recall the details of the time-span between visits.

  When the doctor finally entered the room, quite some time had passed and I was growing increasingly impatient. Dr. Benton smiled at me, peering over half-rimmed glasses. Saying nothing, other than her initial greeting, she flipped through my chart, uttering a handful of brief, commentary sounds and she her eyes reviewed my information. After several moments, she looked up at me, a large grin stretching across her face.

  “Well Ms. King,” she started speaking, something in her tone made me uneasy. “I have good news, and bad news.” I gaped at her. Was she really toying with me when it came down to my physical well- being? It must have been amusing to her, as she continued to look on unfazed, her humorous grin almost agitating me. She glanced at my chart again, a manila file folder she held firmly in her hand, as if she needed additional confirmation on something. “The good news is that you do not have the flu. The bad news is I cannot refill your birth control at this time. We do not subscribe birth control to women who are expecting.” That last statement felt like someone had punched me in the stomach. At first I was not sure what I heard, I wanted clarification, to make sure I was not imagining what she meant by her assertion.

  “I’m sorry?” I stammered, confusion taking hold of my mind. “Ms. King, according to these test results, you are about nine or so weeks pregnant,” her face took on a more serious façade. She was obviously concerned by my reaction to her what would otherwise be considered good news. The room began to sway so I reached down and gripped the edge of the exam table with my hand, squeezing tightly to give myself a sense of stability. It helped a little as the swaying slowed to the point where it was barely noticeable. Dr. Benton looked on patiently, waiting for me to compose myself.

  “That can’t be right, you must have switched my sample with someone else,” I began to grasp frantically at alternate explanations. I started to feel the grip of panic threatening to take control. Fearing I would pass out and fall to the cold tile floor below, I concentrated on my breathing.

  1…2…3…

  Dr. Benton turned toward the sink behind her on the wall and filled a small, pink cup with water from the faucet. She handed it to me and waited to speak again until I had taken several sips.

  “I assure you, I am quite certain. Birth control pills are not one- hundred percent effective. Many factors can and do affect the ability of the medication to prevent pregnancy. If you missed a dose or took it too late, antibiotics and other medications can thwart the hormone’s efforts. I have even heard of women who, despite taking their pill religiously, they are just destined to become a mother. I will provide you with all the necessary resources you will need. They will also present you with your options,” for some reason her last word echoed in my mind. What options? This was not just another typical pregnancy. Congratulations and all that jazz. In my case, it was a confusing tragedy. As my mind reeled, searching
my memory over the last several months to pin point any moment in time where I had inadvertently forgotten to take my birth control pill in the morning. It was hard to identify any. Instead I attempted to concentrate on scanning over the paperwork that Dr. Benton handed me.

  By the time I left the primary care office, I had a fistful of pamphlets, my discharge paperwork declaring that I had tested positive for pregnancy in bold letters across the top of the “labs” section, and a copy of my referral request to the Obstetrics and Gynecology Department. The sun was too bright and hurt my eyes. On the verge of tears by the time I reached my car, I attempted to unlock the door with a shaking hand, which only resulted in an initial key drop followed by a second. Finally, I managed to insert the key into the door and turn it, unlocking the handle so I could pull it and swing it open.

  I sat behind the steering wheel for quite some time doing nothing but stare bewildered out the windshield. The shock of what I had learned from my doctor’s visit was edged away finally by another thought. It was horrifying to think of, but the realization set in that I had no way of knowing which of my two lovers the father could be. I had engaged Matthew and Gordon in intercourse within the last several months. Not simultaneously of course, but my contact with both men had been close enough together to call them both into question. I felt nausea swelling in my stomach before it forced its way up my esophagus and into the back of my throat. Fumbling for the handle of the door, I pulled hard and swung the door open just before my stomach unloaded its contents onto the asphalt.

  Instead of returning to my office after I pulled out of the parking lot of the doctor’s office, trying to get as far away and as quickly as possible, I pointed my car in the direction of my apartment. I gripped the steering wheel, concentrating hard not to allow the feeling of impending doom envelope me. When I pulled my car up to the curb in front of my building, I could not hold back anymore. The tears began to fall, flowing freely down my cheeks leaving long, black streaks in my makeup from my mascara. It felt like the entire world was imploding and I was at its center, sucking every bad shred of energy into my soul.

  Feeble legs carried me up the stairs to the floor I called home. My feet dragged along the hallway as I approached my door, a low scraping sound echoed off the surrounding walls with each step I took. I felt drained, like someone had loosened a valve on my toe and all my energy had flowed free of my body, leaving me utterly exhausted. Letting myself into my apartment, I secured the bolt and chain before walking over and collapsing onto the couch. Once inside, the tears came back with a vengeance. I cried until I had no moisture left in my eyes, my eyes starting to swell from the irritation. My shoulders shifted up and down as my erratic breaths occasionally came deeper, causing me to inhale sharply .

  My ringing cell phone forced me from the place in my mind where I had tried to curl up in and disappear. I pulled it from my purse and looked at the screen. One of my saved contacts, Debra Salas, was calling. Realizing that, in my haste to get home, I had neglected to let those at my office know I would not be returning. I pressed the screen to accept the call and took a deep breath before answering.

  “Hello, Ms. Salas, I am so sorry I forgot to call you. It took quite some time to be seen by the doctor and when I left I was feeling awful so I just came home,” I hoped my voice did not sound as shaky as it felt.

  “That’s exactly why I was calling. When I did not hear back from you, I was just concerned that you were safe. Did everything check out alright with your doctor?” She innocently inquired with genuine concern in her voice.

  “Yes, everything checked out,” I lied. In time, I would have to tell certain people, but for now, I would keep that information secret. No one would discover I was pregnant until I decided to inform them. First things first, I had to figure out how to tell the potential fathers about the baby and, unfortunately about each other as well. “I will be in tomorrow morning, please take all messages for me instead of transferring to my voicemail. If you feel anything is vital, send me a text message or call me. Thank you again for your concern and all your assistance.” I stopped speaking and allowed her to respond.

  “Very good, Ms. King. You take care of yourself,” Debra’s voice was soothing with a hint of musical flair when she spoke over the phone.

  After the call was disconnected, I stood slowly up from the couch and made my way toward my bedroom. All I wanted to do was sleep. I had no idea how to face the world now. A million thoughts raced through my head at dizzying speeds. I kicked my shoes off into the corner of my room and lay down on the bed. It was hard to imagine that just a few hours ago, it was just me in this body. I placed a hand over my lower abdomen and closed my eyes. Eventually I would be forced to face the facts and tell Matthew and Gordon about the baby in preparation for his or her arrival, but for now, I just lay silently staring up at the ceiling allowing the news to sink in further. For the moment, I grappled with my own mind and tried to wrap my head around the entire situation.

  -32-

  I wandered around in a daze for the next several days. Just going through the motions. I barely noticed Mr. Roth’s badgering as I finished task after task with barely a thought to the life that was growing inside me. When Friday finally came, I was relieved and somewhat anxious. I had sent Gordon an email instructing him to meet me at the penthouse at 8:00 PM on Saturday and, as always, his reply reflected his obedience.

  It was my intention to tell him about the baby that night. Perhaps after I soften him with some light punishment. I had preemptively gathered some supplies and kept them in a black bag by the door, ready for transport. The bottle of hemp-seed oil Matthew had given me, the crop I had mysteriously received and still did not know who the sender was, a soft terry-cloth towel and a number of other odds and ends. I would leave them at the penthouse so I did not have to carry them around and so they would be handy.

  Friday finally came to a close without much to-do. I busied myself with wrapping up for the week, including my weekly check-in meeting with Gordon Roth which, I am glad to report was rather uneventful. In fact, Mr. Roth seemed much more relaxed and, dare I say it, even jovial. I returned to my office and sent a few final emails before powering down my unit and gathering my personal belongings. When I left for that day, it would be the last time I did as just Leila King. After tomorrow night, Gordon Roth would know everything and nothing would ever be the same again.

  That thought was both sad and liberating simultaneously. On one hand, I was giving up a large part of the excitement of our relationship. The fact that Gordon was not aware of Goddess’ true identity gave the time we spent together that much more intensity. On the flip-side, I was relieved that I would no longer have to work so hard to maintain my secret identity, at least in his eyes anyway.

  On the following day, I did my best to keep busy around my apartment. I completed some long-neglected laundry, cleaned my bathroom and even dusted the furniture and various knick-knacks on the shelves in my bedroom. In the back of my mind, the nagging realization that the time was getting close when I would face ultimate exposure.

  As the sun started to set warm colors danced across the wall opposite the window in my bedroom. I was acutely aware of the growing intensity of my nervous energy. It crept up from my belly into my chest and around to my shoulders. Although the hot water in the shower helped, it offered little solace to my tortured mind. It was difficult to imagine how Gordon would react to the news of both who Goddess really is and that of the child he may have fathered. That last part being the worst fact of all. I still did not know how I was going to tell him that there is another possible father.

  I readied myself to meet Gordon, paying special care to produce the same flawless appearance he had become accustomed to. When I was satisfied with my appearance, I checked the time. It was nearly time to leave in order to arrive timely at the penthouse. I retrieved the new mask from the drawer in my closet and added it to the black bag waiting by the door.

  This was one occasion where I
did not mind the heavy traffic on the 101 Freeway as I crawled toward my destination. It allowed me more time to collect my thoughts, processing possible scenarios in my mind as I drove on. By the time I reached the off ramp I needed to take, I actually felt quite calm. It was not until I drove into the parking lot of the penthouse building that my heart began to thump in my chest and I felt my pulse quicken its pace.

  Gordon’s limousine was already parked in a stall toward the entrance. I pulled my car into a parking space several slots down and pulled down the visor to check my makeup.

  Using the opportunity to tie the intricate mask at the back of my head, I shifted it slightly side to side until it rested perfectly square on my forehead. I grasped the handles of the black bag and lifted it from the seat as I opened the door and stood up, shifting its weight onto my shoulder as I did so.

  I locked the car door and walked slowly across the parking lot toward the entrance. I could hear the blood rushing in my ears as I neared the doorway and the automatic doors slid open upon my approach. The air in the elevator car was thick and hot, making me sweat behind my mask as it lifted me toward the penthouse. When the doors slid open and I stepped out into the penthouse, I was struck by the scent of fresh flowers. My eyes followed a trail of loose petals that had been scattered across the floor from the doorway toward the other side of the room. Several vases with long-stem roses were placed in even intervals along the windows and on either side of the bed. More rose petals were carelessly tossed across the silk sheets. Instead of the lights, Gordon had lit numerous candles throughout the penthouse, their flames flickering in a choreographed dance. It was touching. A small tickle settled itself in my core as I took in the sight, observing all the effort Gordon had gone to on my account.