Playing Dom

by Sky Corgan

  “Are you alright?” I asked, quickly looking her over for injuries.

  “I'm fine.”

  “Why didn't you call and let me know what happened to you?”

  “Why would I?” Her expression was confused. “I barely know you, and you didn't seem too happy with me last we spoke. Thanks for bailing me out though. I never would have expected it.”

  “I can't believe that asshole pressed charges on you after everything he put you through.” I scowled.

  “He didn't. There were witnesses though, so the state pressed charges against me.”

  “That's just stupid,” I grumbled.

  “I know. Let's get out of here though. I've been here longer than I like.” She flanked my side to walk out the door.

  It wasn't until we stepped into my truck that I spoke again, “I, um. I'm proud of you for sticking up for yourself.”

  “Don't be.” Talia shook her head. “I was stupid. I don't know what you were told about what happened, but I kind of lashed out at him. He said something nasty, like he always does. I threw a drink in his face. He attacked me. Sir Mark came to my defense, but you know Chet. The bonehead is all muscle. It didn't take long for him to have Mark on his back. I tried to step in and help and got caught by a back-swing. I'm actually pretty embarrassed by it.” She pushed a strand of hair behind her ear. “It was stupid, but I'm still not sure I regret it. It's like all of my anger came to a head, and I couldn't hold it in anymore. I just wish I could have done more. I don't know how badly he got injured, or if he was hurt at all.”

  “Not as bad as you, if you got knocked out.”

  She sighed, “I'm sure you're right. Can we not talk about it anymore? That asshole has completely ruined my life. I never want to see him or speak of him again.”

  “I'm sorry.”

  “It's fine. Just take me home.”

  We drove the rest of the way in contemplative silence. Talia was right. Chet had pretty much ruined her life. Part of me knew it was because she let him, but I couldn't help but feel sorry for her. Because of Chet, she had lost so much, her sense of security, her enjoyment of submission, and her clean criminal record. If she was lucky, she wouldn't get fired for this.

  “Let me know if you need anything,” I told her as I dropped her off in front of her apartment.

  She gave me a weak smile, but didn't invite me in. “Thanks. You're a good guy, Micah. A really good guy.”

  I watched her walk away, wishing I could do more, wishing I had done more to keep her from getting into this situation. Somehow, I felt partially responsible. Maybe if I had gone with her, it wouldn't have happened. That probably wasn't true though. If I had gone with her, it likely would have been me ending up behind bars, and I doubted she would have bailed me out. It was a strange thought, how I cared so much for her, how I would go so far for a girl who I barely knew.

  ***

  Having to go to the hospital was horrible and embarrassing, but ending up in jail was ten times worse. It wasn't anything like I had imagined it would be. They threw me into a cell with half a dozen other women in there for various petty crimes: drugs, thievery, public intoxication. I was the only one in there for violence, which made me the bad ass of the group. For the mix of criminals though, we seemed like a fairly normal bunch of ladies. Everyone had their reasons for what they had done, though it didn't make it right.

  Never before had I felt more powerless, like an animal in a cage, awaiting my fate at the hands of a heartless owner. Perhaps I'm being a bit dramatic. Maybe I deserved what was happening. It sure didn't feel like it though.

  The vast majority of my time in jail was spent waiting. Waiting and waiting and waiting and thinking. I should have listened to Micah. He had been right all along. Going to the munch was a bad idea. I think I had known it too, but my stubbornness took over. Part of me had wanted to face Chet, to prove to him that I wasn't a victim anymore. It had backfired, and in the end, I was still a victim. The fact that I was the one on the wrong side of the bars was proof enough of that.

  When I had awoken in the hospital, I tried to explain to the police about our abusive past, why I had done what I had done. They simply looked at me like I was some lunatic. There was no proof of my words, and about half a dozen witnesses who testified to what I had done to him. The legal system is shit sometimes. He got off scot-free, and I landed in jail.

  I hated being indebted to people. It felt like I owed Micah so much. How could I ever repay what he had done for me. Not only had he rescued me at the play party, but he had also put up the money for my bail. My parents wouldn't even do that. Then again, explaining what had happened to them was a whole other story. I kind of skirted around the details during my phone call with them, praying they'd come to my rescue based on the vague information I disclosed. They had always been the tough love kind of parents though and eventually decided that since I had gotten myself into the mess, I should be the one to get myself out of it. It was a disheartening thought. After I hung up the phone with them, I thought I was screwed, at the mercy of the legal system.

  But then I received the surprising information that someone had paid my bail. At first, I thought my parents had changed their minds. When I saw Micah waiting for me though, my heart dropped. Guilt flooded through me . . . and questions. Lots of questions. The main one being why would he do this for someone he barely knew?

  When he dropped me off at my apartment, I thought about asking him to come inside, but I was too depressed and tired and confused. All I wanted was to take a nice hot shower, to wash away everything horrible that had happened to me, and to sleep in my own bed. It's amazing how much we take our beds for granted. Sleep a night on a cold metal bench, and you'll find a new appreciation for the luxuries of freedom.

  I called my job the next morning only to find that I had been put on probation until they figured out whether to fire me or not. It was another blow to my mental health. Damn Chet Goines. Never before had I wanted to kill someone so badly. Serious murderous thoughts raced through my mind for half a day, though I knew I wouldn't act on them. My life had been screwed-up thanks to my association with him, but acting out in violence would only mess it up more.

  I wallowed around in misery until the late afternoon, eating ice cream and watching movies in my pajamas. Micah sent me text messages periodically, asking me how I was getting along. In truth, I wasn't doing well, but I lied and told him that everything was fine. I knew I would have to face him sooner or later, have to compensate him for paying my bail. It would be easy enough to write him a check, but I had a feeling that he wanted something more.

  What did I want though?

  It was something I hadn't taken much time to think about. Ever since Chet, I hadn't been very keen on the idea of giving myself up to another dominant man. I had wanted control, because if I was in control, then I couldn't be hurt. In truth, I enjoyed my time with Micah. Bossing him around was fun, but what I most enjoyed was when I made him spank and flog and tease me. He was good at that, good when I gave the control over to him. Sure, I dictated the strength and speed at which he did things to me, but for the most part, he was in charge of the pleasure. Was I just fooling myself into thinking I was in control, calling him slave to make myself believe that I was in charge? For as much as I didn't like to admit it, he was right. The way I was doing things wasn't conventional. I'd never seen a femdom video of a Mistress making the slave spank her. It was always the other way around.

  I was just using the lifestyle to get what I wanted, but it was only because I was afraid. My experience as a sub hadn't been the greatest, but my fetishes were still there, my need to feel powerful hands upon me. Maybe I wasn't built to be a Mistress, but I also refused to give up full control. Why did these stupid rules matter so much to him? If he just gave in, stopped caring so much about the technicalities, we could be perfect together.

  ***

  Days passed before she finally called and invited me over. I was beginning to worry that she had los
t interest in me, that I had allowed myself to be used for bail money. Was it really being used though if she had never asked me to bail her out? I had done it because I cared, because I wanted to make sure she was alright.

  When she did finally invite me over, I honestly wasn't sure what to expect, where we stood. She had been so vague with communication lately. I decided not to get my hopes up as I drove to her apartment. This visit would probably be awkward. If I was lucky, the iciness between us would melt quickly. If I wasn't lucky, she'd make some excuse about why she didn't want to see me anymore, and that would be the end of it.

  Talia opened the door with a smile, though it seemed a bit off. There was a strange tension between us, but I tried to ignore it as she allowed me to come inside. As was normal when I visited her, there was something cooking in the kitchen. Damn did the woman love to cook, and she was great at it too. At least if this was the end, there would be a good meal to send me off.

  “What's for dinner tonight?” I asked teasingly.

  “Pot roast.”

  “Sounds great.”

  She led me into the dining room and sat me down at the table, serving me as she usually did. Throughout the entire process, our eyes never met. Talia was avoiding my gaze, and I wasn't sure why.

  “So, you look like you want to say something,” I said finally.

  She gave me a puzzled look. “No. Nothing at all.”

  “You're acting weird.”

  “It's because I feel indebted to you.”

  “You're not indebted to me,” I told her, watching as she sat across from me.

  “Why did you bail me out?” she asked while poking at her food with her fork.

  “Because I care,” I answered plainly.

  “Why do you care though? You barely know me.”

  “I think it's a bit obvious at this point, don't you?”

  “Spell it out for me. I'm not in the mood for riddles.”

  “It's not exactly a riddle. I like you. I feel bad for you because of what Chet did. I want to protect you and help you.”

  “I'm not your responsibility though,” her words were cold, striking directly at my heart.

  “No, you're not,” I sighed, waiting for the rejection that I was certain was coming.

  “I'm sorry,” Talia's tone softened, “I'm just trying to understand.”

  “I don't know how else to explain it.”

  “What do you want from me, Micah?” She looked up at me suddenly, causing my stomach to twist in discomfort. There was accusation in her eyes as if she could read every filthy thing going through my subconscious. Those thoughts weren't the real reason I had bailed her out though. I wanted her on a deeper level. Could I be selfish enough to say it?

  “I want whatever you want, Talia,” I relented.

  “I'm not a Mistress.” Her words caught me off guard, and almost the second she said then she averted her eyes again. “I'm not a Mistress, but I'm also not a sub. I'm somewhere in between, somewhere that's unacceptable to you.”

  “I'm not sure what you're getting at.”

  “I just . . . don't get what you want. Do you want sex? Money? How am I supposed to repay you?”

  “I just want you.”

  The silence in the room was deafening. There was just the sound of our breathing and the intensity of me staring across the table at her while she kept looking away in thought. What was she thinking? Fuck, how I wished I could be inside of that beautiful head of hers.

  “I want you too, but I don't know if I can give you what you want,” she said.

  “Well.” I leaned back in the chair. “I want you, and you want me. What more in there to know?”

  “How do you want me?”

  “That's an odd question,” I laughed, but when her eyes shot up to meet mine, I knew she was serious. “Sexually. Emotionally. How else is a man supposed to want a woman?”

  “So.” Talia shifted uncomfortably. “You want . . . to date me?”

  “This conversation is awkward, and our food is getting cold. How about we finish up eating, and then we can discuss this in the living room?”

  “Alright.” She nodded, though her appetite didn't return.

  I continued eating, planning out what I would say when the meal was over. To be honest, I hadn't even really thought about taking her on as a girlfriend. My mind was completely in the BDSM zone. I had hoped she'd understand that I wanted her as my submissive. This threw a kink into my plans, backed me into a corner that I'd have to talk my way out of. For the briefest of seconds I considered caving into her desires, but then I remembered Hannah, and my mind was set.

  Talia took a few more tentative bites while she waited for me to finish eating, then she cleared the table and met up with me in the living room. I sat on the sofa there, tension rolling through me. Was this the end for us? The thought of losing her was enough to about drive me insane, but I couldn't brush my needs aside either. We had to reach a compromise, or it was going to be a no-go.

  “It's selfish for me to want you to submit to me,” I began.

  “Maybe it's selfish of me to want to deny you.” She shrugged.

  “No. After everything you've been through with Chet, I can understand. It would be hard for anyone to want to go back to being a submissive after that.

  “But what he taught you about being a submissive was wrong. It doesn't have to be the way it was when you were with him. It wouldn't be that way, because I'd never abuse you. All you'd ever feel in my care was pleasure and love and appreciation. You should give me a chance.”

  She paused in thought for a moment. “Alright, but I want to see how you would treat me first.”

  I sighed internally in relief, letting joy flood through me from her words. “That's what a trial is for.”

  “No. Not a trial.” Talia shook her head. “I want a demonstration.”

  “A demonstration?”

  “Come back tomorrow night with your gear, and treat me like you would if I was your sub. We'll do a scene together, and then I'll decide if this is something I really want or not.”

  The prospect excited but confused me at the same time. This wasn't how things were typically done. First she should be under my protection, then under consideration, then a trial, and finally, the formal collar. What she wanted, I wasn't even sure where it would place on that scale.

  “Fine,” I agreed, not feeling like arguing about it. Lecturing her wasn't the wisest move if I wanted a chance to have her. Besides, I was standing on the winning side at the moment, and that's all that should matter.

  “I don't mean to seem like a bad host or like I'm trying to get rid of you, but I'm kind of tired. Hopefully I'll be in a better mood tomorrow,” she told me.

  I nodded, getting up to leave. In all honesty, I wasn't too keen on staying, especially since she didn't seem particularly thrilled about our agreement. Every second was one that she could change her mind, and I didn't want that.

  She gave me a weak smile as she held the door open for me, and I worried that she was already regretting the thought of allowing me to dominate her. I was convinced that I could show her how amazing it would be if we came together as Dom and sub though. At the very least, I could show her pleasure that her body had never felt before. Maybe that would be enough to make her surrender herself to me. All I knew was that I was going to have to come up with something good, something really good, to change her mind.

  CHAPTER NINE

  What had I gotten myself into? Bad decision after bad decision after bad decision. This was what he wanted though, and I owed him that much.

  I spent most of the day trying to psych myself out for it, wondering what Micah planned to do to me. Maybe I shouldn't have given him so much free rein. It would have been better if I picked out our activity. That way, I'd know for sure it was something I would enjoy. That would defeat the purpose though. This was all about finding out what Micah would do if I allowed him to have control.

  He had proven to be nothing but kind
to me so far. More than kind. Part of me wondered what I was so afraid of. Micah obviously wasn't Chet. In just one week, he'd shown me more respect and consideration than Chet ever had. Where Chet was cruel and strict and scary looking, Micah was kind and pliable and attractive. Very attractive. The few times I had surrendered to him, he had shown me tastes of the things I had only read in books. Maybe this wouldn't be so bad after all.

  Sometime around noon, I received an e-mail from Micah with a list of kinks. I couldn't help but smirk at it. He couldn't just let things flow naturally. There had to be some kind of protocol in place. On the form, he requested that I check off which kinks I enjoyed, which ones that I wasn't fond of, and which ones I absolutely wouldn't do. Soft limits and hard limits.

  It took me the good part of an hour to go through the whole thing. The list was ridiculously extensive, and some of the stuff I hadn't even heard of before. For shits and giggles, I sent the list back to him when I was done, telling him to send me another copy with his choices. He never did though, to my disappointment.

  With that completed, all that was left to do was wait. I thought about making dinner again, but I didn't want to feel bloated if we were going to have sexy time, and I was pretty sure we would have sexy time. If he was in control, then why wouldn't we. I had denied him for long enough.

  Instead of cooking, I decided to spend extra time on my appearance. I picked out something easy access to wear, a two-piece leather and chain bikini that left little to the imagination. Even after spending nearly an hour doing my hair and makeup, there was still time left before Micah arrived. I sat on the sofa with one leg crossed over the other, bobbing my foot and letting my mind go wild with scenarios. Images of his hot muscled body moving on top of mine sent delicious shivers between my legs. He's great with his hands. I bet he's even better with his . . .