by Adira August
He was thinking about a woman.
Avienne.
He’d been bringing women as Companions into a carefully isolated section of his Keep for six years. Under the protection of nondisclosure agreements, his quest to find a woman he could lead to Ecstatic Orgasm was ongoing. His quest to find the woman.
I think you’ve been doing it backwards.
He had Sessions with Companions instead of dates with girlfriends. And though he’d hoped for it to happen, none of his Companions could be considered potential lifetime companion. A wife.
Benedict Hart came to believe he would never have the kind of caring, intimate relationship he’d grown up with. So he’d built an empire, instead, out of sexual support products everyone else called “toys” and erotic romance books.
But now there was Avia. Always there. Waiting in the wings of his consciousness, even when he was engaged in a negotiation or solving an engineering problem. She’d invaded him, and he hadn’t put up the slightest defense.
A coyote howled somewhere in the near hills. Ben slowed, approaching the last half-mile.
You need to stop thinking about her. You have to start thinking about yourself. If she wants you, whatever you are, then what are you?
“Dominant” sprang immediately to mind. But he’d already decided he was wrong always thinking of the journey in terms of dominants and submissives. He’d done that for years and it hadn’t worked. He’d decided to start thinking in terms of Alphas, male and female. That’s why he’d gone to talk to Giddy. ...
“I want to know if an Alpha female would ever submit totally to an Alpha male.” Ben said.
“Well, of course. It’s her goal, after all.” Giddy said, relaxing back into his chair.
“You’re saying she wants to submit, but only to an Alpha?” Ben asked.
“Correct. Submission to the Alpha male is key to the survival of her genes.”
“So how does that work with people?” Ben asked. “Men don’t compete and take over a troop.”
Giddy shouted with laughter. “You are a billionaire. You gathered money by out-competing others. You have a group of people you lead. Employees. A troop, in other words. … From motorcycle gangs to the U.S. Senate, men compete for status, to take over a troop, acquire power over other men. … The human Alpha female will not only submit, she’ll be the one to submit most eagerly if she finds an Alpha male who proves himself worthy,” Giddy finished, with a twinkle in his eye.
“So,” he said, leaning forward, “How you going to prove yourself to her, Ben Hart?”
Ben slowed to a walk for the last few hundred feet of his jog. Giddy’s words made him doubt, for the first time in years, his ability to give a woman what she wanted. Yet, his Alpha female had declared herself to him.
I want you, whatever you are.
How could he believe her? He hadn’t done a thing to prove himself to her. He’d done what he’d always done. Maybe he’d done it with more pleasure, as she aroused him in ways no other woman ever had.
... you developed the Companion system as a substitute for relationships ...
He was surprised how much that had wounded him. Yet, he had to face the fact that she was right. He’d looked for a woman with the capacity for ecstasy. He wanted to be sure of that before he was willing to trust someone with his … heart? Soul? Self? He shook his head. Whatever people gave to get the kind of devotional love that was the only kind he’d settle for.
It was a huge thing, a frightening thing, that giving of self. He’d wanted a guarantee, a standard that would tell him … What? What do you want? He stopped for a moment, panting, hands on hips. He looked up at the shining lamp of the moon. I wanted to be safe.
On admitting that startling fact to himself, he continued his run. Okay. He’d been protecting himself. But then Avia Rivers showed up to interview him for her erotica assignment.
Avienne … The scent of her skin. The light glinting off the gold in her hair. The way she cocked her eyebrow at him when she challenged his ideas. Her honesty - with herself. With him.
Her fantastic ass. The way her throat worked with her head thrown back when he touched her. The furious fireline of red that rose up her neck and face when he triggered the humiliation that so deeply aroused her. The warmth in her eyes whenever she saw him. Her acceptance and courage, wit and intelligence -
You’re falling in love with her, you fucking idiot, and it scares the crap out of you.
He stepped onto the terrace outside his private rooms and leaned on the balustrade, gazing out over the mountain ranges illuminated in the moonlight. For the first time in his life, he thought about what it would be like to go inside, out of the cold night air and slip into bed behind a sleeping woman, warm and soft. Mold himself against her supple body, the heart-shaped ass he did so appreciate snuggled against his growing erection.
He’d have one arm under her head, cradling her cheek against his biceps, his other would go around her narrow waist, his hand finding her breast, feeling her nipple pebble against his palm through the fabric of her nightgown. He could just lie that way with her. Listening to her breathe. Feeling her relax again into deep sleep. Relaxing, himself, into bliss.
But as her Dom, he could also slide his cock into her at will, whether she wanted to wake up or not. Knee her legs apart and slam into her again and again until he emptied himself fully, completely. Then roll over to sleep. It had some appeal. Or, he could have her suck him until he came and she swallowed all he pumped into her and drifted off with his cock still in her mouth. Or he could spend as much time as he desired, bringing her close to orgasm and denying her again and again, until she begged for release. And if she went to work tired the next morning, well, that was the reality of being a submissive.
Is that what you want? If it is, why did you leave the clubs?
He frowned realizing he didn’t want that with Avia. The thought was repellent. But why didn’t he? That’s what dominant means, doesn’t it?
Ben looked over his shoulder at the double doors to his private rooms. What would I want, if she was waiting for me inside?
He let his mind drift again to the image of her, warm and waiting for him in his bed. He imagined shedding his clothes and slipping in behind her, molding himself against her. He’d cup her breast and she’d snuggle back into him, undulating that perfect ass, purposely sliding the cleft of her buttocks along his hard cock, wriggling a carnal Morse Code: I want you inside me.
He would turn her and stroke her wet swollen pussy and suck her nipples and demand she tell him exactly what she wanted. His confident Alpha female became so embarrassed by such demands - and so aroused when he made her do it. She did so like it when he made her. And he did so like it when she submitted.
Ben became aware his dick had lengthened uncomfortably in his stretch briefs. He pushed it against the cold stone baluster he was leaning against. Avia still didn’t know that she excited him at least as much as he did her. No woman, ever, in any context, elicited this deep, sustained. all-consuming need to drive himself into her, that Avia did. The need to fill her. Bury himself in her. Attach her to himself. Exclusively.
And when he was actively controlling her, restraining her, forcing her to feel, to accept, to submit, to come, it demanded reserves of discipline he didn’t know he possessed to maintain his self control. To keep himself focused on her needs, her journey.
Who was he kidding? It wasn’t just the journey, this time. He needed the control to keep himself from slamming her onto the nearest hard surface and full-metal fucking her until she passed out from the unrelenting orgasms and pistoning of his steel-hard cock. He must not scare her away.
You think I don’t also see you want to powerfuck me into the nearest wall? Finally, take what you want, the way you want, without giving a shit about the damned journey? … I want you, whatever you are.
What if she really did? She’d given him more than any woman ever had. She wasn’t asking for anything so unusual.
&n
bsp; ...I want to nuke popcorn and watch movies. My sister’s coming to town soon, I’d like you to meet her. … I want to touch you without it being a statement of submissivehood, or lack thereof. I want more than just the Sessions, not to end them…
Why can’t he eat popcorn on the couch if she wants to? He liked popcorn and watching movies. Why can’t he accept her reaching out to him, touching him? God in heaven he’d loved it when she’d done that. The only woman who had ever done that.
He frowned. No. Not the only woman. Beth had touched him first.
“Son of a bitch,” he said aloud, in surprise. The woman who started it all. The woman he’d been trying to - replace? Maybe. All these years had he been searching for the woman who had reached for him, and picking women who never would?
Avia had reached for him. And he never would have picked her. Except that he had.
Ben smiled as he felt something slide away into the night. Like the forty-pound bales carried from the truck bed across a pasture to finally drop with a thick thud to the grass. He was lighter. Freer. Suddenly, all he wanted was Avia, right here, so he could share this with her.
After all, he’d said it to her, himself. It was all a continuum. No one could define dominance for anyone else. What if they just were together the way they wanted? What if he never had to be anything at all but exactly who he was in that moment, and this woman still wanted him? What if they fell asleep together, in one another’s arms?
Ben Hart left the terrace and entered his bedroom through the double glass doors. To masturbate to thoughts of her. To fall peacefully sleep.
7am to 6pm
Avia’s Condo - Morning
Twisting around, her lithe body still damp from a morning shower, Avia examined her backside in the full length mirror attached to her bathroom door. She was surprised to see no evidence of the very thorough, and thoroughly enjoyable, spanking Ben had administered yesterday.
Moving closer to the mirror, she could detect a very faint dusting of petechiae here and there, though she felt no residual discomfort at all. They were probably from the second spanking, late last night. That one had been less enjoyable, but no less arousing.
Her thoughts lingered on him chastising her bare bottom during sex, his beautiful hard cock inside her. The very thought of it made her thighs clench, her nipples peak and itch. She caught sight of her face in the mirror: the sexual flush, turquoise eyes bright with the memory.
“This is what a feminist looks like,” she quoted aloud to herself. And laughed. Feminist she was and always would be. And now, a woman alive with new experiences and loving them. A whole world of new choices had opened up for her.
This morning she’d interview Aaron Harley, M.D., sex researcher. Someone who could make sense of the sexual dynamic between herself and Ben. The psychiatrist would explain things to her, and she’d finally make sense to herself, again. Though at this moment, she wasn’t sure she cared if she did. She’d spent her entire adult life believing submission in sex was demeaning. Degrading. That spanking was barbaric.
Then she’d met Benedict Hart. Three days of conversation with him, of being controlled by him, cared-for by him, of being spanked into mind-melting orgasms by him had changed her. Opened her. Educated her. She was glad, but she also needed to understand what was happening to her before she got some kind of psycho-sexual whiplash.
She smoothed the pale yellow cowl-neck sweater over the long charcoal gray windowpane plaid skirt with the thin red and yellow lines. She ran a quick comb through her short dark blond waves, but eschewed makeup or perfume. If she was going to sit in a room alone with a man for an hour or more and talk about sex, she didn’t want to be exuding any sexual signals.
After slipping on a pair of low-heeled black shoes, she checked herself in the mirror. Simple. Professional. Okay.
She had a plan for this meeting, she just needed the nerve to carry it out.
Boulder
Avia maneuvered her red hatchback up the ramp of the two-story parking garage attached to modern, stone and black glass research center. A discreet sign in front identified it as The Human Dynamics Research Group. The ground level parking was sparsely occupied this Saturday morning. But Avia headed up to the second level, as J.J. instructed, so she could park near a direct entrance to the research offices.
The structure offered a full view of the flatirons: Foothills fronted by enormous sheets of tilted rock that characterized this section of the Front Range. She’d just gotten out of the car when her cell signalled. It was Talli.
“Hey, Sis,” Avis said. “I’m literally walking into a meeting, can I call you back?”
“You have five minutes? We’re on the way out, too,” her sister came back.
Avia checked the time. “Yeah, actually, what’s up?”
“Everything got moved up. The lecturer before Rolly cancelled at the last minute, some health thing, so we’ll be in town Wednesday night. I know. It’s only a few days away and way too fast for the plans we were going to make. But we’ll be staying near your place, the venue’s in Englewood. That’s you, right? I mean, we can still hang out and have dinner?”
Avia hesitated, leaning back on the fender of her car. What could she tell Talli? Was the non-disclosure agreement still in force? She thought back to The Coloradan penthouse where last night she’d told Ben she was resigning from the Companionship agreement and wanted something more. ...
“I need time,” he’d told her. “I need to run, to think … Our last scheduled Session is Sunday. We set that up before you resigned. That Session ends at five-thirty, p.m. Until then, things stay the same. Okay?”
So the NDA was in force at least until Sunday night. Talli was speaking in her ear.
“.. or do you have plans with the mystery man you’re going to tell me about whether you like it or not, when I see you?”
“Off broadcast, on receive,” Avia said. Talli stopped talking. “The thing is, I’m not staying at my place. I have to cover a trial for the next few weeks and I’ll be staying in town at a hotel.” Talli started to say something but Avia talked over her. “The good news is, I’m not staying at my place. So you guys can stay there. You know where I hide the spare key. No arguments. Save the daily stipend and spend it on my nephews. We’ll find some time, okay? But I gotta go. Call you tonight.”
“Okay. After eight when the boys are in bed.”
They rang off and Avia made her way to the entrance wondering when she’d started living her life at Mach speed. She wouldn’t be done with Ben tomorrow - he won’t be done with you, you mean - until 5:30. She needed time to go over the Madigan trial notes before Monday.
Now, she had to get her place ready for Talli and Roland. That had to happen before Monday because once the trial started, driving all the way back and forth, cleaning and all would be an exhausting nightmare. She still had to file daily stories from hours spent in the courtroom.
Avia entered the research building, deciding after this meeting she’d get her condo ready and do some food shopping for her sister and brother-in-law. Maybe she could go over the notes tonight. She’d been planning to research Ecstatic Orgasm tonight, before their last scheduled Session tomorrow. It was critical to Ben and she needed to understand it if she was going to commit, seriously this time, to getting there. Now, she’d have to put that off.
Halfway down the long entry hall, she found a door marked Gender and Sexuality Research. Hoping this guy, who reportedly had an international reputation as an expert on human sexuality, had some answers, she knocked.
Watcher 3
Watcher knew it would be impossible to remain inconspicuous parked on the street. The two-story research building occupied a large area of pavement and what had been prairie grass before it was torn up and replaced with the domestic lawn variety. A line of aspen cut through one edge of the property along a small creek. It was bucolic. Peaceful. Residual hippie.
A lone vehicle parked on the empty street approaching the property would be as
obvious as a hairy wart on a newborn baby’s smooth cheek.
But Watcher was as much as expert in the field of covert surveillance as anyone inside was in their fields, all of which seemed to revolve around sex. Once the reporter had driven up to the second level, Watcher had simply found a spot on the ground level and parked next to a hybrid. Another Boulder, Colorado, earthshoe liberal vehicle.
Watcher was personally indifferent to politics on any level, but did find it a valuable tool in judging targets and their possible choices of destination and companion.
From the exterior of the nondescript rental car, Watcher was invisible behind the tinted windows to all but the closest observer. Only one ramp lead down from the second level. Only one exit led from the ground level to the wide curved drive to the street.
Watcher spent an hour noting the vehicles that came and went. Low end Mercedes and Acuras. A Volvo or two, of course. Two motorcycles, one Mini Cooper. What looked like a very expensive bicycle ridden by an older man with a greying ponytail hanging halfway down his back. He unclipped his pant cuffs and released an expensive-looking leather briefcase from the back of the bike. So, not a vegan, Watcher thought.
Some vehicles went up to the second level, but most came and went through the first floor garage entrance Watcher was parked in clear view of, making note of visitors and license plates. Whatever the reporter was doing here, it would most probably involve meeting someone inside. Someone who worked here. For a story follow-up, would be the most likely guess. Unless she needed sex therapy.
Watcher was patient. Relaxed. She’d be back down that ramp sooner or later.
The Barbican
“Just tell me where she is, J.J.” Ben Hart pulled the Volvo V60 up outside the Barbican, known to those not aficionados of medieval castle lore as the security building. His phone was docked and on speaker, so he waited for a reply before he got out.