I Am a Dominant

by Maggie Carpenter

  “You think? Oh, look, he’s cute, that one with the sandy hair at the last table.”

  I silently sighed.

  Her young heart has already replaced you.

  “He’s not really my type,” I joked, “but I can see how he’d be yours.”

  “He’s by himself,” she said eagerly.

  “So it seems. Who knows, tonight might be your lucky night.”

  “I’d still rather have you,” she said shifting her gaze to stare up at me.

  “Stop it,” I said firmly. “It looks as if everyone is ready. As I said, I’ll talk to them for a bit, then call you in.”

  “Okay. James, ooh, I’m so nervous.”

  “You’ll be fine, all you need to do is obey me. How hard can that be?”

  “Not very…I guess,” she mumbled.

  I had to laugh, and as I walked out, the small amount of chattering began to abate.

  “Good evening, and welcome. My name is James, and I am a Dominant. I’m here to answer your questions, demonstrate a few techniques, and give you a general summary of how I see myself and my role. Every Dominant and every submissive is unique, and that’s why I said, a general summary of how I see myself and my role, because that’s all I can speak to. We’re going to begin tonight with one of the most common practices in the D/s dynamic. Spanking. Earlier today the young woman who is my submissive for the class tonight, kept me waiting. She had all kinds of excuses, but the bottom line, if you’ll pardon the pun, is that she was late, and for that she needs to be punished. Destiny, if you please?”

  Destiny, dressed in her high heels, net skirt and purple corset, walked in with her eyes lowered and her hands behind her back. As she approached I moved the chair sitting beside the table front and center.

  “Destiny, you know how this evening must start. You were late today, and being late suggests you don’t care. I certainly hope that’s not the case.”

  “It’s not, Sir, I just got…uh…caught up.”

  “Yes, Destiny, I heard all your excuses earlier. You must be punished. Over my lap now, please.”

  I sat down, and as she laid herself over my knee the flimsy net skirt rose high enough that I didn’t have to deal with it, and I pulled her shiny purple panties into her crack.

  “There are many ways to spank, many implements to use, and you should always consider the crime as you administer the punishment. My favorite implement is my hand, but I certainly don’t hesitate using more severe tools when appropriate.”

  Raising my palm I dropped it down with a sound slap on her right cheek, eliciting a wriggle in response. Gripping her tightly around her waist I pulled her closer into my body, and repeated the smack on the opposite side.

  “It’s best to start with lighter slaps and build upon them, increasing the force and speed as the spanking progresses. If Destiny keeps me waiting again, she’ll find herself with a very hot, very red backside, as opposed to the stinging pink one she’ll receive tonight.”

  Knowing the actual spanking would speak for itself I decided not to lecture any further, and focused on bouncing my hand off Destiny’s perfect behind.

  Moving the attention to her sensitive crease I whisked upwards, producing a hot sting and a loud ouch for my trouble. Falling into an easy rhythm I traveled my palm across her cheeks, dropping it to her sit spot every few smacks. When she was wriggling to my satisfaction, and her bottom was sufficiently stained, I sent my hand into a soothing rub.

  “Does that help? I mean, isn’t is also pleasure for her?” a male voice asked.

  Glancing up I saw it was the sandy-haired young man who had caught Destiny’s eye; he was well dressed, and sported what appeared to be an expensive timepiece.

  “To your second question, there are spankings for punishment and sensuous spankings. Both help, mentally and physically, right, Destiny?”

  “Yes, Sir,” she squeaked.

  “Depending on the crime and the circumstances, I may not offer this caressing comfort,” I added, continuing to rub the sting away, “and in a moment Destiny is going to have some corner time so she can consider the inconvenience she’s caused others by her frequent tardiness.”

  The young man nodded his understanding, and I appreciated not only his question but his obvious eagerness. He was leaning forward in his seat and deeply engaged.

  “All right, Destiny, up you get.”

  I helped her off my lap and stood her in front me so her back would face the audience.

  “Lift your skirt, show everyone your well-spanked bottom.”

  She stared at me, her big eyes showing her embarrassment.

  “Do as your told,” I said quietly. “I trust you’ve learned your lesson?”

  “Yes, Sir,” she said softly as she tentatively raised the skirt. “I’ll never keep you waiting again, not ever.”

  “I hope not. Count to ten, then you may drop your skirt.”

  She sighed, and after counting out loud she dropped her skirt and turned around to face the class.

  “Destiny has been punished, and as I mentioned she’s going to spend some time in the corner. Destiny, go and kneel in front of that wall until I call you back. My lecture may be distracting, but when you return I expect you to tell us what thoughts crossed your mind.”

  “Yes, Sir,” she replied, and with her head down she moved across the room and took up her position.

  “Now that’s been dealt with, I’m going to give a brief talk about Dominance and submission, what it is and some guidelines, at least from my perspective. The most important thing, the thing you must always remember, is that a woman offers her submission, it is her desire and her will. You cannot force a woman to submit to you, at least not with the kind of Dominance and submission we’re here to discuss.”

  I continued with my talk, answered a few questions, and then called Destiny back. She stood in front of me appropriately demure, and I decided she needed a hug. It was a special moment. She felt marvelous in my arms and I was glad of the audience; had we been alone it would have been difficult to push her away.

  “So Destiny, what do you have to tell us?”

  “I thought about how my being late has caused problems for Max, the bartender here, and other times too, with other people, and today…”

  “Today?” I pressed.

  “Today, all those excuses, they weren’t the truth.”

  “I see, what is the truth?”

  “I was out late last night and overslept, so I was late for work and had to stay behind, and that’s why I was late to meet you. I’m really sorry. I’ve just been late, late, late. I should have called to let you know, but I guess I shouldn’t have been out last night to begin with.”

  “Ah, good. You’re right, you shouldn’t have been out to the point that you’d oversleep this morning, knowing you had commitments today.”

  I paused to give her a squeeze, then turned back to my class.

  “Once my submissive has been disciplined and has shown me genuine remorse, it’s over. There are no further reprimands or recriminations. She has a clean slate. This is now behind her, and again, please excuse the pun.”

  There was an amused tittering from the crowd, and gesturing Destiny to follow me I moved back to the table, upon which sat a variety of paddles, floggers and straps.

  I began discussing the various implements, and Destiny walked them over to the group. She chose the sandy-haired young man to be the first recipient of each item; it made sense, he was at the end of the row. I watched closely whenever she approached him. He welcomed her with a warm smile every time she neared, and his eyes would follow her as she made her way back to me.

  “Now I’m moving on to bondage. It’s not just tying wrists together. Bondage can be an art form. Kinbaku is an intricate form of Japanese bondage, as is Shibari, and there are other methods of bondage that captivate the mind as well as the body. Tonight we’ll just discuss the basics, and for that I’d like to invite a volunteer.”

  The sandy-haired y
oung man didn’t even take the time to raise his hand, he just bounded forward from his chair.

  “Your name, and it doesn’t have to be real.”

  “Byron,” he smiled.

  “Destiny, I’m going to allow Byron to tie you up. Let’s see how he does.”

  As Byron began to lace the cord around her wrists, and then her body, I could see the joy in his eyes. Destiny was delighted to be at his mercy, and she shot me a ‘thank you’ look more than once. When he’d finished I examined what he’d done, praised the parts that worked, then showed him the flaws.

  “We have bondage demonstrations and classes here twice a month, and I certainly recommend them, but the class size is limited to twenty, so if you want to attend I’d suggest making your reservations early.”

  Byron began to unlace his work, and when he’d returned to his seat, I went through the positions I’d rehearsed with Destiny at my house.

  Everyone appeared to be captivated, and as I explained how the positions could be used as an exercise to remind a submissive of one’s authority, the sandy-haired man appeared to be taking notes. (I came to find out later he’d thought of some additional positions and he didn’t want to forget them.)

  With about thirty minutes left I threw the floor open for questions. This part of the class was always the most time consuming, and when I finally closed shop we’d gone way past the clock.

  The group began to disperse but Byron lagged behind, and as I was packing my bits and bobs into my case I saw him wander towards the table. Destiny was sitting on the chair next to me, and initially I thought he was going to approach her, but while he offered her his warm smile it was me he wanted to talk to.

  “Thank you for such an informative and entertaining class,” he began. “Do you ever give private consultations?”

  “No, this was the first time I’ve done anything like this. I’m not sure I’d call myself an expert, I’m just your run-of-the-mill Dominant.”

  “I wouldn’t say that, James,” Destiny interrupted.

  “Thank you, but I believe Byron was talking to me.”

  “Sorry, but it’s true.”

  “I’d really like to talk with you some more, is that even possible?” he asked. “Could I offer you lunch, or dinner?”

  I paused in my packing and studied him, and not only did I feel his sincerity, he reminded me of how I was at his age. I recalled the many times I needed advice, and wished there was someone who could answer my one-thousand-and-one questions, but had no-one to offer me counsel.

  “I’ll tell you what I can do. I’ll be here on Thursday night. If you can make it I’ll be happy to sit with you for a while.”

  “That’s splendid,” he grinned. “Many thanks, and thank you, Destiny, for allowing me to wrap you up in rope.”

  “Any time,” she smiled, then added, “and I mean that.”

  “Perhaps you’ll be here Thursday night as well?” he asked.

  “I will, I’ll be working up here in the lounge.”

  “Then I’ll stop in and buy a cocktail,” he promised.

  “Cool.”

  He laughed, a genuine happy laugh, and after shaking my hand he said his goodbyes and left the room.

  “A little bit forward there, Destiny.”

  “How’s he supposed to know I like him if I don’t flirt a bit?”

  “This is true,” I sighed, “but sometimes you can flirt with just a look and a smile.”

  “Ooh, James, you’re right,” she sighed.

  “Come on, young lady, time to take you home. You don’t need to be late for work again tomorrow.”

  “Yes, Sir,” she giggled, and wiggling her red bottom in front of me, we headed to my car.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  A Bittersweet Goodbye

  Of course she had left her things at my house, and I suspected she’d done it deliberately.

  “I asked when you were leaving if you had everything and you said yes,” I scolded as I pulled into my garage.

  “I know, I’m sorry,” she whimpered. “I was so nervous I forgot.”

  “Forgot on purpose?” I asked staring at her intently.

  “No,” she squeaked.

  “Come on, let’s get inside, and make sure you don’t leave anything behind this time.”

  We walked into my kitchen and she stopped, dropping her elbows on the center island.

  “Wait,” she said softly.

  “What?”

  “Is there any chance we could have a cuppa. There’s something I really want to talk to you about. It’s important.”

  Her eyes were misty; I’d promised I’d be there for her and I’d meant it, so I nodded and gave her a reassuring smile.

  “Yes, sure, I can make us a cuppa. Go and change into your regular clothes and I’ll put the kettle on.”

  Breaking into a smile she kissed me on the cheek, and quickly reminding myself that being with her was not an option, I fought the temptation to pull her close and kiss her the way she wanted and needed to be kissed.

  “I’ll be right back,” she promised, and scurried away.

  I’m old-fashioned about many things, and one of those is how I make a cup of tea. I see it as a ritual, and teabags are not permitted in my kitchen.

  I put the jug on to boil, then swished the teapot with hot water. Retrieving the antique caddy from my cabinet I dropped three teaspoons of loose leaf tea (one for each cup and one for the pot) into the warmed teapot, then poured in the boiling water.

  My mother always said if you stir the pot to hasten the steeping, you stir up trouble, and it’s one of those old wives tales that’s always stuck with me. Putting it aside I set the table with the cups, saucers, the jug of milk and the bowl of sugar, and Destiny returned just as the tea was ready to be poured. She’d washed off most of her makeup, and wearing her button-up black cardigan and light colored jeans she looked like a teenager.

  “Ooh, James, real tea,” she exclaimed delightedly. “I haven’t had real tea in ages.”

  “Real tea is a requirement in my house,” I smiled. “Would you like some biscuits?”

  “Yes, please.”

  I plated some shortbread and brought it to the table, then sitting opposite her I poured the tea.

  “I think talking over a cuppa is the only way to go,” she said, as though spouting words of wisdom.

  “I think you’re right,” I nodded. “Talking and tea do seem to go together.”

  She added some milk and a spoonful of sugar, then stirring slowly she let out a heavy sigh.

  “Out with it,” I said firmly. “In spite of your denial, I know you left your clothes here on purpose so I’d have to bring you back.”

  “Maybe,” she breathed, “sorry about that. I was afraid to tell you the truth.”

  “You must never be afraid to tell the truth,” I said softly. “In the long run it’s the better option, especially with me.”

  Her relaxed happy expression was slowly being replaced by a worried look, and I realized that whatever her problem it was weighing heavily on her young mind.

  “You can tell me anything. I won’t judge you, and I won’t breathe a word,” I assured her.

  “It’s hard,” she whispered, her brow crinkling.

  “Take your time. Sip your tea and take your time.”

  “James, you’re so good,” she said softly, her big eyes staring across at me.

  “Not all the time,” I grinned.

  “I don’t think that’s true. I think you’re good in your heart and that never goes anywhere.”

  “I think that’s one of the best compliments I’ve ever been given,” I replied, deeply touched and a little taken aback.

  It reminded me how I’d often seen her as special. Natural warmth and caring oozed out of her, and her heartfelt compliment was evidence of her caring nature.

  She sipped her tea, ate a piece of shortbread, and I knew she was finding the courage to tell me her problem. It was fine with me, she could take all night
if she needed to; clearly it was important, and I had the feeling it was something she’d never told anyone.

  “The thing is,” she finally said, “I’ve never, uh, gosh this is so hard.”

  “Just spit it out. I promise the world won’t come to an end.”

  “Okay, here it is,” she declared, and taking a deep breath she said, “I’ve never had an orgasm during sex.”

  Her face was beet red, and she immediately dropped her eyes and stared at the table top.

  “Ah. That’s not as uncommon as you might think.”

  “Really?” she asked, lifting her gaze.

  “Really. Have you tried pleasuring yourself while you’re having sex?”

  “Yes, it just doesn’t work.”

  I could see the promise of tears, and reaching across the table I took her hand.

  “You’ve not had the right partner, that’s all. A partner who can get you there, who cares about getting you there.”

  “Will you, pleeaase?”

  “Oh, Destiny,” I sighed, “I don’t know what to say,” and I didn’t.

  The thought of taking this gorgeous young thing to my bed and having her experience her first orgasm during intercourse was one of the most tempting apples I’d ever had dangled before me.

  “Please, I feel so useless,” she moaned.

  Looking at her youthful face and desperate eyes, I knew I couldn’t. If I did she’d pine for me, and God help the next young man who crossed her path. Not that I’m such a great lover, but years and experience count for something, and the comparison would surely be made.

  “You’re not useless, not even close, and honestly, Destiny, that special moment, that discovery, it belongs to that special man, the one you really connect with, the one you have yet to meet.”

  “It’s never going to happen,” she groaned.

  “Of course it will. I can give you a couple of tips if you want.”

  “I don’t want tips, I want you,” she whispered fighting back the threatening tears. “I know you can help me.”

  “I can, but only with suggestions,” I said patiently. “Do you want to hear them or not?”