The Dom Games

by Rachel Robinson

  “I have to be. This is almost over, Kayla.” He tilts his head back and forth, stretching his neck out. He’s as tired as I feel.

  I make a stupid split second decision. “Fine. I’ll do it. If you want it, fine.”

  “You don’t have to. The women are more than happy to film without you. You don’t have to be there.”

  Now I want to be there. Like those two have some secret club and they’re excluding me. It will be a cold day in hell before I stay away from that. “I’ll be there. Let me go get ready. I’m sure we’ll be running late now.”

  “Looks like your face is camera ready.”

  I nod, stepping out of his embrace. “Suzie. She was good for something after all.”

  Dominic looks fearful—his eyes tilting down in the corner, and his hands clenching by his sides. “Please only do this if you want to. I know it’s not something you’re comfortable with. I don’t want to upset you anymore.” It’s too late. My mind is made up.

  “I’ll see you in the playroom, Sir. What’s the theme?”

  “Photographer and his subjects,” he says, his voice clear and precise. “Stay here.” He leaves me in the large dining room and comes back a minute later with a pair of sweatpants. “Put these on.” I catch them as he tosses the black oversized thing my way.

  I have to laugh as I pull them on. “You act like the employees and millions of people at home haven’t seen me naked, Dominic. What is covering up now going to do? I belong to America. My body is theirs.” If you think about how many sets of eyes have been on my naked body it truly is alarming. I prefer not to think about it most days, but the aftermath of this show has been on the forefront of my mind as of late. Blending in when I’ve been standing out for months on television will be a challenge.

  He shakes his head. “Your body is mine, Kayla. Every part and piece of you is mine. You don’t belong to those who watch the show. Never forget that. As for my sweatpants, they give me peace of mind.” I smile. He says, “Suzie will be filming tonight with us.” That bitch. That lying by omitting bitch. I bet she doesn’t even know that our earlier conversation was bad form. “It’s why she’s here. To throw something new to the audience—change the dynamic.”

  “Of course she is. Why am I not surprised?” Because nothing surprises me these days. My life is one surprise after the other. I yearn for the days when I don’t have anything except the ho-hum of everyday campus life. I won’t have Dominic either. I’ve lived without him before. I can do it again. I hope.

  Dominic walks me to the door, leaving his hand on the small of my back. When I’m outside, I call his name. His face is stormy—shadows plague the angles that create the symmetry that makes him so appealing. “Yes?” he asks.

  I make a rectangle with my fingers on both hands and pretend to click a shutter button. “Say cheese,” I quip.

  Neither of us laughs.

  Chapter Seventeen

  “What’s mine is mine”

  Dominic

  It’s a horrible idea. I’m going to lose her. I sense her absence in the air and yet she’s standing inches from my almost naked body—puffing her sweet breath into my face as I touch her breasts with the leather tails of a whip. At the last minute I called in for blindfolds, figuring it would be easier for her. A cowardly move on my part, because I don’t want to see her face when she sees me with the other women. Not right away, anyway. This is a part of the BDSM world. I never thought twice about it before. Sometimes Doms even loan out their submissives to other Doms. I can’t think about Kayla with another man without having a panic attack. Her with another Dom? Over my cold, dead body. What must she feel like in this situation? She shares very little of her emotions and feelings with me, so I can’t begin to imagine what sharing me with these women does to her.

  Why the fuck am I thinking about her feelings right now? I have a job to do. This is real life, and I have an audience to convince and four women to pleasure. My hands shake with uneasiness as I guide her to the large bed. It’s covered in a white sheet that’s been mussed just so. It is a photo shoot, after all. When Kayla, fucking beautiful Kayla, wearing all virginal white is settled and reaching for me—for more—I lead the other women out of another section of the room. All of the women wear lace bodysuits with plunging necklines that dart down to their belly buttons. Jessy has on red, Suzie is hot pink to compliment her white, bleached candy pop hair, and Christine is a venom-laced vixen in a dark blue.

  My twisted rainbow. “Where do you want me, Sir?” Jessy asks, laying an arm on me—her eyesight blinded by the leather tie around her face. She nestles her head into my chest. “I’ve missed you, Sir.” I swallow, my eyes darting to Kayla. She puts her head down. This is only going to get worse.

  I don’t respond to her sentiment. “Next to Kayla,” I command, leading her to the bed. The bright lights are hot against my skin. The feeling you get after you’ve spent all day at the beach and then you’re hot for the entire day after. That’s me right fucking now. We’ve doubled up on cameras. They are capturing every angle and every woman—their every reaction. The buzz surrounding this particular episode has been massive. It’s set to be the largest viewed episode in the history of The Dom Games. That was before they knew that Kayla was participating. This is going to be huge, and that makes me nervous because I have no idea how it’s going to play out.

  There’s a camera filming my midsection, leaving my face out of the shot, and I’m thankful because I’m sure it would catch my hesitation in this horrible, beautiful moment. Suzie takes off her blindfold and saunters toward me. “I don’t need this, Master Reed. I can handle anything you give me.” It’s her job to start the scene, and this is her doing just that. Jessy and Christine hear her words and remove their blindfolds. Kayla keeps hers on—but clutches the sheets by her sides a little harder.

  I nod. It’s on. Suzie takes her leather tie and wraps it around my waist and presses her hot pink lace against my bare skin. “I’ve missed you, Sir. Have you missed me?”

  It’s acting, I swear. “Yes,” I say. Then it clicks. The part of my brain that takes over when I’m wrapped up in a BDSM scene, or playing with a submissive, flares to life and there’s no going back from here.

  I tilt my chin up to the ceiling when she slides her tongue across my abs and up the side of my oblique while dancing seductively to the music that’s echoing through the room. There’s a tripod set up with an expensive camera facing the bed. Slowly we make our way over to the camera. I chance a look at the bed, and Jessy and Christine are watching with mild interest, but Kayla is sitting motionless, her blindfold now off, staring off to the side of the room. She wanted this. I can’t let her affect this scene.

  Suzie peels her mouth off my body. “How do you want me, Master?” she asks, walking to stand in front of the camera. Her tan ass glistens with some sort of lotion, and I have to admit, the sight makes my dick hard.

  “On the edge of the bed…with a red ass,” I growl. She giggles and approaches the bed with the other women. They slide over to make room. “Jessy. Make her ass red with that whip,” I say. Jessy picks up the black leather and tests it on her palm a few times. There’s no way she can work it how I do, but I think this will be pleasing for the audience. Very carefully I avoid all eye contact with Kayla. I merely see white out of the corner of my eye. I know Jessy won’t hurt Suzie with the whip. I know what she can handle. This won’t even be a fraction of the pain she enjoys. Suzie knows this as well, and she trusts me implicitly, like any good submissive should.

  Two weeks into our sub/Dom relationship, Suzie tore up her hard limits and gave me the keys to her body in any way, shape, or form. Had our conversation been more stimulating outside of the bedroom, she would have contented me for a longer time. Seeing Suzie now, like this, brings back memories I thought were long gone.

  Suzie leans over Jessy’s lap and both girls laugh. With the handle in one hand, Jessy rubs her other palm on Suzie’s shiny, tight ass cheek and then brings the whip do
wn hard. It hits across the bottom of her ass and top of her thighs. It pinks up nicely. My cock responds. I stroke it a couple times for the camera that’s panning around the room. I step in front of my tripod and snap a few photos. It’s a play scene, for fun, but I need to try to keep up the fantasy. It’s easy now that I’m turned on and I can think with my other head instead of the one that’s helplessly in love with the woman he’s hurting.

  I order Christine over and slide the straps of her bodysuit off her shoulders until her fake tits spring free. Taking one of her pink nipples in my mouth, I suck and kiss, and then I repeat on the other side. I know the angle of the camera right now and my mouth on her breast, shadowed by the size of her implants, will look stunning. She moans loudly and makes a grab at my dick. I back away so it’s out of her reach. We’re not taking it there yet. This scene needs to last precisely thirty minutes.

  I grab a rubber gag from my chest and strap it around her head. Christine is always quick to get wet. I can already smell her. With the gag now in her mouth, I want to fuck her—feel her went cunt wrap around my dick while she bites at the gag and lets tears of bliss fall from the corners of her eyes. I don’t, though. I guide her back to the bed and take a photo of her next to Suzie’s bright red ass cheeks.

  Jessy is next. She hops up quickly and approaches me in that fluid way she moves. She is always eager to please me. I kiss her neck. She likes that. She likes everything I do. Over her shoulder, I see Suzie kissing Christine on her neck and chest. Suzie’s pink fingernails slide between Christine’s legs and unsnap her bodysuit. This is where as the Dom, I command them to stop or tell them to keep going, but I’m already caught up in the lust of the moment. I watch them and let Jessy wrap her cool fingers around my cock.

  I snap a few more photos of the women and see the digital image on the back of the camera. Kayla. I let my eyes wander to her face and it’s when I know it’s all about to fall down. She’s looking directly at me, her arms wrapped around her knees and, fuck me, she’s crying. I take a deep breath and look over at her in reality, not on a screen, and it’s even worse.

  I take Jessy’s hand out of my boxer briefs and push her back. I don’t even worry about offending her because she’s a submissive. This is part of the dynamic. I’m the ruler. The owner. Kayla should know this. She should have never been in here. I have half a mind to send her away, but with her eyes on me, I can’t. Not after seeing what this is doing to her.

  “Kayla, come here. Jessy, back to the bed.” Jessy retreats, a little less gliding this time. She’s disappointed. I have bigger problems. I’ll have to punish Kayla if she acts out, and God knows she’s going to. I’m ready for it. I puff out my chest, take a deep breath, and square my jaw. I own her. She isn’t my girlfriend. She’s my submissive. “Come here, Kayla.” She just stares at me, her eyes glassing over.

  “I love you,” Kayla screams. All gazes flick to her. Cameras pan over her tear-streaked face and get so close that I think she may smash it into next week. She doesn’t, though. It’s odd. She lets them see her pain, magnified and twisted in this sick scenario she’s agreed to partake in.

  She sobs. “Love,” she says again, lower this time, her glossy lips trembling. “I love you, Dominic Reed. Enough. I can’t take any of this anymore. I can’t share you.” I knew this would happen. My whip haze clears and my erection diminishes. I’m back.

  I feel my cheeks heat and the crushing weight of grief touches my chest. She’s right. It is enough. All of it. The pain in her eyes reflects what’s inside my heart. Why did I agree to this? I’m a stupid man. A man in love.

  The severity of the situation unfolds slowly. “You’re safe wording, Kayla.”

  She shakes her head. “Nothing is safe about that word, Dominic. That was the point. That’s the point of all of this. I love you, and I can’t stay here and watch the man I love with other women. Don’t ask me to stay. It’s not fair.” She loves me. And she’s safe wording. It’s all so confusing, and I’m honestly not sure how to respond, so I don’t. Holding my head high, I let her confession hang in the air unreciprocated, because that’s the safe thing to do.

  Standing, she pulls the sheet around her body to shield herself from the cameras that have studied every subtle curve in the past. It’s in that simple gesture that I know she’s serious. She’s out. Panic sets in. My heart is beating jaggedly, rapidly as I envision my world before her—after this. I can’t go back to that world of meaningless sex and boundaries. I can’t live without her. She asked me not to stop her. She used her safe word. I honor that part of my contract. This is larger than my contract or her safe word, though. This is Kayla admitting her feelings for me to an audience of millions and it’s me not doing anything to stop her from leaving.

  She whisks herself across the room in a cloud of white. It reminds me of snow.

  I can’t do anything else, so I click the shutter button on my camera and capture the second she leaves my world.

  I eye the producers. The Dom Games theme song cues and cameras cut. I’m not having sex.

  It’s fitting.

  I love you, too.

  ****

  “You knew this was bound to happen. It’s best anyways, Dominic,” Laurel says. I’m staring out of my office window that overlooks the expansive studios. Kayla is long gone. She had intern Tim book her a one-way ticket back home the second she left the playroom. I envision her falling into his skinny arms, and him making her feel better—him saving her by getting her out of here and away from me. It makes me fucking sick. “You just have two more episodes to film and then you can go after her.”

  I spin on her. “What makes you think I want to go after her?”

  Laurel winces, but I know she’ll tell the truth. “The cameras don’t show your face, Mr. Reed, but everyone in the room saw it. It’s quite obvious that you have true feelings for Ms. Parchet. There’s nothing wrong with that. Please, don’t think I’m implying that. I actually think it’s the first time I’ve seen you snap out of it so quickly.” She’s referring to the mode I go into when I’m in the playroom. It’s strange that my middle-aged female producer recognizes it, but I guess it’s part of her job. “Pay a winner and then go after her. Money is nothing to you, Mr. Reed.”

  She’s right. How was I so blind? Why did I think this would work out? That Kayla would stick around long enough so I could declare her the winner? Who am I going to pick now? I need to read the fine print of the contracts. I want to pay them all off and just stop now—book my jet and fly directly to her. I shake my head. Kayla won’t have me now. Not after that. I didn’t go after her. She’s gone, the life she wanted all hers. The heartbreak on her face haunts my nightmares. I’m sure that’s what Laurel saw reflected in my own eyes that portrayed my love for Kayla. I’m not indifferent to her absence. I care too much. Wildly so. Recklessly so.

  I rub my hand over the scruff on my chin. I’m a fucking mess. My producer is right. “I’ll finish the show, Laurel. I’m in uncharted territory now. I ruined any chance I had with Kayla, though. I won’t hold my breath on that front. If anything this will be ratings gold without her here. I don’t even know who I’m going to choose.” I toss around the idea of keeping Suzie around, but the mere thought gives me a headache.

  Laurel scratches the side of her head. “True. But can you pull it together?”

  Sighing, I say, “Of course I can. I have to.” It makes me sick she even has to ask. The heat on my back causes me to turn to face the window again. The sun is shining so bright, a sign of life. All I feel inside my cold, dead chest is a void that can’t be filled by anything. Laurel leaves me with a laptop and the footage from the photography scene. I need to decide how we’re going to piece it together to form the episode in the absence of sex. I may need to do a confessional interview to fill time. She sets a manila envelope next to the computer on a tall stack of other folders and then she disappears, closing the door behind her.

  My bare feet are cold against the floor as I walk to my d
esk, heavy with a workload that’s been ignored for days. Sitting, I take the envelope she was hoping would get lost in the shuffle. Inside are the photographs I snapped during the play scene. They’ll be used as promo. Gazing at them, I only see the view Kayla saw and it hurts. Taking in oxygen hurts, moving my finger over the photograph is painful, and as I flip through them and get to the very last one, the image of Kayla fleeing—the white sheet floating around her—I think I may die from the agony. This is what it feels like to be in love. How miserable, foolish, and perfect.

  I trace the edges of the image with my finger and thank God her face isn’t visible. It’s a portrait of an angel fleeing the demon. There are more like me in this world. Will she seek them out? Or will they gravitate toward her like any red-blooded male would? I pick up my phone and dial the intern office.

  When someone answers on the second ring I growl, “Send intern Tim up to my office. I have an undercover opportunity for him.” I hang up the phone as my plan takes shape. I call Van into my office. He is a former Navy SEAL who works for a contract company—the very best one in the country. His job is keeping people safe and exterminating problems. Kayla’s face has been everywhere. She doesn’t understand how saturated the world is with The Dom Games this season. Van agrees to keep tabs on her for me.

  If I can’t have her, no one else can either. Tim will make sure of it. Van will merely be there to make sure she’s safe.

  And I will suffer in silence, hang onto every word they tell me of her well-being, and wrap this fucking show because I’m the motherfucking Dom.

  Chapter Eighteen

  “Lorena Bobbit”

  Kayla

  I should send him a thank you note at the very least. Then I’d be able to sleep at night in my beautifully furnished, luxury studio apartment without feeling like an ungrateful runaway child. My feelings will change in fifteen minutes after I watch the season finale of The Dom Games. The media went wild after the episode I left during aired. It didn’t take long for them to find me here in Cambridge. I came here early, before classes started, to adjust to my new life. Slipping two fingers into my gauzy lace curtain, I brush it aside to peek at the madness outside the gates of my complex. The asshole paparazzi are everywhere. They follow me to the gym, to Starbucks, to restaurants, even to the blasted drugstore when I need tampons. Their beady eyes, crumb covered hoodies, and high-powered telescopic lenses are my enemy.