From then on, when he was with Imanya, Davis played his role masterfully, not giving away too much, slowly broaching the subjects of sex, and his expectations about domination and submission, while always watching for her reaction. His instincts told him she was slightly fragile and needed a little time to adjust to what was developing between them. He had never been interested in doing things according to some arbitrary schedule. He liked playing with her and wasn’t disappointed as he continued to leave her wanting more, teasing, testing, tantalizing, behaving almost like a spider drawing prey into a web, then being rewarded with downcast eyes, the barest hint of a smile and a soft blush that appeared to get rosier and deeper with each new question or suggestion.
Remarkably, Imanya was in possession of a web of her own and was drawing him in almost as easily as he was drawing her and … he liked it. Even without any of the strong and obvious sexual overtones or chemistry, he enjoyed being with her, talking to her and wondering about her. In certain respects, she was the proverbial open book, yet she was also a little mysterious and kept portions of herself hidden as though they were treasures worth seeking, rewards he still had to earn. He was fascinated every time they were together. The intrigue was new, exciting, and felt a little dangerous. His previous involvements had been transitory, easily ended and forgotten, but this involvement wasn’t. It was far too soon to think in terms of forever, but thinking about for a while seemed natural and comfortable. He wanted what he had with her to last.
He continued their no-strings involvement for several weeks meeting for dinner, an occasional coffee date, or a glass of wine as he learned more about her. He actually felt a little intimidated the first time he met Glenn but that was only because the other man seemed to be evaluating whether or not Davis was worthy of Imanya. Luckily he seemed to pass Glenn’s scrutiny.
Davis discovered Imanya was extremely good at her job and praised her extensive portfolio of designs. She had a unique sense of style that suited her but she wasn’t obsessed with clothes or shopping. She liked to cook, was great at arranging flowers, hated scary movies and had that sparkle in her eyes when she was happy. He liked putting that sparkle in her smoky green eyes.
He also discovered her love for the beach. The beach seemed to both energize her and also give her a sense of peace and tranquility. Her tiny apartment was several miles from the water, so she was delighted when she learned his townhouse was less than a mile from the shore. He lost count of the number of times he’d drive to meet her, only to stand and watch her running through the waves as they met the sandy shoreline. She always looked as carefree as the child she hadn’t had the chance to be.
The townhouse was his private space, away from work and away from life in general. He’d looked long and hard for exactly what he wanted before purchasing and was more than satisfied with the outcome. The décor was uncluttered, bordering on sterile; but he liked clean lines, good lighting, quality furnishings and open spaces. It was three floors with the bedrooms on the top level and the living space and kitchen under that. While he’d never be known for his cooking skills, the refrigerator was always stocked and he held his own when entertaining or playing chef.
The lowest level was supposed to be a garage large enough for more than one vehicle but that was where he’d done some renovations. When he was looking for his own home, the idea of a pseudo-dungeon was only a consideration. At first sight of the townhouse, he knew it was a perfect solution. The garage was enormous, probably large enough for three cars with room to spare, so making a few simple changes was easy. He only had one car and the extra area suited his needs perfectly. He’d divided the space and told the contractor doing the work that he wanted it soundproofed because it was going to be a studio.
After the preliminary and major work was complete, he had done the rest himself. It was hardly a dungeon and Davis knew he’d never be a hardcore whips-and-chains Dominant, so he continued to refer to the space as his studio. It seemed to make sense. If he and a friend decided to use the room, there was a pretty good chance his performance would be as imaginative and creative as any other artist.
When the studio was built, practicality and sex played the major roles in his design. His secret area wasn’t overly large but there was plenty of room for the few pieces of equipment he felt were necessary.
Primarily, he wanted to be discreet and keep the space private. This was easily accomplished with a hidden door panel and a soundproof interior, which ensured that none of the neighbors would be aware of his activities.
The room was uncluttered and everything it contained was functional. The bed wasn’t intended for sleeping but was large enough to accommodate his requirements. He had a variety of standard implements; things like ankle and wrist cuffs and restraints, a couple of paddles, an oversized wooden hairbrush, and a leather strap hanging on the wall, but that was more for effect than need.
He’d been careful about the design, making the door to his studio blend in with the rest of the wall space. If anyone happened to wander into the garage, all they would see was a garage but if he was entertaining a guest who shared his artistic interests, a simple push of the concealed button made the wall slide to one side and revealed his secret room. He’d told Imanya about his studio and she’d asked dozens of questions but he was waiting for the perfect time; for a time when he knew that she truly wanted him as much as he wanted her.
After those initial couple of weeks, things progressed exactly as he intended. He was the spider, the studio was the web and Imanya was his prey. It was a simple concept and followed the laws of nature; perhaps not a completely compelling argument and somewhat predatory but interesting, and it appeared to be working. He was the experienced one and knew all the rules of the game. She was still learning but he knew when she was ready to play.
The plan wasn’t complicated.
Step One: He invited Imanya to his townhouse for dinner.
Step Two: He prepared a fantastic meal.
Step Three: He gave her a copy of his guidelines and requested that she approve them.
Step Four: He showed her the studio to whet her appetite.
Step Five: He served the meal he prepared.
Step Six: They would eat with a very clear understanding that she was going to be dessert.
Taking things slowly had helped him draft the guidelines, which he did more for her than himself. He’d never felt the need for any type of contract or certificate of ownership and he didn’t want a full time submissive or slave. That had never been the goal. He wanted something more than casual, something based on respect, mutual consideration, and the enjoyment of a few practices others might consider kinky but were always completely consensual.
When they were anywhere but the townhouse, they behaved just as they had up until that point. Once they were inside the townhouse, he made the rules and she would follow them. She had an unexpected addendum: even if they were at the townhouse, she would be respectful of him and his property but she would not be his property in front of other people and neither of them was to discuss what they did, unless they were alone. He pretended to balk just enough to be certain she understood what she was getting into and this was something she truly wanted. In reality, he was impressed and pleased she had clearly thought so much about it and had come up with her own restrictions. By this time they were both ready so it wasn’t hard for either of them to agree.
He recalled exactly how it had happened. The studio was beckoning and she hesitated for only a fraction of a second when he ordered her to undress, then he sat and watched while she stripped, neatly folding the clothing she removed. He sensed perfectly understandable nervous energy coming from her, but he had his own share of nerves. Earning a mutual trust was going to take a little time for both. Davis was prepared to be patient. He wanted this and he knew she needed it.
At first glance, her body was exactly as he remembered from their night at the club: firm, shapely, well-proportioned and clearly no stranger to exercise. To
her credit, once undressed, she stood quietly, awaiting his next directive. He didn’t want poses or positions but he ordered her to maintain eye contact and stay completely still and silent while he inspected her.
He took a moment to push her dark hair back, even though he loved the way it curled around her nipples, partially concealing them. His reward was feeling a quiver run though her body, knowing that he was affecting her, hoping it was as much as she was affecting him. He’d only touched her hair and his cock was already coming alive.
In the chamber at Club Azar, Imanya had taken her time to explore and get acquainted when he ordered her to go down on him. He was more than pleased to return the favor as he cupped her soft breasts, taking the time to discover how they felt, then gently squeezing before suckling her nipples, feeling them turn hard with each swipe of his tongue.
She appeared a little startled when he crouched down, eye level to her mound, and began stroking her pussy before spreading her and swirling his tongue around her clit. The probing and teasing examination had the desired effect. Her legs were trembling and she used one hand to tightly grip his shoulder, most likely to keep from falling. He saw her throw her head back, felt her body quaking, heard her unsuccessful attempt at holding back quiet moans. She hadn’t followed any of his instructions to stay silent and still, so it wasn’t hard to give her a triumphant glare knowing he now had reasonable justification for punishing her.
She cried out when his fingers entered her, gripping and carefully stroking her insides, her entire body shaking with need. His tongue never stopped tantalizing her bud and now both her hands were clutching his shoulders as she whimpered with desire. He refused to rush, enjoyed tormenting her. When he finally decided it was enough, he heard and felt her relief when he whispered, “Come for me,” and she exploded in a frenzy before collapsing in his arms. He took the time to care for her, rocking and soothing, kissing and knowing she’d be able to taste herself on his lips. He played his role as the perfect Dominant, staying in control, denying both of them until she was ready, and it had been everything she needed. Now it was time for what they both needed.
After he’d brought her to her first orgasm he guided her to the chair and sat down, immediately demanding she place herself across his lap to accept her punishment for moving. There was a momentary hesitation but he didn’t sense any real reluctance; it was more as if she was a little overwhelmed and hadn’t anticipated how strongly he could affect her. At that particular moment, he wasn’t ready to tell her about his own strong feelings but it didn’t mean he wasn’t feeling them.
Instead he spent several minutes stroking and caressing her pale, bare ass cheeks, admiring the twin globes, reminding her of their safe word, feeling her relax, and doing his best to throw her off balance. He told her she’d earned this punishment for disobeying his orders. He supposed it wasn’t particularly fair; he doubted the circumstances would have allowed her to stay silent or still but she didn’t offer any protest or defense. He took his time, stroking for a few seconds then stopping, then stroking again so that the first blow would be anticipated but not expected. When it finally came she let out a small yelp which he guessed was more from shock and surprise than true pain.
He took a second to admire the perfect imprint of his hand on her skin before commencing a regular rhythm of spanks, sometimes on one orb, then moving to the other; sometimes right at the center of her backside. She wriggled and moaned and begged him to stop, all to no avail. He might have felt a little sorrier if she hadn’t been attempting to shove her ass up to meet each stroke.
The spanking continued and he reveled in the sound of his skin against her skin, almost as much as listening to her pleading cries as he repeatedly hit her tender sit-spot. There was no doubt about her arousal; he could feel it dripping all over his lap. His own erection was just as apparent but it didn’t prevent the ongoing volley of strokes as he watched her ass blush from creamy white to pale pink to deep red.
The assault continued as he peppered her ever reddening skin until he was satisfied with the rosy hue. He didn’t take things as far as he knew he could but this was their first time, her first time since Chase. It was important that she enjoy it as much as he did so she would feel everything the submissive part of her needed to feel. As he touched her skin, the heat was emanating from her and he knew there were an equal amount of flames lighting up his own insides. He wanted her more than he’d ever wanted anyone.
Davis didn’t give her much time to recover, but only because he couldn’t wait any longer. He recalled throwing her on the bed, seeing her wince with pain as her ass touched down, then he was ripping the clothes from his body and damn near attacking her. He wasn’t talking, giving her any explanations or the chance to ask questions. For the moment it was nothing more than pure need, both his and hers. It was two bodies, his forcefully propelling into hers, two people enjoying the simple act of fucking until they burst into waves of exhilarating climax.
Afterward he pulled the blanket up over them to keep her from getting chilled and he heard Imanya’s whispered, “Thank you,” as she sleepily cuddled closer in his arms. He wasn’t sure exactly what she was thanking him for but it didn’t matter. He was too busy smiling and wondering if he needed to send a bottle of really good wine to Glenn to thank him for insisting that Imanya visit Club Azar. If it hadn’t been for Glenn’s forceful prompting, Davis might never have met her.
After their first session, it seemed all was headed in the right direction and he could hardly believe things were working so well. Davis had always considered himself somewhat of a loner, had never sustained a relationship for more than a few months. Relationships were too complicated and he liked things to be simple. Most of the women he’d met were submissively accommodating but he’d never thought of any of them as permanent fixtures in his life.
Imanya had changed his entire way of thinking. The night he’d gone to the club, it had been his intention to have a drink, socialize a little and be on his way. He hadn’t expected to be so curious about the woman partly hidden in the shadows. Meeting someone was the furthest thing from his mind. Now he didn’t want to imagine life without her.
He recalled how she described her situation with Chase and wondered if the relationship really had been as good as she believed it to be. He supposed it might be hard for any Dominant to be forced into having a submissive take charge. Personally, he thought the guy was an asshole, sick or not, for pushing her out of his life. There was no doubt that Imanya was submissive but she was also a caring person who gave with her whole heart. Davis wanted to think that Chase was having a difficult time facing his own mortality but he found it hard to believe the two of them ever really had the happiness she thought they had if he was so willing to eliminate her from his life.
The concept of a contented relationship wasn’t easy for Davis but he honestly wanted to give her the happiness she deserved. It wasn’t that hard. He and Imanya balanced each other, enjoyed the same things. Their kinks were in happily perverse harmony and it was something both of them wanted and needed. He hadn’t expected it to happen, to find a woman who understood him and was so tuned into his moods and feelings, but it had and he loved it. Could it be he was actually turning into one of those where-have-you-been-all-my-life guys? Maybe happiness really did exist.
For several months, he and Imanya dated in public and lived their Dominant/submissive life in private. Davis knew they weren’t following any set precedent but, instead, making their own rules as they went along and it was working perfectly. He had the control he desired and she received the care she craved. It was the easiest and most fulfilling relationship he’d ever had.
She hadn’t given up her apartment but she was spending almost all her time at his place. On more than one occasion she proved her claims about having good instincts and reading body language. She always seemed to know when he had a hard day and needed her care and concern.
Better trained than any obedient or compliant woman he�
��d ever known, she never forgot his role as Dominant nor her own as respectful submissive. It was a new experience for him to sit back and allow another person to take gentle control for a few hours. It wasn’t something he needed but he enjoyed it and felt as if he better understood the submissive mind-set which had the desire to relinquish control. It was less stressful to sit back, without making any demands, and let her do what she did best whether it was serving him dinner, giving him a massage, or showing off her superb oral skills.
He returned the favor when he sensed she was most in need of attention and enjoyed her reactions when he sentenced her to one of his creative forms of discipline. Imanya had been accurate when she said that she rarely misbehaved although she did have a bad habit of frequently losing track of time and being late, so he managed to find plenty of reasons to give her everything she craved.
She was furious the evening he ordered her to undress and kneel for several hours behind a wooden Captain’s chair, her knees tied to the chair legs, her wrists cuffed together through the back. She was forced to look at the spindles on the back of the chair, making her feel as though she was facing the bars of a jail cell. She was more than a little frustrated the time he ordered her to lie on the bed in his studio. She was naked when he tied her hands to the headboard after placing several thick towels under her and balancing a glass of wine between her bare breasts with instructions not to spill a single drop. Davis then sat back in his comfortable chair, with his own glass of wine, and proceeded to tell her about his day and the many absurd things that had occurred. She tried so hard to stay still, but the laughter kept coming and the wine glass continued to topple over. After the first part of her punishment, he positioned her on the spanking bench and made her ass glow so brightly it looked like neon.
Twist (A BDSM & Romantic Erotica Boxed Set) Page 14