Katherine was everything I could want in a sexual partner. Lovely, intelligent, well-bred. Submissive. Katherine was a true submissive – not just a young woman looking for a fun diversion because some book appealed to her. I’d met that kind of woman and they were fun, but often moved back to a vanilla lifestyle once they had their brief taste of submission.
No, with Kate, it was the real deal. Beneath that reluctant exterior was a woman aching to try submission but afraid of what it meant about her character. I knew her type – raised in a wealthy family by an exacting father who had high expectations for her success in whatever field she chose, high standards of behavior and performance in school and work. It had to be exhausting.
Someone like Kate just wanted to submit to someone strong and in control.
In contrast, I was raised by an absentee father who was too focused on his career and his desire for adventure and thrills to pay much attention to instilling anything in me but independence. I had to develop a sense of control – over myself and everything else – because he was never there to be my rock. I had to become dominant in order to achieve anything.
Yes, I did most of it to attract his attention, which rarely ever came, but this personal drive to be in control led to great success in my career as a neurosurgeon. I finished high school two years early, did the same with my undergraduate degree and then went through into medical school and my fellowship without break until I was fully accredited as a Board Certified neurosurgeon at thirty.
Katherine needed someone like me to feel safe. With me in control, she would be free to explore anything and everything because none of it would be her responsibility. I needed someone like her to fulfill my need for control. The fact that Ethan seemed to want to push us together made it all the easier and even more exciting. We could do anything, be together whenever we wanted, and he would be pleased. He’d be none the wiser that his little girl and best friend’s son were playing dominance and submission games in the bedroom.
What we did in private was none of his business anyway.
I arrived at my building and parked my car, jangling the keys in my overcoat pocket as I made my up the elevator to my suite. I’d have to develop a plan of attack and be resolute implementing it. I knew Kate wanted this but was afraid to admit it. I’d have to push her just a little and she’d fall.
Right into my arms.
Once inside my apartment, I threw off my coat and shucked my boots before checking my messages. Yet another one from Allie, pleading with me to give her another chance. I’d have to speak to Lara about her. Lara had to find her another Dom because I had my mind set on Katherine and nothing was going to do in substitution.
I had a call from David in Nairobi, asking me if I’d given his offer of a position at the hospital any thought. He’d been pestering me about coming to Africa for six months to help out with the medical college’s neurosurgery program. I wanted to go, but with a busy practice in Manhattan, I’d have to start slowing down in order to take a leave of absence.
The last message was from Lara.
Drake, don’t push too much with Kate. I know her type – skittish like an unbroken thoroughbred filly. She’ll balk at any attempt to saddle her up at first so proceed slowly… Call me back and we can talk. Better yet, meet me for lunch tomorrow and we can plot our course.
I smiled at the metaphor of Kate as a thoroughbred and the revelation that Lara was on my side. Kate was precisely a thoroughbred, with good breeding, a first-rate upbringing and a graduate education. Chestnut hair and wide green eyes, fantastic rack and tiny little waist. She was short and that always brought out the Dom in me.
God, I wanted her…
I wanted her wrists and ankles cuffed and restrained, tied to my bedframe, a blindfold covering her eyes while I played with her body, teasing her with pleasure until she begged for release. Then, I’d remove her blindfold and force her to look in my eyes as she came.
Imagining it gave rise to a semi and I rubbed myself absently, wishing I’d been more successful with her earlier. If I had been able to work my way into her apartment, I felt certain I could have found my way between her luscious thighs. I could be very persuasive when I wanted something.
I wanted Kate badly.
After undressing and washing my face, I examined myself in the mirror. There were a few flecks of grey in my hair, and a few lines on my face. Yes, I was twelve years older than Kate, but age gave me that extra sense of dominance that would attract and tame a submissive like her. I’d been married, divorced and had been a professional for seven years. I wasn’t some green under the collar frat boy who didn’t know what to do with his dick or how to handle a woman like Kate.
I sat on the edge of my bed and opened the photo album containing the artistically posed photos of previous submissives and flipped through the pages. It usually provided me with a source of arousal when I was between submissive partners, but I wanted to imagine Kate in those poses instead of the woman they portrayed.
I closed the book and laid back on the bed, my eyes closed as I imagined bringing Kate to my apartment, tying her up and having my way with her delicious body and mind.
It was cold comfort to be jerking off alone instead of using her body for my pleasure but until I was successful getting between Kate’s thighs, it would have to do.
I met Lara at the café across the street from NYP just after one o’clock the next day once my morning slate of surgeries was complete. As usual, she was impeccably dressed in her grey pinstripe suit and white blouse, her hair pulled back tightly in a bun, thick black framed glasses on making her look very bookish. That staid exterior hid a very kinky and domineering interior that I had come to know only too well during our time together as a new Dom in training.
I stopped at the counter and placed my order and then went to our table at the back of the small café.
“There you are,” she said and bent her head to the side, expecting me to bend down and kiss her cheek. Despite the fact we were both dominants, she couldn’t help but try to top me in every encounter. I smiled and bent down, placing a kiss on her cheek. Then, I slipped down to kiss her neck at the last moment, refusing to give her the upper hand completely. My small show of dominance mixed with obeisance kept us simpatico and ensured I had a steady supply of eager new recruits.
My specialty was training new submissives who were curious about the lifestyle but didn’t want to try anything too heavy into S&M to start. She had a line into that supply as one of the moderators at the Manhattan branch of Fetlife.com. She taught a class on BDSM and Feminism once a semester, introducing the topic to the curious who were conflicted about their politics. I’d met almost all of my former submissives through her connections and most of them were college students or young professional women bored with the same old thing.
“So,” she said, eyeing me from across the table. “Any luck with the reluctant daughter of the Hanging Judge? You sure you want to do this, given that you two run in the same social circles?”
“Not one iota of doubt,” I replied and smiled at the server as she placed my BLT sandwich down on the table. I dug into my lunch, hungry after five and a half hours of surgery. “I’m even more convinced after I made a visit to her apartment last night. Our little encounter gave me hope.”
Lara made a face of surprise. “You went to her apartment? She invited you in?”
That surprised me, for I was sure Kate would have called Lara to talk about the whole business.
“She didn’t call you?” I said, taking a pickle chip off my plate.
“No,” she said, smiling over her cup. “Tell me everything.”
I shrugged. “I didn’t actually go inside her apartment so there isn’t much to tell. I stood outside her door in the hallway for about fifteen minutes and sweltered while she stood on the other side of the door.”
“And this gives you hope because…”
“Because,” I said and picked up the other half of my sandwich. “I could
tell by what she said and how she said it that she really wanted to talk to me but was afraid.”
“Of you?”
I shook my head and smiled. “Of herself.”
“Ahh,” Lara said as she fixed me with a thoughtful stare. “Of course. She strikes me as someone who is extremely frustrated with her life. She wants more but is afraid to take it. Afraid of her domineering father, I suspect.”
“Precisely.”
“I have the highest regard for Judge McDermott,” Lara said, looking off into the distance. “But he is very dominant. I’d think she’d be happy to find another man like him. Most women want another daddy.”
“She’s probably happy to find another man like Ethan,” I said, nodding in agreement. “She just has to realize it. If she didn’t want someone like me, she wouldn’t have gone looking in the first place.”
“Precisely,” Lara mirrored back at me, grinning. “Gotta love a confident Dom.”
I grinned back. “I had the very best teacher.”
On Tuesday, I saw Ethan in the locker room at the club after a game of racquetball with a fellow surgeon. Ethan was speaking with a couple of men his age, all of them wrapped in towels, preparing to take a steam.
His back was turned to me so I waited until there was a break in conversation and stepped closer. The other men glanced at me and then parted, allowing me to approach the judge.
“Pardon me, gentlemen. Judge McDermott, good to see you again,” I said. “Great turnout at your fundraiser over the weekend.”
He turned to me and the look on his face was priceless. Like he’d just found his future son-in-law and not the conniving Dominant out to bed his daughter…
I had to suppress a chuckle.
“Well, Drake, my boy,” he said, taking my hand and shaking vigorously, his other hand on my shoulder. “So glad you could come. I’ve been meaning to introduce you to some of my colleagues and supporters.”
“I’m one of your biggest supporters, Judge. You’d make a fantastic candidate. You have my vote.”
Ethan smiled at that. After a round of introductions, he waxed poetic about my father and their time in ‘Nam together and how Ethan had been ‘watching over’ me for the past decade. Then, Ethan narrowed his eyes and examined me as if coming to a decision.
“I’m having a little get together on Friday with a dozen or so of my closest friends and supporters to talk about my campaign. I’d be really pleased if you could join us.”
A feeling of warmth for Ethan flooded through me. “I’d be honored.”
“Drinks at six thirty. Dinner at seven. Then we talk strategy.”
I nodded. “Sounds great. I’ll be there.”
“Oh, and why don’t you come by a bit early? Say sixish. Katherine will be joining us for dinner. You two seemed to hit it off at the party and it was so good of you to patch her up after her fall in the alley. She can show you some of her photos of Africa.”
Adrenaline surged through me at that. Ethan was inviting me to come by and spend time with his beloved daughter, making my little seduction of Katherine all the easier.
“That would be wonderful,” I said, smiling. We shook once more and I left the men alone, feeling guilty that the two of us were ambushing poor Kate this way. With Ethan and I united in the goal of pushing us together, she didn’t stand a chance.
I felt only slightly guilty, of course.
Friday couldn’t come fast enough.
I pushed through my day, trying to keep my mind off the dinner and my plans for the lovely Ms. Bennet. I had a class in the morning, afternoon rounds and then checked in on all my patients before rushing back to my apartment to shower and change.
I picked out a dark suit with a deep blue shirt and black tie for the event, wanting to look serious but stylish. Serious for the big wigs that Ethan would be introducing me to, and stylish to catch Katherine’s eye.
There was more than a little adrenaline pumping through my veins as I drove from my apartment in Chelsea to Ethan’s Park Avenue building.
I entered the parking garage, using the code Ethan provided so I could use the underground guest parking, going over my plan of attack one more time. I’d try to get Kate to talk – about her time in Africa, of which I was truly interested – and about her mother. If I could, it would raise the intimacy level between us. Revealing information to a stranger about your personal life, especially things that were painful, tended to break down the walls between you.
Once two people commiserated about deaths in the family, especially of a parent, they were no longer strangers.
They were intimates, and that was all I needed to get a little closer to Ms. Bennet’s very ripe little body, and between her thighs.
I smiled to myself as I took the ornate elevator to the penthouse.
She’d be shocked that I was there. I had no doubt that Ethan wouldn’t tell Kate I was coming. I had the sense that he understood that Kate was on the shy side when it came to men.
She needed a little push…
Someone buzzed me in and a servant opened the door to Ethan’s luxurious apartment.
“Dr. Drake Morgan,” I said to the young woman who smiled and took my overcoat.
“Please come in. I’ll let Judge McDermott know you’re here.”
I entered the apartment and searched around, looking for Ethan, but he wasn’t in sight. In the living room, I saw Katherine sitting on one of the sofas, a look of such surprise and horror on her face when she saw me that I almost laughed out loud.
Oh, Kate, Kate, Kate… Could you be any more transparent?
A pink flush spread over her face and she frowned only slightly before forcing a smile. I smiled back, my hands in my pockets, feeling like the cat who swallowed the canary. I stood and waited for her to get up and invite me in, wanting to make her as uncomfortable and off-center as possible.
"Doctor Morgan," she said, her voice quiet. She stood awkwardly and smoothed her dress, which was black velvet, the deep neckline showing off the creamy swell of her cleavage.
I drank her in like a man dying of thirst.
"Ms. Bennet," I said softly, my gaze lingering on her, moving from her head to her shoes and back. "You look… breathtaking."
She made a funny face of embarrassment – half-smiling, half-frowning, hiding her smile inexpertly behind a hand.
I offered her my hand, wanting to shake hers and kiss her knuckles. She slipped her hands behind her back as if she were afraid to touch me for fear I would ravage her right there on the plush oriental carpet – which I wanted to do, of course.
Good. I wanted her to think of me that way. Such an image would make me all the more irresistible. I kept my hand extended, unwilling to retreat and just then, Ethan walked into the living room. He was still buttoning his vest when he came over.
"Oh, Drake, there you are."
Immediately, Kate held out her hand and I took it and kissed her knuckles, my eyes never leaving hers. Finally, after making my point, I turned to Ethan.
"Judge McDermott," I said, extending my hand, using the formal form of address to reinforce his dominance over us all. "Thanks once again for inviting me tonight."
Ethan shook my hand, his other hand on my shoulder. There was a gleam in his eye that said he was pleased to see me treating Katherine with such courtesy.
"Drake, please, I insist you call me Ethan," he said, sounding like an old drill sergeant with his gravelly voice. "I see you've already spoken to Katherine. Come in and make yourself comfortable."
Ethan turned to Kate. "I invited Drake here a bit earlier than our other guests so you could give him the tour and show him your photographs from Africa." He turned to me. "They're really good and intimate, telling the story of her trip. You want to understand what makes my daughter tick? You see those photos. Very artistic. She has real talent. I have to take a call or I'd join you myself."
Kate looked completely flummoxed. "Of course," she said, her voice barely above a whisper.
&nb
sp; "Good, good,” Ethan said, rubbing his hands together. “The others should start arriving in a while. Get Drake a drink, dear. Be a good hostess for me, will you? The bartender had to go get more wine and Elaine is still busy getting ready. Heath isn't here yet."
He left the room, smiling like the Cheshire Cat.
Oh, Ethan… You’re making this far too easy. If the prize was anyone less desirable, it would have been a bit too easy, but the prize was Katherine.
I couldn’t help but smile a bit smugly at Kate, who stood there, her cheeks red.
"Would you like a drink?" she said, the dutiful daughter and hostess. She pointed to the bar in the dining room.
"Know how to make a vodka martini?" I asked, trying with all my might to keep a smile of triumph off my face.
She went to the bar and rustled around in the cupboard, retrieving a martini glass and a shaker, some vodka and vermouth. I watched as she placed some ice in the shaker, poured in a few ounces of Stolichnaya vodka and then added a splash of vermouth. She shook the mix for a moment and strained it into the martini glass like a pro.
"Lime or olive?" she asked, pointing to the small tray of lime zest and olives.
"Lime would be nice," I replied, enjoying the fact that she was serving me – like a good submissive would.
She added a twist of lime zest into the martini glass and held it out to me.
"How's that?"
"Perfect." I took a sip, all the while staring at her over the rim. It was good. It was perfect. "Where'd you learn to mix a martini?"
"I was a cocktail waitress for a few years during my undergrad. I trained as a bartender."
"That's right," I said, smiling to myself. "Dave said you're paying your own way using scholarships and working part-time." I shook my head. "Stubborn girl. You're not having anything?"
"No. I tend to get a bit argumentative when I drink. Soda and lime for me."
I chuckled softly at that. "I like argumentative."
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