An Expert in Domination

by Sindra van Yssel

  When she didn’t say anything, he resumed his lecture. “Letting the bottom know what to expect, or better, part of what to expect, helps them take more.” He delivered three even strokes to Sophia’s backside. “Making sure they can’t anticipate everything keeps it interesting, for bottom and top alike.”

  He started playing with the rhythm, watching her breathe and try to absorb it all. For a minute, he let himself get lost in the dance. When she relaxed, he varied the rhythm. When she tensed, he didn’t stop, but he made sure she knew what to expect.

  Her motions led him to push the scene further than he intended. He’d put lines on her butt that would take a while to fade. He’d gotten lucky with Sophia. He felt he could train a new sub as well as anyone, but Sophia was taking to it far better than he’d expected. And she’s not even really submitting. She’s just bottoming, taking in the sensations. She’s either a natural masochist, or something is clicking between us.

  He decided it had to be the former. He leaned over to her and turned the mic off for a moment. “You’re very good at this,” he said. Didn’t matter where one was on the spectrum of dominant to submissive, praise was always welcome.

  “Mmm,” she said. Her eyes didn’t open. Maybe she was in sub-space. Maybe she was just shutting out the pain. He wanted to explore it, but he had a demonstration to do.

  No, I don’t just want to explore. I want to drag her to the couch and fuck her silly. What the hell am I thinking?

  He turned the microphone back on. It would stop him from saying anything to try to seduce her. “So when you vary, you have to read your sub. If she’s having trouble taking the strokes, keep it rhythmic. If she’s in danger of getting bored, mix it up. Be predictable as you increase intensity and then less predictable once you’ve established it. Keep watching. Keep seeing what your sub can take. And find out if it’s turning her on.”

  The thought of putting his hand between her legs to check flashed through his mind. But he couldn’t. They hadn’t negotiated anything like that. Maybe if the maples outside hadn’t made his allergies flare up, he could have smelled her arousal, but as it was, that sense was almost lost to him. From her breathing, he knew she was okay. He knew she wasn’t right on the edge of orgasm, either. But in between “okay” and “orgasmic” was a lot of territory.

  “Finally,” he said, “cooldown is important.” He swapped out the crop for a flogger. “Sometimes you can end a scene suddenly and transition to something else. Like sex. But most of the time, you need to make sure that the bottom comes down gradually, and that means reducing the intensity slowly. Not as slowly as during the build-up, but still slow. And remember that the flogger on a well-marked ass may feel more intense than it did during the build-up too. If this was a real scene, I’d be taking longer for both, so I appreciate Sophia putting up with all this.”

  He talked on for a while, flicking the flogger to stroke Sophia’s back. Finally, he asked her, “Do you have someone you can go to for some aftercare?”

  She hesitated. Fuck. I want to gather her in my arms and cuddle her.

  She looked around. Her eyes lit on the guy who had stuck her hand up, and she nodded. “Yeah. I think he owes me,” she said, loudly enough for most people to hear.

  Yeah, I think you may be right.

  The man he’d thought was her boyfriend nodded and put out his arms as if to say he was ready. Colby had been thinking he might have just been a jerk, but maybe he had some good qualities. For a brief second, their gazes met, and the other man didn’t flinch away. A Dom, unless Colby missed his guess. Did the man know how Sophia would take the flogging? Colby gave him one last glance, as if to say that he’d be watching.

  “Go ahead, then,” Colby said to Sophia. “And thank you very much for being my demo bottom.” He turned back to the crowd. “Everyone give Sophia a big cheer for being willing to share her flogging cherry with us!”

  The crowd clapped. Sophia moved to get her clothes back on. Generally he found that after a scene the bottoms did better if they stayed naked and got as much skin-to-skin contact as possible, but he said nothing. Maybe she didn’t want to be naked with her friend. Colby pushed down the notion that he was so jealous of the other Dom that he needed a layer of fabric between them and went back to talking about play. Fifteen more minutes of talk, and then some question and answer.

  When he was done, he looked around. Sophia was gone, and so was her friend.

  * * * *

  “Sophia!” Remy’s exasperated shout followed her. But Sophia didn’t feel like turning back. If he wanted to chase her, that was his problem. The rain felt good on her shoulders, helping cool the heat of embarrassment, and she was fine with sloshing through the mud. The thunder had stopped, and rain couldn’t hurt anyone.

  She’d gone straight from the platform to the exit. At first, the idea of being cuddled by Remy had seemed pretty good, but as she got dressed, she changed her mind. She was still pissed at him, for one thing. For another, she was pissed at Colby. Intellectually, she knew he had to finish his presentation, but emotionally, she wanted him to hold her. When he had turned away, she had felt suddenly naked and exposed. Not just unclothed. She was used to that, and it was just skin-deep. But being on a platform and suddenly let go in the middle of everyone was something else.

  What bothered her most was that those people had watched her being beaten. That they had watched her being a willing target. Watched a part of her sexuality that even she had never seen before. I’m not like that. She kept telling herself, but she knew she was at least partly lying. She’d never want to be beaten all the time, but it had undeniably aroused her and left her incredibly frustrated. He even talked about a “transition” from flogging to sex, and she’d been so horny that she would have let him fuck her right there. Well, maybe. But at least it was hot to think about. Then he’d let her go.

  And Remy was as complicit in that as anyone. Men. She heard Remy behind her and quickened her pace. She didn’t want him to catch up. Women were so much more sensible. None of her girlfriends would have ever forced her hand up. If only I didn’t like sex so much. Or if only I wasn’t so straight. She had a female friend who had a crush on her, but she just couldn’t see that being satisfying, even if it did mean that she got to avoid a male ego.

  Her clothes were getting soaked. She was headed toward her tent, where she could strip off and she had a change of clothes. But Remy was catching up, despite her efforts. “Yeah, what?” she asked. At least his clothes are getting all wet too. Teach him to volunteer me for stuff like that.

  Remy pulled alongside her. “The leather dude is right. You need aftercare. Instead you’re turning it into anger.”

  “I have a right to be angry.”

  “Agreed. Especially at me. I’ll find someone else if you like, but you’re going to get care from someone. And out of the cold rain.”

  “It’s not that cold.” She’d been in colder rains before and been fine. But she had to admit to herself that she was getting decidedly chilly.

  “It’s cold enough. And a flogging like that changes the way your body works for a while until you come down from it. You need a blanket and warmth, even if you don’t need cuddles.”

  “Do not,” she said.

  “Do.” He grabbed her and picked her up. She hadn’t had a man do that since her father when she was twelve. She opened her eyes in shock and then did what came naturally. She slapped him.

  “Darlin’, we’re going back, and if you want to turn my face black and blue in the meantime, I’m just going to have to deal with that.”

  Could he get more irritating? But true to his word, he was carrying her back to the building. She decided not to slap him again. But that didn’t mean she was going to let him off the hook. “Maybe you like being slapped,” she said teasingly. “Are you one of those boys?”

  But Remy just laughed and kept carrying her.

  “Put me down. I can walk.”

  “And will you walk in the right dir
ection?”

  She noted he hadn’t specified what the right direction was. Still, a full-tilt run toward her tent didn’t seem likely to succeed, and she still wasn’t wearing a sports bra. “Yes.”

  “Okay, then.” He set her down on her feet. “Now, let’s get you inside.”

  She stopped to glare at him, but at a warning look back, she started walking toward the house. “Why did you raise my hand?”

  “Well, hon, you didn’t exactly jerk it down when I did it.”

  Maybe she hadn’t. “I was curious. It still doesn’t mean that it was okay.”

  “You could have told him no.”

  “I could have. I’m too stubborn for that.”

  “Maybe you need to unlearn that. But do you remember what you told me when I invited you here? I want to try new things, you said. And this was a chance to learn from someone who is very good at what he does.”

  “Do you like whipping women?”

  “If the woman is into it, maybe. It’s not really my thing. I’ve been flogged too, and again, it depends on the space and the time. I’m a hedonist. More of a top than a bottom, maybe, but I love to experience variety and sensation, and I’ll try anything once or twice or more times if it’s intense. The thing was, you wanted to try new things, and your chance depended on not hesitating. So, I made sure you didn’t hesitate.” He cast a sidelong look at her, and his grin was so smug it made her want to slap him again.

  “Do you think he’d hold me?” she asked.

  “Him? Colby Brock?”

  “Yeah. Colby.” She used his first name deliberately. The whole business of referring to him by both names made him sound like some kind of a celebrity, and maybe he was, but not to her. And she wondered if acting all familiar would make Remy jealous. She wanted to get under his skin somehow. And she definitely wanted Colby to hold her.

  Remy shrugged. “I don’t think he’s a very cuddly person, but I could be wrong. You can ask.”

  “And if not, are you free?” She knew she was telling him he was second choice. Well, he was. But still, she knew she wanted someone to hold and be held by, even if it was completely nonsexual.

  “For a little bit, maybe, but I have a threesome scheduled, and I don’t want them starting without me.”

  For a moment, that annoyed her, but then she relaxed. Remy wasn’t right for her, and she didn’t really want him at all. As a friend, yes. The only reason she wanted to be held by him was because it was convenient. She had wanted Colby to hold her the moment he had finished on stage. He had put her in this state. She needed his arms. Maybe it was to reassure her it was all right or to apologize or simply to complete the process. “I would have thought it was hot for the girls to get started without you.”

  “And if they were both girls, I’d probably agree with you.” Remy stuck his tongue out at her.

  Oh. Now that’s an interesting image. “Well, I hope you have fun,” she said.

  “I intend to.” The rain had lightened up to a slow drizzle. They passed the last set of trees and advanced into the clearing.

  Colby Brock was there, heading toward them, and he did not look happy. For a moment, Sophia thought his gaze was directed at her, but as they got a few steps closer, she realized he was glaring at Remy.

  “What,” he said with barely controlled fury, “are you doing?”

  “What,” said Remy, “did you think you were doing? She ran off. I chased her.”

  With those words, the two men had closed the gap between them. She thought they might come to blows if she didn’t intercede. Remy, clearly, had no intention of backing down. And Colby—was the man even capable of backing down? His back looked like it was made of steel. In a way, the idea that they would fight over her was kind of sexy, but it was also stupid.

  Well, if there is one thing I know how to do, it’s break up a fight between boys. Although it’s less daunting when they are ten and eight. She pushed herself between the two and said, “I’m my own woman, and I do what I please, and you two don’t get to fight over it.”

  “Don’t have the time to waste, honestly,” said Colby. And for the second time in a few minutes, she found herself lifted into the air.

  She shrieked. He ignored that and turned his back on Remy to head toward the door, cradling her.

  His unbuttoned leather vest bared his strong arms, and they felt good against her, as did his half-naked chest. She hoped he didn’t mind her wet clothes. She rested her head against his shoulder. She thought about sticking her tongue out at Remy, but she didn’t. He had, after all, done her a bit of a favor. He was a good man, just not for her.

  Remy moved ahead and opened the door. Inside, the party had gotten started. The equipment had been pulled in from the walls, and clothes were starting to be shed. The sound of a flogger smacking against a sub’s back was audible even from outside, now that the door was open.

  In the dry area underneath the awning, Colby stopped. She thought for a moment he was going to tell Remy off again.

  Instead, the two men’s gazes met, and Colby ended up nodding. “Thank you,” he said.

  “You’re welcome.”

  With that, Colby carried her back into the dungeon. “We’re going to get your wet clothes off. And we’re going to get you under a blanket.” He headed toward a side of the room where cushions and blankets were piled on the floor next to a table of safer sex supplies.

  It sounded good to her. But instead she said, “Where I come from, men ask before they take women’s clothes off.”

  He kept carrying her. “I’m out of practice asking. Especially when I’ve received permission already.”

  Received permission? Oh, on the stage. But giving permission once didn’t mean giving permission twice. Her opinion of Colby started to drop.

  “But I’ll tell you what, if you say ‘red,’ we can start from scratch, and I’ll start asking for everything again. Either way, we need the blankets.” He sat down next to the stack and grabbed one, pulling it over her.

  She didn’t really want to start over. But clearly, he was waiting. “No.”

  “No?”

  “I’m not the No, Sir type of girl.”

  “That’s a shame. But you’re not saying a safe word either, which is all I was getting at.” He folded back the blanket enough to tug her top off. The skirt came next. He grabbed another blanket and tossed it over her legs, protecting her modesty, and then reached for the back of her bra. He had it off quickly, despite the fact that clasp sometimes gave her trouble.

  He held her to him, pressing her chest against his, and arranged the first blanket around her shoulders. His skin warmed her, and the blankets made sure that their shared body heat didn’t escape. Slowly, her nipples stopped aching, and she started to relax against him. His reached out for another blanket and used it to dry her long dark brown hair. Then he stroked the back of her head gently, careful not to put his fingers through her tangled mane and pull.

  She giggled.

  “What’s funny?” he asked.

  “You’re being so gentle. The fierce guy in leather, and you’re really a warm teddy bear.” She looked at him, wondering how he would take that. A part of her was even intentionally trying to insult him, hoping to be pushed away before either of them got any idea of doing any more flogging or whipping or whatever it was.

  He chuckled. “That is, indeed, a funny thought,” he said, leaving her to wonder whether he meant it was worthy of a laugh or simply odd.

  She rested for a while and then looked up at him. “You know, that really wasn’t so difficult to take, for someone who is such a tough guy.”

  He raised an eyebrow at her and met her gaze. “Are you challenging me?”

  “No. Was just saying.” She tried to hold his stare but found herself looking down instead. Anger at herself knotted up in her stomach. I’m no submissive. Why am I letting him intimidate me?

  “When people start in BDSM, they often equate skill with severity. Those people who do the edgiest
play are perceived to be the best, the most skillful. And to be sure, if you’re going to play that way, you better know what you’re doing. But true mastery is not supplying the most force or the most pain. It’s taking what the submissive gives in just the right amount, then filling her up so that she can give again. Pushing her hard enough that she grows, but not so hard that she breaks.

  “She?”

  “I prefer to play with women. I’ve done scenes with men, because I want to learn. But I don’t look for a man’s submission.”

  “Well, I’m just a hedonist, myself,” said Sophia. “Here for the sensations. The last thing I want to do is submit to anyone.”

  “Is that so?” said Colby, pulling her close. “Well, rest, my little hedonist, and enjoy the sensation of some cuddling.”

  Sophia rested her head against him. It felt too good, too comfy, too right to resist. But what did he mean by “my”? And it had been a long time since anyone had called her little. Just because you can pick me up doesn’t make me a child. She closed her eyes and rubbed his furry chest.

  Chapter Three

  Colby held the girl close, wondering what had possessed him. His protective instinct had definitely taken over, and he tried to be careful about that. He’d learned a long time ago that he couldn’t protect everyone, not even everyone in the scene. He could try a little, here and there, but if someone wanted to run out in the rain after a scene, well, at some point he had to decide that adults got to make their own decisions, even if it was a crazy thing to do. If a woman had agreed to be his slave for a month, that was different. Then he was responsible. But everyone else? No way.

  And telling her she was his was instinctive too. And also crazy. He was going back to LA after the weekend. She was obviously a novice, and novices were prone to getting in too deep, too fast. She had a bratty streak, which was both endearing and frustrating, and she’d said she wasn’t interested in submission. She was totally wrong for him. He did his talks on technique because that was easy to demonstrate and talk about, but what fascinated him was the exchange of power in a dominance-and-submission relationship. He might not be willing to commit his heart, but that didn’t mean he didn’t value the heady mix of affection and submission.