The Reluctant Dom

by Paul Preston

  I would’ve driven right by the big nondescript black building off the highway if I didn’t have the GPS in Cassandra’s phone guiding me there. There was no signage to indicate the location, just the street number painted in large white block numbers on the front top façade of the building. I quickly exited the freeway and pulled up to the building. It was only a few minutes after 7 and the parking area was already packed. I drove up and down the lines of vehicles until I found a space. It was cold out so we tried to walk as fast as we could toward the entrance, but Cassandra was slowed by the stripper heels I made her wear.

  When we entered the club, the way Cassandra was dressed got immediate attention. If we wanted a ménage a trois, I suppose we came to the right place. I was used to seeing her scantily-clad body in my apartment, but I realized I may have overdone it by letting her wear such a sheer dress in public. It was quite clear every man in the club wanted to get their sweaty grasping hands on her. The men circled us like a pack of hungry wolves to get a look at her, blocking our path into the club. Some of the men were quite good-looking and wore suits that were much more expensive than mine. I assumed Cassandra would have little difficulty finding someone she found attractive in this club. But presented with the stark reality, I felt it was irresponsible of me to put Cassandra in this potentially dangerous situation. It was as if she was a virgin and I was offering her up to appease the horde. Damn it, where was that Jefferson fellow we were supposed to meet? As the crowd closed in upon us, I think we both became a little nervous. I started having second and third thoughts about the whole idea.

  The crowd suddenly parted like the Red Sea and a large exceedingly ugly man approached. He looked like some character out of a B-Movie horror film, with some sort of horrible open red gash running diagonally across his face that didn’t seem to heal properly. I felt bad for the poor man and immediately cast my eyes away from his face out of politeness. I wasn’t sure if it was his hideously scarred face or his physical bulk, but he seemed to command a great deal of respect from the crowd. He stopped several feet away and looked us over. I wondered if he was perhaps the bouncer for the club. If I was ever asked to leave the club by this guy, he wouldn’t get any argument from me.

  When I looked away from the large man, I noticed that Cassandra’s eyes were fixated upon him. She had a peculiar glint in her eye as she stared at him. I followed the direction of her eyes and it appeared she was staring directly at the man’s facial laceration. I wasn’t able to look at his face for more than a few seconds before tasting the bile rise to the back of my throat, but Cassandra cocked her head to the side slightly and stood perfectly still, gazing at the man. Maybe along with her other sexual peccadillos, she was into nasty scars. Cassandra never ceased to surprise me.

  The man looked uncomfortable to be the sole object of Cassandra’s attention. His eyes drifted appreciatively over Cassandra’s body, noticing her collar and the leash I held in my hand. He stared at her exposed breasts, before drifting downward to the lips of her vagina, graciously curled open for his perusal. After the full Brazilian wax, there was nothing left, not even the tiniest of hairs to impede the public viewing of Cassandra’s innermost flesh. The man seemed to salivate over Cassandra’s body; by the way he stood staring at her with an open mouth.

  He looked over at me, sizing me up apparently, and noticed the contract I held in my hand. Out of propriety, I looked away, so as to not gawk at his face, as people do at the scene of a car accident, slowing down to get a close look at the blood and wreckage.

  Suddenly Cassandra leaned in to me and whispered the shocking words in my ear.

  “He’s the one,” she said.

  “What?” I whispered.

  “He’s the one I wish to be shared with, my Lord.”

  “Him?” I said, incredulously.

  Cassandra nodded and returned her gaze to the man’s ruined face. Of all the attractive men in the club, Cassandra was drawn to the bouncer guy with the ghastly scar. I looked at her in disbelief and then met the man’s eyes briefly, trying to mask my displaced anger at the gentleman for catching the eye of my sub. Why in the world would Cassandra pick the ugliest man in the room to have a fling with?

  “Can you please release me from the handcuffs just for a moment, Master C?” she asked in my ear.

  I nodded, unlocked the cuffs and slipped them into the breast pocket of my suit. I saw Cassandra rub her wrists. The metal had chaffed her delicate skin and I chided myself for removing the fur lining before we left for the club. I had caused her unnecessary discomfort, all because I enjoyed the sight of her wrists bound by the cold metal alone. It was a selfish and cold-hearted thing to do to her.

  “I’m sorry if the handcuffs were too tight, Cassandra. I won’t make that mistake again,” I whispered back in her ear, apologetically

  Cassandra just smiled pleasantly and shook her head, giving me a look like I was being silly to worry about such a trifle. She looked back up at the large man. Without a word to me, Cassandra stepped forward, reached her arm up and placed her palm directly over the man’s gruesome scar. There wasn’t a sound in the club as the crowd stared in amazement at the encounter, as if Cassandra was a female Jesus trying to heal a leper. The man seemed uncomfortable with the contact and took a step back from Cassandra. Cassandra stepped closer to him and put her hand over his damaged cheek once more. He stiffened his spine at the contact and spoke to me through clenched teeth.

  “Mr. Anderson, if that is indeed your name, instruct your sub to remove her hand from my cheek.”

  I cleared my throat.

  “Remove your hand from the gentleman’s cheek, Cassandra.”

  Cassandra lowered her hand and stepped back to my side. She leaned in and whispered into my ear.

  “Do I have your permission, My Lord?”

  I breathed in, unable to respond. I felt an overwhelming despair at her words. As soon as the reality of the situation sunk in, I realized it was not in my nature to share the woman I loved with another man. But I kept my feelings hidden and slowly nodded yes. Cassandra smiled, squeezed my hand affectionately and stared back up to the man. She arched her back, lifting her beautiful breasts and smiling pleasantly. I followed her eyes as they drifted down his body and we both noticed the man was aroused. He straightened his spine, buttoned his suit jacket and struck a professional demeanor.

  “Follow me please,” he said.

  “We actually have an appointment to meet the owner of the club, Jim Jefferson,” I said.

  “I am Jim Jefferson. Follow me to my office please,” he said.

  So the scarred man wasn’t a bouncer, he was actually the owner. We watched him disappear ahead of us in long strides through the bar, as if he was trying to get away from us as quickly as possible. We had to walk briskly just to keep up with him. A few men “accidently” touched Cassandra’s breasts and ass as we squeezed by in the middle of the thick crowd. As we walked down a corridor to the back of the club, I glanced to the side through a glass wall. There were two rooms that were set up with rows of theater seating and a small raised platform stage. Something interesting was happening in the rooms but we didn’t pause long enough to find out. I saw Jefferson go through a doorway near the end of the corridor on the left. When we got there, the door was shut, so we paused at the door and knocked.

  “Enter,” he said.

  Jefferson was seated behind a large executive desk and Cassandra and I sat down on the cushy leather chairs positioned in front of it. He ignored Cassandra and looked only at me, adapting a brisk businesslike tone.

  “So you’re Mr. Anderson?” Jefferson asked.

  “Yes,” I said.

  “Are you the one who called for the appointment?”

  “Yes, that was me.”

  “Is this your submissive?”

  “It is.”

  “What’s her name again?

  “Cassandra,” I said.

  “Can you speak for yourself, Cassandra?” Jefferson asked.

&nb
sp; “Yes,” she said.

  “Are you here of your own free will?” Jefferson asked.

  “I am,” Cassandra said, smiling.

  “Is that the contract?” he asked.

  I nodded.

  “May I see it please?” he said.

  As Jefferson read through the contract in a lawyerly fashion, I think Cassandra and I became equally embarrassed that a third person was now in on our dirty little relationship. We found each other’s hands and looked downward, hoping he wouldn’t ask any questions about the contract we signed. I had no idea what Cassandra was thinking and feeling, but I felt terribly awkward.

  I could feel Jefferson stop reading and look at us, but I was too mortified to make eye contact with him. Finally, after a long moment of silence, I gathered the courage to look up. Jefferson had turned to the signature page. He rolled his eyes and had an exasperated expression on his face.

  “Mr. Anderson, would you mind telling me what’s going on between you and Eloise Madsen?”

  Cassandra looked up in a startled manner. It seemed like Jefferson had touched a nerve by calling her by her legal name. I looked at Cassandra, wondering why hearing her be called by her actual name upset her so much.

  “What do you mean, what’s going on?” I said with a challenge in my voice.

  Who the hell did this guy think he was?

  “We’re a couple in an alternative relationship,” I said, “and we wanted to go somewhere fun tonight. We saw the website for Obsessions and it looked interesting. It said call to set up an appointment which I did. So here we are.”

  “No. I meant, what is personally going on between you and Ms. Madsen,” Jefferson asked.

  Cassandra flinched again, hearing her actual name. Her face clouded over in thought.

  “Ms. Madsen is your actual name, is it not?” Jefferson asked, fully aware he was rattling her cage.

  “She prefers to be called Cassandra,” I explained, protectively.

  “Yes and why is that?” Jefferson said, leaning in and staring at her.

  Ms. Madsen looked away from Jefferson’s eyes. Something was definitely troubling her. I was upset and decided to take out my frustration on the guy.

  “How rude of you! What business is it of yours what she likes to be called! Who do you think you are?” I said, raising my voice. “Look, enough of this shit! Are you going to let us in your club or not?”

  Jefferson handed the contract back to me.

  “I’m sorry, but for the safety and integrity of this young woman, I can’t allow you to tour or patronize my club this evening unless I get some basic questions answered. It appears by the signing dates, the two of you have only just initiated your relationship a few days ago. It is also a highly unusual contract, one of the most restrictive ones I’ve ever seen. Why, may I ask, is the contract over on Wednesday, Mr. Anderson?”

  Hearing the death sentence that awaited me on Wednesday didn’t help my foul mood. My plan was going great until I ran head-on into this self-righteous club owner. Good luck having a sexual liaison with that guy, Cassandra.

  “If you must know, Cassandra is engaged to be married,” I stated.

  “What? Married?” Jefferson asked, confused.

  Saying the words out loud sickened me. I tried to keep the depression out of my voice.

  “Her boyfriend is returning from Fort Bragg on Wednesday. He served in Afghanistan and Cassandra’s getting… married to him… in a few weeks. That’s why we can’t stay together after Wednesday, if you must know.”

  Jefferson took a breath in and appeared startled by the news. He gave Cassandra a searching look and then the bastard gave us his best impression of Donald Trump in the Board Room.

  “Mr. Anderson, Ms. Madsen, I will be unable to give you a tour of Obsessions this evening. Thank you for stopping by.”

  Right as my plan was about to bear fruit, this Jefferson guy was trying to screw everything up. I was incensed. After he made his decision Jefferson completely ignored us, busying himself with paperwork and monitoring his computer screen. I stood up. I wasn’t going to allow us to be pushed around.

  “Why can’t we patronize your damn club, Jefferson? It’s a free country,” I said.

  “This is a private club, Mr. Anderson. I own it. My club, my rules. I decide who comes in or out,” Jefferson said.

  “Then what exactly is your reason? Can you tell me? Aren’t we rich or important enough to come here? My money is just as good as theirs.”

  “It has nothing to do with that.”

  “Then what is it?”

  “You’re not serious enough.”

  “What? Not serious enough! What do you mean by that?”

  “You’ve only signed this contract two days ago and it will be over in a day and a half, not to mention the fact that this young lady is engaged to be married. This is a serious club that serves the ladies and gentlemen of this community who are actually committed to living an alternative lifestyle. “

  “Really? Well, you might not think we’re committed or serious, but the Chicago Police Department certainly does!”

  That got his attention. He cocked his head.

  “Oh really?” Jefferson said with an aggressive smirk.

  “You bet.”

  Jefferson smiled and leaned back in his chair. He had an odd far-off look in his eyes. I couldn’t tell if he was impressed or mocking me. Cassandra took note of Jefferson’s distracted gaze as well.

  “Tell me what happened, if you don’t mind. Just out of curiosity,” Jefferson said.

  “I’ll be glad to,” I said, jumping at the chance. “After a particularly loud disciplining session between my sub and I late Saturday night, a neighbor called the police on us upon hearing all the loud slapping sounds. Two black officers showed up at my door to investigate. I have a complaint filed against me now with the CPD, just in case you don’t think I’m a legitimate Dom!”

  “Two black officers? Is that so? Mr. Anderson, I was wondering… I have few friends on the Chicago Police Force. Or, should I say, I used to know them. Do you happen to remember the officer’s names by any chance?”

  “I don’t remember exactly. It was very late at night. When they entered my apartment, they split us up.”

  “Yes, that’s standard operating procedure, or so I’ve been told,” Jefferson commented, rather obtusely.

  “The young male officer interviewed me in the living room while the older female officer—”

  “Female officer?” Jefferson said, interrupting me and sitting up abruptly in his black leather executive chair. “That’s interesting. Tell me more about her. What did she look like?”

  “Oh, I don’t know. As I said she was African-American. Late 30’s, stoutly built. Short black hair. Stern face.”

  Jefferson smiled, twisting the scar on his cheek into a hideous angle.

  “It can’t be her. It can’t be.”

  “Do you know this woman?” Cassandra asked.

  Jefferson stared at Cassandra but didn’t respond.

  “Do you happen to remember what her name was?” Jefferson asked Cassandra.

  “It was… Officer Williams or Wagner, I think. Something like that,” Cassandra replied.

  Jefferson breathed out, shook his head, and whispered softly and somewhat sadly to himself.

  “Officer Wagner’s out on the street again, serving the public. Well, what do you know…?”

  I thought I may have caught a lucky break. If Jefferson had some history with this officer, she could corroborate my story. That would prove we’re “serious and committed enough” for his ridiculous club. I wondered if all visitors are given such a thorough screening process, just to take a simple tour. What was going on in his club that made Jefferson so cautious to let people in?

  “Do you know this Officer, Mr. Jefferson? Perhaps you could call her to check the veracity of my story,” I suggested.

  Jefferson didn’t answer me, which I thought was rather odd. Another long silence passed an
d Cassandra and I stared him as he fixated on his computer. Finally, I spoke up.

  “So, Jefferson, what do you say? How about a tour? I was wondering what was going on in those rooms we passed on the left.”

  “Sorry. Despite the police intervention on your domestic dispute, my decision stands…”

  All my frustration seemed to boil over. I raised my voice.

  “Damn it Jefferson, we want to see your club!”

  Jefferson went back to ignoring us and stared at his computer screen. Then Cassandra spoke up.

  “Pardon me, My Lord, but may I say something?”

  I looked over at Cassandra, but her question wasn’t directed to me. She asked the owner of the club permission to speak directly to him, which made me a little jealous. However, I didn’t know the rules of decorum in a place like this. Cassandra knew more about it from all those crazy books she reads, so perhaps this was the customary thing to do on another Dom’s turf. Who knows? I was completely confused in this strange place.

  “You may say whatever you wish, Ms. Madsen. But please call me Jim, James or Mr. Jefferson. You needn’t call me “My Lord”. I’m not a Dom; nor do I ever wish to be.”

  “Why?” Cassandra asked.

  “Why what, Ms. Madsen?” Jefferson asked with a bored expression.

  “Why do you wish never to be a Dom? You’d make a rather… good one, it seems to me,” Cassandra said with a slight smile.

  Jefferson glanced back at her with a softer look. Whatever Cassandra had up her sleeve was working. The layer of ice Jefferson surrounded himself in began to thaw somewhat.

  “Well thank you, Ms. Madsen, that’s very kind of you to say, but for the time being, I am simply the owner and manager of this night club, so you needn’t address me so formally.”

  “OK, Mr. Jefferson.”

  “So, what is it that you wish to say?” Jefferson asked.

  I’ll never forget what Cassandra did next. Not until the day I die. She faced me, took my hand and placed it over her heart. I felt her soft lovely breast under my fingertips. She spoke with sincerity and looked me directly in the eyes.