Things had been going well with Quentin. I could feel him opening up to me more and more all the time. Our relationship had progressed to where we were seeing each other about twice a month. Since we missed each other so much while we were apart, the majority of the time we did spend together was in bed or “playing,” but we did other things, too. We lingered over wine-soaked three-course meals at fine restaurants, strolled through museums. I’d even taken him to the rodeo once when he’d come to Fort Worth.
This past weekend he’d taken me to see the movie Winged, for which he’d composed the score. It was the biggest movie at the box office over the weekend, and I was beyond impressed with the music he’d created.
The movie was loosely based on the Grimm Fairy Tale about the princess whose seven brothers were turned into swans by their wicked stepmother. The girl had to knit coats for them from nettles to turn them back into boys. The drama was intense, all the more so by Quentin’s breathtaking score.
I was so proud of him I could hardly stand it. I honestly didn’t know he was that talented. I mean, I’d heard his music before and it was lovely, but seeing it with the film made it an even more stunning piece of art. It gave me a much better understanding of what he was doing when he said he was “working.” Now I had a much deeper appreciation for his darker moods and his creative personality, and I fell more in love with him every day.
Yes, things between us were perfect.
That is until he made that crazy request out of the blue.
Quentin had never mentioned sharing me before. But now he wanted me to also be the sub of a fledgling Dom he was mentoring.
My initial reaction had softened after I’d had time to consider it.
Or rationalize it.
It wasn’t as if I’d be cheating on Quentin. First of all, I would be doing it at Quentin’s request. And…there wouldn’t be any actual touching with another person. I could use the same rules I’d used with Quentin—no cameras, no pictures.
That is…if I went along with it.
In the back of my mind, I’d already started thinking it was kinda hot that he wanted to share me with another man. It made me feel like a sex object, and I wondered if that was how it felt to be on the cover of a swimsuit issue or something. Knowing that men wanted you, jacked off to your picture. There was a feeling of power that accompanied that. I was starting to understand the appeal of exhibitionism.
Just thinking about being wanted for purely sexual reasons made me wet.
I headed into the bathroom to brush my teeth. No time for all that. If I didn’t hurry I’d be late for Shelby’s party. She had recently started dating a race car driver, so she was having the party at the Texas Motor Speedway. I’d only been there once before as a kid so I hoped I was dressed properly.
As I clipped the back onto my second earring, I gave the mirror a final glance and approved.
Some women would love the idea of having two men. Heck, it might even be fun.
As long as I kept my feelings out of it…
Shelby’s boyfriend was yummy. Bryan had a thick head of black hair, piercing blue eyes, and he looked devilishly handsome in his racing suit.
“You ready to go for a ride at 160 miles per hour?” he asked me.
“I’m not sure if I’ll ever be ready for that.” I laughed, nerves showing.
Bryan grinned then strapped me into a NASCAR-looking stock car and off we went. I was scared I’d get sick to my stomach, but instead I found the four laps around the track exhilarating.
“Can we do one more?” I begged when he coasted in to a stop.
“I’m only supposed to do four, but since you’re Shelby’s best friend I’ll just pretend that I lost count,” he said, revving up the engine and taking me back around one more time.
“Yay! Thank you.” I clapped my hands when my turn was finally over.
When I got out of the car, my legs were a bit rubbery and my heart felt like it was racing 160 beats per minute.
“Wasn’t it fun?” Shelby asked, hugging me.
“Yes. It was awesome! I had no idea speed could be so…”
“Sexy!” she finished my sentence for me.
“Exactly.”
Shelby ushered me into the visitors’ box where a big birthday cake made of a race car with a crown on top dominated the room, and she offered me some champagne.
We clinked glasses and downed a sip. “I’m sorry Quentin couldn’t make it.” Shelby had met him when we’d gone to the rodeo, and to my surprise, she actually liked him.
“I know. Me, too. He’s got this new job out in Hollywood that’s keeping him busy. He’s spending a lot of time down there making sure the bigwigs are happy.”
“What’s he working on?”
“Some animated movie. An upstart studio that stole several of the best animators from the big guys are making it, and now they’re saying it’s going to be next year’s big holiday movie.”
“That will be amazing for his career if it is.”
“I know. We saw Winged over the weekend and it was incredible. We should go see it.”
“I’d love to.”
“Yeah, so, if I have to see less of Quentin for a while this fall, it should be worth it in the long run.”
Shelby nodded and we were interrupted by her party planner, who wanted her to cut the cake.
The afternoon passed quickly. Shelby and I had known each other all our lives so we had lots of friends in common, and it was fun catching up with all of them.
After eating way too much cake, we all went out to the center of the infield where Bryan had arranged for an 80s hair band to serenade Shelby. The music was fun and campy, and watching the two of them dance together out there made me optimistic for my friend. I hoped Bryan would treat her well and turn out to be a keeper.
With two failed marriages under her belt before she turned thirty, Shelby deserved some happiness.
I hoped I did, too.
CHAPTER FOUR
About a week later I was lying in bed, talking to Quentin on the phone. It was past midnight in Ft. Worth, but it was two hours earlier where he was in California and he’d just finished work.
“I’ve been thinking about your request.”
“You have?” He sounded surprised, like he thought I’d disregarded the idea completely.
“I have, and if you’re sure it’s what you want, I’ll do it.” I fiddled nervously with the hem of my blanket.
“Thank you, Sophie. I think it will be fine. You’ll enjoy it.”
“But what if I enjoy it too much? Won’t that bother you?”
“Look, I’m going to be tied up a lot with work this fall. Having you work with another online Dom, show him how a good sub behaves, that will help. I won’t feel so badly for not having as much time for you. I’ll know my girl is being taken care of. It will free me up to do my work without having to worry about feeling guilty about you sitting home alone not getting your needs met.”
My voice rose. “So, it sounds like you’re turning me over to him. Like I’m never going to see you or have sessions with you. Is that right?”
He chuckled. “No, that’s not right. Calm down, girl. Nothing between us is going to change. Don’t you worry about that.”
“Hmph.”
“I do, however, have one concession about all this I’d like to ask.”
“What’s that?”
“I’d like to request that you don’t do wax play with him.”
“Why not?”
The sound of a big exhaled breath whooshed in my ear. “That’s something I will always remember…the first time we did that over the phone. My cock gets raging hard even thinking about it. I just don’t like the idea of you doing that with anyone but me.”
I remembered. Our first wax play session had been pivotal. Perhaps the long-distance session when I had to trust him the most. Also when I was the most excited. There had truly been agony involved, but it had been delicious at the same time. If he wanted to k
eep the wax play for something special just between us, I could do that.
In fact, this little display of jealousy made me feel better. It made Quentin seem human and less like a robot with an insanely sexy exterior.
I wondered what my new Dom would be like.
CHAPTER FIVE
I received my first message from MC’s apprentice on a Monday. The week hadn’t gotten off to the best start. It was the first day back for one of my students whose seven-year-old sister had died ten days prior. Kayla’s sister had been sick with leukemia for the past eighteen months and the family had been through more than anyone at the school could imagine.
This year the students in my class are more of a handful than usual. I’ve got three little boys with Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder diagnoses who turn into whirling dervishes at every available opportunity, and now I have the added emotional strain of not only Kayla’s and her family’s loss, but also of the other children who knew her sister and are coming to terms with death for the first time. Most of the kids realize that people die. They’ve had grandparents or other relatives who have passed away. But the concept that a person not much older than themselves can die upsets them. Hell, it knocks the wind out of grown-ups, too.
Kayla’s parents don’t seem to be doing very well, but who can blame them? This morning they walked Kayla to her classroom together and got into a loud argument in the hallway.
It had been a long day and my mind was occupied with the children in my class as I poured myself a glass of red wine and took a seat in front of the TV in my living room. I’d been planning on another Netflix binge, maybe a few shows—three at the most—when I opened my email and there it was.
It was a strange feeling, seeing an email from a Dom other than my beloved Quentin, who went by the online moniker “MC,” which stood for “Master and Commander.”
Apparently this one called himself “BA.” I couldn’t wait to find out what that was for.
This time I wasn’t a newbie, and I could tell by my initial reaction that I would be bolder with the new Dom. For one thing, he wasn’t my “real” Dom, and for another, I knew more about Domination and submission than I did the last time I was meeting a Dom like this—online.
I opened BA’s email, in which he told me his chat name and how to add him to my list of people for chat. He said he wanted us to “talk” first before we really got started. He knew it was an unusual arrangement and wanted to clear the air first.
I appreciated that, especially since I couldn’t decide if I was cheating on Quentin or serving him. It was like being trapped in a box with no gravity and you weren’t sure which direction was up.
Following his instructions, I added BA and decided to do a load of laundry rather than start my show just yet. After I started a load of whites, I glanced at the computer on my way to the kitchen with a glass for the dishwasher and I saw he was online, so I sat down and typed, “Hi.”
BA: Hi.
Sophie: Nice to meet you.
BA: You as well. Thanks again for being a willing guinea pig as I learn.
Sophie: You’re welcome. I have to admit I’m a little nervous about it.
BA: As am I.
Sophie: Can I ask you something?
BA: Anything.
Sophie: What does BA stand for?
BA: Oh—Bearded Alpha. I wasn’t sure what to use.
Sophie: Okay. That’s descriptive. I thought it might be for “Bad Ass.” Lol.
BA: Lol. That too.
Sophie: Good to know.
BA: MC has told me some about you, but mostly I think he wants us to develop our own rapport.
Sophie: Yes, that makes sense.
BA: What safe word would you like to use?
Sophie: Bluebird.
That was the one I used with Quentin. I considered using a different one for my play with BA, but that seemed too complicated. What if I forgot?
BA: So, are you ready for your first task?
Sophie: Ready as I’ll ever be.
BA: Good girl. I’ll send it over then. Please complete within 24 hours.
And just like that I had another Dom. To my surprise it aroused me when he said “good girl” the same way it did when Quentin said it. I wasn’t sure how I felt about that.
A minute later, an email popped up in my inbox with this subject line:
EXPLORE THAT CUNT
Oh my! He was definitely being trained by MC. That sounded exactly like something his mentor would say. The rest of the message read:
I want you to take a timer and explore your cunt for twenty minutes. Take your fingers and explore everything about it. After you are finished, I want you to answer the following questions:
Does my new sub like discovering new things about her cunt?
Does she like the new sensations of toys she fucks it with?
Does she like exploring all her creases, crevices and pebbled walls?
Does she like the way it aches to be fucked?
Does she like the taste of her fuck juices?
Does she like the way it drips?
Does she like the way it comes so long and hard in waves?
So many ways to fuck it, so many ways to fill it, so many ways to use it.
A simple “yes” answer will not do to these questions. Please provide a detailed description of your adventure with your needy hole.
Stay wet for your new Dom.
BA
I wasn’t sure if it was the new Dom aspect of it, the activity itself, or what—but I pretty much hated this assignment. Why was he so interested in such an in-depth examination of my vagina? And even if he wanted to know all that, why did I have to be so worried about it?
Because I was supposed to, I carried out the task. Sure, most of it felt good, but I resented all the extra descriptive writing on my part. It was a bit of a bore.
With a sigh I realized we weren’t off to the best start.
For the most part I enjoyed learning new things I liked, but this assignment was just awkward.
It was like he didn’t understand that men are different. Their apparatus is external so they play with their penises all their lives. Hell, they hold it every time they go to the bathroom. We women aren’t generally as well-versed in our anatomy. I guess that was why he wanted me to explore myself so intently, but I actually didn’t love getting all up in my walls like that. It felt kinda creepy, like a surgical cavity. I felt kinda like I was removing the giblets from a turkey—an activity that left me squeamish. Ick!
But in the spirit of giving the guy a break, I had to admit I might only be irritable about training with anyone other than MC, so that may have been why I didn’t really enjoy the session he set up for me. I might not have liked anything he asked me to do.
I guess my subtle irritation hadn’t come through in my communication to BA, because the next day he responded to my completed task like this:
Good girl. You were a wonderful subslut, and I will continue to shape you, mold you, bend you, use you and abuse you as you allow.
Thank you for your graphic and detailed account of your play.
I will be in touch with more tasks for you to perform.
It reminded me so much of a shorter version of Quentin, how he used to write to me when he was just a mysterious “MC” on the other side of the computer. But I guess that made sense. Quentin was training this man, teaching him how to be a Dom like he was. A mini-MC. Oh lord— was the world ready for that?
More importantly, was I ready for that?
CHAPTER SIX
“So how’s it coming with BA?” Quentin asked. We were on a rare phone call in the middle of the week. Me in Fort Worth. Him still in L.A. on business.
I groaned. “Not great.”
“Really? What’s the problem?” He sounded surprised. “Have you talked with him about it?”
“No. I don’t want to hurt his feelings. He’s new at this.”
“But part of his training is learning how to react an
d adjust to a sub’s responses. Your honesty will help him become a better Dom, my dear, which is the whole point of this. You’re not doing him any favors by holding back.”
“If you say so.” It had been ingrained in me my whole life to preserve other people’s feelings. I hated hurting BA’s now, especially so early in the Dom/sub relationship.
“I do.”
“All right.”
“Is it the task or the technique that needs work?”
“I guess the task.”
“So that’s all right. Perhaps it wasn’t for you, but be sure to give him constructive feedback. Something he can build upon.”
“Okay.”
“If that’s a task he likes, he can save it for another sub. He simply needs to know that you are not the sub for that task.”
“So when am I going to get to have another session with you?” I asked playfully. Quentin had been so busy with a new project that he hadn’t had much time for playing with me.
“Soon, pet. Soon. These are some big clients so I really have to focus on work right now. As soon as I’m finished with this job, we’ll set something up.”
I pouted. “Okay, but I miss you.”
“I miss you, too.”
We hung up, and I thought back to those early days with Quentin when he’d given me a task almost every day. Now he seemed busier than ever, and I was lucky to get one a week.
But that’s how relationships worked, right? The longer you were together, the more things dropped off… I mean, no one could expect to keep up that flaming passion indefinitely. I’d read somewhere that the initial hormones one feels when they are first falling in love drop off after around six months. The researchers said it was impossible for that butterfly, crazy-in-love feeling to remain the same after a year. From a chemical standpoint at least.
I needed to be practical and not so needy.
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