The Dominant (11 page)

For the next several minutes, we explored each other with our hands using gentle caresses, both above the water and under.
I
took my time, and slowly her body relaxed for me. Eventually, the tension and the pain left, leaving only the burning ache
of need. And as her body responded to my touch, I felt my own pain dissolve. Felt my own need rekindle.

I could do this, I told myself. I could be her dominant. We had made it through her first punishment and could move on.

I slipped a finger inside her, and she bucked against my hand. “Ready, are you, Abigail?” I teased.

“Yes, please,” she whispered.

I took her hips and slowly lowered her onto my cock. She felt even warmer than the water. I raised and lowered her with my
hands, making sure I didn’t touch her backside. She wrapped her hands around my neck and pushed herself farther onto me. I
held her hips so she wouldn’t have to move and thrust gently in and out of her.

“Let me do the work, Abigail. You just feel.”

She dropped her head forward, digging her hands into my hair and whispered a soft “Okay.”

I worked my hips up to hers, teasing her, taunting her. Making sure she felt every ounce of pleasure possible. She felt weightless
in the water. I saw the sweat start to break out on her face, and I thrust harder, wanting to bring her release. Wanting nothing
more than to replace the pain of the night before with pleasure.

“Come for me,” I said as I shifted my hips and slid in deeper. “Let me see you come.”

She bit her lip in concentration and let out a moan as she contracted around me. I thrust into her again, feeling her release
trigger my own, and I emptied myself into her.

Her head rested on my shoulder as we relaxed. I finally took her and sat her across my lap once again, enjoying the steam
and heat of the tub, relishing the aftermath of our joint pleasure.

“Let’s just sit here for a little while and rest,” I told her, suddenly
tired from both the emotional turmoil of the previous night and the conflicting emotions of the morning.

We sat in silence, neither one of us ready for any deep conversation, both of us needing only the reassurance that we were
still okay.

After we sat for some time, I noticed her face heating and I knew she needed to get out of the tub. I rose first, grabbing
a towel and holding it out for her. “Abigail.”

I wrapped her in the towel after she stepped out of the tub and dried her gently. Then I took my own towel.

“How are you feeling?” I asked, drying off my legs and working up my body.

She yawned. “Tired.”

Of course she was tired—she probably hadn’t slept much the night before, and any sleep she had gotten was probably restless.

“Would you like to take a nap?” I asked.

A look of surprise covered her face, and she smiled. “Yes.”

I led her back to the house and held the door open for her. “Go rest, then, and don’t worry about dinner tonight. I’ll cook.”

On Sunday night, I thought back to how the remainder of the weekend with Abigail had gone. How rested she’d appeared to be
Saturday night. Her delight at the dinner I’d prepared. Most of all, I thought back to the conversation I had with Paul Saturday
night. He was calmer and no longer threatened me with the forty lashes. But I still knew I deserved them.

After Abigail left, I went to Linda’s house for dinner. Once a month, Jackson, Todd, Elaina, and I all met at my aunt’s for
dinner. That particular night, we’d be discussing the upcoming weekend in Philadelphia.

I wanted to surprise Abigail, so I hadn’t mentioned Philadelphia to her. When she arrived on Friday evening, I’d drive her
to the airport and we’d take off on my private plane. We’d spend the weekend in Philadelphia, watch the game on Sunday, and
jet back to New York on Sunday night.

A perfect weekend.

Elaina was waiting for me inside the foyer of Linda’s house.

“Where’s Abby?” she asked as I hung my coat in the closet.

Just the sound of her name made me smile. “She had other plans tonight.”
I didn’t ask her
, I wanted to say.
Didn’t want to make her feel obligated
. “Did Jackson bring Felicia?”

She rolled her eyes. “Jackson’s not back yet.”

“Well, then,” I said. “It would have put Abigail in an uncomfortable
position, right? Knowing she was with us while Felicia stayed behind.”

“How is Abby this weekend?”

“Doing well.” It was the truth. She’d looked more like herself when she left my house earlier. I thought back to our goodbye.

“
Have a nice week, Abigail,” I’d said, brushing her arm with my fingertips
.

“
Thank you.” She looked down
.

“
Look at me,” I commanded. When she met my eyes, I smiled. “Six o’clock Friday?
”

Her eyes grew wide. “Six o’clock
.”

“
I’ll see you then,” I said, opening the front door and then watching as she climbed into the waiting car
.

Five more days.

“Nathaniel?” Elaina asked.

“Hmm?” I said. “Sorry. I was, uh, just thinking about Abigail’s French toast.”

“Uh-huh. French toast. Is that what the single people call it these days?”

I blinked. “No, real French toast. Abigail’s a great cook.”

“I was kidding. Jeez, lighten up.”

We went through into the dining room. I hugged Linda and kissed her cheek.

“Nathaniel,” she said. “I was hoping you’d bring Abby.”

“Maybe next time. Do you need any help?”

“No. Todd’s helping me.”

Todd walked in carrying a platter of delicious-looking Cornish game hens, and we made our way to the massive dining room table.

“Nathaniel.” Elaina sat down. “Didn’t you say Abby worked at the midtown branch of the city library?”

“Yes.”

“Good.” She put her napkin in her lap. “I’m going to invite her to lunch on Thursday. Do you think she’ll come?”

Some part of me wondered how much Elaina knew about my lifestyle. I thought I’d kept it well hidden, but there was something
in the way Elaina looked at me. Some of her comments made me wonder.

“I’m sure she’d love to have lunch with you,” I said. “Would you like her number?”

“No. I’ll just surprise her.”

Elaina called me on Thursday afternoon. “I just talked to Abby. We’re meeting at Delphina’s in half an hour. I’m going to
tell her all your deep, dark secrets.”

“You do that.” I laughed, certain there was nothing Elaina could tell Abigail that would scare her away. Not after the previous
weekend. “Tell me how it goes.”

I sat at my desk and thought about taking Abigail to Delphina’s. Had I locked myself into a relationship with her that would
always be defined by our sexual natures? Could I ask her out and expect her to want me as a man? As well as a dominant?

Paul and Christine made it work, but Paul and Christine didn’t have the history I had with Abigail. They had started out clearly
defined as dominant and submissive, and their relationship gradually grew into more.

As opposed to what? I asked myself. Mooning over some girl you never had the balls to approach as a regular man?

But I wasn’t a regular man. I knew I could never be a regular man. I would always be a dominant. Maybe I could one day mesh
the two desires together, but did I really want to try it with Abigail?

Would she want me to mesh them?

No, I told myself. It was better to think of Paul and Christine’s life as something out of a storybook—something I could never
have. It was safer to imagine what could be instead of trying and failing.

I had failed with Melanie. The experience still haunted me.

I told Melanie early in our relationship about my sexual nature. She knew all about my past submissives, both collared and
uncollared. She was fully aware of my past experiences and thrilled that I wanted to try something more traditional with her.

Sex with Melanie was just sex. It was there. It happened. There wasn’t much to say about it. I chalked it up to my dominant
nature and told myself sex would grow better with time. I just needed to get used to being more normal.

I never mentioned to Melanie how our sex life left me unfulfilled, but I suspected she knew. At times, she’d urged me to tie
her up or spank her. I always smiled and said maybe later, knowing full well “later” would never come.

For five months, I tried to deny myself, and for five months, the need became more pronounced. I found myself growing restless.
More short and unkind.

I waited for a Thursday. On Thursday nights Melanie always ate dinner with her parents and spent the remainder of the evening
at the assisted-living facility her grandmother lived in. I waited until seven o’clock and then took the key to my playroom
and entered the room I’d avoided for five months.

I’d walked around, touching my equipment. Remembering. I’d felt tempted to call someone over and scene with them—just once—but
I couldn’t do it. Couldn’t do that to Melanie. And playing again would make me a failure. I had told Melanie my past was behind
me and I’d meant it.

Then why did I still have a playroom? Why hadn’t I thrown everything away?

Because I knew I couldn’t give it up.

I’d taken a suede flogger from the wall and run my fingers through the strands, remembering the last time I’d used it . .
.

I had invited a close dominant friend and his collared submissive over to my playroom shortly after my breakup with Beth.
Hours later, we were deep into the scene. Jen was on her knees before Carter, his cock in her mouth. At Carter’s request,
I was flogging her with a suede flogger. I timed the strokes with each thrust of Carter’s hips, my eyes and concentration
focused on Jen—her breathing, her movements.

My cock grew hard as I waited for him to release into her mouth. He was taking his time, his hands buried in her hair, holding
out for as long as he could.

“Damn, Nathaniel,” he said. “Her mouth is so hot. If you want her to service you, I’ll have no problem with it.”

I knew many dominants who shared their submissives and, while it never bothered me, I had never been one to share my collared
subs with others. Would I be a hypocrite to accept Carter’s offer?

I refocused my attention on Jen. Her body strained with the effort of controlling her own lust.

Fuck. I was turning her on with the flogger. Exciting her. My cock strained against my jeans.

Would I do it?

“That’s it, my Jennie,” Carter said. “Nice and hard.”

Jen moved her body, and we were all in sync—Carter’s hips, Jen, and my flogger.

“I can’t hold out anymore,” Carter panted. “Let me know, Nathaniel. You really should fuck her mouth.”

I unzipped my pants.

“Nathaniel!”

Melanie’s voice broke through my memory, and I opened my eyes. The flogger dropped to my side. Somehow during my daydream,
I’d undone my pants and had been stroking myself.

“What the hell?” Melanie screeched.

She stood in the playroom door with her hands on her hips, all the blood drained from her face.

“Wait downstairs,” I said, buckling my pants.

“Not until you tell—”

“Now!”

She turned with a huff and stomped away. I walked out of the room and closed the door behind me.

Melanie waited in the living room, pacing.

“You want to explain to me what the hell I just saw?”

I collapsed onto the couch. I felt a hundred years old. “You knew. I never made a secret of who I was.”

“You told me you’d try. That you weren’t going to do it anymore.” She paced to the fireplace.

“I wasn’t doing anything, Melanie.”

“That’s not what it looked like to me. What was that . . . that . . . thing in your hand?”

“A flogger.”

“A flogger?” she asked in disbelief. Her pacing stopped. “You flog people?”

“Don’t look at me like that. It feels quite nice if the flogger knows what they’re doing.”

“Which you do, I suppose?”

“Of course I know what I’m doing.” I felt anger start to boil deep within me. “I’ve been doing it for a long time.”

She huffed one more time and turned from me. “That room. That room with all that stuff . . . I didn’t know . . .” Her shoulders
hitched. “I thought I’d come by tonight and surprise you. Mom’s sitting with Grandmother. I guess I’m the surprised one, huh?”

I got up and put my arms around her. “I’m sorry. I thought you’d be away. I just wanted . . . I just wanted to remember. I
thought it would help me. Help us. I never wanted you to know.”

She was crying. I hated knowing I had caused her tears.

“Melanie,” I whispered. “This is why I never wanted to scene with you. You wouldn’t like it. It just . . . it wouldn’t work.”
Like we don’t work
, I’d wanted to add.

She turned to look at me, her eyes filled with tears. “I can try, Nathaniel. Please, let me try.”

“Don’t. Please. It’s not your fault. It’s me.” I stroked her back as she cried. “It’s all me.”

We went through the motions for another month. Pretended we were okay. We slept together, went out, tried to put that Thursday
night behind us.

It didn’t work.

I was who I was and Melanie was who she was.

I’d told her she deserved better than me. Deserved a man who could love her the way she needed to be loved. Who wouldn’t need
the crazy lifestyle I needed. She’d begged me to collar her, to try to scene with her, but I couldn’t do it. I knew deep down
that Melanie would never be a submissive.

And I knew that I would always be a dominant.

My phone rang, dragging me back to the present. I checked the caller ID. Elaina.

“Hey, Elaina,” I said. “What’s going on?”

“I told Abby all your deep, hidden secrets and she said she didn’t care.”

“Silly woman, I could have told you that.”

“I really like her. You better hang on to her.”

“I plan on it. Where are you?”

“We just left Delphina’s. I’m heading back to see Linda, and Abby just got a . . . Abby!” Elaina screamed suddenly. “Stop!”

I jumped to my feet, sending my office chair sliding across the floor. “Elaina!”

I heard a terrific crash through the phone and then a low moan from Elaina: “Oh, God. Abby.”

“Elaina!” I shouted into the phone. “Where’s Abby? What happened?” She didn’t answer. “Elaina!”

“Oh, God. Nathaniel,” she said. “It’s Abby. It’s . . . it’s not good.”

My heart felt like the world’s strongest man had it in his grasp. I couldn’t breathe, and only one thought kept running through
my head.

Abby.

Abby.

Abby.