AllFreeNovel
Share Us
He rode me then, wrapping one hand in my slightly too-long hair, holding on, while his other hand stroked my shaft in time to his thrusts. “So beautiful,” he whispered. “So perfect.”
I moaned and cried out at the pleasure, and he smiled and murmured something.
It was embarrassing, but waves of excitement were hitting me, one after another, as he seized the back of my neck and pulled me up so he could kiss me as I came. My orgasm hit me in only seconds, like a storm, sweeping me away and making me shout. I fell back down when it was over, but my release kept spurting weakly over his hand like it never wanted to stop. I was embarrassed by how hard I shuddered and moaned, but he only kissed me again.
When it was over, I felt as if I had almost lost consciousness, and Michael eased off onto his side next to me. He pulled me over to hold my head to his chest. “Rest, baby,” he said, and kissed my hair as his breathing began to slow.
And here’s the funny thing—I totally did, sinking so deep into it, I felt like I was drowning.
Chapter Nine
I didn’t go home the next morning—nor the day after that nor even the day after that. I went to work as usual, but every night that week when I got off and headed toward the bus stop, Michael would pull up in his big SUV, roll down the window and say, “Get in, baby.”
And I did. I didn’t know I could be so happy. I washed the clothes I wore to work each night for the first few nights in his state-of-the-art washer and dryer, along with my underwear and socks to have them ready for the next day. Then I sat around in a fluffy, white robe while he dished up dinner he’d ordered from some expensive restaurant or other until he came over and took me right back out of it.
After a week, I told him I had to at least go home and pack a few things. He said he’d drive me, but I made him sit in the SUV when we got there, citing how dirty and messy my place was. Thank goodness he didn’t argue but just agreed, and I was able to run inside and pack up my work clothes and a few other casual things, along with my bathing suit. He kept saying he wanted us to go to his family’s beach house—the one up near West Palm. I grabbed my laptop too. Then I put Fozzy at the bottom of a bag, along with a few of my special outfits. I told myself I wouldn’t take any of my things out unless I was completely alone and behind a locked door. I thought I could hide them at the back of the closet until then, but it soothes something inside me to have them close by. When I got back to Michael’s condo, I stuffed the bag at the very back of the guest room closet, which I’d claimed as “mine” and where I kept the rest of my clothes.
Life had become the best I think it had ever been for me.
I didn’t move in with him completely yet, and he hadn’t yet asked me to, but he seemed to want me to come over almost every night and that was enough for now.
He came to the club on a lot of the nights I worked, sometimes just to have dinner or socialize with friends in the bar. He’d watch me on those evenings I worked with a hot, possessive look in his eyes that thrilled me and made me feel wanted. Other times, when he came in, he wore leather and participated either alone or with another Dom in flogging demonstrations, or demos of rope techniques, both of which he really excelled at. The only time he worked with a sub was when he had another Dom with him, but I still got a little jealous. I tried not to, but I hated the idea that someone else could give him something I couldn’t. I never said a word about it, though, because that was who he was, and I didn’t want him to have to change for me and give up something he enjoyed.
I’d been staying with him most every night for about a month, when he finally found time to go up to his beach house a little south of West Palm Beach. We planned it for my next day off. It was only about a forty-five-minute drive, depending on traffic, and he said he needed to check on everything. We could spend the night and then drive back home in plenty of time for me to go to work that next evening.
When the day finally arrived, we got up early and ate breakfast. I would have skipped it, but Michael said breakfast was the most important meal of the day, so I ate a piece of toast and he frowned at me.
“You need more than that.”
“Not really.”
“Yes, really. I’m going to fix you an egg and you’re going to eat it.”
I kind of wanted to mouth off and snap back at him, but he was giving me that stern, Dom look he did so well, so I didn’t say a word. And I ate the damn egg when he put it in front of me.
I used to say that I wanted someone strong enough to make me do what they told me to do. Not physically or in a harsh way, but by the strength of their personality—well, now I had that, and I thought people should be careful what they wished for.
Maybe having a “Daddy” wasn’t just about getting cuddles and being cared for. Sometimes, it meant someone taking control and setting rules for you whether you liked the rules or not. You had to suck up all that “independence” you thought you had and realize that the rules were for your benefit. I was learning that more and more every day. I wondered what he’d do if I disobeyed, and I was a little afraid to find out. This was a Dom, after all, and I figured I’d get another spanking, only this time it would hurt and be all about punishment. And Tommy had reminded me just the other day that Michael was a sadist.
I decided to ask him about it, and he’d shrugged. “Sadist? That sounds harsh, doesn’t it? I admit that I like control and domination. I don’t know if I’d call myself that exactly. I like to take a sub to the point of breaking and then bring them back. I want to be his source of pain and pleasure but more than that. I also need to be his safety. To get him into subspace, so he can let the world fall away and know that I’ll be there to catch him. I want to be the one who gives him whatever he needs. Sadism in my world isn’t just about pain. It’s being responsible for the sub’s well-being. Mentally, emotionally and physically. It’s a lot of power that a sub gives you. It’s delicate and fragile and has to be handled with care and respect.”
He looked at me then, like he was trying to be casual about it. “Are you asking because you might be interested in finding out more about it?”
This is what I wanted to say—
No, I don’t want pain. I like the idea of having you as the source of all my pleasure and safety. I love that idea. And I love the idea of you giving me whatever I need. I wish I could do the other things that are important to you—but I just can’t.
But this is what I actually said—
“Maybe. Are you saying you want to teach me?”
He smiled so big and pulled me into his arms and kissed me. “Oh, baby boy, you have no idea how much. Will you really let me try? We can make this work, baby. I know we can.”
I wanted to believe him, and I wanted to please him, and so I agreed. Like I said, I had things I was keeping from him—important things—and they might be that deal breaker I always seemed to be waiting for. I knew I needed to tell him and let him decide what to make of my issues. But I kept putting it off.
If I’d been stronger or healthier, I would have just told him and trusted him to deal with it. And I would have told him I didn’t want pain and I sure as hell didn’t need it. But I was too scared of what he’d think of me.
He told me we’d start my “training” as soon as we got back from our trip to his beach house.
