The Dom of My Dreams: A BDSM Novel (59 page)

“Okay, I understand.”

“You’ll have to make it up to me, and the only way to do that is with punishment.”
 
I sat up straight on his lap.
 
“Go upstairs and lie down on the bed.
 
I’m going to teach you a lesson you will not soon forget.”

           
He blinked at me.
 
“What?”

           
“Well…” I sat back on my heels and tried to imitate his commanding tone.
 
“I’m going to tie your hands together, then I’m going to spank that gorgeous ass of yours, or maybe I’ll whip you with that cat o’ nine tails whatever you keep stored in your nightstand.
 
I’m going to punish you and you’re going to like it.”

           
His eyes darkened with ill-conceived lust as he pushed back a bit to glare at me.
 
“Out of the question.”

           
I shot him a don’t-disobey-me-or-else look, flinching when he pulled on the nipple chain.
 
“Didn’t you just say that you would do anything to earn my trust?”

He sighed.
 
“Point taken.”

“Come on, David, don’t look so taken aback.
 
The idea of it intrigues you.
 
You want me to dominate you.
 
Admit it.
 
Just surrender to it.”

           
Hee!
 
Throwing his words back at him was fun.
 
No wonder he found dominance so pleasurable.

           
He stared at me in silence for a few seconds.
 
Then, “You’ve just called me David, not Seton.”

           
“Yeah.
 
I thought you and I should be more informal now that we’ll be husband and wife soon, don’t you think?”

           
“Absolutely.
 
And I love to hear you say my name.”

           
“Don’t change the subject, buddy.
 
It won’t get you out of your predicament.
 
Now back to your punishment.” I moved out of his lap and towered over him, hands on hips.
 
“What do you call it when subs suddenly rebel against their masters?
 
Topping from the bottom, or something like that.
 
That’s what I’m about to do to you.”

           
“You’ve been ‘topping from the bottom’ ever since I met you.
 
You’re badly in need of some discipline, you little brat.”
 
His voice sounded harsh, but his eyes were smiling.

           
“Well, now I’m about to get worse.
 
So get ready for it.”

           
David was silent for a moment, his face unrelenting.
 
But soon his doubtful gaze turned into a compliant one.
 
“All right,” he conceded, sighing in surrender.
 
“But only for this one time.”
 
He reached out and gave my nipple chain another tug.
 
I gasped, waves of pleasure-pain flaring down my body.
 
“But don’t forget that I am still the one in charge.
 
I’m still your master.”

“Sure thing.”

“Oh, and the flogger in my bedside drawer isn’t so bad.
 
The whippings don’t hurt more than a spanking.
 
I only said those things to scare you.
 
If you really want to hurt me, then may I suggest the paddle?”

           
I frowned.
 
“Paddle?”

“Yes,” he replied, smiling.
 
“I have a large wooden paddle in my bedside drawer.
 
Some of my former lovers used to say that it hurt like a son of a bitch.
 
So you might want to use that.”

Hmmm.
 
Interesting.
 
So interesting, in fact, that I was almost compelled to ask
him
to punish
me
.
 
But not now.
 
Now was my turn to be in charge.

Excited, I leaned over and bit David’s lip, sucking it into my mouth and tasting him.
 
“I love you, David.”

He smiled at me, face softening.
 
“And I adore you, my pet.
 
Be gentle with me.
 
I’ve never been tied up and punished before.”

I raised an eyebrow.
 
“Oh?
 
Does that mean you’re a virgin?”

He nodded, the corners of his mouth curving sensuously upward.
 
“I guess you could say that.”

Mmm.
 
This was too wonderful, too perfect.
 
I cupped his face between my hands again and gave him a loud, deep kiss.
 
“Don’t worry, Sir, this will be a beautiful, sensual experience that neither of us will ever forget.”

And it was.

****

Madeleine
debuted at number three on the
New York Times
bestseller list.
 
Second and third printings have been issued.
 
The novel has also been an enormous success with the critics.
 
The
Boston Chronicle
calls it a “clever, suspenseful story of sex, obsession and love.
 
One part satire, like Terry Southern’s
Candy
, to ten parts erotic, like Pauline Reage’s
The Story of O
.”

David is currently in the middle of a book reading at The Amateur Sleuth, a local bookstore that caters to mystery and suspense aficionados.
 
The place is jam-packed with fans—the line about three blocks long.
 
They can’t all listen to David’s reading, but they’re patiently waiting for the book signing to begin.
 
The independent bookseller had to order hundreds of copies of
Madeleine
for today’s event.
 
The bookseller doesn’t mind the clutter.
 
He’s so happy I thought he would have a coronary.
 
And why wouldn’t he be happy?
 
Dude will make more money in one day than he’s made in months.
 
David J. Seton has been great for the local economy.
 
Everyone loves him.

The whole gang is here, identical twinkles of delight flickering across their faces.
 
They’re happy about David’s success, but they’re also excited about other things.

Alfred Williams’s toothy grins are brighter than ever now.
 
Not only has he snatched up one of the biggest-selling authors of today, but Bookends AtoZ is no longer in trouble, to put it mildly.
 
He spent a large of sum of money doing a big PR campaign for this book, and it’s paid off in spades.
 
Alfred will be wealthy beyond his wildest dreams.
 
He’s thinking of opening a new office in the Boston area, but he’s not sure he wants to leave Northampton yet.
 
He’s not rushing into things, just soaking up the success by spending most of his weekends playing golf.
 
Other big name authors might soon join our quaint little pub house.
 
Alfred is keeping a close eye on quite a few contenders.

           
Jeremy has finally found a boyfriend.
 
His name is Nick and he’s one of David’s exclusive artists.
 
Jeremy no longer has time to meddle in other people’s lives—in fact, he seems to have no time for anyone other than Nick.
 
They share a chic condo in the Florence area and spend most of their time buying expensive furniture and getting photographed for the local gay and lesbian magazines and newspapers.
 
Apparently, they are
The Queer Bohemian
’s “hottest gay couple.”

           
Magda is pregnant.
 
Her mother won’t be able to move in now, since the spare bedroom will soon become the baby’s nursery.
 
I’m sure Magda’s pretty bummed out about it.
 
(Teehee!)

           
By the way, Magda has finally written her first novel.
 
It’s called
The Mommy-from-Hell Diaries
and it’ll be out some time next year.
 
I’m editing it.
 
The book is friggin’ hilarious, as I knew it would be.
 

           
Mitch’s New York column is a major hit.
 
His popularity has landed him his very own late-night talk radio show.
 
He’s currently working on his second collection of essays, and Bookends will publish it early next summer.
 
He called me one night to ask how I’d been, and also to tell me that he was now a trained submissive.
 
He devotes his spare time getting his jollies at an obscure fetish club in Albany.
 
It could only be Quinn Armitage’s fetish club.
 
I mean, how many more private fetish clubs in Albany could there be?
 
I questioned David about it.
 
Laughing, he confessed that he sent Mitch over to Raven, the sexy dark-haired Dominatrix-slash-tax-lawyer-slash-fetish-fashion-designer.
 
Mitch is now one of her little pet slaves.

           
David’s art gallery is going very well.
 
He’s got five exclusive clients, one of whom is Quinn Armitage.
 
According to Dana J. Seton, who moved to New York a few months ago and now works exclusively with Quinn, his passion for art has been rekindled, and he has reclaimed his title as the Marquis de Sade of the art world.
 
Hmm.
 
I wonder if Dana had anything to do with Quinn’s “rekindled passion” for art.

           
As for me… well, David and I were married seven months after he proposed to me.
 
We had a quiet ceremony at a small church near Amherst.
 
We spent our honeymoon in Rio de Janeiro, where we engaged in some rather erotic, not to mention risky activities during the Carnival season.
 
I won’t go into detail, all I can say is that one of our encounters involved a couple of
Papier
-mâché masks, a wrought-iron balcony on a third-floor honeymoon suite, and David taking me from behind as the festival progressed down below us.
 
I don’t know if anyone saw us, but it sure felt incredibly liberating, not to mention amazing, to be fucked in public.
 

In case you’re wondering, I’m not pregnant, nor do we plan on having children any time soon.
 
Maybe someday we will have kids, but right now we’re having way too much fun to consider parenting.
 

Six months have passed since our wedding, and things are going extremely well for us.
 
Our lovemaking is as uninhibited and adventurous as ever.
 
David is still very much in control, and is constantly ordering me to do outlandish things for him.
 
He has given me a new ankle bracelet and toe ring set.
 
The anklet has no clasp, no fastener to remove it.
 
The jeweler had to use a small soldiering gun to permanently lock the bracelet to my ankle.
 
The bracelet is made of very solid metal, and I won’t be able to free myself from it, at least not easily.
 
David’s message is very clear.
 
We’re married, and our marriage is intended to be forever, so that makes me his slave for life.
 
Does it scare me?
 
Yes, it does.
 
Old habits die hard, but I don’t let it get to me.
 
I love the fact that I belong to David, body and soul.
 
I wouldn’t want it any other way.
 

I’m still learning new things about my husband, and every discovery is as shocking as it is wonderful.
 
Today, for instance, I’ve discovered that David suffers from stage fright.
 
He almost broke into a cold sweat when we arrived at the bookstore.
 
I had to calm him down and assure him that it was going to be all right.