Dominique (36 page)

     
“Huh?
 
Oh ...
Oohhh
, Sir.
 
I hurt.”

     
“
Shhh
, it’s all right.
 
Relax.
 
I’ll take a look.”
 
I climbed out of bed and walked around it, sitting down beside her.
 
Gently drawing down the sheet, I folded it at the top of her ass.
 
The olive skin of her back was striped with thin red lines that would soon turn dark, but she’d be fine.
 
“Well, it’ll take a few days for the marks to go,” I said softly, planning to bathe her again later.

     
“I just feel a bit stiff, Master.
 
A bit tight.”

     
For some reason I remembered what a coach of mine once said,
‘It’s only pain.’
 
I didn’t think he’d ever been lashed though.
 
Smiling wryly at the thought, I decided against sharing it.
 
Touching my fingertips to the places where her perfect skin was left untouched by my hand, I sighed.

     
What had I done?

     
Dominique stirred like a cat and stretched.
 
“
Mmmm
... Your fingers feel nice, Master.”

     
Drawing her perfect hair behind her perfect ear, I leaned down and kissed her temple, whispering, “Dominique?”

     
“
Mmmmm
,” she purred.
 
“Yes, Master?”

     
“You were dreaming ...”

     
“I-I don’t remember.”

     
“You said something,” I began, before changing my mind.
 
“And we will talk about it later.”

     
“Um, okay.”

     
“How about I make us some breakfast?”

     
With a glint in her eye, she announced, “I would take on an army of heathens for some bacon and eggs.”

     
I couldn’t help smiling.
 
She would
definitely
be all right.
 
“Then bacon and eggs it is.
 
Do you want me to cover you?”

     
“Actually, the cool air feels pretty good.”

     
“Okay, pet.
 
Stay there.
 
I’ll bring it up when it’s ready.”

     
“Thank you, Master,” she said softly.
 
I knew she was putting on a brave face.
 
By the doorway, I stopped and looked back at her.
 
She was lying quietly, arms tucked under her, black hair aglow under the shaft of morning sun.
 
In some ways, she was so much like Rebecca.
 
And in others, so very different.

     
Sighing softly again, I made my way down to the kitchen.

I had a tattoo of a scorpion on my ankle.
 
Considering I was a Scorpio, it wasn’t very imaginative.
 
It was a present I gave myself when I turned eighteen, and was something I always wanted.
 
I thought about that tattoo because it reminded me of how my back felt.
 
Like I’d been tattooed.
 
Forever marked.
 
Forever changed.
 
I was sore, and yet I was pleased with what I’d accomplished.
 
In the strangest way, I was happy.
 
I deserved my punishment, I received it, and I survived.
 
Now I could move forward with a clean slate.
 
It was a new beginning.

     
And I loved my life.

     
Mmmmm
.
 
I could smell the aroma of bacon and onions, and my tummy rumbled.
 
To eat I would have to sit up, so I tentatively climbed onto hands and knees, slowly sitting back on my heels until I was kneeling.
 
It was a beautiful day and the sun streamed through the window, warming my face and chest.
 
I had to stretch.
 
I just
had
to.
 
Lacing my fingers together behind my neck, I slowly arched my back right to its extremity.
 
Mmmmmm
, I thought.
 
It felt really good.
 
I mean the pain was there, but I had accepted that, and it wasn’t
that
bad.
 
It was like I was exercising it.
 
Controlling it.
 
It was strangely invigorating.
 
Images from last night flashed before my eyes and I
realised
something had changed.

     
Usually I would be thinking about how incredible it all was, the things I had done, or the things that had been done to me.
 
But not today.
 
Today was different.
 
Today, I was
closer to my skin
.
 
I was in the moment, and I was happy.

     
Closing my eyes and remembering the moon, I bent my neck back until the ends of my hair brushed the top of my ass.
 
Combing my fingers through it and tossing it back, I shook my head.
 
As I knelt up straight again, my hair was drawn gently up my back and it tickled.

     
With my eyes still closed, I reached up and grasped my nipples between fingers and thumbs.
 
Pinching them firmly, I pulled them out from my body before releasing them.
 
“
Mmmmm
,” I groaned.
 
My eyes sprang open.
 
Am I insane?
 
I wondered, giggling.

     
“Dominique?” came from behind me.

     
“
Ahh
!” I cried, surprised and embarrassed.
 
“You scared me!”
 
He stood in the doorway, a silver tray loaded with food balanced in his hands.
 
“Um,” I said, blushing and trying not to giggle.
 
“Yes, Master?”

     
“Are you all right?”

     
“Master,” I gushed, sitting back on my heels and stretching again.
 
“I am better than ever!”

When I retired to the kitchen, I thought Dominique would fall back to sleep.
 
But that was okay.
 
I had some thinking to do anyway.

     
I enjoyed cooking.
 
It was methodical and satisfying.
 
If I planned, provided myself with everything necessary and executed, I could make something great.
 
It was simple and clear cut.
 
If only ‘life’ had a recipe.
 
While filling the house with the aroma of fried bacon, eggs, tomato and onions, I reminisced.

     
Rebecca loved to cook.
 
If I closed my eyes I could almost see and hear her.
 
She would prance about the kitchen, singing to herself.
 
Something about her has never left me.
 
The
ifs
.
 
What if the
tumour
had been discovered, or treated earlier.
 
What if I had noticed something ...
anything
... sooner.
 
Something that might have given her a chance ... I shook my head as I loaded up the toaster.

     
Rebecca would have loved Dominique.
 
They had a similar temperament and even a similar look about them.
 
Flipping the bacon again, I made a decision to introduce Dominique to the Rebecca I knew and loved.
 
I wanted her to understand.
 
Maybe it would help explain a few things.

     
I wiped my hands on a kitchen towel and walked into the den, retrieving a photo album from the shelf and returning to the kitchen.
 
It had been a long time since I’d visited with Rebecca.
 
At my own insistence I stopped poring over the pictures.
 
Looking through the albums nightly was bordering on the morose.
 
Even a few times a week seemed obsessive.
 
So I stopped myself.
 
In fact, I hadn’t looked at them since I’d met Dominique.
 
By the time she moved in, I was debating whether to put them into storage.
 
Memories and memorabilia were neatly boxed in the attic.
 
I’d conceded the framed photographs.
 
Her last two were packed away the morning Dominique had asked me out for a drink.
 
But not the albums.
 
They stayed in the hallway bookshelf.
 
Watching me.

     
Opening the one I’d selected, I finished the cooking and tidied up.
 
The picture staring back at me was of Rebecca on her knees waggling her finger at the camera.
 
Looking stunning in a summer dress, she was trying to express her independence by thwarting some plan I had.

     
She wore the same dress the day I told her she would be mine forever.
 
The same day she said she would never leave.
 
Sighing softly, I closed the album.
 
It’s time
, I thought, loading up a plate and grabbing a serving tray.

     
The experiences Dominique and I shared brought us so close together.
 
She amused and excited me, and she pleased me greatly.
 
She tested me in many ways and she made me want to smile.
 
She was not perfect by any stretch of the imagination.
 
She was a challenge.
 
A wonderful challenge.
 
And she strived.
 
Her desire to please me was unquestionable.

     
And what did I do in return?
 
I tried to turn her into Rebecca.

     
She was probably feeling very sore and sorry for herself.
 
After breakfast I would tend to her back again.
 
I owed her that.
 
Grabbing a fork and a couple of napkins, I made my way to the bedroom, with one small detour.

     
When I’d grabbed the album, I spied Dominique’s collar hanging from the playroom doorknob.
 
Thoughtfully, Paul must have left it there.
 
With the abrupt end to the previous evenings festivities, no opportunity to replace it around her neck appeared, so I was glad I had seen it.
 
Placing it on the tray next to our breakfast, I tiptoed up the stairs and walked silently across the landing.
 
At the door to the bedroom I stood open-mouthed, staring at the amazing sight of a giggling Dominique less than eight hours after she had been thrashed to her limit.

     
“Are you alright?” I asked, smiling.

     
“Master, I am better than ever!” she exclaimed, sitting back on her heels and grinning at me over her shoulder.

     
“Well, that is certainly a surprise.
 
And a nice one at that.
 
Perhaps after some food, you will um, get your energy back.”
 
Seeing her bouncing on her knees on the bed made me immediately question the necessity for energy.

     
“
Mmmmm
,” she murmured.
 
“Yes, Master.
 
I’m starving!”

     
“Okay, but there’s one formality we need to take care of, before we eat.”

     
“There is?”

     
“Close your eyes.”

     
“Yes, Master.”

     
Entering the room, I placed the tray on the bedside table and picked up Dominique’s collar.
 
Sitting on the bed beside her, I placed it around her neck, watching the blush creep up her cheeks.
 
Closing the clasp with a quiet click, I said, “Open.”