Playing Dom (3 page)

When I walked
inside, I immediately went to the punching bag in my living room and
threw a few jabs at it. Every strike landed straight in the middle of
Chet Goines' face, paying him back for the broken nose he had given
me so long ago. The effort was less than satisfying though, and as
the tension drained away, it shifted to worry, worry for Talia.

Maybe it was because
it had been so long since I'd been around anyone in the D/s
lifestyle, or because she didn't seem broken like all of Chet's other
toys. Perhaps it was because she was ridiculously fucking hot.
Whatever the case, my mind seemed obsessed with Talia, and once the
aggression died down, arousal took its place.

Fuck all.
I
grumbled at the persistent erection pressing uncomfortably against my
jeans, waiting to be stroked to completion. I should probably go out
and get laid, find some easy ass to fill the void inside of me
temporarily and make me forget about her. It would be the smartest
thing to do, but I felt so mentally exhausted from the munch that I
wasn't sure I could conjure up enough suave words to get the job
done. There's an art to seducing women. It's all about presentation
and flirting and flattery. A few kind words go a long way when
coupled with a dominant gaze. Usually I enjoyed the chase. Tonight it
just felt like work.

Ultimately deciding
to be lazy, I took off my clothes and stepped into the shower, trying
to wash away the nagging need that plagued me. Talia. What an exotic
sounding name. An exotic name for an exotic woman. Her body was a
foreign playground to me, a place I'd love to explore. My hand
drifted down to my cock as I thought of her walking away from me. She
had been by Chet's side, but it was easy enough to block him out. All
I could see was a tight ass in a blue jean skirt begging to be
grabbed, legs that went on for miles, and long black hair that
cascaded down her back with a soft curl to it. How I wanted to twist
my fingers into it, to tug her head back and claim her neck with my
lips. I could show her what a real Dom was like, one who gave
pleasure through pain, not true agony. He would ruin her. He always
ruined them. And that thought killed all of my desire.

CHAPTER TWO

Boring. Dear God was
my life fucking boring. Wake up. Go to work. Visit my mom. Come home.
Change. Go out. Find someone to fuck. Go to sleep. Rinse. Repeat. It
wasn't like that every night. Sometimes I skipped the finding someone
to fuck part, but when my bed was empty, my soul felt empty, so for
the most part, I stuck to a pattern of finding a soul socket at least
twice a week, someone I could plug into to fill the emptiness inside.

There was no point
of hoping for anything else, that my life would be anything else,
that I'd ever find more. With Chet's nasty ass lining the BDSM social
circle, I was out of the loop. And what did it matter? I didn't
really want to be a part of the lifestyle anyway.

I tried to swallow
my memories of the girl at the munch. Talia. Wasn't she in for a
treat when she realized what kind of monster Chet really was. It
wasn't my concern. That was their life, not mine. If she wanted to be
a victim, that was all on her. There was nothing I could do about it.

Time to integrate
myself with the herd as best I could. Normal relationships weren't my
forte, so fucking would have to do. Empty. Full. Empty. Full. That
would be my soul until I got too old for anyone to want to fuck me
anymore. Then what? Maybe I could find a friend with benefits,
someone as emotionally distant and fucked up as I was. That would be
the best course of action.

Days passed, and
while I had told myself that I wouldn't think about Talia anymore, I
couldn't help but wonder what had happened to her. Had she been
punished for my outburst with Chet? It wasn't really a question of if
as much as how badly. The thought made my stomach twist. She was a
sweet girl, a beautiful girl who didn't deserve to be treated like
that. No woman deserved to be treated like that.

Against my better
judgment, I got up on the fetish website one afternoon and looked up
her profile. All of her pictures showed her smiling, that glorious
bright smile that could light up a room. There were also some sultry
images of her that lit up parts of me. She had nice perfect tits, not
too big, not too small—the kind you just want to wrap both
palms around. I bit my bottom lip as I scrolled through her pictures,
my cock quickly forming a lump in my pajama pants. Then I scrolled
back up to the top of her profile and frowned at her status. Owned by
Master Chet.

Fuck all. What was I
doing? I had no business bothering this girl, much less looking at
her. It would only make things worse for her in the end. Still, I
couldn't seem to keep myself away. Sending her a friends request was
stupid. If Chet saw me on her friends list, she'd definitely earn a
beating. If I just sent her a message though, it would be more
discreet.

I chewed at my thumb
nail as I opened up the messenger, staring at the blank field
provided to type my correspondence.
This is a bad idea, dude, just
let it go. She's not going to listen to you anyway. They never do.

Though my mind
screamed at me to close out of the website, my fingers went to work
typing, “Hey, this is Micah. You may remember me from the munch
last week. I just wanted to make sure you're alright.”

It sounded stupid
and sentimental, but I hit Send anyway, sighing afterward and raking
my fingers through my hair. What was I doing? I should just leave the
poor girl alone.

Frustrated with
myself, I took a final look at one of her more intimate photos before
turning off my monitor and forcing myself away from the keyboard.
Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. She probably wouldn't respond anyway, so I
wasn't sure why I was fretting over it so much. Once Chet truly dug
his claws into someone, that person did whatever they could not to
anger him. His wrath was deadly. She'd be smart not to message me
back. Who was I kidding? She wouldn't message me back. Why had I
bothered?

With a sigh, I
flopped down onto my bed, rubbing my erection over my pants before
pulling it out to give it a proper beating. An image of Talia naked
in the shower played in my mind while I pleasured myself, a shiny new
coin for my spank bank.

I lay there
breathless afterward, covered in come and loneliness. Was this what
my life had really boiled down to? Dreaming and fantasizing and never
having what I truly wanted. I needed to get over it, to delete my
profile on the fetish site and move on. It was a great place to find
girls to screw, but having an account there just tempted me to want
to fall back into the lifestyle. The fact that Talia was there didn't
make it any easier. There were always other websites, more vanilla
websites. Those would be better to join if I wanted to suppress my
urges. Hanging out on the fetish site was just torturing me.

With new resolve, I
climbed out of bed, cleaned myself off with a sock from the laundry
hamper, and slid back in front of the computer to turn my monitor on.
A pop up on the screen caused me to give pause. It was a message from
Talia.

She said, “I'm
fine. Thank you for your concern. I'm sorry that Chet was such an
asshole to you.”

Holy shit, she had
messaged me back. Was this for real? I starred at the screen like an
idiot for several moments, blinking and re-reading the message, a sly
smile playing across my face. My horny cells instantly refueled as I
imagined the words coming from her lips, those delicious looking lips
I so desperately wanted to kiss. Did she even know how wrong it was
for her to talk to me, how much Chet would disapprove?

Thoughts played
through my mind. Devious thoughts. Horrible thoughts. Thoughts of
doing the unthinkable, of swooping in and trying to steel this
amazing creature from Chet's grasp. If he found out though, she would
be the one who paid for it. As much as my attraction bloomed for her,
I needed to stay away, for her sake.

I closed the message
and sighed, knowing better than to respond, to try to befriend her.
It wasn't worth the risk of her getting beaten for my selfishness.
Maybe if she messaged me again I would pursue it. The temptation was
too sweet, and my willpower only extended so far.

Briefly, I thought
about deleting my account again, but knowing that she had responded,
I couldn't do it. Perhaps it wouldn't hurt to keep the account, to
check on her from time to time and see if her status had changed. One
thing was for sure, her relationship with Chet had a time limit. No
woman could ever tolerate him for too long.

***

Another week passed,
and I had to give myself a pat on the back for staying away from the
fetish website. I had my account set up so that any messages I got
would be forwarded to my email address. Instead of logging onto the
website, I just checked my inbox everyday for a message from Talia.
Nothing ever came though, and why should it when I never responded to
her. I was quite certain she wasn't thinking about me like I was
about her. I was just a stranger who had graced her presence for half
an hour. She had no reason to think of me.

It was surprisingly
dead at work for a Friday. Usually on Fridays, we got people in
droves, considering a lot of them had been paid. What better way to
spend your paycheck than on health insurance. Sarcasm abound.

I was thankful for
the silence. Fridays for me were like Mondays for most people, a
horrific day of stress and overtime. That didn't appear to be the
case today though. When it was this dead, I typically just fucked
around online. Our boss was fine with it, and there was no activity
monitoring or website blocking in place. Hell, I had watched porn one
time at work, and no one had given a shit. My boss had even walked
right past my desk and leaned in to see if he could recognize the
girl in the video. He was a cool guy.

I decided to check
my email between watching YouTube videos and was surprised to see a
message from the fetish website. My heart skipped a beat as I
instantly thought of Talia, more specifically the inappropriate
pictures I had seen of her. My mouse quickly rolled over to click on
the email, and a slight frown creased my lips as I realized that it
wasn't from her. It was a message from some local Domme I had never
spoken to before, inviting me to a play party that she was hosting on
the following weekend. Peculiar. People were usually careful about
who they invited to their play parties, so I knew this was probably
going to be some lame, fake event. It might be more fun than bar
hopping though.

I clicked the close
button and stretched, wondering if Chet and Talia would be there.
Unfortunately, there would be no Talia without Chet, so I had to
factor him into the equation too. Maybe there would be a Chet without
Talia though, depending on how badly he had last beaten her. The
thought made my jaw tighten and anger rush through my body unbidden.
Stop it. You can do nothing about it.

If this Domme had
sent the message to me, a stranger, I was sure she had sent it out to
everyone else who claimed to be into the lifestyle in the area. That
meant it would be a big event, a much larger group than was at the
munch. That meant I might be able to find someone of interest,
someone unencumbered by a Dom.
No. You said you weren't going to
get into this anymore. Your time in the lifestyle is over. It's best
to just move on.

I knew I should
delete the email, but I also knew that I'd regret it if I did. There
was no harm in letting it sit in my inbox festering like a contagious
disease, making me sick with curiosity to the point that when the
next weekend rolled around there was little question in my mind about
whether or not I would attend. Hope ignited inside of me, a hope that
shouldn't be there. Not that I would see Talia, but that I would find
someone, someone like
her
, someone I shouldn't be searching
for. It was a hope that would be extinguished the moment I stepped
onto the scene, I was sure. The handful of true Doms and subs would
likely already be paired up, the rest of them, fifty shades of fake
just trying to live a little. Why did I keep doing this to myself?

While fetish wear
was allowed, I decided to dress normally for the event. I wasn't
really looking for anything other than entertainment.

The party was being
held in a small warehouse on the west side of town. When I pulled up
to it, the only thing that made it look conspicuous were all the cars
parked out front. Invitations had definitely been sent to tons of
people on the fetish website. There was no way there was this many
serious practitioners of the lifestyle in the area. The last time I
had attended a play party here, D/s was still a little known thing.
Now that it had been thrust into the limelight and glamorized, a lot
of people wanted a taste, mostly women, which really only worked to
my benefit.

I made my way to the
door and stood behind a pair of giggling girls in poorly stitched
latex. Their outfits were so cheap and costumey that it was almost
embarrassing. The only thing keeping me from rolling my eyes was the
fact that one of them turned to look at me. All I could do was smile
politely until they pressed on to hand their invitations to the door
man/dungeon monitor. His leathers were a lot more impressive, and his
bulky size and dominant stare left no question as to which side of
the D/s spectrum he landed on. This guy was strictly business.