Desired and Dominated (3 page)

I can barely manage to speak, taking a deep breath to try and calm myself. “Much…b…better.” We stand, drinking in our proximity to one another, until the moment is broken by my parents’ car pulling up beside us.

He opens the door, helping me climb into the backseat before closing the door and making his way round to the other side. As soon as he sits next to me, my whole body begins to buzz; the car seeming claustrophobic all of a sudden.

My mom and dad start grilling Nate about what he’s been doing since they saw him last; what band is he working with; is he dating anyone? He is so polite, answering every question they throw at him, and I wait with baited breath to hear if he’s seeing someone.

He turns to me as he gives them an answer. “No, I’m not dating anyone.” My heart skips a beat and I find myself relaxing back into the seat, resting my hands on the warm leather. When I feel Nate’s hand resting beside mine, barely touching, but just enough to make me painfully aware of him, a jolt of electricity coursing from my fingertips to my toes. I daren’t move. I don’t want to lose this feeling. So I sit, completely still, my gaze occasionally finding his for a split second every so often, before I can’t take it any longer and I have to look away.

I’ve been in love with Nate since the moment I met him, but I’ve never once gotten the impression that he was interested in me in any way, other than as his best friend’s little sister. Until now. I know that I can’t act on whatever this is…a fleeting moment, shared in the back of a car. Simon would never let it happen, but I can dream, just for a little while. I can let myself imagine what it would be like to lose myself in Nate Callaghan, to give myself over to him completely, and let him take me wherever he wants to go.

But, like Cinderella at midnight, the spell will be broken. As soon as my big brother sets foot in my parents’ living room, the reality of our situation will come crashing down on me. It doesn’t matter how I feel, Nate is the one man that I can never have…

Three Years Later

Fuck. I have the worst hangover. Last night was my friend Brandon’s “bachelor party.” I use the term loosely because he wimped out on having a real, traditional, strippers and ending up naked tied to a pole kind of party. Instead, Brandon, Simon and I ended up playing pool, and drinking our own body weight in alcohol.

I met both of them during freshman year at Columbia and we’ve been thick as thieves ever since. Simon in particular is like a brother to me. I’ve spent most of the major holidays with him and his family over the years and they have become the closest thing I have to a family. I would do anything for them, and therein lies the problem. I could never hurt them, and if I acted on my feelings for Sofia, it would be catastrophic, so I do what I do best. I compartmentalize my life…and their family.

The predicament I find myself in, has become increasingly more difficult over the past seven months. Brandon found the love of his life and is getting married, and Simon, who I thought would be my eternal wingman, has gone and fallen for Jess - Ball buster and best friend of Brandon’s wife-to-be, Lily. They are all deliriously happy, most of the time, and Jess has become close with Simon’s sister, Sofia. This is where my life becomes complicated. Up until now I’ve successfully avoided hearing about any boyfriends she’s had – I find it, unsettling; it angers me. These days, Lily and Jess have other ideas. Anytime Sofia’s in town, they want to invite her out with us. Jess also likes to update us all on the ins and outs of her love life at every opportunity, which is slowly leading to me losing my mind, and an unnerving increase in the number of subs I’ve been training lately. It’s getting ridiculous, but at the end of the day, that’s my thing.

I don’t keep subs for myself. Not because I don’t want to be with just one woman, but because I’ve always known that no one could measure up to Sofia. It wouldn’t be fair to take on a sub, knowing that I can’t put her needs above all others. The truth is that they would always pale in comparison to her. Don’t get me wrong, I care about the women I train, and occasionally, if I have a strong enough bond with one of them, it has crossed my mind to keep them. I’m not completely dead inside. I crave that connection to another human being; one that is only shared with each other, but I decided a very long time ago that I would channel my energy into becoming a Master.

I train submissives and get them ready to find a suitable Dom. I teach them every conceivable way to derive pleasure from pain; to please their Master; to understand their own body and how far it can be pushed in the pursuit of sexual gratification. It has always given me great satisfaction to see the transformation in a woman under my tutelage. To see her flourish as she embraces her primal instinct to submit.

Last night I became painfully aware of what I’m missing out on, so I got crazy drunk and seduced the hot bartender at Simon’s club. It’s not like me, but hearing them talking about the wedding, knowing that I’m going to be staying at the same hotel as Sofia for five days in one of the most romantic cities on earth, surrounded by people in love – sent me over the edge. I doubt I could have told you my own name last night. I don’t even remember how I got back to my apartment.

I remember vague images of the bartender. There was a backroom at the club; my belt wrapped around her wrists; a cab back to her place. I’m pretty sure we didn’t make it to the bedroom. I can picture her face as she came, but my own release was a blur. Unsatisfying and unfulfilling. She seemed like a nice girl, but the one night stand isn’t really my scene. I like to get to know a woman’s body, to play it with expert precision. Anything less just doesn’t give me the release that I’m looking for.

I’ve known for years, that normal relationships – boy meets girl, falls in love, and lives a cookie cutter life – weren’t going to be for me. I’m not that guy. I can give any woman pleasure beyond anything she could ever imagine. I can make her body tremble with a single word, make her climax with a single touch, and make her beg to be tied up, flogged and spanked. What I can’t do, is offer a woman the white picket fence, 2.4 children and an SUV.

They say that my sexual preferences aren’t for everyone, and they’re right in some respects. Not all men want to be a Dominant, and some men just don’t have it in them to take charge of a woman’s body, mind and soul. However, I believe that on some level, every woman is curious to experience my lifestyle, even if it’s only once.

Bring me a bored housewife, an innocent virgin, an experienced vixen, and I can make each and every one of their bodies sing. I can spark a fire inside of them so intense, that they would literally do anything I asked of them, just for one more kiss, one more caress of my hand over their breasts and their aching clit. They would sell their soul to the devil himself to feel my cock pounding into their slick wet pussy.

That’s what gets me off.

I love the power, the ultimate control; watching a woman give herself over to me completely. It’s an honor and a privilege to have a woman put absolute faith in you like that, and I don’t take it lightly. I cherish it, and nurture it where I can, in the only way I know how.

I got my first taste for it seven years ago when a one night stand asked me to tie her up and spank her. I was up for anything and readily agreed, but I wasn’t prepared for the rush that coursed through my body when my hand made contact with her tight little ass. It was unlike anything I had ever experienced, and when I came, fuck me, it was so damn intense. I couldn’t get enough. I took her on every surface of her apartment, in every position I could, binding her hands and feet, holding her down, totally at my mercy. The sight of her, bound with black ropes against alabaster skin, her reddened ass in the air, awaiting my attention. I had never seen a woman so completely satisfied. It was so beautiful to me, and I never looked back after that.

I did some research into places I could go to learn more about the lifestyle, and to learn how to correctly execute the scenes that I wanted to create. I found the best club in New York, Andromeda, and it opened up a whole new world for me; a side of myself that I didn’t know was there. It let me focus the darkest parts of myself, and use it to straddle the fine line between pleasure and pain. It was only after the first year that I realized just how unfulfilling my encounters had been up until then.

Unfortunately for me, as I honed my skills, reveling in the pleasure I could wring from a woman’s body, I also became painfully aware of every intriguing facet of Sofia Mantovani. Whenever I was in her presence, I became more and more drawn to the way her body moved, knowing how pliant she would be under my touch. I was acutely attuned to her personality, her moods, what I could see that she needed. Everything about her body language screamed submissive, but there was, and is, something inside of her that will never submit to any man. I could never crush that spirit. It is a beautiful sight to behold, but it’s a double edged sword. It’s a trait in her that I admire and adore, but it also means that we would never work; that I could never be the man she needs me to be. Once I realized that, I started avoiding her wherever possible. Making excuses not to attend family events with Simon, and as my business took off, the excuses became legitimate reasons, and by the time Sofia graduated Julliard and started touring the world, there was no longer any occasion for us to be in the same vicinity.

It got easier after that, but a twisted part of me could never truly let her go. Whenever she performs in New York, I can’t help myself. I always go. I always sit in the dark and lose myself in her, if only for a few stolen hours. She is an exquisite dancer; every movement so precise and seemingly effortless. She was born to dance; it’s who she is, and I’m in awe of how consumed she becomes by the music when she’s on stage. It’s transcendent.

The last time I saw her perform was about five months ago, when Jess and Simon spied me outside the theatre and dragged me to dinner with them and Sofia. I could barely breathe around her. The gentle scent of her perfume, tantalizing my senses; the brush of her leg against mine under the table, causing my chest to tighten and my cock to harden in my pants. It was a sweet agony that I would gladly endure day after day after day if I thought I could win her heart, her body and her soul. If I could possess her in every way possible.

Just the memory of her makes me hard.

I need to call Marco later and get him to arrange a meeting with a few prospective submissives tomorrow night. It’ll be a welcome distraction from my upcoming trip to Verona. But for now, I’ll have to make do with grabbing a shower and heading into the office to work on the contracts for my latest signing.

Marco has three potential subs for me to train. I’m going to the club to meet with each of them tonight, to see if we connect. I don’t train just anyone. I’m very selective. It’s one of the great perks of being a Master. I have my choice of willing new submissives, eager for me to teach them how to please their future Dominant, to help them discover what they like and what is a hard limit for them.

I never have sex with a submissive before I’ve gone through the process of sitting down with them and discussing every aspect of what they expect from me, what training they require, and to gauge what I feel they could benefit from in terms of my expertise. I need to know that I can relate to a woman on an intellectual level. The physical side of it isn’t a worry for me. As long as I find her attractive, the rest will follow. It’s a myth that some people just aren’t compatible. If you are physically attracted to another person, then your “compatibility” comes down to a willingness to learn how to please each other.

The club is busy tonight; demonstrations in the main room, all private rooms occupied, and the bars and the dance floor are packed with writhing bodies. Even the VIP lounges are too busy for me to conduct my interviews, so I decide to take a different approach, and meet each of the girls in my playroom. It definitely gives me an added edge, as if I needed one, inviting them into my domain.