My Dates With The Dom (9 page)

Well, to be honest, that wasn't true. I wouldn't have even thought of it if I hadn't made the mistake of telling my best friend from my former life that I was seeing someone. She, of course, related it to the normal world. She asked where we went and how often. Since I couldn't tell the absolute truth, I invented our dates. That's what made me feel bad. If I'd been able to name a movie or a museum or anything on the normal meter, I wouldn't have thought twice about it.

I did discuss Thanksgiving, the few occasions at restaurants, how we cooked a lot together, and how Michael helped me with my homework. Still, since it was mostly sex between us, I had to throw in a lot of lies. Somehow I knew if I told her the truth, she wouldn't approve of what I was doing. And I was happy, wasn't I?

Well, I thought I was until I talked with her. Now I stood in the alcove wondering if Michael had any feelings for me. If he cared at all. He never mentioned anything and repeatedly told me not to get too close. “I'm not a good boyfriend,” he had said. There were times when he seemed like a kamikaze mission, and no good would come of it. Yet, even if he didn't care, I couldn't leave him. I'd take him any way I could.

I dropped my underwear with the rest of my clothes. Tonight I'd be taking him in my royal blue corset, black thigh highs, and royal blue suede shoes.
Stop caring what other people think. Just enjoy him!
I double locked the outer door and went to serve my master.

I kneeled and waited.

He met me in the hallway wearing only his robe. It hung open and his erection jutted out. He came close enough so that it poked at me and I opened my mouth and sucked it in. He gasped and groaned.

"You're a good little bitch. Always trying so hard to please your master. I'm going to fuck you good tonight. Do you want that?"

I looked up at him with his cock still in my mouth and nodded a yes.

"Go to my room."

I pulled back, stood, and wasted no time. Well, he certainly had something special planned. His comforter had been rolled around the bar on his bed to form some type of a cushion, and a few body pillows had been placed on the bed. A silken cord of rope hung from each post at the foot of the bed.

If I hadn't been wet before, this would have done the trick.

"Nicely dressed. I love the shoes,” Michael said as he entered the room behind me. “And they'll be eye level for me to admire tonight."

As my brain tried to work that one out, I noticed the twinkle of mischief in his eyes.

"Stand here at the foot of the bed and then lie back so that your lower back is on the bar, your legs are dangling, and the rest of you is flat on the bed."

I obeyed and he lifted one leg straight up and out so he could secure it with the rope. When he did the same to the other one, I was lying spread eagle, legs up and pussy open. Now I could lift up my shoulders, but it would be like doing sit-ups so I knew I wasn't going anywhere.

I had a great view of the blue shoes and they did look pretty. He lifted my head and spread out my long hair behind me rather than underneath my head. From his vantage point, it cascaded over the bed. He reached for the top of the corset and pulled my breasts up, almost out of the corset, so that my nipples peeked out from the top of the cloth.

Michael stood back admiring me. Yes. Fuck the emotions I'd harbored earlier and what anyone else might think. The way he looked at me was worth it all. Even when I was younger, thinner, and much more attractive I'd never felt as sexy or as much as a woman as I felt when Michael looked at me.

"
Very
nice.” He ran his hands over my stocking clad legs a few times before he probed my pussy with his fingers. “You're always soaked for me.” He shook his head and smiled.

I watched him carefully as he walked away from the bed to the closet. He took out the box with the magic bullet. Oh boy was I ever in trouble. He took his time plugging it in and bringing it over to the bed. Whenever he took his time like that there was a purpose. He wanted me thinking about it, anticipating what he planned on doing to me. It made me all the wetter.

He stood there between my open legs holding the vibrator and turned the knob to high. The buzzing sound filled the silence in the room and I moaned. Michael brought the tip down to about a centimeter or two from my pussy and held it there. Not close enough to feel it, but close enough to want to.

I tipped forward so that vibe hit my flesh and moaned. Michael moved it away and laughed. He tapped my clit with it and then pulled it back. A light tap and then pull away. He repeated the process sometimes hitting the clit, sometimes entering for the tiniest second and then pulling out.

I twisted my bottom the slightest bit to the left and then to the right. “Please, Master."

He continued smiling at me. A devilish smile that let me know the torment would continue. The vibe spent more time away from me than on me. “Look at that,” he said as he touched my clit with the tip of his finger. “You're as hard as a man's cock."

Why I took pride in that, I don't know. But he seemed proud of it and that was good enough for me. “Please, Master. Please let me come. I need to,” I pleaded.

He went for a condom then and took his time putting it on. Again, making me anticipate what was to come. He teased at my entrance and then fucked me with just the tip of his penis.

I wanted to scream with frustration. He must have sensed my breaking point because he entered me fully and held the bullet to my clit as he slid in and out of me. Primed as I was, my pussy started clenching in no time and Michael started grunting.

"Oh, yeah, that's my girl. That's how you show respect for your master. You flood his cock with your cum.” He pumped harder and his breathing became more labored. With one final grunt he ground into me.

He pulled out, disposed of the rubber, and untied my ankles. I scooted back on the bed and Michael rested half on top of me. His tongue licked one partially exposed nipple and then blew on it. He trailed kisses along my neck and up to my mouth. He tasted cool and sweet. He must have snuck a mint from the package that always sat on the nightstand.

"Strip naked,” Michael whispered to me.

I was an odd request considering I didn't have much on and we'd just had sex. But I didn't question him. If Michael wanted me naked, I took off my clothes. I unbuckled the shoes and dropped them down on the side of the bed. I eased the stocking off and placed them down on top of the shoes. The corset was laced in the back but had hooks in the front. I slowly undid each hook and let it fall behind me.

Michael picked it up and placed it on the chair. “Lie on your stomach.” I must have hesitated for a second because he laughed. “Don't worry. I'm not going to spank you."

Instead, cold liquid fell to my back. I jumped a little and squealed.

"Sorry, I should've rubbed it in my hands first.” His large palms skimmed across the skin of my back and then his fingers kneaded.

I didn't know what possessed him, but I wasn't going to question the perfect end to multiple orgasms. He massaged every inch of me and somewhere along the line I fell asleep.

I awoke alone in a darkened room. At first, I thought he might have just gone to the bathroom. After ten minutes or so I sat up and turned on the light. That's when I saw the note.

"Crisis. Be back as soon as I can. Sit tight."

What the hell did that mean? What kind of problem was there that would send him out? My stomach tightened.
Please, please, don't let it be her.

I thought of calling him, but didn't know if it somehow had to do with work. Deep down I knew that was impossible. I turned on the television and sat through a couple of sitcoms before I heard movement in the house. My insides were shaking. What if he came back to the bedroom and didn't say a word about what happened?

The second I saw him I knew I had to let it go of whatever I felt. He looked like shit and needed me to be understanding. “You okay?"

He nodded but he didn't look it. He flopped down on the bed and shut his eyes. “Can you help me undress?"

I stripped him of his clothes and he slid under the covers. I wasn't sure what to say or do. He always sent me packing before the night was through. “It's late. I should go."

"It's too late to leave. Normally, I like to sleep alone. But I'd like you to stay tonight.” He hesitated. “If you don't mind."

It wasn't like him to ask and I found it unnerving. I slipped back under the covers and edged my body next to his. “No, not at all.” Well, he might not be talking, but he asked me to stay, so that was a win in my book. Wherever he'd been, he hadn't enjoyed it. That much was for sure. Just when I thought we'd simply fall asleep without saying any more, he spoke.

"My dad's in a nursing home. I visit every day, but he doesn't always recognize me. Alzheimer's."

"Oh, Michael, I'm so sorry.” There I was wondering where he was spending his extra time, wondering if he was seeing another woman, and he was spending it with his sick father.

"They called because they lost him again. He's like fucking Houdini. He could escape from Alcatraz. The problem is, he can't always find his way back, or he forgets who he is. I had him here with a nurse until it got too dangerous. And I'm paying up the ass to have him in a nice secure place, but somehow he still manages. . . . “ his voice pitched and he stopped talking.

I stroked his arm and kissed his shoulder. “He's back safe now, right?"

"They found him down the hall. He was hiding in a woman's closet. She went to get a bathrobe and screamed bloody murder.” He started laughing then, the kind of laugh that occurs when the only alternative is to cry. “I've been stonewalling the doctor over additional meds. It's so infrequent that he's even lucid now. But we're to the point where there isn't any alternative."

"Anything I can do?"

"You're doing it. You give me what I need without any demands."

I placed my arm around him and kissed his shoulder again. Sometimes just being there, sharing that connection is all anyone ever really needs. I shut my eyes and listened for his breathing to regulate, and then I allowed myself to fall back asleep.

[Back to Table of Contents]

Any other year I would have been thrilled to have Christmas fall on the weekend. This year it pissed me off. I couldn't see Michael during finals, and when they were over his son came to visit for four days. He was leaving Christmas Eve day—around the same I was leaving for my parents’ house. The girls were meeting me there for our Christmas Eve celebration, having Christmas brunch with us, and then going to their father for Christmas dinner.

I knew Michael was celebrating with his son the night before Christmas Eve and I knew he'd be spending time with his dad, but didn't know how he'd spend the rest of the time. I worried about him. The thought of him alone or sitting in a nursing home with a parent who didn't recognize him on Christmas tugged at my heart.

He left a message on my cell. His words sounded upbeat, but the tone left me with no doubt he was tired and down. I wanted to fuck his blues away. It didn't matter if it was temporary. Any relief from pain was a good thing. But I wouldn't get to see him until Sunday night.

The girls couldn't wait to rat me out to my parents. They related the entire dinner scene. Eliza gave her sister credit for the great find. “Alana,” she said, “put together the fact you called him Michael and the waitress called him Mr. Manning. Dad hadn't picked up on it. He kept saying, ‘impossible’ and shaking his head."

"
The
Michael Manning?” my father asked.

I rolled my eyes and nodded.

"The wicked witch said that it couldn't be the same Manning since you weren't exactly in his league,” Alana said. “When he ever gave you that necklace, oh man, I thought she was going to croak right at the table."

My mother perked up on that one. “Necklace?"

"Diamonds,” the girls said in stereo.

I'd been raised to never accept an expensive gift from a man unless it was for Christmas or my birthday, and even then not too expensive. Only loose women accept expensive gifts, my mother had warned when I was young. She eyed me now with a frown.

"I'm pretty sure they're not real diamonds and it was an early Christmas gift since we knew we wouldn't be able to see each other last weekend or this one.” The last half was a brazen lie, but I wasn't up to dealing with my mother on this subject.

I tried to raise my daughters the same way. Not because any woman would be thought of as ‘loose’ for accepting a gift, but because I never wanted either of them to feel like they owed a man anything. But society had become so material it was a hard lesson to reinforce.

If nothing else came out of this the girls accepted Michael. Whether that was because he was a famous attorney or because my seeing him pissed off their father's bimbo, I wasn't sure. It didn't matter. At least they wouldn't cause a scene over it.

My time with them went too quickly as it always does, but by the time I arrived back at my apartment I was itching for Michael. I knew better than to call him first. I showered and got dressed and then called him.

He said two words. “Come now."

There was no reason for us to always be at his house except that it was much more comfortable than my tiny apartment. I slipped on my coat and braced the cold once again. I had a few gifts for him and a stocking I had picked up that said, ‘But Santa, I can explain.’ I filled it with little things he liked—candy, lotion, condoms.

He laughed when he saw it, but placed the things down on the floor. “Those aren't the gifts I want to unwrap,” he said as he started undressing me.

My clothes were dropped like breadcrumbs all the way from the hallway to the bathroom. He shed his robe and turned on the shower. He washed me and in turn I did the same. His mouth came down to my breast and I sighed. I needed him. His fingers moved to my clit and he made fast work of me. I sank to my knees and enveloped his cock. Under his tutelage, I'd become much more adept at giving a blow job and it didn't take much longer to get him off than it had for him to bring me to climax.