The Good Dom Read online

  When I too was naked I kneeled upon the bed between her legs, leaned forward and slowly licked the moist outer and inner folds of Janet’s labium. What I lacked in good looks, I tried to make up with my insatiable tongue, lips and mouth. While I always enjoyed pleasing a woman in this manner, I had never held one in bondage while I did it. The experience… was intensely exhilarating to me. As I sucked on the nub of her clitoris, two of the fingers on my right hand entered her in a V-shape, pressing upward and gliding in and out in a rapid thrusting motion. I didn’t stop until I felt her thighs quiver and twitch beneath me and felt the sticky moist effluence of her orgasm between my fingers, creamy, thick and white.

  I tasted her for a moment longer, put a condom on and entered her. The fact that she was tied up and couldn’t resist me was extremely erotic. I let myself go, holding her hips close, careful not to pull at her ropes and handcuffs while I slipped rapidly in and out of her. With Janet completely at my mercy beneath me, I exploded inside her womb in several orgasmic thrusts, feeling my condom fill with more and more of my semen. I was quite out of breath when I had finished. I released her from the bondage and checked to see that there were no marks on her skin. I suddenly felt rather self-conscious, tying her up the way I did.

  “Are you OK Janet? I didn’t hurt you, did I?” I asked.

  “No, I just need to smoke. I’m sorry, do you mind if I…”

  “Of course.”

  Janet got out of bed and I wrapped my large, cozy bathrobe around her. She grabbed her purse and I opened the door to an outer patio so she could smoke.

  “That was nice,” she managed to say when she came back in.

  “You mean the cigarette?” I asked with a straight face.

  I finally made her smile ever so slightly.

  “No. What you did. Just now. I liked it,” she said.

  After the intimacy I thought I had made a tenuous sort of connection with Janet.

  “Well, thank you for letting me… you know… do it. I liked it too. I hope you didn’t mind the… ropes.”

  “No…”

  We sat in silence on the edge of the bed.

  “Do you want me to go?” she asked.

  “Of course not. It’s late and cold outside. Would you like to spend the night here Janet?”

  She yawned, which in turned cause me to yawn.

  “See? We’re both tired. Come on. Let’s go to bed.”

  I held the sheets open for her and she took off my robe. I cuddled up with her, holding her breasts in my hands. It felt good to have a woman in my arms again. I squeezed her close into me, this unknowable woman with the red lips.

  We slept quite peacefully together and awoke late the next morning. We dressed and I made a pot of coffee and some toast. After a leisurely breakfast, we read the newspaper together at the kitchen table, like an old married couple. I liked having someone to share my morning, even though we didn’t talk to one another. My condo began to feel like an actual home. I felt like a normal human being for a change, rather some isolated leper, hiding in my cave and afraid to be seen.

  After breakfast I asked Janet if she had any important plans. She said not particularly, so I proposed that we hang out together, have a late lunch and then I could take her back to the club. She shrugged, which I took as a yes, and we spent the afternoon together. Even though my senses were still buzzing from our sexy encounter, Janet acted as if nothing in particular had happened between us. Moving forward, I didn’t know how quite to behave with her. Was a Dom not supposed to become emotionally attached to his submissive? How could one not become emotionally involved, after sharing such intimacy?

  I thought perhaps we just needed to spend some time getting to know one another better. So after relaxing at the condo, we decided to go out for a drive. I took her out in the BMW I had bought when the weather made it too dangerous for me to ride to work on my Harley. I was in a very relaxed and talkative mood, after what happened between us. Though she stayed quiet, I could tell she was politely listening to me. I told her what it was like growing up in Chicago, about the circumstances behind how I got my scar, how I had trained as a police officer and the whole experience of losing my job after reporting the incident of police brutality on the homeless man, catching my wife having sex with another man, the whole sad sorry tale. I explained how I had won the civil suit and used the settlement to start my life over and buy the property which later became Obsessions. While I spoke she cracked the car window and smoked. Was a Dom supposed to be so chatty with a prospective sub? Something told me the answer was probably no.

  When I finished my story, I realized I had subconsciously driven to a park on the shore of Lake Michigan. It was the exact spot I had thrown my wedding ring into water over three years ago. We got out and took a walk, taking in the view.

  “Life goes on,” I thought to myself.

  I put my arm around her as we strolled.

  We went to have a late lunch at a fancy restaurant overlooking the city. After we had our appetizers and were waiting for our main course, I thought I’d propose the idea I had been considering.

  “There is something I want to discuss with you Janet…” I said.

  She raised her eyebrows attentively and put her fork down. I leaned forward across the table and spoke in a discreet whisper.

  “I noticed you’ve been coming to Obsessions rather frequently. Are you trying to meet someone there? May I ask… are you looking for a gentleman to perhaps to enter into a relationship with… as a submissive?”

  The minute I asked her I felt uncomfortable about it. A long pause passed as I nervously awaited her response.

  “I’m not sure…” she said.

  I summoned my courage, took Janet’s hands in mine and continued speaking rather awkwardly. I felt again like the ugly boy in school wanting to find a date for the prom, which I knew I would never attend.

  “Janet… Though I’m new to all this and… I know we’ve only just met, not to mention the fact that I have no idea how you feel about me... still…I rather enjoy your company and… I’d love to fulfill the role of a Dom in your life, if -”

  Janet interrupted me, as politely as she could.

  “Jim, I’m coming out of a messy relationship… with a married man… and… I’m very confused right now…”

  “Oh, of course. I understand,” I said, trying not to sound rejected.

  Though she didn’t say yes to my proposal, she didn’t exactly say no either. She asked if she could go outside for a smoke. I quickly paid the bill and escorted her out. She had a cigarette while the valet brought the car around. I kept discretely watching those full red-glossed lips sucking on the end of the white filter.

  I drove back to my condo so I could change for the club. I put on a crisp white shirt and suit and took out of the bag the sexy outfit I purchased for Janet. It was a light blue completely sheer fishnet cocktail dress with matching G-String panties. It was very similar to the dress I first saw Grace wearing at my club.

  “I want you to wear this to my club this evening, Janet. I think you’d look very pretty in it.”

  She slipped into it, but her bra could be seen through the material. Janet said she felt embarrassed about the size of her breasts. I convinced her that she did indeed look lovely, that her breasts were quite nicely shaped and attractive and she had nothing to be ashamed of. With a little coaxing, she agreed to wear the dress without a bra. We packed the red dress I bought for her in the black bag, put on our coats and drove to Obsessions.

  As soon as we entered, Janet’s new sexy look and flirty clothes became the center of attention, as I had hoped. She looked stunning in her sheer dress and red lips. Several heads turned in her direction as she crossed the floor to sit at her usual table. Unfamiliar with all the lustful glances, Janet stared down and smiled slightly. For the first time she wasn’t ignored in my club. From across the club at the bar I watched as several men sat at her table throughout the evening, lighting her cigarettes, buying her drin
ks. She seemed more social, engaging each man in conversation that approached her. Though I felt a little jealous when she talked to the handsome men, I also felt happy for her.

  I didn’t want her to catch me staring at her, so I went back to my office to check my email and messages. I wondered if Janet could in fact be in my future, as my submissive. Impulsively, I did a Google search, then downloaded and printed out a sample contract between a Dominant and a submissive from a sexy website, even though, based on Janet’s reaction at lunch today, I knew she may not be quite ready to enter into a relationship of that nature with me. I held the four warm pages in my hands, hot off my printer, detailing the rights and responsibilities of the two parties, feeling ashamed yet excited. I quickly read it over and stashed the contract away in my bottom of my desk drawer, hidden under my assorted business paperwork and payroll time sheets.

  To my surprise, out of the corner of my eye the security cameras captured Charles Anderson as he tentatively entered the club. It had been nearly a month since I had seen him last on the night of his attempted suicide. Within the first minute he stood frozen in the middle of the floor and appeared to stare in Janet’s direction. He looked closely at her for a long time with a pale-white complexion, as if he had just seen a ghost. I could tell that he wanted to approach her to get a closer look, but was reticent to do so. I left my office and slowly made my way through the crowded corridor toward the bar.

  I found Mr. Anderson sitting on a bar stool, gazing off in the direction of Janet.

  “Good evening Charles. How are you feeling?” I asked.

  “Well I haven’t jumped off of any bridges lately,” he said.

  I smiled at the joke.

  “Would you like a drink?” I asked.

  “Sure.”

  I had the bartender bring Mr. Anderson his favorite drink, Johnny Walker Black, neat. I poured one for myself as well.

  “Have you seen Grace Madsen lately?” he asked.

  I shook my head no and we sipped our drinks in silence. Charles placed his drink down on the bar and looked with particular intensity over at Janet.

  “Do you see the woman with the bright red lips, sitting across the room? The one in the blue dress? She looks just like her, but it can’t be, can it?”

  “No,” I said. “She looks like Grace, but her name is Janet.”

  “Do you know her?” Charles asked.

  “A little.”

  “She’s lovely.”

  “Yes.”

  “Do you know if she’s looking for a Dom?”

  “I’m not sure.”

  “Is she… unattached?”

  I wanted to shout in a voice the whole club could hear, “She’s mine!” Instead I just whispered back my response.

  “I… really can’t say.”

  Mr. Anderson nodded and stood up from the bar stool.

  “Thanks for the drink Mr. Jefferson.”

  “Jim. Call me Jim. And I’m glad you’re feeling better.”

  “Thanks, Jim…” he said.

  Before leaving the bar, he turned back to me.

  “I want to thank you once again for pulling me down off that ledge on the overpass. You saved my life that night Jim and I’ll always remember you for that.”

  “Don’t mention it…”

  “I don’t know what was wrong with me. She… she got under my skin, you know?”

  “I know. I know how you feel…”

  We both stared over at Janet. Charles picked up his drink.

  “I think I’ll go over there and talk to her, if I can summon up the courage. What do I have to lose? I promise not to jump off the bridge if she rejects me,” he said, reaching his hand out.

  “OK, I’ll hold you to that,” I said, shaking his hand.

  I watched Charles walk over to Janet and linger nearby as she chatted with other men. Eventually he had his chance to sit down at her table. I watched them talk to each other. She behaved differently with Charles. Janet had a flirtatious twinkle in her eye, laughing and patting his shoulder affectionately. She exchanged more conversation with him in five minutes than she did with me the entire time we were together.

  After they finished their drinks, they stood up together. Charles helped her on with the coat I purchased for her and they walked toward the door. As an afterthought, Mr. Anderson turned back toward the bar and caught my eye. He nodded at me and waved goodbye on his way out the door. I nodded back. Janet completely ignored me on her way out of the club.

  I never saw Janet or Charles Anderson again.

  If someone had to take her away, I’m glad it was Charles. Of course, I know Janet was never mine to begin with. I don’t blame her for choosing someone who was easier on the eyes. Everyone wants to be with an attractive person. I was a fool to think she would’ve ever chosen me as her Dom.

  I noticed Janet left her pack of cigarettes on the cocktail table. After they left I walked across the floor and noticed a half-smoked cigarette still smoldering in the ash tray. I picked it up and put the red stained filter to my lips and breathed in. I felt a burning in my lungs and coughed out smoke. Pocketing the pack of cigarettes, I walked toward the back of the club to shelter myself inside my office for the rest of the shift.

  “Good luck to them both” I thought to myself. “I wish them well.”

  Chapter Four

  Amy

  I’m not proud of the way I acted over the next few weeks. I suppose I felt hurt that I meant so little to Janet after our weekend tryst and then felt ashamed and ridiculous about feeling hurt by her. I stopped working out at Equinox every morning before going to work and ate crappy food. It didn’t take long for me to get soft around the belly. I just lost the desire to stay in shape. I had a few drinks in the club at night and was up to smoking a pack and a half a day. Slightly inebriated on the way home one night, I nearly dropped my HOG going around a turn on an icy street. I gave myself a nice blister burn on my leg when my calf rubbed against the red hot muffler. I breathed in the sizzling smell of my own burned flesh and didn’t even care. What is one more scar on my skin? I fell into another one of my depressed moods.

  The club kept raking in the money, without me having to even promote it. It was packed every night, more and more people wanting to become members and pay their annual dues. The private rooms were always booked weeks in advance. I kept getting calls to have the club profiled in magazines. I turned down all the offers. I preferred flying under the radar and wasn’t particularly in the mood to be interviewed for an article or have my grotesque face splashed across the glossy pages of some disreputable publication. The Board was bugging me about franchising the concept and opening Obsession clubs all over the country. I kept putting them off to the next annual Board Meeting at the end of our fiscal year in March of 2014. On top of everything else it was mid-October. It was getting cold outside, which meant I couldn’t ride my Harley anymore. The only thing that made me feel better was feeling the wind in my face on the highway, but now I was freezing my ass off on the way home each night.

  I’m embarrassed to admit it, but I began stalking Grace Madsen. It had been over two months since I’d seen her at my club. I needed to see her again; my heart literally ached for a glimpse of her. I remembered the name of the church where Charles Anderson attended the funeral service for Grace’s twin sister. One Sunday morning I awoke hung over and bleary-eyed. I drank a cup of coffee and drove over to the church, right off the highway near the Target. Without the round red circle logo, the two square buildings were barely indistinguishable.

  The place was packed for the service. Whatever they were selling was even more popular than what I had to offer at my club. As I went in, a jovial fellow in a three piece suit and thick paisley tie enthusiastically greeted me with a friendly handshake. He had the blank smiling look of someone who knew exactly what he believed in.

  “Welcome to First Assembly of God, brother!”

  I nodded back curtly. The edges of his smile drooped when he saw my face. I coul
d see a look of discomfort creep into his eyes and he let go of my hand.

  “First time here?” he asked.

  “Yeah,” I said.

  “What’s your name?”

  What’s the best name for a perverted stalker?

  “Smith,” I said.

  “Well, you better grab a seat quick or you’ll be standing in the back!”

  I nodded and went in. I went up into the balcony and was lucky to get a seat on the far side of the front row. It was the perfect vantage point to look over the crowd below. I peered over the parishioners, surveying the scene.

  Four kids started the service by playing guitars, keyboard and drums to get the crowd pumped up, but where was the minister? Everyone was on their feet, some with their eyes shut and a look of ecstasy on their faces, their hands held over their heads in praise. I had never been in an Assembly of God type church before and I didn’t know what to make of it. The police officers in the church I had attended worshipped with a Presbyterian restraint, eyes focused on the ground, hands held stiffly at their sides or clutched tightly in front of them. I gave a sideways glance to the lady beside me, her eyes shut, her lips whispering words of praise to herself. It all seemed extremely odd to me, but what did it matter what I thought? Who would care about my opinion on the matter? I was no longer a religious person, a Christian, or a cop for that matter. I was alone in my deformity, without the presence of God, a freakish-looking man who ran a sordid Gentlemen’s Club and that was it.