Provoking the Dom

Stella is a strong, independent woman and she sees no reason why a woman would allow herself to be dominated by a man. When she meets Morgan, a casino owner with whom she feels a powerful attraction, she derides him for being a Dominant.

But Morgan challenges her to be his Submissive for a week, and Stella stubbornly accepts, determined to prove that any woman can be a submissive without enjoying it.

During the challenge, Morgan employs all his tricks to make her admit she enjoys it. He insists Stella behave like a proper submissive, and this includes being constantly naked, allowing him to touch her intimately, and accepting spankings and other punishments for her mistakes.

Stella is determined to emerge from the challenge with her heart intact –
but will that be possible?

This is Part 1 of the Stella's Submissiveness Challenge series.

Chapter One

I walked around the casino slowly, watching the gamblers win and lose, the excitement on the floor palpable.

I tried not to glance up at the security cameras. Morgan had once told me he spent most of his time watching the floor via those cameras, and I wondered if he could see me – but looking straight into a camera would just make me look desperate.

I was here in the casino he owned and managed, the Treasury, because I liked the vibe, the rooms were comfortable, and the service was great. Not to see Morgan. Or at least, that's what I told myself.

Of course, I let my friend Mandy
know I was here – she was Morgan's cousin and had introduced us. I sent her another text to say the casino floor was buzzing. I wondered if she'd told Morgan I was here. She probably had.

I'd first met Morgan a few months ago, and since then he'd flown down to
Madison
to see Mandy a few times, and I'd met him each time. A few weeks back, Mandy and I had taken him up on his offer to stay at the Treasury for free, and we enjoyed a short Vegas holiday.

I thought Morgan and I shared a strong attraction, but I could
be wrong. He was tall, with chocolate eyes and dark hair, and we were always making little jokes and teasing each other. Mandy had mentioned that since meeting me, he'd flown down to
Madison
more often, probably using her as an excuse to see me.

At that, I'd asked her if Morgan had a girlfriend. My subtlety was lost entirely on Mandy, who laughed and said, "No, but he probably has a Submissive."

Looking at my confused face, she'd explained that Morgan was into the BDSM lifestyle. When I went home that day and Googled BDSM, I realized why Morgan had never actually asked me out or made a pass at me. He clearly liked meek, weak women, and I was anything but weak.

I like to think of myself as an intelligent, independent woman, and a life of obeying some man and allowing him to torture me was not one that appealed to me. So I decided to forget about Morgan.

But here I was, down at the Treasury Casino, hoping to run into him. I wasn't sure what I thought might happen between us, but I hadn't been able to get him out of my mind
. So when my three-day blogging conference, held at another Vegas hotel, had ended, I found myself here, ostensibly looking for a "holiday."
I run a popular food and cooking blog, and taking a few days off wouldn't hurt business.

I lost a few rolls of craps
, enjoyed a quick lunch in a cute cafe, and did some window shopping. By the time I had dinner, there was still no sign of Morgan. I changed out of my jeans into a slinky cocktail dress and found myself in the bar, ordering one
Long Island
iced tea after another. I brushed off advances from losers, allowed myself to get a bit tipsy, and finally asked the waitress if there were any other clubs or bars in the casino.

She reeled off a list of names, and then finally said, "We've also got a BDSM club called Masquerade, but you're clearly not into that stuff."

"How do I get there?"

"I'm pretty sure you won't like it." Her voice was dripping with doubt.

I took a long sip of my drink. "No," I agreed, "But I just wanna
see what it's like."

"Okay
…" She still seemed doubtful, but told me to go upstairs, walk past the boutiques and turn right.

"Gotcha," I said and grinned.

I finished the
Long Island
iced tea and left before I could change my mind, and found myself walking past the boutiques. There was a door at the far end of the corridor with two large bouncers standing in front of it. There was no sign it was a happening nightclub or bar, so I stood there until a man dressed in black walked past me and showed the bouncer his driver's license. The bouncer nodded and handed him a dark blue Venetian mask, which the man slipped over his head.

I watched him walk in and gulped. At least I knew what to do.

It probably wasn't as bad as I thought it would be. I showed the bouncer my ID and he was about to hand me a mask when his walkie-talkie buzzed.

He moved away and muttered into it, and I couldn't hear what he'd said. But when he came back, he put away the blue mask and handed me a sparkly white one instead. I saw the two men exchange looks, but I don't mind white, so I smiled and walked in.

There was a coat room, but the girl smiled and refused to take the cover charge from me, so I walked past into the inner room.

Everyone was wearing dark blue masks, and they all seemed to be watching something. I turned to see what they were watching, and gasped when I saw the stage.

A man in a leather hood stood on one side with a whip in his hand. In the center of the stage there was a naked girl, her eyes bound with a blindfold, her arms handcuffed and tied above her head, and her legs spread wide and attached to a straight metal bar.

The crowd was rumbling, and I saw the man walk up behind her and caress her ass, whispering something in her ear. The girl smiled and nodded, and the man moved back and began to whip her slowly. I could tell he wasn't using all his force, and the girl began to moan. Her face was awash with pain, and the man stopped briefly to ask her something. She nodded again, and he started whipping her faster this time, quicker and with more force.

I was incredulous – a look of pleasure started to come over her face, and the crowd started to cheer him on. I glanced around; everyone seemed to be excited and aroused by the scene.

And then I saw Morgan.

Our eyes met and my breath caught. Morgan's chocolate eyes were twinkling under the lights. He wasn't wearing a mask, and he was staring straight at me, a thin smile playing on his lips. I blushed, hoping he wouldn't think I was enjoying this. Oh wait, I was wearing a mask. There was no way he'd know it was me. I looked away, ignoring the tingling I felt.

But then he walked up to me, and said, "Had enough yet?"

I pretended not to hear him, and continued to hope he didn't know it was me. He grabbed my arm, and walked me out, pulling off my mask.

"Hey!" I gasped angrily, my arm burning where he held me. "How did you know it was me?"

I frowned with indignation and Morgan laughed and let go of my arm. "You do know I've got cameras all over this place, right? And that you were the only one in there wearing a white mask?"

"Hmmph," I snorted derisively. "I hope you don't think I liked what was going on in there."

Morgan's tone was light and uncaring. "No, it was quite clear you hated what you saw."

I sneaked a sideways glance at him. "Hmm."

He didn't seem to be sarcastic, but he seemed to be laughing at me silently.  "And why exactly did you hate it?"

This was exactly the chance I was looking for! I launched into a slightly tipsy tirade as we walked into a nearby cafe and sat in a quiet corner. I told him how inhumane it was, how barbaric that the girl was being treated like an animal, how all men were pigs...

"Hang on," he interrupted me. "You did notice there were women in the crowd too, who were having fun?"

"Hmm. Well, fine, the whole BDSM crowd are pigs. And the poor woman was being whipped! In public! Naked! Why would she allow that? Why would someone do that to her?"

Morgan was looking at me steadily, his chocolate eyes glinting under the warm cafe lights. "Did you notice she seemed to be having fun? And how about the fact that she didn't ask him to stop, and she seemed to be enjoying the whole thing?"

I stared into his eyes and felt myself sinking. "People are nuts." That appeared to be the only explanation.

Morgan shook his head seriously. "There are some people who really enjoy this kind of thing. Not necessarily being whipped in public, but just being a submissive, and allowing their man to take care of them."

"Sure, maybe some wimps, or some gold-diggers, desperate to please their rich dude."

"You'd be surprised. Many
Submissive women are very successful and powerful in their careers – they like to loosen up in their personal lives and let someone else take care of them at home. The woman on stage today – she's a high-powered attorney during the day, and the man whipping her is her husband. They've been together twelve years now."