The Romantic Dominant (2 page)

“Please drive safely,” he murmured, his lips against her ear. “I don’t want anything to happen to you.”

“I will,” she promised, and settled behind the wheel.

Shaking off the urgent temptation to grab her hand, pull her from the car and kiss her fervently, he closed her door and made his way to his Mercedes on the opposite side of the lot.

The air was icy, helping to clear his head, but as he began driving home he realized he shouldn’t be behind the wheel and pulled into an all-night diner for some coffee and a slice of pie.

Her beautiful ghost sat across from him, reminding him who he was, and how much he needed the sizzling romance about which he’d dreamed for so long.

As they had sat huddled at the corner table, neither Zander or Gabriela had noticed the man lurking at the far side of the bar. His name was Connor Matthews, and Connor Matthews had arrived thirty minutes late for his date with Gabriela Costa.

Connor Matthews always arrived late. It was a deliberate act designed to put the woman off-balance. If the young woman in question, usually naive and eager, insisted it had been her fault and she had misunderstood the time, he would happily allow her to take the blame. An angry, impatient welcome he found amusing, but he would sooth her, winning her over with his sophisticated charm.

Whatever the reaction the technique served its purpose; ascertaining the temperament of the young woman to better understand her.

To arrive and find his date had joined another man for a drink was a first, and completely and utterly unacceptable; Connor had sat watching, his fury building.

It mattered not that he had agreed to meet Gabriela simply because he was bored and thought it might be interesting to spend five minutes with a woman over twenty-five.

It mattered not that he had a girl bound and blindfolded in his house, pining for his return.

It mattered not that he had a bevy of young, vulnerable beauties, anxiously waiting for his call.

It mattered not that Gabriela wasn’t his type at all.

What mattered was, she should have waited for him.

What mattered was, she was supposed to have been sitting at the bar with
him,
being seduced by
him
, by
his
charm,
his
good looks,
his
stature and
his
wealth, not some other man who had just happened along.

Gabriela was going to pay for her sins, and pay dearly.

It would take time. He was still training his latest slut-slave, and the two that would follow were already lined up, their seduction through the internet and telephone well under way.

Gabriela would have to wait, but Connor could be very patient when it came to such things, and the hunt, the stalking, was always so entertaining.

As he watched and stewed, the chorus of his favorite song, sung by Sting, a man whose name he found particularly appealing, played loudly in his head;

Every breath you take

Every move you make

Every bond you break

Every step you take

I'll be watching you

Every single day

Every word you say

Every game you play

Every night you stay

I'll be watching you

Connor Matthews was not just a jealous man or a control freak, Connor Matthews was a psychopath who used the label, Dominant, as a his lure.

T
he audience was in darkness, the writhing female body on the stage was full and robust, her arms held above her head by a leather cord hanging from the unseen ceiling, and her bottom, round and proud, seemed to be begging for the flogger that was about to lash its tendrils across her skin.

The flogging demonstrations at the club were always popular, and Zander’s late arrival had landed him in the back row. The submissive at his side was inexperienced and nervous, though dressed in a scarlet satin corset and black seamed stockings she looked every bit the part. He’d bought her the outfit that afternoon, along with the patent leather red heels, and the rhinestone chocker that graced her neck. The entire package had been sitting on his bed, waiting for her arrival.

Her name was Abigail Miller, and he’d met her on Facebook. After a few weeks of online chats and some time on the telephone they’d decided to meet for coffee. She was sweet and good company so he’d asked her out, but during dinner he’d found her younger than she appeared, and realized she was not a woman with whom he would pursue a relationship. He hadn’t planned to take her out again, but when he’d mentioned the club she’d begged him to take her.

They were late arriving because Abigail had taken her sweet time dressing. He’d sent a car to deliver her to his penthouse, she’d oooh’ed and aaah’ed as she’d walked into the spacious living room and stared out at the view, then locked herself in his bathroom to change. For such things Zander wasn’t a patient man, and after twenty minutes he had knocked on the door.

“My hair isn’t working,” she’d complained. “I bought this new mousse and it’s making it all sticky.”

“We’re already running late. If we don’t get there soon we won’t be able to get seats for the demonstration, at least not decent ones. We have to leave.”

She didn’t comply, and Zander wondered if she was purposely defying him because she wanted to be spanked. He’d run into the scenario before; sometimes he’d oblige, sometimes he wouldn’t. When she’d finally emerged, he was pacing.

“It’s so irritating when you spend a bunch of money on something and it doesn’t work,” she complained.

“Yes, I know what you mean,” he quipped. “Grab your coat, we’re leaving.”

“It’s still not right,” she moaned, continuing to play with her long tresses as he bustled her down the hallway to the waiting elevator. “It just won’t do what I want.”

“And you won’t do what I want,” he sternly remarked. “I’m seriously considering putting you over my knee.”

“What do you mean?” she asked, as the elevator whisked them down.

“When the demonstration is over I think I’ll take you into a paddling booth and spank you.”

“In public? You wouldn’t?” she exclaimed, a statement and question rolled into one.

“Yes, I would,” he replied, frowning at her.

The car was waiting, the driver holding the door open, and as they climbed inside and settled into the plush seat, he turned to her with a serious look on his face.

“I was just trying to make myself look good for you,” she mumbled, staring at her fingers.

Zander gazed out the window and sighed. He didn’t mean to be so brusque, but the nights he’d spent with incompatible women had drained him of tolerance, and when they’d arrived at the club and seats in the back row were the only ones available, it hadn’t helped his mood. Shaking off his ire, Zander focused on the Dominant walking on to the stage. He often wondered why they never failed to dress in black and was waiting for the night some brave soul would wander in front of the audience in something, anything, other than a black T-shirt and slacks.

A tux perhaps,
he thought, but his pondering was interrupted as the proficient Dominant began to speak.

“For those of you who have not seen a flogging before, understand this is just one of many variations. My submissive, Janelle, is not here to be punished, quite the contrary. This particular flogging will bring her to a heightened state of sexual arousal, and when we leave here she will be given great pleasure. As you can see her bottom is already reddened. This is from a hand spanking just before she came on stage. It prepared her for what she is about to endure.”

The audience fell silent as he raised the flogger. Holding the handle in one hand, the ends of the tails in the other, he snapped them loose, giving the biting tongues flight. The girl arched her back, her yearning for more evident in the silent gesture. He obliged quickly, delivering strike after strike, occasionally pausing to whisper in her ear and touch between her legs. Though his breathy words were not audible her moans were, and his probing fingers elicited small cries of decadent joy.

Abigail, leaning against Zander’s body, began fidgeting, and glancing down he saw her eyes darting around the room.

“Are you all right?” he asked, his voice a low whisper.

She nodded, but he could sense her discomfort, and taking her hand he led her quietly from the small theatre.

The club was in full swing, but they were a distance from the fray, the demonstration rooms situated at the back of the venue, and though the music and crowd could be heard the sounds were muffled. Dropping her hand he leaned against the wall and studied her; she looked shaken.

“Abigail, you told me you’ve had a Dominant in the past. Is that true?”

Tears brimming, she shook her head.

“Not really, I mean, kind of,” she stammered.

“Explain, please,” he requested, keeping his voice calm and even.

“I had a boyfriend who liked to spank me a bit.”

“That was the relationship you’ve been referring to?”

“Uh-huh.”

“I see, and your age? Are you really twenty-five?”

“No, I turned twenty-one, last month,” she admitted, dropping her gaze to the floor. “That’s why I put off meeting you. I needed to make sure I’d have an ID if I was asked for one.”

“I see.”

“Sorry. I didn’t think you’d meet me if I told you.”

“You were right,” he remarked.

“Sorry,” she repeated.

“Did the flogging demonstration upset you?”

“It was so, like, intense,” she declared, raising her voice and lifting her eyes to look back at him.

“Come on, I’ll take you home.”

“Can’t we stay and have a drink? Maybe dance a bit?” she asked.

“No. This place isn’t for you, and neither am I,” he sighed.

“Zander, please, I really like you,” she begged. “I need a strong man.”

He stopped, and looking down at her the lightbulb went off.

“I think you’re looking for a father figure,” he observed, and dropping the stern tone he smiled. “There are some D/s relationships that take that road. It’s not for me, but if you’re more honest with people you meet online you’ll have a better chance of meeting the kind of man you want, but Abigail, please be careful.”

“Shoot,” she sighed. “Maybe you’re right. It’s all so complicated.”

“Come on, I’ll take you home and you can get changed. You can keep that naughty outfit. When you do meet Mr. Wonderful you’ll have something to wear for him.”

“Please, Zander, will you do something for me?”

“That depends, what is it?”

“I really want to be spanked,” she said shyly. “I really do, but like, not in front of everyone.”

Zander knew how she felt; she had a hunger that nothing else could satisfy.

“All right, Abigail, I’ll spank you back at my place. Quite frankly you deserve it and perhaps it will teach you to be more honest.”

“Thank you,” she smiled, and impetuously hugged him. “You won’t spank me too hard will you?”

“Of course I will,” he replied, knowing it was what she wanted to hear. “I’ll spank you as hard as I want, for as long as I want.”

He saw the butterflies fluttering in her eyes, and taking hold of her elbow marched her out to the car. As the limo began gliding through the city streets, Abigail took his hand, turned it over and stared at his palm.

“Wondering how hot it will be?” he asked.

“No,” she giggled, looking up at him. “I read palms as a hobby, but the light in here is too dim. I’ll try when we get back to your place.”

“Not before you’re spanked,” he declared, and heard her sharp intake of breath. “How long has it been?”

“Two years, maybe a bit more,” she sighed.

“No wonder you kept me waiting. You need it,” he commented.

Her attitude and behavior he’d found extremely immature, and he wondered if he was seeing her that way because he was getting older, or if she was young for her age.

The car finally rolled to a stop in front of his building, the door was opened, and they walked through the lobby and into the elevator. As it ascended to the top floor, she clutched his elbow.

“I’m kind of scared,” she admitted.

“Good,” he smiled. “There’d be something wrong if you weren’t.”

The elevator let them out into the hallway, and he led her to the double doors that opened into his living room. After removing her coat he immediately took her hand and strode through the room, yanking her over his knee as he settled on the arm of his large, sleek, leather couch.

“Oooooh,” she cried. “So soon?”

“Shush,” he scolded, pulling her red satin panties up into her crack. “From now on you’ll be upfront with the men you meet,” he decreed, landing his hand with a series of hard swats on her right cheek.

“Yes!” she wailed. “Yes, I swear.”

“You’ll be careful about who you meet and where you meet them,” he continued, spanking her left cheek just as hard.

“Zander, yes, ooooh, that hurts.”

“That’s the general idea,” he quipped, his unrelenting hand smacking away.

“Ooooh, no more, please, I’ll be good,” she wailed.

“Nope, not yet, now be quiet. You asked for a spanking, you deserve a spanking, and that’s exactly what you’re going to get.”

“Ooooh, Zander,”

“Keep that up and I’ll get my paddle,” he announced, pausing for just a moment, “then you’ll really have something to complain about, and just for the record, I’m also spanking you for keeping me waiting earlier. You need to be more considerate,” he scolded.

“S-sorry,” she gasped.

He waited until she’d caught her breath, then delivered a series of scalding, rapid-fire swats, turning her bottom bright pink, finishing with a flourish on the tender area where her thighs met her cheeks. Finally done, he dropped down on the couch and brought her into his lap for a long hug.

“Damn,” she panted, “my butt is really stinging.”

“Of course,” he said tenderly, “you needed it, and I meant what I said. When you’re going to meet a stranger you must call a friend and let them know where you’ll be. Arrange some kind of code, so if you find yourself in trouble you can let them know.”