Velvet Submission (10 page)

All too soon she abandoned him, leaving him standing bereft and alone. His muscles twitched under skin that felt too tight. He needed her touch, her taste. He needed her.

The flogger licked across his ass with sudden, shocking power. His dick swelled in its restraints, the straps biting painfully into the engorged flesh. He spread his legs and the long leather tails slipped between his thighs, streaking over his balls harder than she'd ever hit him before. His cockhead bled pre cum; with each blow more flowed out. She expertly worked him, wrapping the tails around one thigh, then the other, letting the tips whip over his straining dick with each flick of her wrist. The snap and crackle of the flogger was like the voice of fire, and it only added to the goose bumps springing from his skin.

She was the most beautiful being in this world, his golden goddess, and he felt each smack of the flogger like a caress of her fingers and her lips over his body.

"Let go, sugar," she murmured in that low drawl that never failed to tighten things up low in his belly, and her voice combined with the oil and the pain, and he felt himself tip over the edge, into a place beyond pain, a euphoric state of sexual being where there was nothing but pleasure rising up to his head and down to his toes, lifting him up like a heated air current, sending him soaring.

His cock tightened and realized he was pumping his hips, fucking the empty air. It was all pleasure, all pure sensation. The flogger fell to the floor with a gentle thump, and suddenly the tremendous pressure on his balls released, his dick sprang up against his stomach, and with it the pleasure crested, flowing out of him in an orgasm so intense, so shattering that his knees gave out. He hit the floor still coming, the cum streaking his abdomen and chest. He came for hours, for an eternity, but finally the air in the room changed as she moved to kneel in front of him.

Her face was serene, her breathing slow and even. How in the hell was it even possible for her to not be as affected as he? There was no indication on her face or in her body language that she was moved in any way by their shared experience. Gregori swallowed as dread settled somewhere deep within him. Had he been so very mistaken? Was their connection all in his imagination? Did she always produce these feelings in her submissives?

She began to run a warm cloth over his chest and belly, cleaning away the proof of his submission. He couldn't tear his eyes off her face as she worked. She was so calm, as calm as she'd been with any other sub he'd seen her with.

She cleansed him with brisk efficiency. Not rough, but not tender, either. When she'd finished, she glanced into his eyes, then stood. "You're welcome to use the shower," she said as she took crop and flogger over to the chair where she'd read her magazine before their first session. Without another word, she began to clean the leather of her tools.

Gregori watched in disbelief. "How can you be so cold, Megan?" He was totally breaching Domme/sub etiquette but, dammit, he needed a reaction from her. "You despise Anne because she feels nothing for her submissives, but you're no different, are you?"

Her eyes were sad as she met his gaze, and his heart squeezed a little at the flash of hurt he saw when he compared her to her nemesis. "You're doing it again, Gregori," she scolded gently. "I'm not your lover. I'm not even your friend." She gave a soft sigh. "I don't have relationships with my subs. I've told you this until I'm sick of the words myself." She rose and returned the crop and flogger to their places in the cabinet, then moved to stand in front of him. She cupped his face in her hands and looked almost tenderly into his eyes.

"I gave you what you asked for. I have nothing else to give you."

"You're wrong, Megan. We have so much to give each other." He couldn't believe she felt nothing, not when he was feeling so much.

"Believe me, Gregori, when I say I will not take a submissive as a lover. It won't work for me, and I will not do it. I can be your Domme or your lover. I won't be both." She let her hands drop to her sides. "This conversation is over." Without another word she turned her back on him, leaving him raw and aching.

Chapter Seven

Megan's legs shook as she made her way to the bar. She thought she should feel some sort of triumph. After all, she'd Dommed him. She'd fucking Mastered his fine ass, and kept her composure the whole time, proving once and for all that for her, D/s wasn't about the sex.

The throbbing between her thighs said she was a liar.

Janie was still at the bar. Somehow that surprised Megan. It seemed like she'd been with Gregori for hours; certainly long enough for the bartender's shift to have ended. She remembered why the petite brunette was her favorite bartender when Janie took one look at her and slapped down a double shot of Jack, neat, in front of her.

Megan was horrified to see her hands were shaking as she picked up the glass, and she quickly downed the shot, breathing deep through the burn, hoping it would give her at least the illusion of being steady.

"Girlfriend," the bartender mused as she poured a refill, "you do not look like a Domme who's just had a successful scene."

Megan sipped this drink more slowly, feeling the liquor start a warm glow in her belly that almost was enough to make her forget the void yawning empty there.

"Oh, no, darlin'. It was very successful." She couldn't help casting her gaze toward the private rooms, wondering how long she had before Gregori made his way back to the public areas. Shaking her head in self-disgust she muttered, "Maybe it was too successful."

Janie shook her head in commiseration. "Is our fiery Russian melting that hard-candy and spun-sugar facade you wear so well?"

Megan shot her a sharp glance. "What
are
you talking about, Janie-belle?"

"I'm talking about the fact that it's common knowledge that you come here to play, but you're the club ice princess." The other woman moved to fill a drink order for a portly man in deep blue leather, but she gave Megan an amused look over her shoulder and added, "And there's no 'Belle' in my name, princess."

"I thought that title went to our Mistress Anne," Megan pressed once Janie had returned to her area of the bar.

"Oh, no," Janie laughed. "Anne's the Snow Queen, like in Narnia. You might frost your subs, but she puts them in deep freeze."

"So," Megan began hesitantly, "everyone here thinks I'm cold?" The bartender's comments came too close on the heels of Gregori's accusations for comfort.

Janie looked mildly remorseful as she clearly picked up on Megan's agitation.

"Not cold, exactly," she mused. "More like emotionally unavailable. It's clear you're here for one thing only, and it doesn't really matter who gives it to you."

"Is that so wrong?" Megan demanded. Dammit, she came to Velvet Ice to scratch an itch that couldn't be scratched anywhere else. She was allowed to be emotionally unavailable. Heck that was the whole point of her membership. She didn't do emotional involvement, not with her subs, and not with anyone in longer than she cared to remember.

"Not at all," Janie assured her. "There are plenty of subs who come here for the exact same thing." She gave Megan a level look. "Just not our Gregori. He's looking for a soul mate. For the Mistress who can command his heart just as easily as she commands his body."

"I told him he wouldn't get that from me," Megan replied, hating the defensive tone in her voice. "He only sees what he wants to see."

"Maybe he sees more clearly than you do," the other woman said softly.

Megan shook her head sadly. "After tonight he should definitely be seeing more clearly than he was before."

* * * *

Megan sat in bed, her fluffy down comforter wrapped snugly around her. A pint of Starbucks Caramel Macchiato ice-cream nested in her lap and she found herself glaring at it morosely. The creamy golden hue of the frozen treat was a little too similar to the creamy golden hue of Gregori's skin. And, unfortunately, Megan knew she'd much rather be licking the big Russian than her spoon.

She had slipped over the edge and blurred the lines she'd drawn so strictly between being a Domme and her emotions. She might not admit it to anyone else, but she had to be honest with herself. She was involved with Gregori. She wanted more than to whip his very gorgeous body and see his eyes go hazy as he made the climb to Nirvana.

Megan wanted to stroke him with tenderness. To feel those strong, rough hands on her body. To explore all the possibilities offered by his very talented mouth, and show him a few talents of her own. She wanted to Master him, and care for him and make love with him. And she wanted him to make love to her, too.

She took another sullen bite of ice cream. This was a disaster. The shrill ring of the phone tore her away from her thoughts.

Stabbing her spoon viciously into the icy treat, Megan grabbed the phone and checked out the caller id. She grimaced at the number displayed, and forced a smile to her face, knowing her caller would hear her scowl in her voice.

"Hello."

"Meggie, baby, what's wrong?" Her mother's sweet voice sounded.

"Nothing is wrong, Mama. I just had a long night." Megan closed her eyes to shut out the vision of just what had made the night so long. She absolutely couldn't think about Gregori's gloriously naked body while she was talking to her mother. The woman had a downright scary ability to read her children's voices.

Still, she wanted nothing more than to go home and cry in her mother's lap. But she couldn't. It was exactly what her father would have expected her to do.

"Oh, baby girl, I recognize that tone in your voice." Her mother paused dramatically. "What's his name and what has he done to my girl?"

Megan couldn't help but laugh. "His name is Gregori and the only thing he's done is treat me like a goddess."

"Then why are you cryin', honey? Most women would be thrilled to be put on a pedestal by her man."

"Oh, Mama, they might do that for a while, but it always ends. Look at you and Daddy, he walks around like a randy rooster barking at everyone
including
you."

Her mother laughed, a deep, full belly laugh that was totally at odds with her demure manners and appearance. That laugh always made Megan want to smile and join in, even when it was being used at her expense.

"Megan my girl, the day your father thinks he can boss me around will be his last day on this earth."

Megan shook her head, as if her mother could see the gesture.

"Mama, I've seen you give into Daddy my whole life. Even when you knew how hard he was on me." Frustration and remembered pain knotted Megan's belly. How could her mother excuse her father's overbearing behavior?

"Baby, I think you didn't pay attention. Beau has never disrespected me, nor has he ever forbidden me to do something I felt strongly about. Do I let him have his way? Of course I do, with his business and other such matters I don't want to be involved in. But, sweetie, he lets me have my way just as often."

Megan shook her head again, trying to reconcile her mother's words with her own memories.

Her mother sighed. "Sweetie you forget the long line of strong women you come from. I know you resented how strict your daddy was…"

"Mama, he spent my whole life telling me a woman should bend over backward for the man she loves. He preached to me over and over again how my job as his daughter was to go from his home to my husband's, and how once I was there, my job was to be a dutiful wife and produce him lots of grandbabies."

Her mother's trilling laughter just flat out pissed her off.

"What is so funny?"

"Megan, your daddy said what all Southern fathers say to their daughters. He has never liked the idea of you being a grownup. It was his duty and pleasure to protect you as a child, but when you became a teenager, he panicked. He couldn't face the fact you were growing up and might leave him. Or, even worse, that you might not need him anymore. So he responded by clamping down even tighter on you. When you matured into the strong, stunning woman you are today, he was too set in his thinking to see it."

Megan set the ice cream aside, as frustrated tears threatened to form in her eyes.

"Mama, why didn't you ever tell me this before? Please don't tell me I've been carrying around this resentment all these years for no reason."

"Oh, baby, you never asked." Her mother's voice was compassionate. "Loving someone isn't about controlling them," her mother added. "It's about compromising."

Megan shook as her world tilted on its axis. She needed to think, and think hard, about her mother's revelations. She had to figure out what they changed, if anything.

A brisk knock at the door broke her train of thought.

"Mama, I've gotta go. There's someone at the door." She kissed at the phone and hung up. All these years, she'd taken everything her father said as gospel. Climbing out of her nest of pillows, Megan made her way to the door of her condo, flicking on lights along the way.

Somehow she knew who she'd find even before she opened the door. She could feel the current arcing between them even through the solid oak.

Gregori stood, one arm braced on the top of the door frame. His eyes looked almost haunted, and his features were taut with strain.

"You win,
milaya
." He stood up straight and reached to run a finger down her cheek. "If the only way for me to be in your life is as a bland, vanilla lover, then that is what I shall be. Because I need to be in your life more than I need to be mastered."

Megan bit her lip in indecision for all of five seconds before moving back to let him in.

*

Gregori glanced curiously around as he followed Megan into her condo. The space was small, but she'd created a haven of soft colors and rich textures that suited her to a tee. Megan herself was a bit of a surprise.

Gone was the powerful Domme. There was no sign of the slick, sugar-coated steel magnolia. No make-up, a ratty Madonna College t-shirt, and her hair in a scraped up ponytail, and she was still the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen.

There was something in her eyes now, as she watched him. Not her usual reserve, but something else, something almost confused in her azure gaze.