Domme By Default

Chapter 13 Her

I felt like shit the next morning. I stared at my reflection.

Puffy, red eyes and a pounding headache. I could not believe I'd done this. I took a shower and dressed. Then I sat on the bed, stared at my phone.

I dialed.

He answered immediately. "Hi."

I swallowed hard and closed my eyes. "I'm okay."

"I'm so sorry, babe. Please whatever you want—"

"Shh. It's okay." I took a deep breath. "I'll be home tomorrow evening."

I worried for a moment the call had dropped when he eventually replied, "Okay." His voice sounded soft, hurt.

It ripped at me.

"I love you," I said. "I mean it, you didn't do anything wrong."

"I love you, too. I promise I'll try harder." He sounded frantic, near panic.

"No, you're trying hard enough. I'm the one who needs to try harder. I need to take a step back for a little bit and figure things out, that's all."

He sounded so sad but I knew he'd never admit it to me even if I asked. "What do you want me to do until you come home?"

I forced myself to maintain a steady, level tone of voice. "I want you to go to work tomorrow like you normally do. I'll see you when I get home tomorrow night. I should be home around seven thirty or so, maybe eight. If it'll be later than that I'll try to call you."

"Okay."

No questions, no recriminations, no accusations.

Acquiescence.

"I love you," I said again."Be safe."

"I love you, too. I miss you."

That's when I nearly lost it. "I miss you, too. Now let me get off of here before my phone dies. I don't have my charger with me." I hung up before he could hear me sob.

I put myself back together before I met Tony downstairs in the restaurant. He cocked his head and watched me from across the table. "Feeling better?"

I shook my head. "Worse."

We were seated by ourselves in a corner booth. He clasped his hands and leaned in close, his voice low. "I'm going to ask you something, and I want you to say the first thing that comes to mind, okay?"

I nodded.

He turned the full force of his green eyes on me. "If you could have your husband do one thing, what would it be?"

Without missing a beat I replied, "Have him take control and fuck me silly."

Tony smiled. "Then ask him."

"How's he supposed to do that?"

One eyebrow slid up. "I thought you had kids. You don't know how they get here?"

I laughed. "Duh. I mean, if he's playing sub, how's he supposed to take charge?"

He eyed me and I suspected I was about to learn a lesson.

"Does a general go out in the field and fight every battle personally?"

I wasn't sure where he was leading, but I followed. "No."

"Do field commanders call generals up every five minutes and ask for new orders?"

I frowned. "I don't think so."

"What does a general do?"

I shrugged. "Beats the fuck outta me."

He smiled. "A general gives a command. Is a general always in command over a lower officer?"

"Is this our Yoda moment?"

"Answer the question."

I nodded. "Yeah, I think so. I mean, I guess so."

"Okay. But field commanders, they make 'in charge'

decisions, don't they?"

I shrugged again. "I guess."

He leaned back. "Do you ever tell your husband to make dinner?"

"Yeah, he does it all the time."

"Do you stand over him and tell him how every little thing is supposed to be done?"

"No. I'd do it myself if I had to do that."

"You give him a goal-oriented command and tell him to get it done, correct?"

I nodded, seeing his point.

"And does he do it?"

"Yeah."

"Just because he makes decisions in the process doesn't make him any less your sub."

"Right."

"So you tell him this is something you need. He can serve you by doing it. You get the best of both worlds."

I closed my eyes, feeling like a fucking moron. It was one of those things that was so easy and clear that I'd totally fucking missed it because it was so simple.

"I think you just made the connection," he observed.

"Yeah. I did. So I can order him to be in charge and he's still my sub by taking charge."

"One of those little ironies that makes the lifestyle so interesting. You can have your cake and beat it, too."

It took me a second to realize what he'd said, then I laughed.

We had a good brunch. We didn't just talk about that, although he let me get my thoughts on the table and offered his insight. He never told me I had to do one thing or another.

Before we ended our discussion four hours later, he looked at me. "Any more questions?"

"How do I go home and explain why I did this?"

He shrugged. "You're his Mistress. You don't have to tell him anything if you don't want to."

"I'm also his wife. Don't I owe him an explanation?"

"Do you? Why?"

"Because I love him."

"Show him you love him. Be honest, have communication, but you can't sit there worried about what hasn't happened yet. Just be honest. Maybe he'll surprise you."

Miracle of miracles, I didn't have a seat mate on the return flight home. I stared out the window at the alien landscape as it slipped by below us, thousands of feet away.

How would he greet me?

I still wasn't sure what my next step would be. Should I consider ending this "game" once and for all? I loathed myself. I hated that I could rip into him emotionally, even in as minor a way that I did, and hurt him. I didn't want that power.

I feared it.

The sun was dipping into the Gulf of Mexico as our plane banked over Tampa Bay, landing from the south. An hour later I sat in my car and pondered my next step.

What would await me?

I gave him no instructions when I told him about my flight.

Would he be home? Would he be watching TV or working?

Would he be sitting there, naked, only wearing his collar?

Would he be there at all?

I personally feared and felt I deserved the last.

Yes, he'd asked for this lifestyle. I tried, but no matter what, I couldn't deny that there were needs I had that this game ran totally contrary to. I needed him, his strength. I needed his support.

Could I reconcile what I needed and still give him what he craved?

That was. The longest. Fucking. Drive. Of my life.

Period.

I sat in our driveway for a moment, his car was there.

Lights were on inside.

With a deep, nervous breath, I gathered my things, locked my car, and stepped inside.

The smell hit me first, rolling out the door like a luscious cloud. He'd been cooking. Considering my last meal was a bagel off the hotel's continental breakfast bar twelve hours earlier, saying my mouth watered wasn't an exaggeration.

The lamp in the living room was on, but the rest of the kitchen and dining room were bathed in candlelight.

Stunned, I couldn't move. I was vaguely aware of something soft and jazzy on the stereo. I'd envisioned many homecomings, but nothing like this.

He stuck his head out of the kitchen and raced over to me.

Naked.

Well, except for his collar.

He threw his arms around me and I barely had time to put down my stuff before he swept me into his arms, his face buried in my hair.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry," he kept repeating.

I think that made me feel worse.

I let him hold me, hugging him back, closing my eyes and trying to live in the moment. Obviously he wasn't upset with me for my sudden departure.

"You didn't do anything wrong," I whispered.

And, of course, he hadn't.

We made it to the couch. When he tried to sit on the floor in front of me I refused to let go of him until he was seated next to me, on the cushions, his arm around me.

I couldn't look him in the eye. "We need to have a talk," I managed.

He kissed the top of my head. "Okay."

I'd planned this talk all day. Somehow, the words failed me. Every line I thought I'd memorized went right out the fucking window.

"What did Tony say to you on the phone?" I asked.

I felt his body tense a little. "He told me you were having a normal reaction and that you needed a little time to think things through."

"What else?"

I felt him shrug.

"I didn't sleep with him. That's not why I went out there.

All we did was talk."

His body relaxed, as if tension drained from him.

I sat up and forced my eyes to his. "I would never do that.

I don't want anyone but you. He's right though. I needed time to think. I needed to talk to someone face to face about this who wouldn't look at me like I was a freak."

His eyes widened. "I'm sorry, babe. I didn't mean for you to feel like—"

I shook my head, cutting him off. "You didn't. You didn't do anything wrong. This is about me." Now the words would come, the ones I'd said to Tony, his advice to me. "I need to get better at asking for what I need from you. I haven't done a very good job of being your Domme."

"Honey, you've been great. I'm sorry I've put you through this." He looked at our hands, where he'd laced his fingers through mine. "We can stop if you want. I understand."

"No." I took a deep breath. "That's not what I want. You enjoy this. And I enjoy making you feel like that. But there's going to be times I need you to be and do things for me, too."

His hopeful eyes met mine and he eagerly nodded.

"Whatever you want, you ask."

"I need to do a better job telling you what I want, of teaching you. I didn't realize that before. I guess I assumed since we were playing this and you asked me to do it that you knew what you wanted and what I wanted." I asked the question. "What do you want out of this?"

His mouth opened, then closed.

That actually made me feel better, that he was as lost as I was.

He shook his head. "I want to have fun."

"Okay, that's a start. Why do you want to be my sub?"

He pursed his lips as he thought about it. I was having a hard time concentrating with what smelled like beef stew calling me to the kitchen, but I wanted this handled. Now.

He finally spoke. "I enjoy doing things for you like this. I enjoy letting go and giving myself to you. I like knowing you have full control over me and trusting you like that."

I didn't know how far he could go. I kept Tony's advice in mind. "I will do that for you, but I need to be honest with you. I wish there were times I could just let go and you would be in charge. At least in the bedroom. There will be times I need you to do that for me, to give me a break. Give me a chance to recharge."

I read the surprise in his eyes. Maybe he hadn't really understood me before, all the times in the past when I'd tried to nudge him into a dominant role.

"What do you want me to do?" he asked. "I'll do it."

I shifted position, sitting in his lap, his strong arms around me, my head on his shoulder. "Sometimes, I need to just be.

I need you strong and taking care of me, not just serving me.

I don't know how to explain the difference."

He nuzzled the back of my neck, making me shiver.

"Okay."

"Not all the time. Sometimes I need to recharge. Tony said it was called 'Dom drop' or something. I don't mean you need to play my Dom, but sometimes I just need you to be my husband. Sometimes I need you to be more than that." I took a deep breath. "I promise I'll do a better job teaching you things so you understand what I want."

"I love you so much." He hugged me tightly and I didn't want to cry, but I did. I sobbed against him, loving this man and knowing I had to find a way to get a handle on this for him. As hard as this was for me, I craved the look of unadulterated joy in his eyes when we played. I enjoyed seeing him looking years younger than he had.

I relished the comments from my friends that he seemed like a changed man, a younger man.

I enjoyed how sexy he made me feel, and that he was practically like a horny teenager with me, when most of my friends were complaining they could barely get their husbands to look at them in bed anymore.

We both were changed.

I could—would—do this. I had to.

I finally quit bawling and we ate. He held my chair for me and served me dinner, smiling when I complemented him on his cooking. He wouldn't let me help him with the dishes. I had to admit there was something incredibly sexy about watching a naked man's ass while he washed dishes.

A thought hit me. "You didn't wear your collar to work today, did you?"

He turned from the sink and nodded. "Yes."

I felt horrible. "Why did you do that?"

"Because you told me I wasn't allowed to take it off except in an emergency. That wasn't an emergency."

"But that had to be uncomfortable."

He shrugged, then the faintest of smiles curled his lips. "I loosened it one notch so it rode lower under my collar. And I wore a necktie. No one could tell."

I watched as his cock slowly inflated.

Fuck. That was...

Hot.

"You liked having your collar on at work?"

He nodded, still stiffening. "I liked knowing I was still obeying you." He arched an eyebrow at me. "Of course, Mistress could punish me for loosening my collar and not wearing it properly."

His cock stood at full attention at the thought.

Oh boy.

"Did you have it locked?"

He nodded. "I only had the lock off long enough to loosen it one notch. Then I put it right back on. As soon as I got in the car before I came home I put it back the way it belonged."

I imagined him doing that, loosening his tie and unbuttoning his collar, looking in the rear view mirror to see what he was doing. My mouth went dry.

"So what did you do with your day collar?"

He looked at me like I was nuts. "I wore it."

"Why?"

"Because you told me I'm always to wear it when I'm not at home."

"But you had your collar on."

He nodded. "Yes?"

Now I was wet.

What the hell was wrong with me? Or was there anything wrong with me? Maybe I was meant to do this with him.

When he finished the dishes he walked over to me and took my hands. "If you can't do this, I understand. I have fun doing this with you. I spend half my day imagining what I'm going to do for you when I get home, and I don't just mean sex, either. I like knowing that as soon as I walk through the door my world begins and ends with you."

His stiff erection poked against my hip.

"But the sex is hotter."

He nodded, smiling. "Fuck, yes. I spend most of my day at work hard as a rock. I haven't felt like this in years."

I wanted honesty, I got it.

I knew we couldn't go back. Frankly, I really didn't want to. Maybe I could find a balance I could comfortably live with.

I wrapped my arms around his neck and ground my hips against him. "I want you to take me to bed and make love to me. If you're a good boy, I'll reward you."

He shivered with anticipation. "Really?"

I kissed the base of his throat. "Yes. Make love to me right now, and I'll let you spend the rest of the evening with one of your toys in your ass—"

He scooped me into his arms, crushing his lips against mine, practically running with me to our bedroom.

Something inside me broke free in a good way. I could live like this.

Maybe I hadn't been trying hard enough. Maybe I hadn't spent enough time looking for my path, had spent too much time focused on his, trying to do it the way I thought he wanted it done.

An hour later, he'd made me come twice and left me a melted puddle of flesh in the middle of our bed. I crooked my finger at him. "Fuck me, baby."

I didn't have to ask twice. As his eyes squeezed shut I wrapped my legs around his waist. Then I stretched just a little, running my finger down the crack of his ass and settling it over his rim.

He gasped, his strokes harder. I teased him, not fucking him with my finger, just pressing firmly enough against the puckered ring of muscle to give him a tantalizing hint of what I knew he wanted.

I tangled the fingers of my other hand in his hair and pulled his head down to my shoulder. I growled in his ear,

"You come really hard for me, and scream when you come, and I'll make sure your sweet ass is full all evening, baby."

He screamed.

As tired as I was, I felt determined to keep my promise.

Five minutes later he was on his hands and knees on our bed, his sweet ass in the air, his cock already half-stiff again.

I couldn't deny it was hot.

I stood next to the bed and lubed the butt plug, carefully slid it home.

His sigh of pleasure stirred something deep inside me in a good way.

I patted his ass. "There you go. You can keep that in until bedtime."

He rolled over and grabbed my hand, kissed it. "Thank you, Mistress." His cock had fully inflated again, rigid, throbbing. I had a feeling we'd have a second round at bedtime. I couldn't in good conscience leave him hanging like that. He'd been so good.

He was a good sub.

I pulled him to his feet and grabbed his cock. "You've got free time until we go to bed. If I catch you playing with yourself, you won't get any relief for two days."

His cock throbbed in my hand, even stiffer than before.

"Yes, Mistress," he eagerly replied.

My heart pounded. How could I enjoy this? What the fuck was wrong with me? Or was anything wrong with me?

I'd do anything short of killing to see that playful, eager light in his eyes all the time. I craved it. "Very good, that pleases me." I patted his ass again. "Go on, check your email or whatever."

He kissed me and walked to his study. I imagined he'd sit there, squirming in his chair, enjoying the full feeling in his ass.

I needed to check my email, let Tony know I'd made it home all right.

He was on IM as it turned out.

You okay? he asked.

I'm good. We had a short talk. First of many.

Talk is good.

I apologized to him for leaving. Told him I'll do a better job teaching him.

You've learned well, grasshopper.

I laughed. Tony always cracked me up. Thank you.

For what?

For putting up with a crazy woman.

LOL you guys are sooo vanilla girl, you have no idea. I'm glad I could help. I'm always here if you need an ear.

Thanks.

I checked my email, read the news. An hour later I shut down my laptop and walked to his study.

His left hand firmly gripped the arm of his chair, as if he struggled to keep it there. His right lay on his desk, on his mouse.

His cock stood straight up in his lap.

I leaned against the doorjamb. "Have you behaved yourself?"

He nodded. "I had to scratch but I didn't play with myself, Mistress."

I fought—and lost—against the urge to laugh. "That's okay. Scratching is allowed." I nodded, indicating his erection.

"You ready to do something about that?"

He eagerly nodded.

"Shut down your computer and get your ass in bed so I can fuck you." I was already wet again.

The man could move wicked fast. I think he bypassed the normal shutdown and simply held the power button. He zipped past me and landed on our bed, wiggled his ass at me.

I couldn't help it. I laughed again. He was so damn cute like this.

At least I knew I wouldn't have to worry about him cheating on me.

Later that night as he folded his body around me, pressed against my back, his arm draped around my waist, I closed my eyes and knew somehow, some way, we'd make this work. I'd quit making the mistake that it was all on my shoulders to figure it out. I would involve him in the process, ask for input, tell him what I needed.

We could do this.