Page 44 of The Dommes

You think she’ll give me that much? A bitch can dream. In the shower. I must get going.

Chapter 19

Kathleen

Istood Ira up.

When Wednesday came and the instructions were in my texts, I couldn’t do it. Don’t ask me why. Not because I don’t know why, but because I know why all too well.

I can’t do it. I can’t submit to her.

It has nothing to do with her and everything to do with me. It’s not who I am. Not only do I not have a submissive personality, but I don’t have the fortitude to do something like that.

Now, I’m not about to tell a woman who is of sound mind and body what kinks she should not engage in with anyone. Especially if that woman knows what she wants and understands her mind well. Lots of women get off on someone dominating them. I get that. Superficially. Only superficially. Beyond that? I have no idea what they’re thinking or what goes on with them physiologically.

I don’t want to know.

Suppose it’s something I should know, considering I’ve had a few female submissive partners over the years. But with men, it’s easier. I have my role. They have theirs. It’s clear why they get off on a dominant type like me treating them to a night of dirty words and implements. I even feel safer with male submissives, because I don’t worry as much about what they can handle. Sometimes, when I spank a fellow woman on the ass, it takes all of my fortitude to not hold back. Perhaps it’s because I see a piece of myself in those women, and I do not desire to be submissive. Not even for a night.

Look, I know what that dinner would be like. It would be Ira smarming all over me, trying to get me in bed. Submissively. Ever since that bet happened, I’ve been wary. She’s looking at me as a potential partner now. I’ve gone from a good fuck to a good time. If all Ira Mathison wants is sex, that’s one thing… but I know better.

She wants me to submit. That can’t happen.

I don’t mind sharing some control. I don’t mind her getting on top of me in bed and humping me like an animal. That can be… well, it sounds hot. Yet I can’t stand the thought of her thinking of me like that. As a submissive. I won’t let Ira think of me as anything other than what I genuinely am.

Who am I? Right now I’m the type of date who stands someone up, waiting until the last minute to send her a text curtly saying that I can’t make it, and then blocking her so she can’t bother me.

I don’t feel good about it. I should at least talk to her, but right now I’m so fucked up in the head that I think it’s best to let it cool for a while. I’ll have to see her eventually.

See her, yeah. For work. That’s it. We should probably stop having sex.

It’s Thursday night and I’m at Midnight. Alone. I didn’t invite Eve because, one, I knew she would be busy, and two, I want to decompress on my own terms.

Usually, the club isn’t too busy on weeknights, but Thursdays can be different. Lots of businesspeople take a three-day weekend and start the party on Thursday night. Tonight isn’t different in that regard. Every time I look out from my VIP perch, I see more people filing in and out. The place isn’t packed, but it’s not empty. If I wanted, I could find a sub for the night.

Probably, but I don’t want to.

I’m here to have a drink and watch others. I am definitely more of a voyeur than an exhibitionist. I prefer to have my slice of paradise behind closed doors, where it’s me and my partner. I can’t say I’ve ever had the desire to have someone watch me as I come – unless that person is the one making me come.

So here I am, sitting alone in my booth with a glass of whatever and watching others have a good time. It’s a good way to unwind most nights, but my mind is plagued with thoughts.

Like the thought of Ira Mathison curling her hand around the back of my neck and whispering into my ear, “Bend over, Kathleen.”

What does that mean, anyway? That she wants to spank me? To fuck me from behind? You know, Ira, I would let you fuck me from behind anyway. Just know that you’re not holding my head in the pillow and using me as a sex toy like I’ve heard you do sometimes. You would hear every moan leak from my lips. You would see my pupils as I look over my shoulder and into your striking hazel eyes. The closest you’d get to holding me down is climbing on top of me and pile-driving me with my choice of sexual weapon. Ha! You think I wouldn’t let you do that if I was in the right mood?

Just don’t think of me as your sub. Think of me as the virile, stubborn woman you’re fucking for five minutes.

I don’t like playing mind games in bed. This is why I like submissive lovers. They know what they’re going to get from me. They respect me. They make me feel like the greatest woman in the universe.

Being submissive can’t do that for me.

Nevertheless, you can probably guess what kind of people I’m watching in this club. It’s always the same. Aside from Eve and myself, there aren’t that many single Dommes who frequent this place. Most of the women are submissive, whether they’re paired or alone. Besides, it’s easier for submissive women to get access to the club. The owners are always looking for more subs for the unique tastes of we rich dominants.

Always.

Oh, the third reason Eve isn’t here tonight? Her sister and her fiancée walked through the door. Eve always makes a point of not showing up at the same time for obvious reasons. Can’t say I blame her.

Especially when your sister and her fiancée are, you know, two of the most famous (infamous?) kinksters around.

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