Page 69 of The Dommes

Kathleen sits on the edge of my bed and swings her legs over. I put a hand on them, testing her boundaries. She does not shake me off.

“Tell me what you’re thinking.”

Her shrug worries me. I can’t have her brushing this off. “Many things. Nothing. My brain is full of crap, but I want to sleep.”

“You are welcome to spend the night.”

“Thanks.”

It takes a while, but she eventually pushes herself beneath the covers and curls up against me. I wrap an arm around her, careful to not touch something sensitive. “I’m sorry it happened that way.”

She sniffs, and I wonder if I’ve made her cry again. “I’m not mad at you. Really. You did what I would have. I simply wasn’t ready.”

She could say that again.

“I guess I’m worried that… you’re going to think of me differently now.”

My hand tilts her chin up until she’s looking into my eyes. “The only thing I think is that you are normal.”

Kathleen shivers. Says nothing.

As the minutes wear by, I slip farther beneath the covers and hold her closer to me. She’s so fragile in my arms. The tautness of her body begs me to kiss her all over, giving her the care she craves but is too ashamed to ask for.

Her wounded skin is ready for my touch. I make sure I’m the softest person in the world as I kiss her tenderly and whisper into her ear that she’s beautiful, clever, and a woman whom I respect and admire.

She smiles against my skin. I don’t know exactly what’s going through her head, but I hope she can sleep peacefully tonight. Here, in my arms.

Chapter 27

Kathleen

Iawake in an unfamiliar place. At first, I must be dreaming… then it comes back to me.

The sex. The freakouts. The going to sleep feeling no better.

Ira.

She’s not here, not even in her bed. I’m utterly alone as I stretch an arm above my head, look around, and adjust my vision until it no longer hurts to open my eyes.

The pillow pushes against my cheek as I slowly come to. It’s comforting, even as my brain is filled with terrible memories. Shit, I’m embarrassed. How could I have acted like that in front of Ira? To Ira?

My everything is sore. My ass is so bruised from some simple spankings that I can’t take any position but on my stomach. The T-shirt I borrowed to sleep in nearly strangles me as I drown in it. Yet all I can think about is how warm and comfortable this bed is. The mattress has the right firmness. The sheets are Egyptian cotton. 1500 thread count. The duvet is light but warm. If it weren’t for my ass and the memories, I would spend the whole day in this bed – alone.

I doubt Ira would have left me here, or at least not for long. I don’t see a note anywhere. This room is so soundproofed that I can’t tell if she’s in the bathroom. A part of me doesn’t care.

The other part wants her here. Right now.

I draw the duvet over my head and pretend that last night didn’t happen. Although I may have showered, I still feel… dirty. I know I’m not. I know it’s irrational. Countless women have submitted before, including to me.

Those women aren’t me.

The duvet tugs down my face. I open my eyes to see Ira, still dressed in her night clothes, looming over me with two cups of coffee in her hands.

“Morning, darling."

It’s an empty pet name. Even so, I fling back the covers and face that today must happen.

One of the coffee cups is placed on the nightstand next to me. Ira sits on the other side of the wide bed, gingerly pulling herself toward me so she doesn’t spill her coffee, which she pensively sips. What is she thinking? Do I wanna know? It’s probably about me.

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