My Dates With The Dom Read online

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  Red Sage Publishing

  www.eredsage.com

  Copyright ©2011 by Eden Elgabri

  First published in 2011, 2011

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  NOTICE: This work is copyrighted. It is licensed only for use by the original purchaser. Making copies of this work or distributing it to any unauthorized person by any means, including without limit email, floppy disk, file transfer, paper print out, or any other method constitutes a violation of International copyright law and subjects the violator to severe fines or imprisonment.

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  CONTENTS

  My Dates with the Dom

  TO MY READER:

  Dedication:

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  About The Author

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  An eRedSage Publishing Publication

  This book is a work of complete fiction. Any names, places, incidents, characters are products of the author's imagination and creativity or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is fully coincidental.

  All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or any portion thereof in any form whatsoever in any country whatsoever is forbidden.

  Information:

  Red Sage Publishing, Inc. P.O. Box 4844 Seminole, FL 33775

  727-391-3847 eRedSage.com

  My Dates with the Dom

  An eRed Sage Publication All Rights Reserved Copyright (C) 2011

  eRedSage is a registered trademark of Red Sage Publishing, Inc.

  Visit us on the World Wide Web: www.eRedSage.com

  ISBN: 9781603106689; 1603106685 My Dates with the Dom Adobe PDF

  ISBN: 9781603106719; 1603106715 My Dates with the Dom MobiPocket

  ISBN: 9781603106726; 1603106723 My Dates with the Dom MS Reader

  ISBN: 9781603106702; 1603106707 My Dates with the Dom HTML

  ISBN: 9781603106696; 1603106693 My Dates with the Dom ePub

  Published by arrangement with the authors and copyright holders of the individual works as follows:

  My Dates with the Dom (C) 2011 by Eden Elgabri

  Cover (C) 2011 by Rae Monet

  Printed in the U.S.A.

  ebook layout and conversion by jimandzetta.com

  My Dates with the Dom

  By Eden Elgabri

  [Back to Table of Contents]

  TO MY READER:

  I'm more partial to this story than any I have written so far because I started dating again after a long hiatus while I was in the middle of writing it. Like Victoria, I was learning what reentering the dating scene was like—the fear, the excitement.

  [Back to Table of Contents]

  Dedication:

  For RsB

  [Back to Table of Contents]

  Chapter One

  My name is Victoria Daniels and what I'm about to tell you is true. Life is often stranger than fiction. For me it started with a short cut—a means to end.

  See, I was about to start law school and knew that meeting someone and maintaining a relationship would be nearly impossible. The thought of even a few more frustrated, sexless years was more than I could bear, but I didn't have time for the meet and greet, the get to know you, or the drama.

  I didn't need to care if he liked my taste in music or books, or if I liked his. All I really cared about was if he liked my taste in sex. And to be honest, I wasn't experienced enough to even know what my taste was, but I was about to find out and fast.

  I lay in bed naked and wanting and as my hands eased over my body, I wondered what it was I really wanted. So often women never consider this. They meet a man, fall into a sexual habit, and lose sight of or never think about what they'd honestly want.

  I have an analytical mind. A smarty-pants. A nerd. A person sex never came easy to. I think too much, and it often gets in the way of the big O. This time when my hand stopped rolling the nipple of my left breast, I decided I was going to imagine every last thing I'd like to happen to me sexually. I was going to write them down and then actively seek a sexual partner who I could explore fantasies with. Not someone to love or someone to marry, but someone to satisfy and someone who could satisfy me.

  These are my journeys of self-discovery and my dates with the Dom. My first revelation was the fact that the multitude of mundane decisions I made on a daily basis zapped my energy. The bedroom seemed like a good place to relinquish command. I wanted things to happen to me. I wanted to surrender control so without guilt, shame, or choice, I could actually enjoy sex and maybe, just maybe, not think away arousal.

  I'd heard the term before: submissive. It always made me think of some mindless woman. I mean, really, what sane woman would completely submit to a man?

  That's how my research started. I got on the Internet and looked up the terms Submissive and Dominant, found sites where people who lived the lifestyle existed, and set up a profile.

  If I had it to do over again I might have done a bit more research first. Read more before I set up my profile, looked at what others were interested in. But no, I slapped on a profile and waited. Within two days the emails started. Um, yeah, I'm in law school so I'm not stupid. I didn't give my regular email. I set up a phony one. I became an ‘Erotic Writer.'

  I didn't want to give a fake name in case I decided to meet the person, so I went with what I knew I was going to do. I wanted to exchange fantasies until I could find a match. A person who I could live them with.

  I thought my partner would get me through what was sure to be a tough period of my life, and then I'd move on to a normal existence. What is normal anyway?

  The fuck I'll ever find out now. My normal will never again be the average. It took me a week or so to meet Michael. Compared to some of the people I exchanged stories with, Michael seemed almost as vanilla as I was. Curious, intelligent, and exploring the way I was. The difference between us was he knew what he wanted. He'd always known and had started his sexual exploits as a Dominant. After about the third fantasy exchange, I knew I wanted him to do the things I dreamed of, wanted to please him in ways I'd never pleased another man.

  Only I had a problem. I hadn't exactly been honest with Michael. Well, I had in the fantasies, but not in the reality. I had told him I was a student. What I hadn't told him was I had taken twenty years off between college and law school.

  He thought he was getting a twenty-two year old fairly innocent, when in fact, he was getting a forty-three year old one instead. How the hell could I meet him? One look at my body and he'd surely be disappointed.

  I had children of my own in college. My divorce had just become final and I put my half of the house in a savings account, got a tiny apartment, and moved on to my dream of law school and of real sex.

  I wasn't a virgin when I married my ex, but my few unskilled lovers did little to increase my expertise in carnal knowledge. No ‘Studly-Do-Right’ ignited a grand passion in me and since my ex was a get on, get off and roll over kind of guy, I'd had a lifetime of wanting, a lifetime of imagining.

  But why hadn't I told the truth? I asked myself that as I sat waiting in Starbucks. I'd told Michael exactly what I would be wearing down to the earrings. I figured he'd look at me and move on, disappointed or pissed off that I'd lied. Or maybe he'd fuck me anyway. Pick a fantasy of his and go one round just for the hell of it.

  Every younger man that walked in made my pussy throb more. Could this be the man who'd
maybe take control?

  Deep down I knew in about an hour I'd be creating another profile, one that wouldn't lie. Then I heard a voice. “Is this seat taken?"

  I looked up at the man standing in front of me and wondered why the hell he'd picked the chair next to me when there were still plenty available.

  "I'm waiting for someone,” I managed to say calmly despite the emotion that bubbled beneath the surface.

  The corner of his mouth turned up. “I'm here to meet a writer."

  The shock of his smile overwhelmed me. I should have realized a young man could never have pulled off the emails he wrote me. Maybe I wouldn't be such a disappointment after all.

  "Michael?” I asked wide-eyed.

  He nodded. “Are you my erotic writer?” There was something in the way he said ‘my’ like I already belonged to him and I knew without a shadow of a doubt that although he had never touched me, he owned me. I belonged to him in a way that I had never—would never—could never—belong to any other man.

  I could feel the blush spreading up my neck and over my face. This man knew my innermost fantasies. Things I had only just admitted to myself.

  His brown eyes twinkled and he sat down. The way he looked at me warmed me from the inside out. Proprietary and thick with desire.

  "Looks like we both lied. Are you disappointed?” I asked.

  "Not at all. You?"

  I shook my head. And I meant it. In many ways I was relieved that he was an older man. A man even older than I was. I didn't have to worry about him finding me unattractive because of my age. For the life of me I couldn't figure out why I had lied in the first place. Except at first I didn't think I'd have the courage to go through with it. In the beginning my brain pretended the correspondence would be enough.

  "I wasn't sure I'd go beyond the emails,” I said as an excuse.

  "I knew you weren't a kid from the chat room. I set up a new profile so I could talk to you. I wasn't sure if you really wanted some young guy or not, but figured with your intellect you'd get bored with the twenties crowd pretty quick and then settle in with me."

  "We haven't exactly had sex yet."

  "Of course we have. We just weren't in the same room when it happened.” He paused for a second and then added, “Yet."

  That one word made me shiver. He was right. We'd sent each other our deepest desires and agreed to meet to enact them. This was the next step and my body thrummed with excitement.

  He plugged his computer into the wall and opened a word document. “Now we agreed we'd set up a contract. He took out an envelope from his briefcase and handed it to me. His STD free form. I glanced at it and handed him my clean bill of health.

  Holy shit, we were really doing this. Calm, cool, and collected, we discussed and typed out a sexual contract.

  "We agree for the next eight weeks we will meet once a week for the purpose of sexual congress and that during this time neither one of us will have sexual relations with another person?"

  "Agreed.” Had I really just said that?

  As he typed he spoke in a businesslike, professional, unemotional manner. “And during this time period we will email the night before and the night after the visitation for instructions and reflections?"

  I nodded. “Agreed."

  "For the purpose of the eight meetings we will follow out the fantasy for the day or evening as it may be and will use safe words in case you at any time feel uncomfortable?"

  I nodded again, this time too nervous to use my voice.

  "And as a submissive partner, for the duration of our contract you will surrender your body to me?” He didn't just glance at me for consent this time. His fingers stopped moving on the keyboard and he looked directly into my eyes awaiting a response.

  I swallowed hard. My mouth seemed suddenly dry and hard to open. He waited patiently without condemnation. If I had said no, he would have packed up without any hard feelings. I could tell.

  "Yes.” A mere whisper of a response, but one that had him grinning.

  "That's my girl. This might be a good time for you to tell me your name. Real first name. You don't have to tell me the last at all."

  I hesitated, but there didn't seem to be any point in lying. Since I'd be having sex with this man, it might be nice if he called out the right name. “Victoria."

  "Like a queen,” he said.

  "I don't think she was very submissive."

  "Notoriety in itself takes away a person's power to be,” he paused as if he were searching for the right word but couldn't find it. He shook his head “You can't be yourself when the whole world is watching. You have to hide your weaknesses and your pain."

  I understood that kind of powerless. It was who I was when my husband of nineteen years decided he no longer loved me. “I understand completely."

  He looked like he didn't believe me, but didn't argue. “Okay, we were to submit five fantasies each and could take out the two we liked the least. I'm going to give you the remaining eight to peruse so that if there are some you would prefer to do after we have known each other a little longer and there is established trust, then we can put those at the end. Other than that, we'll put each fantasy in an envelope and won't know until the night before which fantasy we'll be performing."

  He handed me the fantasies and I scanned through them. I separated them into first half and second. “These first four can go in any order. The others can go in any order after the first four. Does that work for you?"

  "Are they mixed in terms of yours and mine?” he asked.

  I looked through them again. “Three of yours in the first four. Three of mine in the second. Mine are a little scarier than yours.” I glanced down not able to meet his eyes.

  "You find that odd?"

  The sound of his voice made my body tingle. How could I admit it unnerved me that my fantasies were kinkier than his? “No, not really,” I lied.

  "So this is going to happen. You're not going to renege after you think it over?” His gaze held on to mine as if he could somehow discern the real answer from my expression.

  I'd have to be crazy to go through with this. But then again, so would he. We didn't know anything about each other and we planned on acting out our erotic fantasies, stripping down and fucking, down and dirty, without even finding out if we liked each other. Who was I kidding? We knew we'd get along from the chat room and the dozens upon dozens of emails. “No. I want this."

  He held out his hand, palm up, waiting. I placed my hand in his and the physical connection sealed the deal. We'd connected emotionally over the past two weeks, and we had joined in every way but the physical.

  "One week from today my hands will touch every inch of you inside and out."

  My nipples puckered. He was a head turner and the thought of him touching me, fucking me, made my entire body tingle with need. “We could start tonight, couldn't we?"

  He squeezed my hand and laughed. “No. It's important that you spend the week thinking, wondering what fantasy it will be. I want your body primed for mine. I want you so orgasmic that the mere sound of my voice is enough to get you off.” His voice was low, seductive, and sexual.

  "Pretty close now. I'm not kidding."

  "I want you too. So much right now my balls ache with it. But I make the decisions, remember? And we're sticking to the fantasies. After the eight weeks we can renegotiate. At that point we can continue with or without the set fantasies. But for the next eight weeks, we follow the contract. Agreed?” He rubbed his thumb across the center of my palm. I tried to pull my hand away but he held on asserting his control already.

  Fuck no, I wanted to say. I bit back a snarky remark and gave him the only response that would get him in my bed. “Of course."

  He removed his hand from mine and stood up. “We should still email everyday until our first date. After that, we follow the contract—one email before and one email after. No more for the rest of the week. Leaves us the time we need in our schedules without things getting complic
ated and also boosts anticipation.” He unplugged the computer and placed it in his bag. “I'll email the contract as an attachment."

  I didn't want him to leave. Didn't want him to walk away from me. What if I never heard from him again? “I'm not sure what to say, pleasure doing business with you?” My sarcasm slipped out and I could tell from his expression I'd have to learn to keep it in check. This might be more difficult than I originally thought.

  "It will be a pleasure, my Victoria. I promise you that.” His eyes glanced down to my breasts and I moved my arms to cross them in front of my chest. “Don't.” The one word, low and commanding, caused me to drop my arms at once. “I love that your nipples are so hard I can see them through your dress. I can't wait until they are naked and exposed to my hands and mouth. Perhaps next Saturday?"

  He smiled then and kissed the top of my head, then he walked away.

  That week was the most torturous I had spent in a long time. The week my ex-husband left me hadn't even seemed so long. What would happen? Which fantasy would be the first one? The thoughts and the emails that ensued that week kept me in a state of constant arousal. I knew by the time I actually met him it wouldn't take much for me to go over and I knew the first four in the line-up so the anticipation heightened. Friday night the email came. Wear a dress, no bra, no underwear. Okay, that still could have been more than one of the fantasies in the collection. Then I read the next line. Meet him at Club Maxx, a nightclub. Dancing. That meant my fantasy of Ben Wa balls.

  I'd heard about them, but wondered if they could produce the sensations that were promised. In less than twenty-four hours, I'd know.

  The next night I washed and dressed with care. I shaved every inch of hair away. I slipped into one of the sexiest dresses I could find, and set off for my first adventure. The one that would change my life. I was going to meet a man I hardly knew for sex and nothing more than sex. At least that's what I thought. What happened instead was the most liberating, life defining night of my entire life.