Briefly I wonder if they switch equally… or if Lana is usually the submissive wife in the bedroom, begging her husband to fuck every orifice and to make her come again and again.
My nipples brush against the edge of the table. Shit, this is turning me on. These two people I can barely stand in business, and yet in private I can’t stop watching them make love, Ken Andrews pushing his wife off his cock so he can bend her over and spank her.
“Were you a bad kitten today and need to be punished?” Ken’s guttural growl fills even me with tingles. “Tell everyone what you did today.”
Lana looks like she’s humiliated, but the edge in her voice suggests that she’s getting off so hard on this. “I made a bad stock investment and lost us a few dollars…”
Wonder how much that is.
“Yes, kitten, and now you have to look over the entire portfolio again, don’t you?”
She squirms in his lap. “Please, sir, punish me.”
I’ve seen Lana grab some balls and squeeze them before. This is not that scenario. This is a Lana that makes even me wet. She’s obedient, she knows her place, and she knows that she deserves whatever her Dom gives her. If I swung that way, she’s exactly the type of woman I would want.
A cracking spank echoes in the room. Ken laughs at the gasp on his wife’s face. “You want another one? I’ll spank you until you’re so wet my hand slips.”
He goes ahead, striking her pinking flesh over and over until her eyes roll back and her face tells me that she’s living in ecstasy. By now her skirt is hiked up over her hips, her tiny thong not covering her ass and barely covering her hairless pussy. Yes, I can see those details from way up here. Yes, I’m looking.
“You need to know your place, kitten.” Such biting words. “Right here in front of these people. Now keep your mouth shut and take your punishment.”
Ken doesn’t let any of us down. I almost want a cigarette from watching him pin his wife to the floor and fuck her from behind.
Hard.
Rough.
Lana is shrieking in pain and pleasure, probably not yet wet enough to take her husband’s cock. That’s part of her punishment. He wants her to feel the stings of pain in a place that is supposed to be nothing but pleasure.
It’s crude. It’s tough. And it’s so fucking hot that I finish my drink without realizing it.
There’s something beautiful about it. The way Lana opens her eyes and looks up at him, mouth agape and face pleading for him to do it faster. It’s the kind of look that only a tight knit couple could accomplish. You don’t see it often. A woman begging for release with her demeanor like that… and to have the man realize. They’re so in tune that it fills me with bitter jealousy. I’m turned on, but I’m also wishing that I could feel something like that…
I catch myself in the middle of that thought. What am I thinking? Am I high?
“Fuck me!” Lana grips the edge of the stage, her ass rippling with every hard thrust she receives. He’s going in unprotected, and I know we all in the audience are hoping for the same outcome. We want to see him mark her, claim her with his seed in any way he deems fit.
When it comes to women who tend to be in control like Lana, there’s only one of two ways to put her in her place with a man’s orgasm. Either come on her face, or come inside her.
Ken chooses the latter.
Their groans collide as Lana starts coming first. Ken soon releases himself, his hands squeezing so tightly on her hips that she nearly swats them away. Yet he has her down, her ass pointed into the air and her legs spread so wide that she has no choice but to accept his cock. I know he’s coming because of the steady thrusts and seeing Lana’s eyes flutter shut in absolute ecstasy. That is a sub being marked – and lusting after every moment of it.
I’m both intrigued and confused. If I didn’t know Lana so well, I would assume this was her natural place in their relationship. That Ken always takes control and makes her his. Except I know them. For years they’ve been coming – and coming – here. I’ve seen Ken tied up on an ottoman while Lana whacks his ass and calls him filth. I’ve seen her edge him until he’s begging to come in front of God and country.
That’s where I get confused. I’m not a switch, so the idea of whipping one night and being whipped the next blows my mind – and not in the fun way. I don’t get it. How? How does a person flip a switch like that in their heads? Being a Dom and being a sub are such different mindsets that I’m not sure I can ever understand what happens in a switch.
Obviously two switches can make great partners. Just look at these two assholes.
Lana crumples on the stage, her husband’s hand gently caressing her spine. I can’t hear what he’s saying. Nobody can, aside from Lana, who grins and whimpers something in return.
It’s cute. It’s sweet. It’s what I always see between these long-term partners who are so in love. A part of me is jealous. I want that with somebody. The coziness. The love. The feeling so comfortable that the idea of having sex in front of the whole room isn’t even an issue.
All around the room are submissive women. I don’t see a single Domme. Either the women are hooked up with men domineering over them, or they’re stag and searching for someone to make nice with them. It’s a common night at The Dark Hour. Only before now I hadn’t really thought about these submissive women and what goes through their minds.
Because that’s supposed to be me. I stood up that date with Ian because I’m too scared to know what goes on in the head of a submissive woman.
Submissive men are easy. They’re giving up the power that society already thrusts on them. Who am I kidding? They still have that power. Even when I’m calling them boys and squeezing their balls, outside of our bedroom the world will still treat them as above me. Submitting to a man… why would I want to give up even more power?
I’ve fought so long and so hard to make people take me seriously.
And yet I can’t help but imagine that being Ian and me, his hands laying claim on me as he takes me to a higher state of consciousness that I’ve never experienced before. I’ve never been in subspace. It looks so blissful, and yet I’ve been so scared to try it for so long.
I don’t give up control. It’s too dangerous.
And yet… Ian…
Tears that I can’t control stream down my face. I don’t know why I’m crying. I don’t know why I’m looking at Ian’s name in my phone, wishing I had the courage to call him and apologize for standing him up. I wish I had the courage to explain why I’m so scared.
Perhaps I don’t have the courage because I don’t trust myself around him. The moment he puts his hands on me, I’ll want to do whatever he says, even if it goes against everything I usually want from my life.
All of this is teaching me that I’m not as strong as I’ve always thought. I feel powerless. Even without the stupid bet, I…
I’m coming undone. I need to leave.
Chapter 21
IAN
Does it feel good being stood up? No. Am I mad? A little. Am I over it? Mostly.
I’m mostly mad that I was made to feel like an ass in one of the nicest restaurants in town. At least I didn’t get the private room. Instead I had them seat us – me – in the far corner where I could stew in my indignation in peace. When a half hour passed and I hadn’t heard a peep from Kathryn about being late, I feared the worst. After one hour, I went ahead and ordered dinner, piling up on alcohol and looking around the room for familiar faces.
The night wasn’t a total bust. I saw James Merange and one of his business partners, and we had a good hour-long row about some of the latest scandals coming out of Wall Street.