“What else, Katie?”
Once my legs stop shaking from the last impact, I say, “I feel guilty about turning into a switch. What if the other Dommes don’t want to work with me anymore? What if I’m turning traitor? I don’t want to lose my friends and acquaintances because I’m finally embracing who I am. I can be a Domme and your sub.”
Crack!
I think I’ve got the point now.
My ass is raw beneath my corset. Ian balances the crop on my back and steps away, turning to the audience. He slowly unbuttons his shirt.
I contain a new cry. He’s going to do it.
He’s going to fulfill his promise.
“I have a confession to make too,” Ian says, letting his shirt hang open. “I’ve been selfish. A real asshole, depending on who you ask.” He glances in the direction of Eva’s table. “From the beginning, I’ve asked Katie to do nothing but give to me, and I’ve done nothing but take from her. I took from her until she barely knew who she was anymore. For that, I am sorry. But, you see, I had some things to figure out about myself as well. For one, I had to ask myself how far I was willing to compromise with a Domme. Was it love, or was it my dick acting like a proud fool for doing what it’s done to her?”
My body is shaking again, but it’s not from subsiding pain. It’s anticipation.
When Ian takes off his shirt and tosses it aside, I’m grinning.
There, on his bare back, is the mark I left on him with semi-permanent body ink. It’s not subtle. I practically graffitied that man’s skin with the intent of showing the world…
…That he belongs to me.
That I’ve marked him.
There are some murmurs loud enough for me to hear. I don’t know what they’re saying. I don’t know their tone. All I know is that Ian Mathers is gorgeous with my initials emblazoned on his back, the same mark I’ve left on other men before. They all know what it means.
I’ve Topped him. Maybe only once. Maybe every fucking night. They don’t know. It doesn’t matter. Ian did this for me. It may not have been what he craved for deep inside, but he did it for me. He gave back. He explored that side of him with me. He asked for it. He played along. He proved that he’s listening and will do anything to have me.
If that’s not fucking love, then what the hell is!
Ian snatches the crop off my back and stands behind me. “What man wouldn’t want to worship this goddess? What prince wouldn’t sit at the feet of this queen? She may bend before me today, but Kathryn Alison has not forgotten her other self. That’s how much I love her.”
Tears hit my chin. I can’t believe this is happening.
“I love you too,” I say. “I love you so much it makes me feel guilty and ashamed, because how can I love a Dom?”
Crack!
Fuck. Me.
“I’ve asked myself the same question,” Ian says, breathless. “How could I fall in love with a Domme?”
This time when the crop hits my ass, I feel the frustration in both of us.
Somebody save us.
“None of that matters now.” The crop lands on the floor beside my feet. Ian unties me from the bench, stands me up, and turns me toward the audience. I feel like a meat-shield. “Because at the end of the day you’re still my sub, and you belong to me.”
I sink to my knees. Ian holds my arms up. My ass is so sore I can barely lean on it.
“Do you hear that?” Ian’s voice is so loud that it shakes me to my core. Or maybe I’m hyper-sensitive to everything going on now. “It doesn’t matter what you think of us. Because we only need each other.”
His large hands cover my chest, my throat, the bottom of my face. No matter what, I’m touched by Ian, the man who has declared his love for me and his intent to possess every part of my being.
Yeah, I think I could keep him for a while. The rest of my life, sure.
“This woman is mine. I’ll spend however long it takes to free her from the guilt and shame she feels deep inside. In turn, I’m sure she’ll purge me of my insecurities too.”
The audience is silent.
“What do you think, Katie? Are you up for the challenge?”
Somehow, through the pain and the burning agony of my guilt, I say, “I thought you would never ask… sir.”
He pulls me up into his arms, my own looping around his neck as he bends me down and kisses me, hard. Here we are, two fucked up people trying to make the best of our personalities and situation. We know it will be hard. We know there will be moments where our attitudes clash and we’ll need to cool off for a while. I’ll feel insecure and he’ll overcompensate. But, you know, there is no such thing as the perfect couple.
I think we’re pretty darn close, though.
So does the audience, who politely applauds.
As my leg brushes against Ian’s erection – what, you think he’s gonna whack me with a crop that much and not get rock hard? – he lifts me off the ground and carries me off the stage. I may have my initials emblazoned in bigass letters on his back, but right now I solely belong to him and rely on whatever comfort he can give me.
You know, like crazy intense sex.
Ian doesn’t wait to get us a room. This is the man who didn’t bother to pick up our clothes we dropped on the stage. Nope. He’s taking me to an empty hallway near the restrooms, where I’m shoved against the wall, my legs spreading around his waist and his cock driving into me once the crotch of my corset is opened.
We’ve come full circle. From the closet of the gala twelve years ago, to that corner in his family’s office building, Ian and I have the kind of sex we’re best accustomed to. Him, taking me against the wall, and me, encouraging him to worship every part of my body.
You know that cliché trite about how two people seem physically made for each other? Well, I won’t give you any lines about how his cock fills me so perfectly that it’s like he was blessed with that damned thing just for this moment. I won’t tell you that the way he thrusts, holds me, and plants his lips on mine is the exact way I love and need. I won’t even tell you that hearing and seeing him become so consumed with me is like ascending the stratosphere and marching my way to heaven.
I won’t tell you these things because they are cliché and trite. That, and I don’t really believe that two people are “made” for each other. I believe that we find each other through happy accidents. Like the happy accident that made me born the privileged daughter of a multi-millionaire, now billionaire. Or the happy accident that was Ian’s mother inviting me to work on a project with her son, a man I’ve fancied for a long time but never thought to pursue.
Thank God he held my hand that night.
“Ian!” My sore ass is slammed against this wall, but shit I don’t care. I’m wet, I’m ready, and for the love of everything quaking inside me I need this man to finish every job he started twelve years ago. I don’t even care if he comes inside me anymore. For fuck’s sake, I let this man come in my ass!
His tongue meanders from my mouth to my throat. His thrusts slow, yet he’s still merciless, pounding me as my nails sink deep into his bare skin. I’m about to scream.
Instead, I let out three consecutive wails of tortured pleasure. My core clenches around Ian’s cock, and I swear to fucking Aphrodite or whatever bitch is in charge of this shit that I’m not letting go until he gives me every last drop of him.
I’m not disappointed.
Hey, maybe it’s me. As in maybe it’s me being so fucking irresistible that this man, who has declared his love for me very publically, comes the hardest I’ve ever heard him. Not just his voice, either. I’m drenched inside, my body opening more and more to take what he’s unloading in me. If I purged myself out there with a crop, then he’s here purging himself with my pussy. Can’t say I find that unfair.
Quite the opposite. It’s so seriously hot that after his second shot I’m screaming, my head smacking against the wall as I hold onto his shoulders for dear life. I’m convinced I’m going to fall to the floor, even though this man I was stupid enough to fall in love with has me held fast against the wall for the sole purpose of pumping his cock into me.