She began to thrust and writhe under me, using all her strength. I didn't expect her to do all that work for us; it was just the idea that she had to please me or I would punish her, or worse, ignore her.
At the same time, I began to move with her, keeping it slow and steady. “Oh, God, yes, Lynn, that's what I want, just like that. Don't you dare stop. I mean it, Lynn; if you stop, I'll tie you up and not let you come for hours."
That did it. She heaved under me as the climax took hold of her and shook her entire body. A garbled scream tore from her and nearly deafened me, and her nails dug into my shirt and my back even through the fabric.
“Shit! Shit! Shit!” she bellowed as she gushed all over the place. Lynn's almost involuntary flailings pushed me right into orgasm after her, and I pounded down into her as hard as I could to feel all of our pleasure combined.
Finally she subsided. I shuddered one last time and lay still on top of her. “Oh, that was great,” I said fervently. “Damn it, woman, you are the best!” We kissed deeply then, like lovers do, not like people who would rather be with someone else, not like people who pay for it. Like lovers. Her tongue was velvet, and I was gentle with her, as I had ached to be for so long.
I pulled back a little to look into her eyes. She looked up at me and a sly grin flitted across her features. Lynn had my heart firmly in her steely little grip, and she knew it, and what was more, she knew I knew it, too.
Chapter Ten
The rest of the evening passed conventionally enough, except that once we left my room, Lynn became dominant again. She shut off all the outside lights, ordered me to be completely quiet, and we went skinny-dipping in her pool, silently, in the dark. I swam up behind her, held her and kissed her in the thick, warm night, but she turned and shook her head to indicate I was to go no further. But when she sat on the edge of the pool, I massaged her feet, and kissed them, and she let me.
Lynn's dog, an extremely well-behaved apricot toy poodle named Paprika, joined us in the screened-in pool enclosure and watched, never making a sound. I have never seen a dog so controlled except for police and drug dogs in the military. I certainly liked Paprika, but she was a most unusual animal. Like her mistress.
When we went inside so I could change and leave, Lynn said to me, “So far you have met or exceeded my requirements, to say nothing of my expectations. I would like to see you again. Can you come again on Friday night?"
“I can, but I'd also like to invite you to my home,” I said. “I mean, if I show up here twice on a weekend, especially late at night, someone will begin to see a pattern. If you don't want that, come to my place. You can even spend the night."
“Intriguing. Would you be dominant the entire time?” she wanted to know.
I went to my knees and took her hands. “Lynn, you are my dominant, and not the other way around. I think we should be clear on that. I do what I do to please you. So if you visit, you set the parameters for who is dominant and when."
Lynn looked down at me for a moment, smiling as she enjoyed the feeling of power over me. Her customary professional mask had disappeared during our lovemaking, and she glowed softly. She ran her fingers through my hair, and then bent and kissed me while I knelt there, letting me savor my own submission for a change. She was very gentle, and very much in control. I couldn't imagine crossing her.
“Very well. On Friday night I will come to you, and on Saturday or Sunday afternoon, you will come to me. During the week, I'm far too busy, and you should be writing. But I have very much enjoyed having you to myself here in private. Now, you must go, and get that STD panel. I want to see it. Understand?"
“Yes, ma'am, Lynn. I will.” I kissed her hands again. I didn't want to leave.
“I expect you to behave yourself at work during the week. I'll be watching you very carefully. I'm beginning to think I may be able to trust you. Don't let me down,” she warned half-playfully. “I can't take many more disappointments, as I explained last night."
“I won't let you down,” I promised, throwing my arms around her tiny waist.
She embraced me fiercely for a moment, then pulled me up. “Get out of here,” she growled. “I don't want the gate guard thinking."
She walked me out and watched me get into my car, giving me a little wave as I drove off. Then she went back in and closed the door.
It was a lot to handle emotionally, and I was almost glad I had Sunday all to myself to think about it, although had she demanded I return, I would have done so without a moment's hesitation.
All things considered, it had gone splendidly. Lynn had accepted that Jane the janitor was also Jane the dominant, but Lynn also needed to be very dominant. She was an extreme control freak and having been with that kind of woman before, it scared me to a certain extent. It could be a lot of fun, but when a control freak got into your medicine chest and your sock drawer and your wallet, it could also be extremely irritating.
The only way it could work was if she was kind as well as dominant, and if she continued to command my respect. The breakdown came when the dominant quit dominating. When the dominant gets sloppy or nasty or submissive or apathetic, it's goodbye, relationship. If the submissive becomes dominant or gets sick of it or wants something more, it also doesn't work. There's no reason a good D/s relationship can't be maintained for years, but it takes the same effort and commitment as any other marriage.
Now came the dance. Did she want something occasional or something permanent? Was I a toy, a lover, a friend or something else? She hadn't said, and I was sure it was by design, not accident. At that point, she may very well not have known herself. I would have to wait, and that was part of the role of the submissive anyway: to attend the dominant, to await her pleasure, to be compliant.
I had every intention of complying fully.
When I went to work Monday morning, I was unusually well-rested. For the first time in months, I hadn't been up all Sunday night. Instead, I had spent it reading, writing and figuring out my new budget, which would have to stretch to cover the loss of my second job. I could do it, but it wouldn't be pretty, and so I had all the more incentive to write like hell so I could get published and look nice if Lynn and I ever got as far as a date in public.
I usually spent Mondays washing windows on the outside of the building, weather permitting. Naturally no one wants to do windows, so windows are what the junior person does. I washed them, painted and repaired them. One good thing about windows was that I was left alone with my thoughts.
I was laying out my harness when my immediate supervisor came to get me. “Hey, Naismith, some butt-head kid pitched a rock through the principal's window over the weekend. Go fix it."
“Okie-doke,” I said, going for glass and my toolbox. My goodness, what a coincidence. A kid, huh?
I arrived in the drab outer office and announced myself to the slightly less fat and grim of the watchdogs, and after cooling my heels on a plastic chair for several minutes, was admitted with the warning, “Don't talk to Dr. Jeffries. She's very busy on the phone. Just fix the window as quickly as possible and go."
“No problem.” I hefted the glass and my box, knocked and went in.
She wasn't on the phone. Rather, the phone was off the hook so that it looked to her secretaries as if she was engaged. Instead, she had both feet up on her desk and her hands clasped behind her head. The blinds were drawn, even over the broken window, and they fluttered slightly in the breeze from outside.
“Close the door,” she mouthed.
I edged it shut. “Good morning, Dr. Jeffries."
“Come here."
I put my things down and advanced to the desk. She looked up at me for a moment, and I saw a glint in her eye.