The Romantic Dominant Read online

  “Yes, I know what you mean,” he quipped. “Grab your coat, we’re leaving.”

  “It’s still not right,” she moaned, continuing to play with her long tresses as he bustled her down the hallway to the waiting elevator. “It just won’t do what I want.”

  “And you won’t do what I want,” he sternly remarked. “I’m seriously considering putting you over my knee.”

  “What do you mean?” she asked, as the elevator whisked them down.

  “When the demonstration is over I think I’ll take you into a paddling booth and spank you.”

  “In public? You wouldn’t?” she exclaimed, a statement and question rolled into one.

  “Yes, I would,” he replied, frowning at her.

  The car was waiting, the driver holding the door open, and as they climbed inside and settled into the plush seat, he turned to her with a serious look on his face.

  “I was just trying to make myself look good for you,” she mumbled, staring at her fingers.

  Zander gazed out the window and sighed. He didn’t mean to be so brusque, but the nights he’d spent with incompatible women had drained him of tolerance, and when they’d arrived at the club and seats in the back row were the only ones available, it hadn’t helped his mood. Shaking off his ire, Zander focused on the Dominant walking on to the stage. He often wondered why they never failed to dress in black and was waiting for the night some brave soul would wander in front of the audience in something, anything, other than a black T-shirt and slacks.

  A tux perhaps, he thought, but his pondering was interrupted as the proficient Dominant began to speak.

  “For those of you who have not seen a flogging before, understand this is just one of many variations. My submissive, Janelle, is not here to be punished, quite the contrary. This particular flogging will bring her to a heightened state of sexual arousal, and when we leave here she will be given great pleasure. As you can see her bottom is already reddened. This is from a hand spanking just before she came on stage. It prepared her for what she is about to endure.”

  The audience fell silent as he raised the flogger. Holding the handle in one hand, the ends of the tails in the other, he snapped them loose, giving the biting tongues flight. The girl arched her back, her yearning for more evident in the silent gesture. He obliged quickly, delivering strike after strike, occasionally pausing to whisper in her ear and touch between her legs. Though his breathy words were not audible her moans were, and his probing fingers elicited small cries of decadent joy.

  Abigail, leaning against Zander’s body, began fidgeting, and glancing down he saw her eyes darting around the room.

  “Are you all right?” he asked, his voice a low whisper.

  She nodded, but he could sense her discomfort, and taking her hand he led her quietly from the small theatre.

  The club was in full swing, but they were a distance from the fray, the demonstration rooms situated at the back of the venue, and though the music and crowd could be heard the sounds were muffled. Dropping her hand he leaned against the wall and studied her; she looked shaken.

  “Abigail, you told me you’ve had a Dominant in the past. Is that true?”

  Tears brimming, she shook her head.

  “Not really, I mean, kind of,” she stammered.

  “Explain, please,” he requested, keeping his voice calm and even.

  “I had a boyfriend who liked to spank me a bit.”

  “That was the relationship you’ve been referring to?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “I see, and your age? Are you really twenty-five?”

  “No, I turned twenty-one, last month,” she admitted, dropping her gaze to the floor. “That’s why I put off meeting you. I needed to make sure I’d have an ID if I was asked for one.”

  “I see.”

  “Sorry. I didn’t think you’d meet me if I told you.”

  “You were right,” he remarked.

  “Sorry,” she repeated.

  “Did the flogging demonstration upset you?”

  “It was so, like, intense,” she declared, raising her voice and lifting her eyes to look back at him.

  “Come on, I’ll take you home.”

  “Can’t we stay and have a drink? Maybe dance a bit?” she asked.

  “No. This place isn’t for you, and neither am I,” he sighed.

  “Zander, please, I really like you,” she begged. “I need a strong man.”

  He stopped, and looking down at her the lightbulb went off.

  “I think you’re looking for a father figure,” he observed, and dropping the stern tone he smiled. “There are some D/s relationships that take that road. It’s not for me, but if you’re more honest with people you meet online you’ll have a better chance of meeting the kind of man you want, but Abigail, please be careful.”

  “Shoot,” she sighed. “Maybe you’re right. It’s all so complicated.”

  “Come on, I’ll take you home and you can get changed. You can keep that naughty outfit. When you do meet Mr. Wonderful you’ll have something to wear for him.”

  “Please, Zander, will you do something for me?”

  “That depends, what is it?”

  “I really want to be spanked,” she said shyly. “I really do, but like, not in front of everyone.”

  Zander knew how she felt; she had a hunger that nothing else could satisfy.

  “All right, Abigail, I’ll spank you back at my place. Quite frankly you deserve it and perhaps it will teach you to be more honest.”

  “Thank you,” she smiled, and impetuously hugged him. “You won’t spank me too hard will you?”

  “Of course I will,” he replied, knowing it was what she wanted to hear. “I’ll spank you as hard as I want, for as long as I want.”

  He saw the butterflies fluttering in her eyes, and taking hold of her elbow marched her out to the car. As the limo began gliding through the city streets, Abigail took his hand, turned it over and stared at his palm.

  “Wondering how hot it will be?” he asked.

  “No,” she giggled, looking up at him. “I read palms as a hobby, but the light in here is too dim. I’ll try when we get back to your place.”

  “Not before you’re spanked,” he declared, and heard her sharp intake of breath. “How long has it been?”

  “Two years, maybe a bit more,” she sighed.

  “No wonder you kept me waiting. You need it,” he commented.

  Her attitude and behavior he’d found extremely immature, and he wondered if he was seeing her that way because he was getting older, or if she was young for her age.

  The car finally rolled to a stop in front of his building, the door was opened, and they walked through the lobby and into the elevator. As it ascended to the top floor, she clutched his elbow.

  “I’m kind of scared,” she admitted.

  “Good,” he smiled. “There’d be something wrong if you weren’t.”

  The elevator let them out into the hallway, and he led her to the double doors that opened into his living room. After removing her coat he immediately took her hand and strode through the room, yanking her over his knee as he settled on the arm of his large, sleek, leather couch.

  “Oooooh,” she cried. “So soon?”

  “Shush,” he scolded, pulling her red satin panties up into her crack. “From now on you’ll be upfront with the men you meet,” he decreed, landing his hand with a series of hard swats on her right cheek.

  “Yes!” she wailed. “Yes, I swear.”

  “You’ll be careful about who you meet and where you meet them,” he continued, spanking her left cheek just as hard.

  “Zander, yes, ooooh, that hurts.”

  “That’s the general idea,” he quipped, his unrelenting hand smacking away.

  “Ooooh, no more, please, I’ll be good,” she wailed.

  “Nope, not yet, now be quiet. You asked for a spanking, you deserve a spanking, and that’s exactly what you’re going to get.”


  “Ooooh, Zander,”

  “Keep that up and I’ll get my paddle,” he announced, pausing for just a moment, “then you’ll really have something to complain about, and just for the record, I’m also spanking you for keeping me waiting earlier. You need to be more considerate,” he scolded.

  “S-sorry,” she gasped.

  He waited until she’d caught her breath, then delivered a series of scalding, rapid-fire swats, turning her bottom bright pink, finishing with a flourish on the tender area where her thighs met her cheeks. Finally done, he dropped down on the couch and brought her into his lap for a long hug.

  “Damn,” she panted, “my butt is really stinging.”

  “Of course,” he said tenderly, “you needed it, and I meant what I said. When you’re going to meet a stranger you must call a friend and let them know where you’ll be. Arrange some kind of code, so if you find yourself in trouble you can let them know.”

  “That’s a good idea,” she replied, snuggling against him.

  “I could have been an axe murderer. Did anyone know you were meeting me? My name? The address the car brought you to?”

  “No. I guess that was kind of stupid,” she admitted.

  “Yes, it was. If you don’t have a girlfriend to call, you call me, okay?”

  “Oh, Zander, are you sure we’re not right for each other?” she asked wistfully.

  “Yes, I’m sure. How do you feel? Are you okay?”

  Pushing away from him she sat up and smiled.

  “So much better than okay, except my butt really stings.”

  “It should, and hopefully that spanking will hold you in good stead until you meet someone who can keep it red and hot on a regular basis,” he remarked.

  “Thank you for caring about me,” she murmured, pecking him on the cheek. “Can I see your palm now?”

  “Sure,” he chuckled, raising his hand and opening it up. “Here.”

  She gazed down, tracing her forefinger across several areas, then sighed heavily.

  “Well,” she said dramatically, “you’ve had a rough love life, which is sad because you have so much romance in your soul, and you’re nowhere near as tough as you pretend to be.”

  “Is that so?” he answered, a little unnerved by the accurate description.

  “Hmmm,” she mumbled, and “there seems to be a reunion of some kind. Yes, you’re going to meet up with someone from a while ago, but there are challenges involved.”

  Zander found himself drawn into her story, and her voice had taken on a deeper tone; she sounded wise, almost like an old soul.

  “It will be interesting. There is love there, or the potential for love, but only if you’re willing to take a leap of faith. There’s danger too. You must tread carefully.”

  She paused, then sighed, then lifted her gaze, and for a brief moment he was spellbound, then he broke from her web and grinned.

  “That was impressive,” he smiled, “thank you.”

  Slightly rattled he stood up and pulled her to her feet.

  “You make sure you call me next time you go out on date with someone you don’t know, and if you can’t reach me call someone else.”

  “Okely dokely,” she grinned, the young Abigail abruptly returning.

  “Go and get changed and I’ll walk you down to the car.”

  “Thanks, Zander,” she sighed. “Thanks ever so much.”

  He watched her move away, her tanned bottom seductively swaying, then wandered across to the windows. Staring at the city lights below Gabriela danced in the forefront of his mind.

  Impossible, he thought, then an unexpected chill shuddered down his spine. Frowning, he shook it off, but couldn’t help wondering what had become of her; they had shared such a deep connection, or so he had thought.

  Was the whole thing between us my imagination?

  “I’m ready.”

  Abigail’s voice broke his thoughts, and he escorted her back down to the waiting car.

  “You’re such a gentleman,” she sighed, climbing into the back seat. “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome. Stay in touch with me. You’re far too trusting.”

  “I’ve been told that before,” she remarked. “Is it such a bad thing?”

  “It can be,” he said somberly. “I’ll talk to you later.”

  The chauffeur closed the door and Zander watched the car roll away, disappearing into the night, then headed back to the penthouse he called home. He’d bought it several years before, when the building was first built, and being on the top floor the views were spectacular. It was contemporary, sleek, and ‘smart,’ everything from the sound system, lights, fireplaces, and even the coffeemaker, were controlled by handheld tablets or wall mounted screens. It boasted cream porcelain tile floors and thick chocolate brown rugs. The floor to ceiling windows swept the city skyline, with sliding glass doors opening to an expansive terrace with outside seating and dining areas.

  Back inside he ambled through the gleaming, elegant space, down the hallway and past the bedrooms. Besides his master suite there was a guest room, but the third bedroom he had transformed into a decadent playroom.

  He’d laid thick, soft carpeting, and slowly added hand-crafted floggers, paddles and other interesting implements. A small, mahogany chest of drawers housed various blindfolds, vibrators, and other toys, and a specially designed mechanical chair sat center stage. The arms, legs and padded bench seat were adjustable to any angle or height, and the creator had personally visited and outlined them all.

  As he stood in the doorway, staring inside, thinking of the women who had graced the unique piece of furniture, the truth pounded in his heart; since having met her, the only woman he’d ever really wanted to share it with was Gabriela.

  Moving into his bedroom, staring at the almost feminine, romantic decor, the white fluffy bedspread, the tall, ornate candle holders and the white marble fireplace, he thought back to when he’d redecorated; it had been directly after meeting her.

  Fighting the nostalgia he wandered back into his kitchen and poured himself a glass of wine. There was rarely a day that the Brazilian beauty didn’t cross his mind, and her card had never left his wallet. They’d had one date, one divine, blissful, perfect night, before a family crisis had called her back to Brazil. As he sipped the heady cabernet, he thought back, as he often did, to those magical hours they’d spent together.

  They had met at the same bar, Willows, and he had brought her a bouquet of white roses, wondering if the spark he’d felt just a few nights before, that mystical, amazing chemistry, would still exist, and the moment he’d seen her walk towards him he’d felt the exquisite physical lightening sizzle through his heart.

  After a couple of nervous drinks they had moved on to his favorite restaurant, an intimate French bistro that was quiet and relaxed, and they found themselves utterly taken with each other.

  When he’d driven her back to her car at Willows, he had unhesitatingly kissed her, and she had unhesitatingly kissed him back, melting against him. He’d been loathe to let her go, but he wanted to take his time, allow their relationship to evolve and their feelings to develop over time. Zander was an old-fashioned romantic, and he was going to court her, become her friend before he became her lover, and on the drive home, Arthur’s theme began playing in his head.

  Once in your life you'll find her

  Someone who turns your heart around

  And next thing you know

  You're closin' down the town

  Wake up and she's still with you

  Even though you left her way across town

  You're wonderin' to yourself

  Hey what've I found

  When you get caught between the moon and New York City

  I know it's crazy but it's true

  If you get caught between the moon and New York City

  The best that you can do (the best that you can do)

  The best that you can do is fall in love

  But his euphoria was sho
rt-lived. It was only a few days later that she’d called with the sad news that her mother had been taken ill and she would have to fly back to Brazil.

  “I don’t know how long I will be gone,” she’d sighed. “My mother could linger for months, and you must promise me you will go out. I know we have something special, but I don’t want you to put your life on hold for me.”

  “Gabriela,” he’d mumbled, wanting to tell her he had no desire to be with anyone but her.

  “Promise me. If we are meant to be, it will happen.”

  Though he had promised it had been with a heavy heart, and it was a promise he wasn’t sure he could keep.

  They had communicated through Skype for a short time, but her mother’s illness had taken a turn for the worse and the elderly woman had begged to be returned to the place of her birth, a remote farm with no internet and unreliable phone service. Gabriela had promised him faithfully that she would be back in touch as soon as she could.

  After months of no word he had called her number in Brazil, and to his surprise he’d learned that the old woman had passed away and Gabriela had returned to the USA. Confused and worried, he’d immediately pulled out her card and hastily dialed, only to hear her voice mail. Rattled, he’d left a brief request for her to call, but his plea went unanswered.

  It had made no sense then, and made no sense now.

  Sighing deeply, Abigail’s words fresh in his mind, for the umpteenth time he questioned why Gabriela had disappeared. The effects of the wine began taking hold, and as he stared at the thousands upon thousands of tiny, flickering lights below, he decided to try again.

  Checking his watch he saw it was relatively early, and moving quickly to his study he pulled his wallet from his back pocket and retrieved the precious card from behind his drivers license. Deciding to use his landline, he slowly punched the ten digits, determined not to be disappointed if the line had been disconnected or his call went straight to voice mail.

  “Hello, Gabriela Costa speaking.”

  Her voice was breathless, as though she’d been running, and he was almost too shocked to speak.

  “Hello,” he stammered, “I’m so glad you answered the phone. I thought-”