Ten thousand dollars. Would you consider the amount decent pay for two hours of work? Is there any amount of money you’d exchange for sharing time with another Dom? As a Dom, would you barter your submissive for another – even for a period of time? Don’t blush or run away. This activity is engaged in by some M/s couples. There are clubs in which the women are shown off, paraded in front of other Dom’s in an effort to “sell” them to the highest bidder. Yes, this is a completely consensual environment and the slave is well aware of her role in the playtime. I’ve read about occurrences in many environments, especially in other countries where sex of every type is sold as window dressing.
If you’ve ever seen or read anything about Amsterdam, the city relishes in its sexual proclivities. Streets are lined with main street stores, models as storefront mannequins in skimpy clothes or nothing at all offering companionship of every kind. How about sex clubs where fantasies are played out are favorites and auctions? Well, they are both a male and female event to participate in – on both sides.
Imagine a kink club that caters to auctioning off men and women to the highest bidder. Pretty out there but it’s a huge fantasy and while some readers don’t like to admit they are turned on by the concept, by the fact the books fly off the shelf, there’s obvious reasons to write them. People are interested in the going beyond vanilla sex into a realm where everything is offered on a silver platter. John Patrick and I talk about everything and this topic is perplexing, something discussed over several glasses of wine. The topic has certainly brought about good and bad points and I’m neither condoning nor denying the attraction, merely giving you a rather dark side of the kink world.
The flash fiction piece is extreme of course and as I mentioned in earlier blogs, the concept for the story is based on a single experience shared with John Patrick. When he read the last blog he simply said, “well that was interesting”. Now I don’t know about you, but generally when someone calls an experience, story, movie etc. ‘interesting’, the connotation is dislike. What I realized after we talked is that the comments made in the story from Dom Gregory are very similar to an email I received, one that bothered John Patrick quite a bit. He’s a practical man, his worlds compartmentalized. He’s also sensitive and sensual, highly intelligent and takes my safety and well-being to heart. He was incensed as to the answers the Dom gave me as opposed to the ones that he received. Vastly different.
For Dom’s (or possessive men in general), having another strong male usurp his authority in any fashion is not only reprehensible, but in the D/s environment, considered disrespect. Reading my fictional story brought back bile that continues to form in his mouth? Why? Not just because of the words the Dom said to me, but the fact he was trying to play me again my Sir. You just don’t do that. The exercise has been pushed to a point and honestly I don’t think John Patrick would every entertain something of this nature. Of course there are various reasons why in conventional terms this isn’t a good idea. Respect is utmost as well as trust and for couples that allow any interaction in such a manner, all parties have to be completely above board.
I’ve heard from a few authors as well as those living the lifestyle that comment while the concept is very exciting, they are hesitant to venture into something this deep. I can understand. The story has been interesting to write merely because the subject is very taboo – think borderline prostitution – controversial and life altering as well. After several discussions with John Patrick this is mostly likely a closed chapter – at least for now. Just not for us, but for others as long as you’re willing participants, perhaps a rather sinful treat. I merely caution you to really talk about your desires. Back to the story.
“Plans have changed,” Michael said as he brushed his fingers down the back of Ashley’s neck. Dragging the tips over her shoulder to her cheek, he traced a circle around her ruby stained lips then lowered his head. The scent of her was intoxicating tonight in particular. “You look amazing.” There was something primal about his emotions, raw and definitely possessive. Seeing her in a scathing hot pink dress, the color so vibrant she almost glowed, brought out his beastly instincts.
“What do you mean changed? I thought I was here for a spanking then we were going out.” Ashley asked as she closed her eyes. “You like the dress?”
“Perfect.” Too perfect. He thought about the meeting, the agreement and groaned inwardly. None of this he liked. “The spanking is still going to occur. You’re completely unfocused, in need of being reined in. The rest of the details are going to change.” Yes, she needed a heady round of discipline. Yes, he was in need to punishing her, inflicting pain. The thought and the somewhat ugly realization had hit him square in the face, especially given what the asshole had insinuated.
You don’t know her, understand her needs. You’re only window dressing for a woman who needs a true Master. Trust me. I am that man.
Dear God he was pissed off. Uncertainness remained hovering in the back of his mind, ugliness about certain truths he didn’t want to face.
“I wanted to surprise you. You know how I am.” This time her look was mischievous.
“You want to keep your sir guessing?” Michael slid a single finger between her breasts, toying with her shimmering skin. Her nipples were erect, the hard buds pushing through the thin material of her dress. She was as turned on as he was and she had no idea what the night held in store for either of them.
Purring, she opened her eyes and wrapped her hand around his forearm. “I like to keep you guessing.”
He chuckled and took a step back. “Yes, the plans have changed. We have a meeting tonight before dinner. Drinks.”
“A meeting?” Ashley clucked her jaw, her eyes darting back and froth. “Hmmmm… Am I allowed to ask with whom?”
“Your Dom friend.” He’d debated telling her and he wasn’t certain why. Doubts about the entire exercise remained furrowing in the back of his mind, the odd words stewing in the back of his mind all day. He and Dom Gregory had exchanged two additional passages and it was clear to Michael the man was toying with him. While he had a suspicion the supposed Dom certainly hungered for his Ashley, he had no real desire to share her with the pompous freak. Unfortunately a gentleman’s deal had been made. Ten thousand dollars for two hours. Two hours of what the fuck?
Her eyes reflected surprise. After a few seconds she looked down, her fists clenching. “Why?”
“We’ve talked about this.”
“Not to this point,” she challenged. “I have mixed feelings about the entire situation. I thought you didn’t like him anyway.”
“We’re just meeting for a drink, nothing more. We don’t know the man. I thought you wanted to take things a step further, explore options.” Michael slid his hand into the bodice of her dress, flicking his finger back and forth across her nipple. While she moaned he could easily tell she was disturbed. Of course he realized she wanted exclusivity, the vanilla side of the girl remaining strong.
“A drink. You know, the truth is I like being wanted, who the hell wouldn’t, but there’s something off about him, something bizarre.” Her body language screamed tense, unhappiness.
Michael wasn’t entirely certain what to say. He was her Dom. He was her lover. He was her protector. Maybe he was an asshole for even considering the concept. Sighing, he pulled her close, kissing her lips. There would always be a deep seeded hunger in him, a need to consume her, possess her. “I think we should have some wine right now. We’ll be there for an hour tops. Nothing more. If we don’t like the dude or get bad vibes then that’s the end of our conversation. Okay?”
“Yes.” A quick smile crossed her face. “I mean yes sir. Would you like for me to get us a glass?”
He rubbed his hands up and down her arms. “I would very much.” When she nodded and started to pull away he gripped her arms. “You need to remember always you’re my submissive, the woman I love. Nothing will change the fact.” Her eyes remained haunted, the light that always transmitted in glimmers of her soul was dulled he pulled her into a bear hug. There were no words to be said. While they’d talked about sharing, adding a third to their relationship, he was well aware she remained conscientiously cautious.
When she said nothing else he let her go. “A glass of wine will taste amazing.”
“Yes.” Ashley hesitated briefly and gave him a look before moving toward his kitchen.
He was surprised how much the meeting with good ole Dom Gregory was affecting him. Of course men hungered for her, making certain she was well aware of their desires, but this was…different. Blatant words were telling. Dom Gregory wanted much more. And so he seethed.
Walking toward his computer he wanted to make certain he remembered exactly what the man had said to him, before and after the ridiculous sum had been placed on the table. As he pulled up his FetLife account, scrolling to the already read messages, his heart raced. This was ridiculous. A game being played by a man who thought he could win. There were so many reasons he wanted, no needed to pull back, remove both of them from what he now considered a ridiculous game.
He walked toward the bank of French doors, looking out at his expansive landscaping, and for a few minutes he thought about nothing but the fact he was having such difficulty expressing his feelings to her. Why? Of course he had thoughts but Ashley wasn’t for sale. Shoving his hands into his pockets he played over the email several times. There would never be a moment he could tolerate such bullshit.
Hearing her voice, the way the single word expressed such angst, reminded him he had to take control. “Wine.” As she handed him a glass, his thoughts shifted to several ‘what ‘if’ scenarios.
“Why?” Ashley held the glass in her hand yet every part of her was shaking. “Why in the hell would you want to share me this way?”
“I didn’t say I wanted to share you.”
“But this…this bullshit speaks otherwise.” Hissing, she pressed the back of her hand across her mouth.
“You can tell me anything. What’s wrong? What are you feeling?”
Michael looked away. How could he express the way he was feeling, the deep seeded concern roaring through every cell in his body? “This is a single meeting. We’ve talked about sharing before. We’ve discussed growing, considering some options.”
“Options? Yes. This…I don’t know. I have no idea if I can handle or if you can handle either. There’s a lot to think about.”
“Time.” Hell yeah there was a lot to think about.
The look on Ashley’s face was one of contempt. “You don’t seem to understand.”
“Talk to me. I know you’re hurting. I understand the trust level you have with men is abysmal. I’m not most men. I respect you always first and foremost. You’re the single woman I can be myself with and I value your thoughts and opinions. Trust me. That’s all I’m asking you.”
“You all say that.”
“And you know me.” Tipping his head back he snarled, cognizant of his increasing fury. What was she getting at? Why did she doubt him now, of all times? He realized things had been strained with them lately, the tension increasing. They’d both been going through some issues both together and apart. This is a bad idea. Yes, it was. “Let’s go outside for a little bit.”
Nodding, Ashley gave him an uncertain look before moving toward the sliding glass doors. When they were outside she moved to the railing, staring at the yard and drinking her wine. She also remained quiet, contemplative.
Michael eased into the chair and toyed with his glass. Studying her was always of interest to him. He could tell what moods she was in by the way she texted, the change in her word pattern. He could also tell by her body language and tonight she was in turmoil. Shuffling in his pocket he pulled out his box of cigarettes and could tell from the slight sideways glance she knew what he was doing. Normally her reaction would be very quick, wanting nothing more than to please him in the little ways. Goddamn she wasn’t certain what to think.
Hesitating, she looked down before walking toward him and reaching out. “Sir.” Grabbing his lighter she flicked the tab several times before achieving a flame. Her eyes never left his. Immediately she set the lighter down on the small table beside him and walked away.
After taking a long drag he rubbed his eyes. This was an exercise in futility. She was pissed off. He was off the chain. Somehow the asshole had the upper hand.
They remained in silence for several minutes. She didn’t say a word or turn to face him, merely sipped her wine. Even without so much as a sound being made he could tell she was crying. Sighing, he slid his empty glass onto the table and adjusted the chair. The sound of metal scraping against the Trex decking grabbed her attention. When she finally looked in his direction he patted his lap. “Let’s do this.”
“Yes. You need to let go, release. You’re very emotional.” She was very angry, pissed at him. Of that there was no doubt. Maybe he needed this just as much as she did.
“Yes sir.” Her hand was shaking, her walk slow, and when she closed the distance she smiled, yet a single tear slid down her face.
For Michael the salty bead was heartbreaking.
Well, what do you think? Not certain if I’m going to continue this or not. I have mixed personal feelings in truth for some very intimate reasons. The subject is troublesome in many ways with John Patrick and I and in truth, since the occurrence happened I see an odd difference in our relationship, one I don’t like. I suppose its called growing pains but I’ve been a bit teary eyed myself. Maybe just odd timing or too much going on but this one bothers me. We shall see. Let me know what you think and if you’d like to see me finish this.
Kisses and spanks…