Power Exchange or Power Struggle in a D/s Relationship?

I just finished the first book in a new collection called Power Exchange and working on the second, along with four other books no less. I was thinking as I worked on the character that the concept of a Power Exchange is of course first within a D/s relationship, especially if both the man and the woman are powerful in their everyday life. That’s the way it is with Sir and I. We command in our everyday so the concept of giving up control might seem out of place for many who know me. However, the need to do this is innate within me. I am much happier as a woman giving him the Collar and leash 2control.

What I’ve realized, however, is that given my natural tendencies I push back as an automatic response. Certainly this has changed over the last months, becoming easier to let go, but this was not unlike a nasty habit you try and break. This takes time. In the interim there is more of a power struggle than an exchange. In any new relationship, you’re feeling each other out, determining likes and dislikes, each other’s personality. Men naturally want control, but often relinquish to avoid a fight. With Sir and I, there was an instant understanding that he would be in charge. He listens to me and encourages my thoughts and my voice, but… There is a point in time when he simply says STOP.

Doing so took me several months to breathe and do just that. I fought him to some degree and as I’ve said, he has tremendous patience, but at times he grows weary of my natural tendencies. Over the last few months, the habit has changed, morphed into accepting my role. That’s very important in every D/s situation, whether long distance or 24/7. I’m still me inside, raging hard against the machine, but I don’t dare do so with him, nor do I want to. I’m learning to let go. Letting go is a topic I’ll tackle later. I wanted to share with you a piece of the second Power Exchange. The Dom in this piece is struggling to find his way, much like Sir has over the last few months. Coming into his own has several difficulties.

What I’ve learned by writing through this amazing journey is that I’m freeing the inner demons, both in writing and with Sir. I’m never going to be the perfect submissive, but at least I see a light at the end of a dark tunnel. I’d love to hear about your own struggles, whether as a Dom or submissive. Tell me what you think…


Christopher Patterson sat drumming his fingers on the table, unable to concentrate on the business meeting. He was lost in a moment of soul-searching, something he’d been doing a hell of a lot of lately. As he gazed out the window his thoughts reverted to her, always to her. She’d become his obsession, a woman he didn’t simply want to taste. No, he wanted to posses her very soul – own her. The thought alone left him in an emotional wave of near frenzy, a heightened state of a raw emotions he simply wasn’t used to. He was a planner, a man with full control over every action, every word emitted from his mouth. His organizational skills were unquestionable. His ability to size up a situation correctly was well known. He took no bullshit from anyone, either in business or pleasure. Both men and women regaled his power, succumbing to his prowess.

Brushing the tip of his index finger back and forth across his mouth, he had to accept the fact he was ruthless in and out of the bedroom. Few could tolerate 1Power Exchangehis brand of kink, what some said behavior bordering on sadism. He had other thoughts but no one to share them with. That is until Genevieve Tallen had come into his life. He chuckled at the memory of their meeting, one that had left not only a wretched taste in his mouth, but also an aching cock. From that very day he’d made a promise to himself. She’s thwarted his advances, pushed him so hard he felt like some damn teenager. The moment they’d embraced magic had happened. Now, something seemed amiss, something he refused to tolerate.

“Chris. Are you with us?”

The voice was agitated.

Snapping his head to the right, he glared at the room full of stuffed suits, something he’d begun to loathe over the past two years. He was damn good at his job, his chosen career, but he longed for something less conventional. Who the hell was he kidding? His father had ceremoniously pushed him into this position, countering Christopher’s need to weasel away from his responsibilities. These, his father’s very words, Christopher had allowed himself to take over the dying business, assuring his father he’d take the reins with a heavy dose of contemplation. He certainly had. Bulldozing the competitors in rather dubious methods he’d gotten very good at. His reputation was something magazine articles were made of and as his wealth had increased, so had his time alone. No one wanted to play in his ball field any longer. Not that he gave a shit.

A cold chill swept the room.

“Why John, I think you know where I stand.” Rising to his feet he allowed the soft but pointed words to sink in. There wasn’t a single person in the room who wasn’t sweating, the smell of fear and testosterone ripe in the dense space. “We’re done with this. All we need is for Mr. Marshall to sign on the dotted line.” Very slowly he cocked his head in the pompous jerk’s direction. “And I’m certain Mr. Marshall is ready to get on with retirement, trifling in the sand and surf. Aren’t you Bob?”

The sound of silence was tense, everyone holding their breath. No one came up against Christopher. No one.

A full minute ticked by.

Bob fidgeted with the papers in front of him, his eyes locked on the gold pen, one presented during the second he and his attorney had walked into the room. There was no denying the terror in his eyes, nor the knowledge Bob would have a cushy retirement package. Yet the crumbling of what had once been an empire remained the single issue left on the table.

Christopher had no need to say anything else. He refused to give a single additional perk. The deal was done in his mind and if Bob Marshall was stupid enough to risk going against him, then the man would go down in a firestorm, one already prepared.

John cleared his throat. “Bob?”

Bob shifted in his seat, stole a glance at his attorney and huffed. “Yeah. Fine. I’ll sign the deal.”

“Excellent.” Christopher walked to the expansive bar, one he’d insisted on having in the battle room, as he preferred calling the expansive conference area. Every move deliberate, he opened the crystal decanter, pouring a half glass of his prized Jameson’s, the beverage he consumed after each conquest. He wasn’t going to offer refreshment for anyone else in the room. This was his moment basking in glory. In the early days he’d been giddy, thrilled at his accomplishment. Now he simply felt loneliness, an emotion akin to weakness. Sniffing, he held up the glass, studying the amber colored liquid. The moment was defining. Patterson Consulting had ceremoniously taken down every company waging war against his firm. There was no one left to volley against.

Shame. He was hungrier than ever. You know what you need, what you’re desperately craving. You realize what you want and the single thing you can’t have. The ugly little voice was driving him to the brink of madness. He shifted so that no one was able to see his face, what he knew were haunted eyes. As he gazed out the window, studying the massive array of commercial buildings, he could swear he could see her reflection in the glint of the sun.

The early morning call he’d made to Genevieve had been frustrating to say the least. Voice mail. He’d gotten her voice mail more often than not and he was beginning to get the picture. She no longer gave a shit about the kinky romance they’d shared over the last four months. Could this be true? Shit, now he was second guessing her, them. He sighed. As he took a swig of his drink, he realized he’d never spent any longer than six weeks tops with any female. None. He was too busy, too uncaring, too much in need to obtaining the next big goal in life – a life filled with nothing and no one. A shiver trickled down his back.

“Mr. Patterson.”

Bob’s voice was right behind him. Christopher turned and seeing Bob’s serene face, his outstretched hand, was almost surprising. He was used to his competition going down kicking and screaming. “Mr. Marshall. I think you’ve made a very wise decision.” He grasped Bob’s hand. The grip was firm, Bob’s I am dominanthandshake solid.

Bob nodded as a smile crept across his mouth. His eyes never left Christopher’s as he leaned forward. “I don’t think I ever told you that I knew your father very well.”

“No, you didn’t,” Christopher snorted. Not that it mattered.

“Frank was a good man, a little rough around the edges, but he knew his clientele, cared for the people who worked with him. Did he ever tell you he never considered anyone in his employee or the people he came into contact with inferior? Never.”

Christopher glanced at the other men in the room, all craning to catch Bob’s soft voice, the words being said with conviction. “I didn’t work with my father for long.”

“Yes, I can tell. You’re nothing like Frank.” Bob’s smile grew wider. “He was selfless. I admired that in him very much.” The grip tightened.

Was Bob trying to make him sweat? The jerk had another thing coming. “My father was a weak man. He had no clue how to run a business. If left up to him, Patterson Consulting would have closed its doors twenty-five years ago.”

“Yes, perhaps you’re right.” Bob broke the hold, the smile remaining. “My attorney will have the final paperwork in your office Monday morning.”

“Good enough.” After gulping the remainder of his drink, Christopher set the glass down with a hard thud.

Bob exhaled slowly. “Son, I feel sorry for you. I really do.”

Sorry? What the hell for? He had everything money could buy. He also had other business to attend to. Striding past the long table toward the door, he knew all eyes were on him. They usually were. When he reached the door, for some unknown reason he felt compelled to turn around. When he did, he captured Bob’s look almost immediately. He usually noticed resignation, a beaten man. Today he witnessed what could only be described as empathy. “Answer me one question. Why did you tell me about my father?”

Bob walked back to the table, gathering his things. He remained quiet until the various items were nestled in his arms. After nodding to his attorney he lifted his head, sadness filling his eyes. “Your father was well loved, enjoyed the company of friends and family. My guess is that mask you wear so firmly entrenched on your face is one built of loneliness. One that’s going to strangle you when you least expect. I wish you the best of luck in all your endeavors, especially in matters of the heart.”

Christopher was able to make it to his office before he had a coughing fit. Slamming the door he rushed to the refrigerator, grabbing a bottle of water from the door. The ice-cold liquid couldn’t seem to sate him, let alone control his anger. He was enraged the man had gotten under his skin. Snarling, he held the bottle out, gripping the plastic tightly, his fingers white from the force of his hold. Control. You have to get control. He held the bottle to his head and closed his eyes.

The lilting sound of his phone, a special tone signifying Genevieve was on the phone put him completely at peace. Nearly tumbling over the corner of his desk he was able to grab it on the third ring. “Hello, my submissive.”

Just a taste. I see my Sir in this piece very much.

Kisses and spanks…


About Cassandre Dayne

Cassandre Dayne is the pseudo for the best selling author of romantic suspense and thrillers
This entry was posted in BDSM, Domination and submission, Spanking and tagged , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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