Chapter Thirty-Four

Hunter

God, she’s so beautiful.

I suppose there’s no rhyme or reason to love, is there?

God knows I’ve read enough books.

In Pride and Prejudice, Mr. Darcy fought his love for Elizabeth Bennet, but in the end it consumed him.

In Jane Eyre, Mr. Rochester was willing to commit bigamy to have the woman he loved.

In The Scarlet Letter, Hester paid dearly for falling in love with Arthur Dimmesdale.

In The Great Gatsby—my favorite novel of all time—Daisy Buchanan was married, but Jay Gatsby still loved her, still pursued her.

Why is it my favorite novel? Love and marriage are hardly portrayed in a positive way.

Yet it speaks to me on a visceral level.

That’s probably why I’ve become so hard-hearted about the idea of relationships.

I decided, after Teresa, that I would only engage in transactional sex with submissives who were in it for the same reason I was—pure physical pleasure devoid of emotion.

I never thought I would want anything other than that.

But I do.

I want it with this woman.

This woman I barely know but who has somehow softened me.

Of course there’s still the matter of the article she’s writing. I don’t want to be part of that.

But that thought disappears from my mind as she undresses in front of me.

She has a beautiful body. Long yet buxom, with slim hips and legs.

She’s tall, and even after she kicks off her platform pumps, she’s still tall.

She stands naked before me, her cheeks pink, her lips scarlet with lipstick, her fingernails and toenails both painted the same color—a blackish red.

Very vampy.

I suck in a breath at her beauty.

“Time for you to take off your clothes,” she says.

“Maybe you’re not understanding how this Dominant-and-submissive thing works,” I say. “You don’t tell me what to do. I tell you what to do.”

“You didn’t tell me to get undressed.”

I rake my gaze over her—my God, she’s beautiful—and she’s also right. I didn’t tell her to get undressed. Perhaps she should pay the price.

“True. And I’m going to have to punish you for that.”

A subtle shudder racks her body. “Oh?” She tries to remain calm, but her voice cracks a bit.

“Yes. You may as well learn that lesson now.”

“Look around,” she says. “I don’t have any rope here. No handcuffs. Not even a blindfold. No toys of any kind.”

“Any good Dominant knows how to improvise.” My voice is dark. “Believe me. I’ll figure it out.”

The tops of her breasts turn pink. Her nipples are protruding, so hard and ripe for my lips. I will suck on them, but not now. Right now, I promised her punishment, and if I renege, I won’t be her Dominant. And I desperately want to be her Dominant. That has never been a question.

I want to be her Dominant.

The problem is that I want to be so much more to her.

But I’ll start with being her Dominant. It’s what I know.

I walk toward her, still fully clothed, and trail my finger down her cheek, her neck, over the tops of her breasts and lightly over one nipple. She gasps.

“You are beautiful, Frankie. So very beautiful.” I softly touch her shoulders and turn her around so her back is to me. I sift my fingers through her hair, and then I slide my hands down her back and cup the globes of her ass.

“This is a beautiful ass. Tell me… Has it ever been spanked?”

Before she replies, I slap my palm against her right cheek.

She gasps again and turns to face me, her mouth forming an O. “Hunter!”

“If spanking is a hard limit for you,” I say, “we may need to end this now.”

“It’s… I…”

I rub the cheek of her ass to ease the sting as I move my mouth close to her ear. “I will never do anything you don’t want. Not ever. But tell me now if you can’t handle this.”

“What if I said I couldn’t?” Her voice shakes.

“I—”

I stop.

What if she can’t? This is the kind of sex I like, but do I want to give her up?

All the more reason why I shouldn’t be pursuing any kind of relationship.

“Then I’m afraid we have no future,” I force myself to say. “So I’m hoping you won’t say that.”

She melts against me. As I hold her naked body, I sniff her hair. Fruity and woodsy, like apples and patchouli. An amazing aroma, and for some reason it seems to fit her.

“I can handle it, Hunter,” she says against my chest. “In fact…I liked it. It just surprised me. That’s all.”

I push her away from me so I can meet her gaze. “Are you sure, Frankie? You need to tell me the truth. We need to be truthful with each other if this is going to work. You need to tell me if I go too far. I could even give you a safe word.”

A smile edges onto her lips. “What if I’m gagged? I wouldn’t be able to use the safe word.”

I can’t help myself. I smile. With that one comment, I know Frankie and I are well matched. And apparently she does, too. “That’s not for you to worry about. We’ll have an alternative way for you to let me know.”

“Hunter,” she says, “I’m so tired of vanilla sex. It’s all I had with Penn, and it’s all I thought I’d ever get. Meeting you was like…getting glasses.”

“What do you mean?”

“I used to be horribly nearsighted. I got laser surgery several years ago, but before that, I wore contacts. I first got glasses when I was in middle school. I hated the way I looked in them, but that’s another story. Wearing them, though, was”—she chuckles—“eye-opening.”

I smile. “Nice pun.”

“Couldn’t help myself. Anyway, before I ever had them on, I didn’t realize what I was missing. I thought squinting my eyes to make the words on the blackboard less blurry was as good as it got. Once I got glasses… Well, you can infer the rest.”

“I’m glad to hear all of that. And I’m glad you like what I’m offering.” I cup her cheek, press my lips against hers softly. “But you still need to be punished.”

“Okay,” she says. “How do you want to punish me?”

“Maybe a spanking.”

“All right.”

I lead her to her small dining table. “Bend over.”

She obeys me, bending over the table so her beautiful ass is at my beck and call.

I trail my fingers over one cheek and then the other, and then I dip between the crease, sliding over her asshole and then down to her pussy, where I dip my fingers.

“Wet,” I say, my cock getting harder. “You did like that spanking.”

“I…”

“No more talking,” I say. “Unless you want me to stop. In which case your temporary safe word is ‘stop.’”

“Why can’t that just be my regular safe word?”

“It’s not a safe word that’s commonly used,” I tell her.

“Why not?”

“Because some submissives like to fantasize that they’re being overpowered, and they use the word as part of the fantasy.”

“I won’t ever fantasize that.”

“That’s fine. It’s never been my fantasy to overpower a woman. At least not in any way where she would tell me to stop. Anyway, no more talking. For today, your safe word is ‘stop.’”

She nods.

“Good girl,” I say.

I slide my fingers into her pussy once more, loving the sweet suction against my flesh.

Then I bring my hand down on her ass.

“Oh!” she gasps. Then, “I’m sorry. Is that talking?”

“No, but that was.”

I bring my palm down on her ass again.

She squeals once more but says nothing.

Quick study. I’ve had professional submissives who don’t do as well.

“Such a beautiful ass,” I say, my breath accelerating. I adjust my groin. God, I’m hard as a freaking rock. How is it possible I’ve only had her once?

But my God, I haven’t been able to stop thinking about her since that first night I saw her.

And then the next night… The masquerade… When she wore that gorgeous blue mask.

I think that was when I knew for sure that I was feeling something.

“We need to talk about the rules,” I say.

Slap.

The sting against my palm makes me harder.

I can tell she wants to respond.

But good girl. She doesn’t.

“You will get undressed when I tell you to and only when I tell you to.”

Slap.

“You see, Frankie, I like to be in control in the bedroom. I yearn for your obedience, your submission. Part of that is you waiting until I tell you what to do.”

Slap!

“But what if I—”

Slap! Slap! Slap!

“No talking,” I say through clenched teeth. “You will obey me.”

Her body tenses.

Slap!

Slap, slap, slap!

Her ass is delectably rosy, and my palm stings with a force that has traveled straight to my cock.

I turn her to face me. “Are you okay?”

She doesn’t speak. Nice.

“You may speak,” I say.

She nods. “I’m absolutely fine, Hunter. To be honest? I enjoyed the spanking. I’m probably more turned on than I’ve ever been right now, and my God, I want you.”

A groan comes from my very core. “I want you too. God, I want you.” I lead her hand to the bulge in my jeans. “This is me wanting you, Frankie. I want to fuck you right here and right now.”

She says nothing, just drops her red lips into a circle.

I turn her back around, caress the globes of her ass. “I’m going to fuck you like this, so I can see this gorgeous ass. So I can see how red I made it. How red you let me make it. Fuck, Frankie. Just…fuck.”

I unsnap and unzip my jeans, pull out my hard cock, and cover it with a condom. I slide it between Frankie’s ass cheeks, and then against her wet cunt, lubricating myself.

“Are you ready?” I whisper against her neck.

She doesn’t answer. Simply nods.

Good girl.

I plunge into her in one smooth thrust.

God, heaven. She’s the perfect cast for me, and for a moment all I want to do is stay inside her, joined, completed.

But the urge overtakes me, and I pull out and thrust back in. She moves with me, meeting each of my thrusts. We’re in perfect sync as I fuck her hard and fast.

She moans softly but says no words, and I realize I want to hear her talk. I want to know how I’m making her feel. I thrust, thrust, thrust… She’s getting tighter, just a few seconds more—

She cries out in climax, and I plunge into her deeply, allowing my own release.

I close my eyes, revel in the nirvana surging through me, and then I open them, dropping my gaze to her perfect pink ass. The ass I spanked for the first time.

The first of many times.

“You may speak now,” I whisper in her ear.

“God, Hunter,” she says on a soft sigh. “That was phenomenal.”

I pull out of her and turn her around to face me. I push some hairs out of her eyes. “It was more than phenomenal, Frankie.”

“The spanking. It added so much.” She touches my cheek. “I never knew, Hunter. I never knew.”

“Is your favorite flavor still vanilla?” I ask.

She giggles softly. “In ice cream? Yeah. In sex? Not so much.”

I take her in my arms, my jeans still around my thighs, and we simply embrace. Capture the moment of our afterglow.

A few minutes later, she pulls away. “I’m thirsty.”

“Me too.”

“Want some water? Or more wine?”

“Just water. Thanks.”

I adjust my jeans while she gets us two glasses of water. She gestures for me to follow her to the couch. “Is it okay if I get dressed now?”

“You mean I can’t keep you naked?” I waggle my eyebrows. “Like a concubine?”

She gives me a good-natured punch. “That’s a hard no.”

“You may get dressed. But you may be getting undressed later.”

“Fair enough.” Instead of donning her dress, she walks behind a door, presumably her bedroom, and then emerges wearing a short, satiny robe.

Damn.

“I don’t want to screw up the moment, but something’s been bugging me, and I need to bring it up.”

She raises her eyebrows. “What?”

“About that article you’re writing,” I begin.

“I know how you feel about it, Hunter.”

“I don’t want to be a part of any article. I won’t be a part of any article.”

“You’ve made that clear.”

“Frankie, what people do in the privacy of the bedroom, or club, or even an exhibition room, is no one else’s business.”

“That’s why I’ll be changing all the names of my sources. And if someone feels the same way you do—that it’s none of anyone’s business—then that someone doesn’t have to talk to me at all.”

“I’m still not happy about it,” I admit. “How can you guarantee that anything between us won’t turn up in what you write?”

“You’ll just have to trust me, Hunter. Trust that I’m a professional and I’d never use anyone as a source who specifically tells me not to. I’m writing the article. Frankly, I’m a little pissed that you’d insinuate otherwise.”

“I’m not insinuating anything. I’m just voicing my concerns.”

“And I’m telling you there’s no reason to be concerned. I’m writing it, whether you like it or not.”

“I know you are.”

“I won’t put you in it. But I’m writing it.” She gives me an adorable sneer.

“Did you expect me to physically stop you from writing it? That’s not what being a Dominant is all about.”

She sighs. “The fact is that I don’t know what being a Dominant is about. Or what being a submissive is about. Or how Doms and subs differ from each other. Maybe you should educate me. I was going to go to a class over at Treasure’s Chest—”

“A class?”

“Yeah. They have classes, and I can go to their introductory one for free. I thought it would be a great chance to learn something for my article.”

“Okay.”

I know one of the women who teaches those classes, and she’s a good submissive. Her name is Mary, but her submissive name is Blossom. She understands all the nuances, and she’s probably good at conveying the lifestyle to others in a classroom setting.

I shouldn’t have any problem with this.

But I don’t want Frankie attending the class.

I also know I can’t prevent her from attending, just like I can’t prevent her from writing the article.

“I can teach you all you need to know about being a submissive,” I tell her.

“Can you?”

“Of course. I’ve been a Dominant for most of my adult life.”

“So I shouldn’t attend the class?”

“You can if you want to, but wouldn’t you rather learn from me?”

She smiles then, and I know I’ve got her. Not that Mary would teach her anything inaccurate, but if she’s willing to learn from me, that’s better. We can grow together in this relationship.

Yes. Our relationship.

I’m going to have—I want to have—a relationship with this woman.

“Okay… But you still don’t want me using you at all for the article.”

“No, I do not.”

“Then I have to take the class, Hunter, if I can’t put what you teach me in it.”

“Why do you need the class for the article?”

“Because I want to be as educated as I can be. That’s what research is. You know this. You’re a scholar.”

She’s right, and I don’t have an argument.

My lifestyle is just so private to me.

I feel it should be private to everyone.

In fact, anyone in the lifestyle wouldn’t read the article because we understand the need for privacy. Even the exhibitionists need a safe place to display themselves, and they find that at the club, where everyone signs nondisclosures but they can still give the voyeurs something to look at.

“Think about your audience,” I say. “People in this lifestyle aren’t the ones who’ll be reading the work.”

“So you’re saying I’m writing this for the people not in the lifestyle.”

“Of course you are.”

She doesn’t reply. Of course she knows that. No one in the lifestyle needs this information. They all know it.

“You’re writing it for the curiosity of the people who would never do this.”

“What about the people who might like to do it but don’t know enough about it?”

“If they’re serious, they’ll find out about it.”

“What’s wrong with teaching others about this lifestyle? Showing them that we’re not just a bunch of kinky people who get off on getting tied up and being flogged. What’s wrong with that?”

My groin tightens at her use of the word “we.” She’s beginning to identify with my lifestyle. God…

“What, Hunter? Tell me.”

“Oh, Frankie. There’s nothing wrong with it. I just don’t want to be a part of it. I don’t like it when…when my privacy is threatened.”

Especially now, with my novel being released soon under a pen name, I value my privacy more than ever. My colleagues at Mellville might not take kindly to one of their published professors writing Victorian erotica.

“I won’t use you as a subject in the article.”

“I believe you. I trust that you won’t. But I will still be in the article because you’ve learned from me, and you can’t help but use that in the article.”

“I’m a professional. I can limit my sources. I’ve done it before.”

She’s getting upset. She thinks I don’t trust her, and that’s not the case. I need to let this go.

I’m not the kind of Dominant who wants to control my submissive’s life. Only during a scene. I like strong and independent women. I always have. It’s what attracted me to Allison, and it’s what attracted me to Teresa. It’s also what attracts me to a submissive to play with. It’s a myth that submissives are meek little women. They’re not. They’re empowered women who aren’t afraid to ask for what they want.

“I’m writing it, Hunter. It’s an assignment, so I can’t just waltz into my boss’s office and tell her no.”

“I know that.” God, do I ever. I’ve taken on a few bosses in my time, and it never ended pretty. “Will you do me one favor?”

“If it’s reasonable.”

I can’t help a chuckle. Frankie is different from Allison. Different from Teresa. Different from any other submissive I’ve met. Yet she is a submissive. It’s quite clear.

A very empowered one. And God, that makes her even more attractive.

“It’s only this. I’d like to read it before you submit it.”

“Not if you’re going to criticize.”

“You’re a writer, and you can’t take criticism?”

“All right. Criticize all you want. But don’t force me to change anything.”

“Do you really think I could force you to do anything?”

She smiles then, and it’s a big one. “You got me to want a spanking from you. That’s something new.”

“Maybe it’s new, but it’s something you’ve wanted for a long time.”

She smiles again, this time blushing. “How is it that you know me so well?”

“Frankie,” I say, “I’ve been asking the same thing about you since we met. Now bend back over and keep that sexy little robe on. I’m not done with that ass yet.”