The Pleasure's All Mine: Memoir of a Professional Submissive (29 page)

    “I’m sorry to—” I hadn’t planned how to say it exactly. “I just like to get it out of the way because I don’t like thinking about it,” I said, and was about to finish with some clumsy reference to the donation, when he nodded and turned around without a word, pulled a small wad of bills from his discarded jeans pocket, and handed it to me.

    “Thank you.” I shoved it in my bag and turned back to face him. “I’d like you to bend over the bed.”

    “Could I please use the bathroom first?”

    “No.”

    He looked at me seriously with his large brown eyes, but I felt teased somehow, like he didn’t really care if I went or not, but just enjoyed saying no to me as much as I enjoyed the feeling it gave me to hear it.

    “The thing is, I’m just afraid I won’t be able to relax as much as I need to if I have a full bladder.”

    He had moved behind me and had been pushing me slowly with his body toward the bed, but stopped then and laughed quietly. “Okay, you can go.”

    I closed the door behind me and sat down on the cold toilet seat. I was so tense with nervous excitement that I had to turn on the water at the sink in order to actually let go now that I had the opportunity. I had the simultaneous urges to finish up as fast as I could and to stay indefinitely in that bathroom. My throat felt open from exhilaration, and yet it was hard to catch my breath too, as if my airways were too constricted for oxygen to pass down to my lungs. After closing my eyes for a few seconds, I felt like I had enough of a hold of myself, and went to rejoin Jake near the bed.

    “Bend over here,” he said, putting his hands on the backs of my shoulders and pushing my upper body onto the mattress. “Spread your legs a little more.” He eased his thigh between mine and pushed them further apart. “Stay like that.”

    I nodded without saying anything and heard him pull open a nightstand drawer behind me. A second later I recognized the small pop of a K-Y cap, and then Jake was holding my cheeks open with one hand and pressing something cool and firm between them. My hips twitched forward, and Jake, having positioned the small dildo effectively, used his free hand to pull me back into it.

    “Hold still,” he ordered quietly.

    But as he began to push it inside me, I couldn’t hold still no matter how hard I tried. His familiar grip and that lovely voice made me forget everything I’d said about wanting him to go slow I dug my palms into the soft sheets and pressed backwards, taking the whole thing in quickly.

    Jake let go of the dildo and grabbed onto my shoulders with both hands, then bumped his pelvis repeatedly against me as he pulled me back and then pushed me forward, pulled back and pushed forward.

    “Stand up now, and don’t let it slip out,” he said a short while later.

    He took my left arm gently in his hand and helped me upright off the bed. The dildo had a slightly wider base, making it relatively easy to hold when I stood up and turned around to face him. I watched as Jake fished around inside my open bag for something. A few seconds later, he had pulled out the heavy clamps and placed them on the tips of my nipples almost before I could register what was happening.

    
“Oh,
I’m sorry sir, I can’t really take those there,” I said in a rush, wanting to bring the sharp and sudden burning to an end as soon as possible.

    “Take it,” he said, almost whispering, fingering the chain that ran between the clamps. When I moaned, he leaned down to put his mouth closer to my ear.
“Take it.
I’ll count to ten.”

    I felt my shoulders drop at the same time as the burning in my nipples seemed to vanish into thin air. I could still feel strong pressure there, but it was no longer uncomfortable.

    
“Mm,”
I said, closing my eyes, as he pulled me into his arms.

    He counted slowly to ten and then held me away from him so he could remove the clamps. I felt drunk, weightless, like there was nothing he could do with me at that point that I wouldn’t enjoy. Jake turned me back toward the bed and bent me over again, this time telling me to put my knees up on the mattress instead of standing with my legs on the floor. I dropped my head and chest down, and became suddenly nervous about my ass in the air. His cock was a lot bigger than the dildo he was pulling out of me. I heard the crinkling of a condom wrapper tearing open, and before I could voice my fears, he was pushing himself inside of me.

    “Oh gosh, could you please, uh—” but he cut me off before I could say
go slowly.

    
“Shhh, shhh,”
he whispered, holding my hips with both hands and moving slowly, anyway, deeper inside.

    And then he was all the way, painlessly, inside me, massaging internal bundles of nerves that seemed inconsistent with the regular function of that area. It was like I had an extra G-spot or something inside my ass. I sank my upper body all the way into the mattress as he thrust slowly in and out of me, and I closed my eyes as his movements lulled me into an almost dream-like state.

    “Would you let me fuck your vagina?”

    My head snapped back and my eyes popped wide open; I was glad Jake couldn’t see my face from his position behind me.
Did he just use the word
vagina? I had never heard anyone say that during a sexual encounter. I had never
wanted
to. It always had the resonance, for me, of caveman gruntings, like it had been made up back when people barely knew how to string ungainly sounds together. But I have to admit — hearing Jake use the word, especially as part of such a welcome request, made me like him even more. Who
was
this poker-playing, usually silent, hot-bodied, “vagina”-dropping man for God’s sake? I couldn’t fathom what made him tick.

    “Could you use a new condom?” I asked, turning to look at him.

    “Oh, of course,” he said, and detached himself to make the change.

    When he was ready, he came back and tugged lightly on my ankle. “I want you to roll over on your back now.”

    As I wrapped my legs around his hips a second later and moved beneath him, he began a steady stream of murmurings in my ear, more than I would have ever expected to hear from him.

    “You love feeling me inside you. You need it to be big enough so you can feel it, that’s good, you’re so good, your vagina belongs to me now. Your vagina’s mine now.”

    He said the same things over and over, kissing me on my lips and all over my face when I cried out because his cock was so long that it hurt a little whenever he thrust himself all the way inside me. I didn’t say anything back, just kissed him and held on.

    It was impossible to tell how long he was inside me, talking softly in my ear and thrusting, moving me back and forth on those soft sheets until I felt like I was swinging in a hammock of clouds whenever I closed my eyes. However long it was, when he finally finished it was in a burst of total silence, and afterwards he laid on top of me for a couple of minutes before peeling himself slowly off the bed and heading into the bathroom to clean up. I stayed where I was, panting, and glanced over at the clock near the bed. It had only been a little over half an hour since I’d arrived at his room.

    Still in a blissed-out daze, I gathered my clothes once Jake returned, and brought them into the bathroom so I could clean up a little before slipping back into them.

    “I can’t believe this,” I whispered at my reflection in the mirror.

    Still shaking my head, I grabbed my jeans and stepped into them.
I can’t believe he just paid me three hundred dollars for half an hour of the best sex I’ve had with
anybody
in years.

    My thoughts earlier in the week about quitting this job eventually and looking for a real relationship seemed a little rash in that moment. Jake and other clients felt so easy — no awkward first dates, no confusion about what either of us wanted, and no real uncertainty about outcomes. Where would I even start looking for a sexually dominant man to date anyway? I didn’t know that I would somehow feel more comfortable at kinky parties now than I ever had. And, God, I was
so
used to having everything my own way now. Relationships required a lot more work and a lot more compromise than sessions, that much I knew.

    Jake was still naked, sitting in the same spot where I’d left him when I came out of the bathroom. He watched me without saying a word while I got ready to go. We embraced one last time behind his hotel room door. It was one A.M.

    Heading home, I thought about how much I loved being on the freeways at this time of night. As I sped along the easy curves that led through downtown L.A. and toward my apartment in Hollywood, I felt like I got to enjoy a secret side of the city. The interchanges and overpasses had a smooth grace, a beauty, that during the day remained obscured by the relentless traffic. I remembered feeling this exact same kind of high after my very first shift at the Dominion. I hadn’t wanted to go home afterward; I’d called a friend and insisted she let me buy us both some expensive Cuban food with the cash I’d just earned.

    “Get whatever you want,” I’d urged, as she’d eyed the exotic drink list before dinner.

    I wouldn’t have drunk any of the sweet concoctions even back when I’d been a drinker, but I did order a celebratory half-Coke, half-Dr. Pepper, large, no ice. I never drank caffeine after twelve noon anymore, so for me the soda was approximately the same as a couple of snorts of cocaine. Give or take a lesbian tryst and a couple hundred dollars.

    Tonight, though, I couldn’t imagine anything more satisfying than wrapping up in my terry cloth bathrobe and wrestling the cats for couch space in front of my new TV. Settling in a short while later, I looked at the blank quiet screen for a few seconds before turning it on. I wanted to relive, just a little more, the hot time I’d had with Jake, but I was worried that too much reveling could result in painful disappointment if he didn’t call for a while, or ever again, for that matter.

    
And, so what? It’ll make you cry? Isn’t this the same person who cries for most of the day before each trip to New York because she’s worried that it’ll hurt her cats’ feelings when she leaves?
It was true; it didn’t take much to set me off. Why let the possibility of one more weeping spell cramp my style tonight? If a certain amount of burn-outs were inevitable anyway — and I was pretty sure at this point in my life that they were — all the more reason to revel in the fun parts, it seemed to me now.

    
Okay, you talked me into it.
I set the remote control down beside me, leaned my head back, and closed my eyes.

    
Hold still.

    I heard Jake’s firm, gentle voice in my head, and let it lead me where I wanted me to go.