copyright 2004, by Soo
Among the smoke and fog of a December afternoon
He slid his key into the lock and opened the door; the Dominion was eerily quiet for this time of day. It had taken a great deal of effort to have everything arranged to his specifications and to make sure that they wouldn't be disturbed. He stopped at the hall table, inhaled the scent of the orchids that he'd had delivered while she was out, and placed the card so that she would see them as soon as she arrived.
He breathed in the scent one last time, and then headed down the hallway to the ballroom. He smiled as he entered. Jeannette had outdone herself, going above and beyond what he had asked for.
A thick red curtain concealed most of the room, hiding its normal dungeon-like appearance. Candles were strategically placed all around the room, on furniture, in candlesticks of all sizes and heights, even on the floor. He knew that once they were lit and the lights dimmed they would give the room a whole new atmosphere.
Only one piece of equipment was still visible - a bondage frame - set to the side in one corner where it was barely noticeable. In the center of the room stood a table elegantly bedecked in china and silver. A smaller table stood off to the side holding a smaller vase of orchids, a small cd player, more candles and room for tray of food.
He picked up the card addressed to Master Grissom that was propped against the candelabra. The note reminded him that Dominion would be returning to its normal operation at nine a.m., and that Jeannette would be back to straighten up the ballroom before then. He shook his head. Sometimes he wondered if everyone at the Dominion thought he was the quintessential absent-minded professor. Pocketing the card, he took one last look around the room. Satisfied that everything was in place, he headed up the backstairs, taking them two at a time to Heather's private quarters.
He entered the small but functional kitchen and placed the bags he'd been carrying on the counter. Carefully, he removed the food containers from the bag, dished them into dishes that could be warmed, and placed them in the oven. It had taken a lot of quick talking to get Heather's favorite restaurant to let him take out two meals. He'd thought about preparing the meal himself, but the timing was tight, and while she'd never said she didn't like his cooking, and in fact had seemed to quite enjoy the fire ant scrambled eggs, he'd decided not to.
He set the oven to keep the food warm and headed to the master bedroom. Opening the last bag, he pulled the suit that he usually saved for high profile cases. Eyeing it critically, he decided that while it was slightly wrinkled, the steam from the shower would fix that. Satisfied, he hung the suit on the back of the door and gathered up the rest of his clothes.
He smiled as he entered the bathroom. Heather certainly knew how to live. He placed his clothes on the edge of the Jacuzzi and opened the door to the two-person shower, fiddling with the knobs to adjust the water to the temperature he liked. He stripped his clothes off and stepped under the shower. Closing his eyes, he tilted his head back and let the spray beat down on him, loosening his tense muscles.
He rolled his shoulders, opened his eyes, and picked up the loofah. The body gel was the woodsy one that Heather favored, and he began to lather up. Relaxed, he let his mind wander over his plans for the night ahead, which had turned out far more elaborate than he'd originally intended. He'd just wanted to do something special for her but then it took on a life of its own. A night to themselves turned into dinner at her favorite restaurant, dinner turned into a night out on the town to see Zumanity, but it was only after watching her with one of her clients that everything changed.
He'd known that he was intrigued by her job, but it wasn't until that moment that he realized that he wanted to experience it for himself. So he started to research it, talked to the other dominants in the club, and watched her in action. Dinner out suddenly became dinner in, and the special gift was his submission.
The shock of the cooling water brought him back to the present and he quickly rinsed off, dried himself, and dressed. Pausing in front of the full-length mirror, he took a long, hard look. He looked calm, cool, and professional, not at all like Heather's usual clients. He quirked his lips; he was far from her usual client.
Glancing at the wall clock, he frowned. He was cutting it awfully close. He headed back to the kitchen, remembering the oven mitts just as he nearly burned himself. He made quick work of transferring the food onto plates, placing them on a tray and covering them with a clean towel before heading back downstairs to the ballroom.
He set the tray down on the small table, turned on the cd player, and picked up the Duraflame. Then he wandered around the room lighting the candles, pausing in front of the bondage frame. He reached out and touched the leather cuffs hanging from it, then gave them a firm tug. Satisfied that they would support him, he returned to lighting the candles.
The sound of the door opening and closing rang through the Dominion and spurred him into action. Lighting the last candle, he crossed the room and dimmed the lights. Standing by the door, he listened to the clicks of her heels and knew when she stopped at the hall table. He held his breath as he waited for her to read the card with the note he'd inscribed on it: I have saved this afternoon for you. Meet me in the ballroom. This was the first time that he'd done something of this magnitude for her, and it was probably long overdue.
The click of her heels resumed. He pictured her walking down the hall, past the stairs to the second floor and the reception room, and rounding the corner to the ballroom.
"Gil, why is it so--" Heather's hand flew to her mouth. "Oh, my."
Gil smiled wickedly. "Surprise!" He brushed her hand away from her mouth and leaned in to kiss her softly. His mouth touched the corner of hers before seeking entrance. His tongue lazily explored her mouth until he heard a thump, and he stepped back.
The box that she'd been holding was lying at their feet. He chuckled softly as he bent to pick it up. As he straightened, he got a good look at Pierre's latest creation - a black mid-length skirt and blue wraparound shirt that drew out the blue in her eyes. "You look magnificent."
She smiled. "You don't look so bad yourself." She walked around him and looked around the room. "So this is why Pierre wanted to me to come to his place for the fitting, and why he insisted that I wear this home."
He shrugged and joined her in the center of the room. "I needed you out of the house, and Jeannette recommended him."
"That's what the two of you were conspiring about?"
"Very little happens here that I don't know; I just didn't know the details." She turned to him. "What do you have planned for tonight?"
"Dinner, a little dancing, and whatever else takes our fancy."
One eyebrow rose. "You had time to cook?"
Gil shook his head. He led her to the table and pulled the towels off the food. "It took a little doing, but I got Marc to let me take out two dinners." He pulled out her chair for her before walking around to the other side of the table and opening the bottle of white wine that Jeannette had left chilling in an ice bucket.
"How did you manage it?" she asked as she lifted her glass.
"I said I was planning a very special afternoon for you, and he agreed." He poured them each a glass of wine.
"I'll have to remember that when I have a craving for his famous chicken provencal."
He chuckled and carefully plated the chicken and pasta onto their plates. As he sat down he picked up his glass. "To you."
"To both of us."
Their glasses clinked, and they each took a sip.
She set her glass down and took a bite of her chicken. "What is the occasion?"
Gil shrugged his shoulders. "No real occasion. I just wanted to let you know how much I care."
Reaching across the table, she took his hand. "I knew that when you came back after Chloe's arrest. You prove it every time you share something of yourself with me. The depth of your feelings is never in question."
"Itís still good to have opportunities like this to show you, though."
She chuckled. "Especially if it comes with Marc's chicken and pasta."
He grinned, picked up his fork, and dug into the meal.
They ate in silence for a few minutes until Heather broke the spell. "You do know that it goes both ways. I care for you just as much as you care for me."
Gil looked up in confusion. "I know that.".
"How are we different, then?"
"I'm no prize, Heather."
"One could say the same about me -- especially someone that works closely with the police force, and whose private life could be called into question at work or in court."
He searched her face. She had a valid point, but he'd always known that she cared deeply for him, possibly even loved him, and she was worth the risk. "I just knew."
"So did I."
Gil nodded and took a few more bites of his meal, then pushed his food around with his fork while he watched her eat. While the meal was fantastic, as always, he was beginning to feel anxious. He glanced over at the bondage frame and swallowed. When he couldn't take it anymore, he set his fork down and pushed back from the table. It was now or never. He cleared his throat. "There's one last thing."
Heather blinked in surprise. "This is more than enough." She reached out to him and squeezed his hand.
Gil shook his head. He rose from the table, keeping her hand in his all the while. He helped her up from the table and gently guided her towards the corner where the bondage frame sat. Kneeling, he retrieved the riding crop from the floor and offered it to her.
She tilted his head up. "You don't have to do this." She traced a line down the bridge of his nose with one finger, pausing on his lips before coming to rest on his chin. "Our relationship was never based on this."
"I know." He swallowed. "I want to do this." He felt her assessing him, her eyes taking in everything from the tilt of his head to the straightness of his posture to the look in his eyes.
She took the crop from him, and he let out a sigh of relief. He folded his hands behind him and waited.
She retreated to the table, dropping the crop on her chair, and picked at her meal. She took a few bites and sipped her wine. She lingered over the table for a few more minutes, and then returned to standing in front of him. "Rise."
Slowly and deliberately, he stood, making sure to keep his head bent, and waited for her next command.
She pushed his jacket off his shoulders and down his arms, leaving it hanging from his clasped hands. "Look at me."
He looked up and into her eyes. There was a hint of amusement in them.
"This is about you and me, not some random dominatrix and submissive. We are going to do this our way." She stepped in close to him, reached around, and tugged the jacket off of him. It fell to the floor unheeded. She tilted her head into his neck and placed tiny kisses from the base up along his jaw line.
He gasped in surprise. When he'd envisioned this, he never thought of it in a sexual context. Heather always insisted on no sexual contact in the Dominion, and therefore he hadn't considered there being a sexual component to his submission. He tried to turn into the kisses, but was stopped by a firm hand gripping his jaw.
"We may be doing this our way, but I'm still the one in control. Understood?"
He nodded. "Yes, Lady Heather."
She stepped back half a pace and began to slowly unbutton his shirt, caressing each inch of skin until she reached his waist. With nimble fingers she unbuckled his belt and unzipped his pants, then pushed the fabric down to let his pants fall to the ground. Kneeling at his feet, she quickly removed his shoes and socks and discarded his pants.
He looked down at Heather and gulped. Even with her kneeling at his feet, it was obvious that she was the one in control. He shivered as she raked her nails up his legs and back down again before she stood once more. She circled around him, assessing him, and he could rightfully say that he now knew what it felt like to be the prey right before the predator attacked.
"You can say stop at any time you want, or better yet, warrant."
He smiled faintly at the reference. It had taken them a long time to get past that mistake and have her trust him again. Now it was time for him to show her how much he trusted her.
"The frame needs to be moved further out from the wall," she said as she came to a stop in front of him.
He blinked, and it took a few moments to kick in that she wanted him to move it. He moved over to the frame, pondering how he could move it as he went. Sighing in relief, he noticed that it had rollers that locked. He popped the locks with the heel of his foot and guided it towards the middle of the room. He glanced over at Heather to see if it met with her approval.
He locked the wheels down and went to stand in front of it. He watched out of the corner of his eye as she tested the stability of the frame and the strength of the cuffs, and then adjusted the cuffs for his height.
"I don't think you need the ankle cuffs, do you?"
Gil look down at the ankle cuffs; the thought of being totally at her mercy appealed, but the thought of being able to withstand the blows without any support appealed more. "No, I don't need them."
She raised his right arm, secured it tightly, and then proceeded to do the left arm. Stepping back, she gauged the fit. "Wiggle your fingers for me."
He wiggled his fingers.
She grinned wickedly and sidled closer to him. She ran her fingers lightly up and down his sides.
He bit back a groan and tried not to squirm under her ticklish fingers. He should've known that she would use every bit of knowledge that she'd garnered over the past six months against him.
"Very good," she commended him as her hands stilled, and she leaned up to give him a quick kiss. Her hands slid up around his chest to toy with his nipples, arousing them easily.
Just as he closed his eyes to let the sensations wash over him, she pinched his nipples and twisted them hard, before releasing them. His eyes flew back open, and he watched as she returned to the table and picked up the riding crop.
Once more she paced around him, and the feeling of being a juicy morsel just before a predator attacked returned. He pushed that thought to the back of his mind and concentrated on the click of her heels, trying to make out where she was behind him. Abruptly the clicking stopped, and he heard the whoosh of the crop mere seconds before it hit him squarely on the back. He lurched forward as the pain rushed through him, and he cursed under his breath.
Gentle hands soothed him, and a delicate kiss was placed over the mark. He sighed in pleasure. He heard her retreat, and he counted to ten before the next blow hit him. He gritted his teeth at the pain, but this time he stayed unmoving. Again, she returned to him and kissed the spot that she had previously marked, and then ran her tongue down to the new spot, circling it a few times before kissing it.
Over and over she did this, until somewhere between the fifteenth and twenty-fifth time - he lost count after fifteen, but he knew it hadn't been twenty-five times - he sighed in pleasure before she even kissed him once.
She leaned into him, and instead of beginning the pattern all over again, she reached around, snaking her hand down his boxers. She caressed his cock, spreading the pre-come around the head of it, before backing away. Twice more the crop came down on him and she stroked his cock. On the third time, the jolt of pleasure ran through him and into his cock. He twitched and groaned in pleasure.
He felt her lean into him, her breasts pushing into his back. "Are you ready?" she asked.
He nodded mutely and braced himself. The blows rained down on him quick and hard, each one causing a jolt of pleasure straight through him to his cock, until the jolts merged into one long orgasm. He jerked hard against the cuffs as his knees buckled, crying out in pain, and his cock spasmed one last time.
Heather appeared before him, and she reached up to undo the cuffs. He sagged against the frame as he tried to get his bearings and footing. She caressed his face, pushing his sweaty mop of hair away from his eyes.
Catching his breath, he leaned down and kissed her thoroughly. "Thank you."
She smiled beatifically. "It was my pleasure." She gripped his waist firmly and urged him forward. "Let's get you upstairs and put some lotion on you."
Slowly, they made their way out of the ballroom and up the backstairs to her rooms. He collapsed face first onto her bed and started dozing off almost immediately. Just before he fell asleep, he felt her hands soothing the cool lotion on him, and she whispered, "I love you, too." He sighed and drifted off into pleasant dreams of some day returning the favor.
copyright 2004, by Soo