Playing Dom

Playing Dom

SKY CORGAN

Text copyright 2014
by Sky Corgan

All rights reserved.

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publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or
transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical,
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the author.

CHAPTER ONE

Moving sucks, and I
never would have done it if it hadn't been out of necessity or
obligation or some other stupid fucking feeling that causes you to do
something that completely goes against the grain of your desires. It
couldn't be helped though. Well, maybe it could have been if I was
some asshole who didn't give a crap. I couldn't imagine letting her
die without seeing me again. She deserved at least that much.

The shit part was
having to see him too. He had beaten both of us when I was growing
up. Her to the point of death once. Why she stayed with him I was
never able to understand, but once I was old enough to leave I got
the fuck out of there. He would have kicked me out if I hadn't of
left. I was always such a fucking inconvenience to him, just
something he had shot out of his cock and had to tolerate for
eighteen years. Tolerate was a gentle term compared to how he treated
me—how he treated us.

He should have been
the one to end up with cancer, but as they say, the good die young,
leaving the rest of us monsters behind. My mother was a saint. She
always had been. She tried to be the perfect mother, the perfect
wife, the perfect woman, but it was never enough for him. I begged
her to leave with me, but she wouldn't come. Watching them together
as I grew up was my first taste of dominance and submission. He was
the alpha; she was the omega, and if I wasn't his pup, I'm pretty
sure he would have killed me somewhere along the way. Our blood bond
was the only thing that had kept him from beating me to death, and he
seemed to like to check the color of my blood often to make sure that
I was his.

You'd think with
such a background, I'd never take an interest in BDSM, that my mind
would be too scarred from living in a domination hell to consider
putting someone else through something similar, but they say that
every man secretly wants to marry their mother, more accurately
someone like her. Even though I swore to God that I'd never be an
abusive asshole like him, I still craved the need to be served by
women, both domestically and sexually. I craved the need to dominate,
and so that's what I eventually became, a Dominant.

Maybe the move was
for the best. Things had been shit for me for a while. In my eight
years as a Dominant, I only ever had one good sub. That was in the
beginning, and my stupid ass had let my feelings get the best of me.
When things got really serious between us, she had wanted to change
the dynamic of our relationship, replacing the mantle of sub with the
word girlfriend. Things went downhill from there as I lost control of
her. I still kick myself in the ass for letting things get like that.
She was the one who got away, not as a woman, but as a sub. When I
wanted to change things back to the way that they were before, she
refused, and the relationship crumbled. My body still aches for her
at times, the perfect submissive she was. That's over now though.
After we broke up, she stopped talking to me. I chased her like a
pathetic love sick puppy for about a month . . . until she got
another boyfriend.

No one has really
satisfied me since. Perhaps my standards are set too high. Maybe I've
been comparing everyone to her, and they've failed the test. Since
Hannah, my trial subs have either been too clingy or only want to
play in the lifestyle. While I feel the need to dominate, I also like
my free space. I don't want someone around me twenty-four-seven. But
I also don't want someone who will only come around when it pleases
them. That's not submissive behavior. That's them putting themselves
in control. It's funny how many people think they're submissive but
really aren't. It's the same with Doms though. There are so many fake
ones out there, so many men who either don't really have dominant
qualities or who take things to the extreme and only use their title
to lash out at innocent victims.

It was my last trial
sub who finally made me want to take a step away from the lifestyle
though. She was the distant kind, but she had a brilliant mind and a
body to die for. I had never got to fully have my way with that body
before I found out she had a second Dom behind my back. Fucking
bitch. With so many people giving the lifestyle a bad name, or
breaking the rules to fill their own personal agendas, what was the
point anymore. It seemed like there were too many fakes, more chaff
than wheat, too much hay not enough needles. I was tired of looking
for that perfect girl—that perfect sub.

So after I got
settled back in my hometown, I went on a random fuckfest. Condoms
were abound as I racked up the notches on my bed post, so many that
if they were literal, I might have needed to replace the headboard a
few times. No matter how many girls I slept with though, I always
left their beds with an empty feeling. Something wasn't right inside
of me, and no amount of sex was going to fix it.

I settled into my
new job, went to visit my mother, and avoided my father the best I
could. Just seeing him lit a fire inside of me that wanted to consume
and kill him. The rage demon awakened, and I had to remind myself of
all the years of therapy it took to quell it. He wouldn't hurt me
now. He'd be stupid to try. Because if he did, I would break him.

Back then, I was a
skinny little shit. It was easy for him to over power me and beat me
down. Now though, I had packed on the pounds, and it wasn't fat.
Hours of tirelessly lifting at the gym had my body looking like it
was carved out of stone, and I could hit just as hard. No one was
ever going to beat my ass again.

There were other
perks to being fit. Women were easy to come by, and so I went through
them like toilet paper. Use and discard. Use and discard. The ones
that clung to me, I quickly wiped away with indifference. My body
wasn't the only thing that had grown over the years. My ego had
inflated as well, and I had become somewhat of a cocky son of bitch.

For the first few
weeks back, I felt out my surroundings and got a taste for the women
in the area. So much had changed in the eight years that I'd been
away. All the friends I'd known before had either moved or got
married and had kids. It made me feel like the odd man out, but
family had never been in my plans, and I wasn't particularly
interested in hanging out with a bunch of soccer moms and dads who
probably spent most of their time gushing about their brats.

Bedding women was
quickly getting old though, and I had other craving that were
resurfacing. As fucked up as it was, seeing my mom and dad together
reminded me of the things that were missing in my life, not the
typical things that most people feel are missing from their mundane
lives, but the darker cravings.

I knew better than
to seek out what I truly wanted, that disappointment would be waiting
just around the corner, as it always was when I felt weak and tried
to reintegrate myself into the lifestyle. Despite the nagging voice
in my head to let it go though, I found myself in front of my
computer, searching a fetish website for local munches.

“
Fuck,”
I grumbled after jotting down the address for the next munch. Why
couldn't I stay away? Why couldn't I just fap and fuck like a normal
guy? This couldn't lead anywhere good. It never did.

Exhausted
from a long day of boring work as a health insurance salesman, I
tossed myself down on my bed and shoved my hand in my boxers,
grabbing my cock and filling my head with thoughts of
her
.
Hannah. The perfect submissive. She cooked and cleaned and fucked
like a Goddess. My mind went straight to memories of her shapely
thighs as I pulled my dick out and began slowly stroking, the way
those thighs would quiver when I ran my tongue up the inside of them,
moving closer to the heat of her pleasure core. Just a touch was
almost enough to throw her over the edge; she was so attuned to me.
Never before had I been more in sync with a woman in every way
possible. And then her fucking feelings stepped in and ruined it all.
Not just hers, but mine. I had wanted her impossibly bad, in every
sense of the word. And I had been so afraid of losing her that I was
willing to give her whatever she wanted to keep her by my side. But
in giving her what it took to make her happy, I had lost what made me
happy. The scale of our relationship tipped to imbalance, and the
weight of our differing needs was our downfall.

I sighed at my limp
manhood, feeling defeated by Hannah's memory. Even after so many
years, she could still both inspire and destroy my pleasure with a
single thought. Tonight was on the destructive end. It was a no-go.
That's why I tried not to think about her as much as possible. She
still crept back into my mind every time I considered the lifestyle,
probably because I held hope that I'd find someone like her—someone
that could invoke the deepest part of my inner Dom, someone whom I
could own completely.

***

Doubt and
self-annoyance wrecked me as I drove toward the location of the
munch. What in the hell was I doing? This shit was going to be a
disappointment. It always was. Still, I continued forward, following
the all-business voice of the woman who gave me directions from my
GPS. To distract myself, I tried to imagine what she'd look like in
person. She was probably the pencil skirt and blouse type, with short
auburn hair and glasses. Mmm, yes, glasses.

“
Tch,”
I snorted at myself. What a time to get an erection. That might make
introductions awkward. 'Hi, I'm Micah, care to shake my dick?' Half
the women there would probably jump at the chance. Most of them were
hungry for more than just dominance.

I pulled up in front
of the Mexican restaurant where the munch was being held and hung out
in my car until the bulge in my pants subsided. I would be late, but
what did it really matter. This was just a waste of time anyway,
something to help pass another boring afternoon.

I walked inside and
to the back of the restaurant towards the private area, not really
knowing what to expect. The notice on the website said that the group
was casual, so I wore a pair of jeans and a fitted shirt. No point in
looking too shabby, in case there was someone of interest there.

Friendly faces
greeted me, and I was welcomed into the fold with introductions
before I took an unoccupied seat toward the end of the table. It
wasn't long before I realized that everyone was already paired up.
Dom/sub. Domme/sub. Dom/slave. I was the odd man out. It didn't
matter though. I hadn't come to get back into the lifestyle anyway. I
was just killing time and trying to make friends. I needed friends. I
couldn't just keep going around fucking half the city.

The chat was idle
and random. I tried to get in on it whenever I could, though they
seemed like a pretty tight-knit group. It would take a while for the
awkwardness to wear off, but if I continued to come around, they'd
eventually accept me. That's how these things usually worked.

To help kill the
tension, I grabbed a beer from the bar area. The restaurant was
fairly casual. You went up to the counter to order food and drinks.
There were no waitresses to serve you. Normally, I might have found
that to be a bit annoying, but it worked in my favor today, giving me
a chance to get away from the strangers and compose my thoughts.

Fuck all, I was
bored though. It sucks trying to talk to strangers, especially when
they're so immersed in their own group. Maybe if they weren't all
coupled, it wouldn't be as difficult. Being a single Dom though, I
really didn't have anything to offer any of them by being there.

When I returned to
the table, I found that a new couple had arrived, and one of them had
taken the liberty of high-jacking my seat. No one had said a God damn
thing to them. I was fucking pissed.