Authors: Sky Corgan
“
You
don't know anything about me,” I spat at him, standing
defensively. “I think you've taught me all I care to learn
tonight. Go home, slave, we both have work tomorrow.”
The patient look on
Micah's face disappeared, and what was left honestly frightened me.
This wasn't the first time I had frustrated him, I was sure, but it
was the first time he had really let it show. He was just as fed up
with me as I was with him.
With an agitated
snort, he threw his hands up at me. “Fine. But I'm not going to
a munch with you. Chet's all over this fucking city, and I'm not
interested in getting in another fight on your behalf.”
“
I
don't need you to defend me.” I stood my ground.
“
Good,
because I won't be there to. Just hope you don't need rescuing again,
princess.”
My heart ached as he
turned and walked towards the door. It felt like all the control was
slipping out of my grasp. I didn't want him to leave, but I was too
disgusted to stop him. Part of me feared that I might never see him
again, and I definitely didn't want that. Still, my pride kept me
rooted in place. If he wanted to be an asshole to me, then he could
just leave. I didn't need him anymore.
My confidence
deflated when the door closed behind him, my straight stature
slumping before I tossed myself back down onto the sofa and groaned
into my hands. What purpose had getting angry served? He was only
trying to help, and lord knows he was more educated on the lifestyle
than I was. Perhaps he was right. Maybe I wasn't cut out to be a
Mistress. That didn't really make sense though, considering that I
did enjoy telling him what to do. It was nice to have my pleasures
met by a man with a gentle hand. No, I was definitely in the right on
this one. Whether he liked it or not, I was a Mistress, a good
Mistress. He was just too stubborn to see it, and that was his loss.
***
Despite spending the
rest of the week informing my lifestyle buddies that I had made the
switch to being a Mistress and garnering their support, I still felt
nervous as hell when it was time to attend the munch. I had spoken to
just about everyone but Chet. He wasn't worth my time, and while I
hoped that he wouldn't show up, I was certain that once word got
around, he'd make it a point to be there. If I could just get through
this one munch with him, I'd feel like I earned my stripes.
Sure enough, when I
pulled up into the restaurant parking lot, his truck was there, every
bit as imposing as he was. My breath hitched when I realized he was
sitting inside of it, waiting. When our eyes met, horrible memories
rushed to me like a montage of bad, and by the time I parked and
killed the engine of my car, my hands were shaking on the steering
wheel. All of my confidence melted away, and I slipped back into
subspace. Not the same subspace that being with Micah caused, the
kind where I felt secure and knew that I could trust him with my
body, but the kind where only fear existed. Fear and sickening
anticipation.
I stayed in my
vehicle, wringing my hands around the steering wheel, my knuckles a
pale shade of white. I needed to recompose myself before I stepped
outside, before I faced him. That opportunity wasn't allowed me
though. Before I even had time to get my breathing back under
control, Chet was knocking on my window, causing me to cry out in
surprise. It felt like there was a monster standing outside of my
car, and a thin sheet of glass was the only thing separating us. What
would I do if he tried to strike me or grab me? The thought was
terrifying.
You can't show
him your fear. He'd like that.
Mustering up every
ounce of courage I had, I wrapped my hand around the door handle and
opened it, feeling the poisonous air between us rush in to sicken me.
Be strong.
“
What
do you want?” I snapped at him.
“
Whoa
there, cowgirl. I just thought I'd come pay you a little visit.”
Even his smirk looked menacing.
“
You
can visit me inside.” I slammed my car door, brushing past him
to go into the restaurant, taking long strides to make sure he
couldn't catch up. Thankfully, he didn't try, and as soon as I was
inside and seated with everyone else, I felt a lot safer.
I wish Micah was
here,
I thought as Chet took the
seat directly across from me, eying me like he was trying to put me
in my place. It felt like the tension in the room rose by ten degrees
with his presence.
“
So,
I hear you're trying to make the switch to Domme,” he said
casually.
“
I
have made the switch,” my voice was full of confidence, but on
the inside, I was trembling and afraid, wondering if he could see
right through me.
“
You
were never a good sub,” Chet snorted, “but you'll make an
even worse Domme.”
“
It
will just take her a little while to learn the ropes,” Mistress
Marian chimed in.
“
Dominance
can't be learned. It's a quality that you either have or you don't.
This one isn't dominant, she's just a confused little bitch,”
he insisted.
“
There's
no need to get rude,” Sir Mark said to him.
“
I'm
not being rude. I'm just stating a fact. She doesn't know what she's
doing. She's been palling around with that Micah douche who doesn't
know his dick from his ass.”
Tension twisted
inside of me to the point of boiling anger, and I could stay quiet no
longer. “For your information, Micah's a better Dom than you'll
ever be. He's been teaching me the right way to be a Mistress, not
how to use the lifestyle for abuse, like you do.”
Chet laughed, “The
guy has no balls. That's how he knows how to be a Mistress.”
“
Trust
me, he has balls. I know. I've seen them.” I glared at him
across the table, and his anger flared right back at me.
“
Slut.”
“
Enough
with the name calling,” Sir Mark chastised us. “If you
two can't behave together, one of you will have to leave. I'm not
having another munch ruined because people insist on arguing.”
It seemed obvious
who should leave, but when I looked at Sir Mark, I wasn't quite sure
he was on my side. Internally, I raged at the fact that everyone was
afraid of Chet. Why were they working so hard to keep him in the
group when he was the one causing all the drama? I could understand
now why Micah didn't want to come. Even though I wasn't very educated
in the lifestyle, it felt like I was in the midst of cowards and
fakes. These people were generally nice when you got them one on one.
Together though, with Chet in the mix, they all submitted to him. It
was infuriating.
“
You
know what? Fine.” I stood abruptly, pointing across the table
accusingly at Chet. “You guys enjoy your fucking bullshit
munch, but know that he rules all of you. He may not be physically
abusing you like he did me, but he's psychologically dominating you,
and until he's kicked out of the group and not allowed back in, he's
going to continue to poison the lifestyle and give us all a bad
name.”
Everyone was staring
at me, but no one agreed or said anything, all sitting there like
sheep afraid of the wolf that kept them in line.
“
Oh
boohoo. Go cry a river and drown in it, you little cunt.” Chet
grinned up at me, knowing he had won.
Never before had
someone pushed me past my breaking point. Anger infected every cell
of my body, not just at him, but at everyone there. I'm not sure if
it was a surge of confidence or blind anger that made me do it, but I
picked up the margarita of the sub who was sitting next to me and
threw it, glass and all, at Chet's face. He brought his hands up to
dodge, but it was a split second too late. Margarita went all over
him, and the edge of the glass hit him on the forehead before falling
to the floor and shattering into a million pieces.
After that,
everything seemed to move at blurring speeds. The screeching of
chairs across tile echoed in my ears as people stood. Chet threw
himself at me over the table, and I jumped back to avoid him. His
fingers grazed my shirt, though he wasn't able to get a grip. Within
seconds, Sir Mark had a hold of him around the waist. Chet turned on
him, and it was sheer pandemonium. Fists were flying, chairs were
toppling over, people were screaming, and Chet was quickly gaining
the advantage. I ran around the side of the table to pounce on Chet
and put him into a headlock, but just as I was about to grab a hold
of him, he swung his elbow back and clocked me right in the face.
Then I saw stars for half a second before everything went dark.
CHAPTER EIGHT
So insufferably
stubborn. She wasn't a Domme, no matter how much she insisted she
was. I had submitted to the fact that this was all just a game to
her. Talia was the angel to Chet's devil of fake Doms and Dommes, a
sweet version of someone who used the lifestyle to get what they
wanted, damn the rules. If only she would wake up and realize that
she could still get what she wanted while being a submissive. She had
all the makings of a great submissive; she just refused to accept the
role because of what Chet had done to her. Could I really blame her?
He had beaten her and abused her and showed her nothing but pain and
hatred. Who would want to be a submissive after that? No one. That's
who.
I felt a bit guilty
for letting my anger get the best of me. I was actually having fun
until she said she wanted to go to that munch. Why was it so
important for her to rush things? There wasn't anyone she needed to
prove herself to. Telling Chet that she had switched sides would only
make him ridicule her. I couldn't understand why she'd want to put
herself through that.
When the weekend
rolled around, I stuck to my guns. There was no way I was showing up
to that munch, not when I knew what the outcome would be. I couldn't
help but worry about Talia though. She may think those other Doms and
Dommes were her friends, but she was walking into the lion's den. No
one was going to back her up if Chet got out of hand, and knowing
him, he would. Hopefully, she'd have enough sense to walk away. There
was no point in arguing with a brick wall. The wall wins every time
because it doesn't have ears.
I wanted to stay
upset with Talia because of her stubbornness, but at the end of the
day, I did care. Too much. Who was I kidding, I liked the girl a lot,
more than I'd liked any girl in a long time. She was sweet and fun
and funny and adorable . . . and oh so sexy. For as much as I hated
subbing to her, the fact that she always made me do stuff to her had
me enjoying even that. What had she done to me?
On Saturday night, I
sent her a message asking if the munch was everything she hoped it
would be. She didn't respond. Maybe it had run late, and she was
having too much fun. Perhaps I had been wrong. Those people knew her
well, probably better than I did. They could have embraced her
lifestyle change with open arms. I snorted at the thought.
Pretenders, the lot of them.
The next morning was
the same thing. No response. I still tried to justify it, thinking
that maybe she got too drunk and hadn't woken up yet. Sunday
afternoon came and went though, and by the time Monday rolled around,
I was beginning to wonder what the fuck was going on. My mind went
wild with possibilities. What if Chet had gotten her to go home with
him and had hurt her? Or what if I had really pissed her off, and she
didn't want anything to do with me anymore?
I sat at my desk,
silently brooding, wondering why I cared so damn much. She was just a
girl, like any other. Not a girl, but a woman, capable of making her
own choices, her own mistakes. I felt a strong need to protect her
though, to take her under my wing and teach her the right way to do
things. It was pretty obvious that she didn't want that. She was
stubborn and willful, probably not as good of a sub as I kept trying
to convince myself. Lust had blinded me. Lust and something else.
I sighed. What if
she had gone back with Chet? What if I had pushed her too far? What
if I had ruined something amazing? Hanging out with her was fun, even
if I didn't particularly enjoy being the slave.
My confidence was
faltering by the second, and my need to get her back was rising. I
had never had her to begin with, but I wanted her. How I wanted her,
to finish what we had started, to ride the relationship into whatever
direction it took us. Maybe being Dom or sub wasn't that important.
Perhaps I just wanted her.
The thought of
giving in to my carnal need for Talia made me disappointed in myself.
She was everything I had been looking for though. Beautiful and
interesting with a fiery personality. I could search forever and
never find another girl like her again. Was it worth giving her up
over my stupid pride? The answer was no. But if she wasn't responding
to my text messages or emails, then how could I ever hope to get her
back?