Page 6 of Hard Discipline

I’m a hardline Dom and I demand a lot of my subs, which is why I like them experienced. But this girl, kneeling at my feet, wouldn’t last two seconds in a scene with me and I know that for a fact. Shit, I said no for a reason and I meant it.

So, really, I should not, under any circumstances, even be contemplating giving her what she wants. Her hair is so pale, though, a pretty white-blonde with a black elastic band holding her ponytail in place.

It would feel soft. Soft, like her skin…

I grit my teeth. I shouldn’t have grabbed her wrist when she reached for that whisky tumbler, but instinct kicked in before I could think better of it. She shouldn’t be drinking anymore alcohol, especially since she’s already downed one. Being so slight even one drink might put her under the table. But stopping her meant touching her and now I know what her skin feels like, smooth and silky and soft. Now I also know how my touch affects her. She’d trembled as I’d gripped her, the race of her pulse beating hard under my fingertips. I like knowing that it was me that made it race. Me, that made her tremble.

I can’t deny that making a woman desperate is a powerful aphrodisiac. I’ve always liked it. I never played dominance games with Gabrielle, though, because that wasn’t on my radar back then. I was bossy in bed, nothing more than that, but even then nothing got me off more than when she begged me to make her come. It wasn’t until after she died that I got into BDSM. A lover introduced me and immediately I threw myself into it, because it was different from the sex I’d had with Gabrielle and that’s what I’d wanted back then. Something that had nothing to do with her, had no memories of her, and was nothing she’d ever want. It was sex that I could enjoy without her ghost haunting me. Also, I very much enjoyed how in control and powerful it made me feel, the perfect antidote to how weak and powerless I was when I lost her.

But it only works with someone who won’t demand any emotional involvement. I have subs I play with on a semi-regular basis, but they’re women who don’t want anything more than to get off and who don’t need much in the way of aftercare.

Which means it will not work with this woman. Hell, even if she wasn’t my son’s girlfriend, I wouldn’t touch her for her inexperience alone.

My jaw aches as I stare down at her bent head.

Show me,she’d said, as if I was a magician and she wanted to know how the trick was done. But there is no trick, only complete obedience to my will, and I don’t think she’d like that one bit.

I can hear her taking fast gulps of air, and I can see she’s still trembling. I’ve denied her and denied her, but she’s pushing in the way a sub pushes, using her own obedience to get me to give her what she wants, and that is not something I allow

She needs to be taught a lesson.

The Dominant in me stirs and I find myself falling into the space where I’m analytical, studying the sub to find out what her weak points are and where her vulnerabilities lie. She overshared about Lucas and how he treats her, and it doesn’t surprise me. He’s trying to do the right thing, but he’s impatient in the way all young men are impatient. He wants to get straight to the fucking without understanding that sometimes the fucking is not the goal. It’s the cherry on top. But she didn’t like his questions, she said. She didn’t like him asking her if she was okay all the time.

You know what she needs.

I have an inkling. But it’s not what she wants, because wants and needs are two different things. She thinks what she wants are a few power games, a bit of light bondage, one or two orders, but that’s not what she needs. I’m certain of it. And that’s not what I provide.

Show her the difference then.

Perhaps. Perhaps I should. If I show her the hard, cold reality of what being my sub means, shock her with it, she’ll understand why it will never happen with me. Never.

I reach down to touch the top of her head, testing her. She takes a sharp breath at the brush of my fingertips, and I don’t like how it goes straight to my head like a shot of good whisky.

I love that nervousness in a sub, that little shiver of apprehension when I approach. It’s not fear of me so much as it’s fear of what I’ll make her do, fear that she’ll do it without question and, more than that, that she’ll love it. And theydolove it. No sub ever leaves me unsatisfied.

She’s pushy, this one, and won’t take no for an answer, but after five minutes with me she won’t be so quick to insist. I’ll scare her back to vanilla sex for life.

Her hair is very soft and I curl my fingers around the base of her ponytail, gripping it. She draws in another sharp breath. She’s trembling, I can feel it.

My cock twitches, anticipating what’s next, but I’m not going to give it what it wants, not tonight. If she wasn’t Lucas’s girlfriend, I might consider fucking her — sometimes I don’t fuck my subs, it depends on how well behaved they are — but there’s no changing who she is, or who I am. I’ve been a shitty father to my son, but I’m notthatshitty.

You really thinknotfucking her makes it better?

No, it doesn’t, I’m not that naive. But she’s a problem, and it’s clear she wants me, so if I don’t want her to become more of a problem I’ll have to nip her little explorations in the bud. Now.

Her ponytail feels good in my palm and I like how responsive she is. There’s something undeniably erotic about how new this is for her, and that surprises me. I didn’t think I was into it, but clearly I’m wrong. She probably hasn’t experienced anything like this before, all the sensations and feelings so bright and sharp and hot…

Shit. No, I can’t think of her as my sub. I can’t get into her head, wanting to know what she’s thinking and feeling. That’s not what I’d decided. What I’ve decided is fifteen minutes of my own particular brand of domination and that’s all.

“You want me to show you?” I ask into the silence. “I can do that. But first, you need answer three questions and answer them honestly or else this doesn’t happen.” This is something I do with all the subs I play with. It’s become a little ritual of mine and though I don’t need to ask my questions of the subs on The Club app, I like to hear the answers anyway. It helps get them into the moment and makes them focus on me.

She lets out a shaken breath and then nods her head.

“I need you to speak.” My voice has deepened, hardened, the Dominant in me coming out to play. “I need to hear the words.”

“Y-Yes,” she finally whispers.

“Good. First question. Do you want this?”

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