I was quick to follow her lead, which made me smile inside. Unless conversing as equals, I bowed to her domination, even in a casual setting. She was a wonderful Dominatrix. And like Belle, I thrived on a Dom taking the lead. Before the debacle with Thorne, I had a Dom for a while that I thought had been a good fit. Apparently, not so. After a few months, that Dom replaced me with a twink… someone who the Dom claimed was sweeter, more pliant, and not built like a wrestler.
Boxer, I had wanted to yell in the Dom’s face, as if my strong physique made me less pliant, less sweet. Instead, I’d thanked the Dom for our short time together. The next week when I was at the BDSM club, Thorne approached me. And that was that. Another short-lived, three-month contract but one that had fucked up my whole world.
Gabby poked my cheek with her spoon. “Hey, where’d you go?”
I blinked, then absently wiped my cheek with my palm. Shifting to look at her, I said, “Before, you said you wanted to know how you could help. Is your offer still good?”
“Of course it is, dipshit.”
“Since Belle’s not back until tomorrow, would you do a scene with me that won’t leave marks?”
Gabby tapped her lips with the back of her spoon. “I won’t do a scene unless Belle’s present. It’s a hard limit for us.”
“I’m down for that. I like people-watching,” I said, already feeling the anticipation of a scene thrum through my veins.
“I’m not experienced in cock and ball torture for obvious reasons. But I could use clothespins on your nipples. Does that appeal to your masochistic heart?”
“Yes,” I said, sitting forward. “If I guide you, would you be open to playing with my southern region?”
“Oh my God, you’re such a pain slut. But, yes.”
“Which does bring up the question about…” I lowered my voice and bent forward. “You know…” I dipped my chin toward my groin.
Gabby snorted. When she stopped snorting, she matched my forward position and whispered, “Sexual release?”
“Yeah, that would be great, but you two don’t share, right?”
Gabby nodded. “I’ve only had two exceptions, a male couple that Belle met through work. But they gave each other sexual release so it wasn’t an issue.”
Gabby’s eyes widened. “Since Belle is bi and has had intimate experience with the male anatomy, she can hold a Fleshlight for your dick while I continue to torture you. You’ll come like a geyser.”
If only, I thought. I hadn’t put my dick into anything or anyone since Napa. The idea made me go numb. The psychiatrist assigned to me in rehab and two psychotherapists since then had tried to make me understand that what happened wasn’t my fault. Certainly, the police wouldn’t have dropped the case if they thought so. But sometimes, when I looked at my hands, I could see them pinning Luca down. It was the only image that I remembered clearly, but it was potent enough to bring me to my knees in despair. “No Fleshlight, Gabby. I’ll just go in your bathroom and jerk off if that’s okay, so I’m not leaving your house with a boner.”
“Good enough,” she said.
I gulped at the promise of being in a scene, which caused my cheeks to flush. On my darker skin, I was grateful Gabby wouldn’t notice. I set the cup of ice cream aside and took her hand in mine. “Thank you, Gabby. I’m trying to stay away fromself-flogging and this will be really helpful. I don’t know how to repay you.”
“I’ll keep that in mind next time I want something only you can give me,” Gabby said with a wink. “But I’m looking forward to the scene, too. I go easy on Belle since she’s not into pain. A spanking and a light paddling are the most I’ve ever doled out for punishments.”
“What time is good for you?”
“I’m not bartending until Tuesday,” Gabby said. “Come to the house tomorrow at four thirty. We’ll have time for a scene, then a light supper. You’ll get home early enough to chill, since you have work on Monday.”
“You’ve got it all figured out, like a true Dominatrix,” I said, giving her a sidelong glance as I collected our paper cups and utensils and threw them in the trash.
Gabby took my hand as she had earlier. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”
I smiled and we walked back to the Hangout. From there, we were going in opposite directions. “Can I bring anything tomorrow?”
“Just you,” she said, then she reached up and kissed my cheek. She pivoted and waved as she jogged down the street toward home.
I walked to my truck with my thoughts shifting to Father Jude. I was bemoaning not seeing him for six more days, when confessions were held next, when an idea came to me. I could show up to Sunday Mass tomorrow. I wouldn’t be able to talk to him other than,Have a nice day, Father, as he stood outside the church after the service and greeted parishioners. But I didn’t care. For now, I’d be content to be in his vicinity.
As a child, my parents liked to attend High Mass because it was held in Latin. I hadn’t understood a word, but I had delighted in the pageantry that went along with it, particularlythe musical pieces, melodious hymns and Gregorian chants that both inspired and soothed my young soul.
Thinking about those childhood memories in church, I had a sudden urge to see Father Jude in his liturgical vestments. Would he look less desirable so I could stop perving on him? Or would the flowing white robe cinched with a belt entice me to want to unravel him physically and mentally? I recalled being taught in catechism classes that sexual fantasies were a sin of lust only if the person deliberately dwelled on or consented to them with the intention of sexual pleasure. If those were the guidelines, then I was fucked.
Maybe I’d confess to Father Jude without identifying the person I was lusting after. Shit, I didn’t know where all this was coming from. Nor did I understand how one man was capable of raising feelings of desire more than I’d ever experienced. Not of the intensity I felt for Father Jude. Not even prior to Napa.
