The Romantic Dominant Read Free

at her.
    The car was waiting, the driver holding the door open, and as they climbed inside and settled into the plush seat, he turned to her with a serious look on his face.
    “I was just trying to make myself look good for you,” she mumbled, staring at her fingers.
    Zander gazed out the window and sighed. He didn’t mean to be so brusque, but the nights he’d spent with incompatible women had drained him of tolerance, and when they’d arrived at the club and seats in the back row were the only ones available, it hadn’t helped his mood. Shaking off his ire, Zander focused on the Dominant walking on to the stage. He often wondered why they never failed to dress in black and was waiting for the night some brave soul would wander in front of the audience in something, anything, other than a black T-shirt and slacks.
    A tux perhaps, he thought, but his pondering was interrupted as the proficient Dominant began to speak.
    “For those of you who have not seen a flogging before, understand this is just one of many variations. My submissive, Janelle, is not here to be punished, quite the contrary. This particular flogging will bring her to a heightened state of sexual arousal, and when we leave here she will be given great pleasure. As you can see her bottom is already reddened. This is from a hand spanking just before she came on stage. It prepared her for what she is about to endure.”
    The audience fell silent as he raised the flogger. Holding the handle in one hand, the ends of the tails in the other, he snapped them loose, giving the biting tongues flight. The girl arched her back, her yearning for more evident in the silent gesture. He obliged quickly, delivering strike after strike, occasionally pausing to whisper in her ear and touch between her legs. Though his breathy words were not audible her moans were, and his probing fingers elicited small cries of decadent joy.
    Abigail, leaning against Zander’s body, began fidgeting, and glancing down he saw her eyes darting around the room.
    “Are you all right?” he asked, his voice a low whisper.
    She nodded, but he could sense her discomfort, and taking her hand he led her quietly from the small theatre.
    The club was in full swing, but they were a distance from the fray, the demonstration rooms situated at the back of the venue, and though the music and crowd could be heard the sounds were muffled. Dropping her hand he leaned against the wall and studied her; she looked shaken.
    “Abigail, you told me you’ve had a Dominant in the past. Is that true?”
    Tears brimming, she shook her head.
    “Not really, I mean, kind of,” she stammered.
    “Explain, please,” he requested, keeping his voice calm and even.
    “I had a boyfriend who liked to spank me a bit.”
    “That was the relationship you’ve been referring to?”
    “Uh-huh.”
    “I see, and your age? Are you really twenty-five?”
    “No, I turned twenty-one, last month,” she admitted, dropping her gaze to the floor. “That’s why I put off meeting you. I needed to make sure I’d have an ID if I was asked for one.”
    “I see.”
    “Sorry. I didn’t think you’d meet me if I told you.”
    “You were right,” he remarked.
    “Sorry,” she repeated.
    “Did the flogging demonstration upset you?”
    “It was so, like, intense,” she declared, raising her voice and lifting her eyes to look back at him.
    “Come on, I’ll take you home.”
    “Can’t we stay and have a drink? Maybe dance a bit?” she asked.
    “No. This place isn’t for you, and neither am I,” he sighed.
    “Zander, please, I really like you,” she begged. “I need a strong man.”
    He stopped, and looking down at her the lightbulb went off.
    “I think you’re looking for a father figure,” he observed, and dropping the stern tone he smiled. “There are some D/s relationships that take that road. It’s not for me, but if you’re more honest with people you meet online you’ll have a better chance of meeting the