Chapter 11
“I was a Domme.”
They were curled up in bed, Cole’s hand on her hip. She’d moved it firmly away from her pussy.
Her body had been more than willing to go another round, despite the residual throbbing in various parts, but it was time to let intellect take control.
Lying in bed, even in a bed as ridiculous as this one, in the warmth and dark, made it easy to confess.
“You’re a switch?” Cole’s question rumbled at her back.
“Not sexually.” Mara rolled over to face him. “I was a FinDomme.”
His teeth flashed white in the dark as he smiled. “I can see it.”
“I sort of stumbled into it via an online forum. I was young and stupid, so I ended up with an in-person relationship.”
Cole stiffened. “What did he do?”
Mara patted his bare chest. “He genuinely only wanted to be financially dominated. I was a poor college student attending a rich kid school, but somehow my attitude and the way I looked at men made them willing to be financially abused by me.”
“What did you do?”
“At first, they bought me things. The designer purses and clothes the other students had. We’d go out shopping and I’d order him to buy me outrageously expensive things, and if he tried to protest, I’d confiscate some expensive thing in his home.”
“You sold them?”
“No. I would take them and say that they were now gifts. Things like one-of-a-kind hundred-thousand dollar watches. Even if I wanted to, I don’t think I could have sold them.”
“Not without the authorities assuming you’d stolen it and getting involved.”
“Exactly. I’d return the item the next time I saw him, but we’d never talk about it. I think he liked to pretend that I really had forced him to give me priceless items.”
“But sexually…”
“No. He wanted to, early on, but I think my refusal is what really cemented our paypig and Domme relationship.”
“Paypig,” Cole said with a snort.
“He liked the degrading term.”
“Do you still…do it?” Cole asked, sounding unexpectedly hesitant.
“No. In those early days, I was just so happy to have money to live on—he’d give me cash. Then I was excited to have designer shoes, purses, and clothes.
“By my junior year, I realized that I was only cosplaying at having money. These other people I tried to emulate had generational wealth. As soon as my paypig got tired of me, it was over.
“Yes, I was going to graduate and get a job, but that would allow me to live comfortably, not to live the way the people I’ve been trying to emulate did.”
“So you married him, killed him, and inherited his money.”
Mara smacked Cole’s shoulder. “No!”
“It would have been a smart move.”
“I’m a little insulted that you think I’d need to commit murder to get money.”
“Huh. Good point. Got him to sign over all his assets?”
“Made him teach me.”
Cole went still. “Well fuck. That’s smart.”
“He was a hedge fund manager, and I started making him show me his work. I’d tell him to make certain investments or trades, and he wouldn’t. He wasn’t into our relationship enough to actually risk losing hundreds of millions of dollars.
“What he did enjoy was when I would start burning hundred-dollar bills to make him explain why he wouldn’t do what I told him to do.”
“Damn, Mara. That’s fucking ice cold.” Rather than sounding appalled, Cole clearly admired what she’d done.
“I built up starting capital by saving the cash he gave me, and picking expensive presents that I knew I could return later. Once I was ready, I started my own investment group, and for a year, I mirrored his trades.”
“Did he know?”
“I don’t think so. I wasn’t buying and selling in high enough quantities to be on his radar.”
“But now?”
“He retired years ago, so I doubt he’s paying attention. Our relationship actually ended because he met this nice man his age at a regatta.”
“He was gay?”
“He’d been married to a woman before, so probably bisexual. But finance cares a lot about appearances, and I don’t think he could have been openly gay for most of his career.”
“Did you ever meet the other guy?”
“Once. We said I was his ex-step-granddaughter or something like that. We parted ways when their relationship got serious—I demanded a condo as a final gift.” Mara paused, smiling softly. “I send them New Year’s cards now, though I’m sure one of these days they’ll get returned.”
“Let me get this straight.” Cole cupped the back of her head, kneading her scalp. “You were a poor desperate college student. Sounds like you didn’t have a ton of family support.”
She nodded.
“This powerful, wealthy man has you take control of his money. Or at least some of his money.
“You do it, needing some cash to survive, and then switch it up into an undercover internship—”
Mara gasped out a laugh. “Undercover internship?!”
“Then you start your own money-making company, which I bet is high stress and demanding. You’re running around with assholes, so you can’t show any weakness.”
Again, she nodded, though she was still chuckling about undercover internship.
“At what point in this story were you dating or fucking someone?”
“I had the occasional boyfriend, but it was too awkward, explaining where I was getting designer stuff and why I couldn’t talk about where I spend my weekend.”
“Well, no wonder you’re a sub. You’ve been in control for fucking ever, and haven’t gotten your own needs met.”
Slowly, Mara sat up.
“Cole?”
“Yes.”
“I think I was right before. I don’t think I’m a submissive. Not really.”
He too sat up, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. “Brown Eyes, the stuff I did to you tonight is stuff only a sub would want or accept.”
“I know, but…”
“But what?” There was an edge to his voice.
“You know what my favorite part was? The part I’ll think about and masturbate to? The sex. Being your…fuck doll.”
It was ridiculous to be embarrassed by the words, but she was.
“I enjoyed, even needed, all the other parts. You showed me exactly how deep my submission runs, but I don’t think I want that every weekend. I think… I think I want a man who will toss me against the wall and fuck me instead of saying hello.”
“I said hello…” he grumbled.
“I want a man who will bend me over whatever is close and fuck or finger me when I’m upset or scared.”
“That’s a kink. I don’t know what it’s called, but it’s definitely a kink.”
“I know. But is it a BDSM kink? Or could I find some random vanilla guy with a high sex drive who would be more than willing to use his cock to make me calm.”
“Fuck, that’s a hot sentence,” Cole breathed.
It was a good thing that he was taking this in a lighthearted way. That was the only reasonable way for this conversation to go, though for her, it was an earth-tilting realization.
“I mean, maybe once a quarter it would be good to have a full BDSM scene like we did tonight. I don’t think that kind of catharsis could ever be reached with just sex.”
“Probably not.”
Silence stretched between them.
“Is this you saying goodbye?” Cole asked, and it was a real question.
“We’re done with the game.”
“Doesn’t mean we couldn’t scene together.”
Mara looked at him, wishing there was more light so she could truly read the expression in his gaze rather than only seeing the glint of what little light there was on his eyes.
“If I kept my membership, could we arrange to scene together every few months?”
Cole hesitated long enough that she wondered if she’d completely misread the situation.
“Yes,” he said finally. “I want your submission, so I’ll take what I can get.”
“Cole…”
“No, Brown Eyes. No more talking.”
Cole wrapped his arms around her and lay back. He wasn’t wearing gloves, his hand rough on her skin as he stroked her.
She desperately wanted to ask him what he meant by that. Did Cole want to have a more permanent relationship? Did he want her to be his bonded sub, the club’s equivalent of collared?
Did she want it?
Yes, and no. She wanted to see this man every weekend. Wanted him to fuck her up against every wall, and bend her over every bit of furniture. But she’d come to realize that she didn’t want to be that deeply submissive all the time. For her, it was a periodic need, not an everyday one.
Mara studied Cole’s profile in the darkness and had a terrible feeling she’d lost something she hadn’t even realized she had.