Dark Control (Dark Dominance 1)

“I’ll see you in a week,” he said, releasing me. “If anything changes, let me know immediately.”

“Yes, Sir,” I answered, and the kinky title didn’t seem so strange anymore.

*

I fidgeted through my brunch-and-business meeting with Goodluck. I wore my softest, most slovenly clothes, but they weren’t soft enough to cushion my sore skin. I tried my best to keep my boss’s attention as I went over the numbers from last weekend’s art sales, but he was flighty as ever, and my mind was somewhere else. Every time I moved, I felt the welts on my ass. My breasts were sensitive against my bra, and my muscles ached, over-exercised by flinching and tensing in Fort’s dungeon.

Of course, I couldn’t explain this to Goodluck or any of my friends. I didn’t want to confess that my darkest BDSM fantasies now seemed not so dark, compared to the stuff my new Dom was into. When Goodluck asked why I kept shivering in the middle of a sentence, I had to lie and tell him I was coming down with something.

“Coming down with something?” He scoffed. “You haven’t been sick in all the years I’ve known you.”

“There’s always a first time.” Yes, like my first time in a sadist’s dungeon last night… “I’m just…not feeling like myself this morning. I don’t know if I’m getting sick or if it’s something else.”

He paled. “Have you been eating spinach? They say it makes you stronger, but even the organic kind is full of toxins.”

“Where did you hear that?”

“I didn’t have to hear it, I can see it on the wilted, stunted leaves. It’s criminal, all the poisons and pesticides blanketing our green world. Don’t eat spinach, Starcomet. Don’t eat any vegetables unless you grow them on your own.”

“That sounds like a lot of work.” I eyed his plate of waffles, biscuits, and sausage gravy. It wasn’t fair that he was thin as a rail. I gestured to my bowl of fruit salad. “Are things like strawberries and melon okay to eat?”

“You’d better hope so.” He gave me a mournful look. “Take care of your body, Starcomet. You need it to make your beautiful journey through the cosmos of expression—”

“I’ll be fine, Goodluck.”

“Why do you keep fidgeting and rubbing your eyes? They’re red, by the way. Did you get enough sleep? All our bodies need hours and hours to dream.”

I was lost if he started talking about dreams, so I blurted out, “Here’s the thing, Goodluck. I met someone. A guy. A man, and we hung out last night. I was out late, that’s why my eyes are red.”

“You met someone?” He looked astonished.

“I do occasionally interact with people who aren’t you. I know it’s shocking.”

He shook his head. “I didn’t mean that. It’s just…after Keith… Well, are you dating this person? Because your last relationship didn’t end well.”

“He’s nothing like Keith.”

“Thank God. So he’s not a corporate scarecrow with a dead, desiccated soul?”

“He’s a little bit corporate,” I admitted. “But he does other things, too. He came to your gallery opening.”

“Oh! Then I approve. How do you think he feels about eagles?”

“He loves eagles.” I ate a possibly toxic blueberry, then a grape. “You remember that advertising campaign for Sinclair watches? The ads that your photos appeared in? He was also involved with that.”

“Listen, Powerstar.” He reached across the table for my hands, pushing my fruit salad out of the way. “I care about you very much. I don’t want you to be hurt again. You’re a sensitive soul, like me, and we have to be very careful when choosing our lovers. Tonight, before you go to bed, perhaps you should meditate for a few minutes.”

“Oh, that’s a good idea.”

He let go of one hand to gesture toward the ether. “Think about who you are and what you want, and what this new relationship means for your soul. Then I want you to refocus your attention on me, because you work for me and I really need you to keep the business side going. If you start to slack, my agent will start to slack, the gallery owners will slack, they’ll all start to slack.”

“That went from comforting to scolding very quickly, boss.”

He rubbed his temple. “I know. Please don’t make me scold you again. I’m not good at it. Punishment has no place in artistic expression.”

My eyes flew to his. Did he know something about Fort and me? Were my bruises showing? No, he was just spouting more kooky stuff.

“You know what else has no place in artistic expression?” he added. “Complicated relationships that drain your spirit and energy.”

“Still scolding,” I said. “Haven’t you ever fallen for someone?”

“No. Art is my mistress. And my photographs, well…” He took my hands again, squeezed them. Hard. “They’re my lifeblood. I need you to keep all of it rolling. All my balls flying in the air.”

Oh God, why did he have to mention his balls? I smothered a laugh.

“If you’re worried this new guy is going to steal me away from you and your art, you can stop now,” I said, gently extricating my hands. “He’s dead set against romance and falling in love, and right now, I am too.”

“Ah. Thank God.” His pinched, pale expression relaxed into a smile. “I’m so happy to hear that.”

“Really, you’re happy?” I scowled at him. “I thought you were all about the spirit of love. I thought you wanted me to be happy.”

“I do. I want you to be a happy Boundless Art business manager. I’m not so concerned about the rest.”

Ugh, so rude. I could have gotten another job. I probably should have gotten a different job years ago, but there was something about Goodluck’s rabid self-interest that reassured me. I knew he didn’t have the ability to be devious or two-faced. Maybe his sincerity was what drew people to his art.

It occurred to me that Fort was a lot like Goodluck, in that he told me the truth. He’d told me the truth at the Ivy, even though it made me storm out on him. He told me the truth in the back room at the gallery, with his words and his body. He told me the truth when we embarked on our perverted interactions. No relationships. No drama. He laid it all out there, right at the beginning.

And if I felt a little too much for Fort already, well…

It was okay to fall for someone, to harbor a secret crush. It was okay to find new interests.

Even if those new interests cause you to get hurt? Both physically and emotionally?

I was meeting with Fort again in a week, but I still hadn’t processed everything I felt. Well, except that I wanted another session, and I hoped it would be even more transformative than the first.

Chapter Fifteen: Fort

I thought of Juliet often, but it was good to wait a week between our sado-masochistic sessions. It gave her body time to heal, and gave me time to step back and recuperate from the way she aroused me. It allowed me to focus on work, to hold meetings and send emails, and accomplish what I needed to do. It also gave me time to plan for Juliet’s future sessions.

The only thing it didn’t allow me to do was keep up with my friends and partners at The Gallery. Why had I chosen Saturday nights for our sessions, considering it was the only night of the week that The Gallery was open?

Because Juliet’s different. She’s exciting, and you needed a change from the status quo.

I texted my budding masochist Friday night after I finished dinner.

Good evening, Sparkles. Just checking in. Will I see you tomorrow?

It was the first communication between us since I’d kissed her goodbye and walked her to my door last Saturday night.

Yes, she typed a few minutes later. I’m planning to come. Will you send a car around at the same time?

Yes, I typed, and that was really all I needed to say, but I kept going, picturing her texting with me while propped against her pillows. Has your ass healed? I asked.

She sent two blushing emojis. I’ve looked at it every day. The welts are mostly faded, shadows now. I’m good as new. Almost.