Professional Dominant

Professional Dominant

~Marilyn finds out for the first time what a submissive should and shouldn’t do. When the leather crop comes down on her repeatedly, she quickly learns to obey.

As with any professional, this gentleman isn’t quite as gentle as Marilyn finds out. Trying her best, she quickly realizes pain can be just as intense as pleasure. ~

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It was 06:30 AM in New York, and Marilyn stood looking at herself in the mirror. She had changed her earrings from pearls to diamonds and back again at least three times already. She was unable to decide which her professional dominant might like better, and eventually settled on diamonds, believing that he might appreciate a touch of class. Then she bit her lip and played the audio recording again, because it gave her chills whenever she heard it.

‘’... You need to try this, Lyn.’’ Her friend Rachel said, her voice dulcet and delicate.

‘’... He’s incredible. This man is smart... sophisticated... sexy. I’ve never met anyone quite like him. It could be an act, you know? The sessions are so short... But, you know that feeling you get, when you think a guy can see right through you? ... That’s how he makes me feel. And the way he talks. I can’t describe it. It makes my heart-... Ah! My husband-,’’ Rachel said and lowered her voice. ‘’... He’s home; I must go. Call me, won’t you? I can’t stop thinking about-. Okay, no. I have to go. Bye, bye!’’’ Rachel hung up the phone.

‘‘Voice message sent at... 11:00 PM.’’

Marilyn looked down, then pressed the replay button with a well-manicured nail, her heart feeling lighter at even the slightest mention of a scandal.

‘’... smart... sophisticated... sexy. ... can’t stop thinking about... when he looks at me... the way he talks... makes my heart… it could be an act... but you know that feeling… when a guy... can see right through you-,’’

Marilyn stopped the recording and rewound it by half a second, and then pressed play:

‘‘... See right through you.’’

Marilyn looked at her reflection in the mirror, pursed her lips, and said, ‘’We’ll see about that…’’ Then she took her lip gloss and ran it carefully over her lips, before closing her make-up bag and heading out of the room, collecting her coat and hat on the way out before closing the door behind her.

Marilyn’s wedding ring had been left on the table along with her cell phone. His secretary had been very clear: ‘make sure to leave them behind... if you would prefer to avoid a scandal.’

07:33 AM, downtown New York, on a very busy highstreet.

Advertisements scrolled across skyscrapers and people going to work hurried along the pavement, not stopping for anything or anyone, and especially not for each other.

When Marilyn walked however, the crowd parted for her. It was her class. She wore the brim of her hat low, and her coat done-up to her collar, so that one could see her eyes: though they all knew she was money. Not to be disturbed. Off limits to the common man.

Except professionals, of course.

She stopped outside the crowded subway station and counted the buildings to her left, then went down an alley that led to a dead end. There was however a door hidden to her right. She knocked on it once, and then pressed the buzzer outside. She was not aware of the camera installed in the door, and stopped to check her lipstick in her vanity mirror, and was subsequently surprised when the door opened without anyone having greeted her first. ‘’...Curious,’’ Marilyn said, excitable. Then reached out with a gloved hand and slipped in through the door, glancing over her shoulder as she did so, before closing the door behind her.

Another hallway. It was disappointingly clinical with fluorescent lighting. She’d expected a boudoir with handsome couches, the smell of tobacco, the crisp, rough rug and the patterned leather armchairs; and the occasional Venetian vase. Cliche, she knew, but nonetheless attractive to someone in her position, especially when such ideas came with one of the strapping young men from her mystery novels. The weary private eye with the witty tongue and the hard, calloused hands that tended to go wandering. A small tremble went through her, and she started.

Marilyn walked the hall. Her heels clicked as she went. She saw that there were pictures decorating the narrow space and she paused to view each of them.

The first picture was of a room with only a bed in it, which Marilyn thought was very on the nose.

The second was of a wooden chair in a dull room, which she progressed past without stopping.

But the third made her slow down. It was of a black leather couch with a black leather crop propped up against it; and a pair of black leather boots and a black leather masque led on top of the black leather boots in a very neat and orderly pile. A very neat and orderly pile.

Structured sex. Well-organised carnality. Professional smut. Her heart skipped a beat.

Marilyn stared at the picture for but a moment longer, then adjusted her handbag and continued down the hall. If one was listening, one would notice her pace had quickened slightly.

She got to the door at the end of the hall and knocked. Again it opened without any introduction, and Marilyn stepped in and closed it behind her, feeling rather anxious, really.

‘’... Hello,’’ Marilyn announced herself quite clearly and placed her bag before her lap with both of her small white hands on the handle.

A man stood in the middle of the room. A room that was blessed with a very rugged-looking leather couch. He had his hands in his pockets and he turned around to look at Marilyn quite lightly. A black and white projector played images on the wall over his broad shoulders, but Marilyn did not seem to notice them, because she was far too busy looking at him.

His age surprised her. He was still quite young. Anywhere from twenty five to twenty nine, but not a day over thirty. He wore a black turtleneck sweater and fitted grey trousers and leather brogues and a very handsome watch, but he also had very clear and very striking grey eyes which seemed to highlight his entire face. A scar ran down one side of his face, and his ears were not pierced and his hair was not too much fussed with, and Marilyn thought he was very traditionally handsome and very much her type. He could’ve been over thirty, on second thought. It was really quite hard to tell.

Her heart had skipped yet another beat, and she was immediately made to feel small by how intently he looked at her, because the way he looked at her had a magnetism that she couldn’t quite place, much like his age, and she felt inclined to step towards him as he stepped towards her, but he didn’t quite step all the way towards her after all, and she was very glad she didn’t, because the first thing he did was start moving the leather couch from the corner of the room to the middle of the room, and did so with very little effort, as if it weighed nothing at all.

‘’Marilyn?’’ He confirmed. His voice was so low and so rich she had to struggle quite gladly to hear it, and craved to hear it again as soon as it left the room. The room was really of no consequence now. It really was quite simple like the hallway. It was what was in it that was so intriguing; and the man stood out so much more than all the rest of the things combined, even though she couldn’t quite explain why. Part of it was the anticipation of what was about to happen, and to a larger extent, what exactly could happen, should she give him half a chance.

Suddenly, Marilyn realised she was already quite drawn in by him, exactly as her friend Rachel had said, and she hadn’t even begun answering his question, which he’d asked what felt like a very long time ago, and felt quite embarrassed as a result. Her usual poise done away with; and all he had done was speak her name.

‘’I-... yes, I am. And you are?’’ Marilyn asked for his name in return.

‘’That’s not too important,’’ the man answered and met her eyes for a moment over the arm of the couch. She noticed that the lines of his forearms were lined with muscle after pushing the weight of the couch around, and that the way he looked at her was as hard as the muscles in his arms. He stood up straight and wiped his hands together. They were dusty and loud; and must have been very calloused, Marilyn thought. Her skin prickled with goosebumps beneath her coat as his brogues took steps closer towards her, and for a moment an image of him grabbing her with those hands flashed lewdly through her mind.

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