I bought my condo in the middle of the city. The brick and stone exterior sold me at first, then the polished wooden floors of the living area, the mezzanine floor bedroom that I now call my own, and the rooftop that opens up to the surrounding skyscrapers. It’s bold and strong, yet welcoming with an inner warmth—a sanctuary in the middle of the busy metropolis. It is a perfect representation of me. And one day, I hope to have a wife and family here too. I mean, I am thirty-three. I suppose it’s time to start thinking about things like that.
I smile to myself briefly before the day’s events creep back into the forefront of my mind. Ryan’s epic f**k up, and Sammy. Samantha Richards. The unexpected blast from the past that has rocked me to the core.
How can she still get under my skin after all these years? Ten years is a long time for me to hold a candle. Actually a candle is too tame, too timid to describe the myriad of feelings I have for Sammy. A raging inferno or thermonuclear blast would be more apt. It had always been like that with us.
Back when we first met, I thought she was someone who understood me, accepted me, someone I could take care of and who matched me yin for yang both in and out of the bedroom. Then her harsh rejection of our relationship—of me—doused any flame between us.
Let’s be honest, I haven’t exactly lead a life of chastity since she left me. The break up affected me more than I’d care to admit, so I buried myself in school and women. It’s always been the same. If I see something that interests me, someone that catches my interest, I go after it (or them) because a long time ago I learned that you can’t bank on anything.
I make sure that the women I’m with are willing, fully aware that it’s a one-time deal, casual at best, and more than capable of giving me the power exchange I seek.
I’ve always known that I was dominant. Yes, I was a big brother who was forced to grow up quickly when my parents died, but it was more than that. When I first met Sammy, she was feisty and sassy. She gave as good as she got and that grabbed my attention. When I asked her out she declined, but offered me a challenge to capture her attention in other ways.
In the early days with Sam, I hid my controlling ways. I finally got her to say yes to a date with me after three weeks and a large bouquet of flowers delivered to her apartment every day for a week. When we started sleeping together, I slowly showed my true nature to her. At first she was hesitant, but as we traveled down the path of the mutually beneficial power exchange in the bedroom, and all the pleasures I could show her, she bloomed. She was happier, freer, and if anything she became stronger out of the bedroom, and it just made me love her even more.
But by the end, it didn’t matter anyway.
I always suspected she was a natural submissive. The beauty was that she didn’t know. It was just second nature to her. We clicked instantly because of that. Our chemistry was like dy***ite. Whatever the real reason she broke up with me, whatever the lies she told me to make herself believe she was making the right decision, that was never in question.
To me, sex is a beautiful act that should be enjoyed. The act of submission, having a beautiful woman willingly submit to me, is one of the greatest gifts. I’m a dominant. I like to dominate women during sex. I own it. I don’t hide it, and I’ve never tried to. There is nothing depraved or wrong with it, and there are a number of women equally submissive who get off on being controlled. I don’t get into all the high protocol BDSM shit. For me, there is no need for presenting poses, contracts, or discussions about soft or hard limits. That’s not to say I don’t enjoy giving a damn good erotic spanking when the moment presents itself.
The club has a safe word that is used by everyone. There are viewing holes on the doors of every VIP room so the VIP Duty Manager can check on everything and everyone at any time. This is one of the important parts of the contract signed by our key holders. However, it’s their responsibility to negotiate with their partners before entering their room.
Four years ago I found myself in a position to expand my investment portfolio. I came across a nightclub in a precarious financial situation and the moment I walked into the large two-story brick and mortar building I knew I’d found what I was looking for.
Throb. My home away from home.
Having been a long time member of a few clubs in my time, I decided to mix business with pleasure—my own nightclub with private VIP rooms upstairs for exclusive use. The notoriety of those VIP rooms was enough to bring in the crowds, and for almost two years now, Throb has been one of the hippest and hottest Chicago clubs. It’s the club to see and be seen at.
Other than my condo, it’s the one place where I can be my true self. Where there are no restrictions, no judgment. To be honest, if people want to judge me and the club’s illicit reputation, then they shouldn’t have even stepped through the black marble doors. It’s that very reputation that brings people in.
Throb is also the only place where I play. I made sure that I had a personal VIP room for my exclusive use. And although I say I never take on regular subs, there was one woman who was my exception. Makenna Lewis. But that girl is every man’s exception. She was always straight up and to the point, walking to the beat of her own drum. She had different needs, and three ‘friends’ who tended to those needs. We all knew the deal, and according to Mac, we were all okay with it.
As we reached the door to my private VIP room, I turned around, pulling her so that her back was flush with the door and proceeded to take her mouth with reckless abandon. She gasped at my ferocity, allowing my probing tongue welcome access into her mouth. I remember groaning at the taste of her—tequila and lemon, I wanted to devour her.
I continued to taunt her, using the kiss as a promise to claim her body as my own just for that one night. I eased back from the kiss, lightly scraping my teeth along her lower lip, eliciting a shudder from Mac that I felt travel through her entire body.
“Tonight, baby doll, you’re mine. Do you understand that?”
She nodded, seemingly speechless. Her breathing was labored, causing my already hammering c**k to harden impossibly further. I was turned on by the power she was letting me have over her, her willingness to give herself and her body over to me, and I planned to show her everything I had to give, to consume her, bring her to new heights she’d never fantasized about.
Even with just a few words spoken between us, I knew Mac was different. She wasn’t the type to get clingy, but she wasn’t indifferent either. She struck me as a woman who knew what she wanted and what she needed, and unlike Sam, she knew how to get it.