Chapter 29

Kathleen

Alot is buzzing through my head right now, most of which concerns the fact I'm riding in an elevator up to Ira's condo.

I haven't been here in a few days. Not since that night, which ended with bagels and cream cheese over coffee. And oral sex for me.

After that, I took another shower, put my trench coat back on, and took a cab home without another kiss or hug from Ira. I didn't want them.

Last night, I heard from her for the first time. "Meet me somewhere to talk business." I've been feeling pretty antisocial as I sort my shit out, so I told her I didn't want to do dinner or drinks even in a private lounge. That's how I ended up in this elevator, making my mad ascent to that place we last made love.

Made love. Not words I thought I would ever say concerning Ira Mathison.

I'm dressed for business, not pleasure. I'm on my period anyway, so fuck sex. And I don't mean well, I guess I'll just go down on you instead period. I mean don't fucking touch me and let me rot with my ibuprofen period.

I pop another one before the elevator opens. My stomach lining is doomed, anyway.

I text Ira saying I'm here, and she says the door has been left unlocked while she finishes something up in her library. When I enter, locking the door behind me, I find the place as I left it. Ira definitely lives in a stereotypical bachelor pad, but it's homey. I don't doubt she gets the place professionally cleaned once or twice a week, but she isn't a slob, either. There's one dish in the sink and a few spots on the carpet around the TV. The most clutter comes from books on the coffee table and cat toys strewn across the room.

A cat. With an almost impossible-to-pronounce Irish name, because deep inside, Ira's a pretentious fuck.

When she comes out of the library, dressed in business casual and offering me a drink, I clench my thighs shut. It ain't happening tonight.

Business talk over bourbon. Sitting across from each other in the living room. No sweet talk. No covert touches. It really is business.

Important business.

Ira wants me to join her on her remodel project. She cleared it with our fathers so I could be properly paid for my services. All I need to do is bring Annie to help me and, you know, pay her as I always do.

This whole time I've barely drunk any of the bourbon, but now I guzzle it. Should've done that earlier, because it's doing wonders to numb my cramps.

"Didn't have any other plans, did you?" she asks, half-empty glass in her hand as she dangles her arm over the back of her couch. "I assumed that your schedule was empty now."

"You assumed right." My plans were the museum. Now that it's put on hold, I have to figure out something else to do with my time. Take some classes. Find a new cause I can champion. Go on vacation in Europe, where the clubs are hopping and I can do some shopping.

Ugh. Hooking up at the club, with God knows who and for God knows how long.

I don't know if it's my period or my mental health right now, but I have been so turned off ever since I left this place on Sunday morning. My mind is in constant turmoil over it. Do I need to purge my system and dominate someone? Or do I need something else?

Until I came here tonight, I thought it was the former. Now that I'm here…

I can't stop staring at her. How attractive she is in tight trousers and a light pink shirt with the top three buttons undone. Asymmetrical hair unstyled, but tamed. Her preferred masculine cologne still hits me, and it makes me feel… comforted.

No way can I forget what happened this weekend. I went too far with her… yet she proved to be a better woman than I ever thought in how she handled it after the fact.

All this time I've thought Ira Mathison was a stuck-up rich kid who indiscriminately used women because, well, that's what people in these circles do. So many enter BDSM as dominants because they wanna spank and choke women who line up to have it happen to them. Sure, lots of them have great relationships, but as a woman, let alone a Domme, I'm always wary of another's true intentions.

Maybe Ira isn't any of those things. She's a decent person. Maybe a great one.

I want a relationship with her.

Now, hear me out. I've thought a lot about this. I'm not… in love with her. Not like that. Besides, let's be honest. She and I are so the same that we're too different for each other. I don't want to be a sub full-time. I barely want to do more exploration into that side of myself.

This is why it won't work out between her and me. Not on a serious relationship front.

She knows that too. That's probably why she hasn't made a move on me since I got here.

"I'll do it," I say. "What do you need? Administrative work?"

"Kinda. I need help keeping the contracts in line and making sure everything goes according to plan. It would be nice having one person I can trust instead of a few I barely know from Adam."

"You trust me?"

She looks at me as if she should be the one asking that. "You have a vested interest in the quick completion and success of this project. So, yes. That said, we start in a week. The sale will take about a month to complete, but until then we can start making the arrangements. I'll also need you to write some copy for the press. You're way more experienced at that than I am."

"Sounds good." I can barely look at her right now. The more I do, the more I think about going to the couch and making a fool of myself.

Kissing her. Holding her. Feeling her hands on me as I do whatever the fuck I want to her.

I'd destroy her. She'd destroy me.

This wouldn't be a volatile relationship at all.

"Ira," I say after a few moments of silence. "We need to talk. About the other thing."

She gets herself some water. "Sure."

"I've been thinking a lot since I left here Sunday." I don't know how I should approach this. Physically or verbally. On one hand, I want to confess everything I feel. On the other? I want to hold myself to this chair and never look her in the eye. There is still a lot I'm coming to grips with in my heart and mind.

My body, meanwhile, knows damn well what it wants.

"Let's face it, Ira, we're in a thick forest here with few breadcrumbs to get out. Especially if we're going to work together."

She smiles at my analogy. I melt inside. Even this cold Domme has ways of unwinding. Shit, I'm thinking like her.

"What's going on here, exactly?"

The smile fades. That's right, honey, I'm gonna make you talk now.

"I figured this is casual. If it ever happens again." She drinks. "Vanilla sex, that is."

Only people like us would have to specify that it's vanilla. "So, hooking up like we did those first couple of times."

"Preferably with a bed here and there, yes." That smile is back.

"All right." Casual sex. I think I can handle that. "So we're not a… thing."

"It wouldn't work out, Katie."

Every time she says my name like that, I want to shiver. This time, I go for it, letting my whole body display what she does to me. "After this weekend, that is very clear."

"It's nobody's fault. Just how we are."

"That's the thing." I can't believe I'm saying this. I can't even believe I've been constantly thinking about this for days. Every time I close my eyes, I see her towering over me, whispering filth into my ear as she gets ready to smack me, hold me down, lose herself all over me. I'm disgusted and turned on all at once. "What if it's not how I am?"

She's intrigued but listening.

"What if I am a switch?"

"Katie…"

"I'm serious. What we did Saturday night was hot. No, I wasn't ready for a lot of it… but I think I could do it again in the future."

"Katie."

"No, listen to me. I couldn't be your full-time sub, that's true, but that doesn't mean I don't want to keep exploring…" Does she want to say something? I don't let her. "There's a lot we could offer each other in that department."

"You're talking about trying to submit some more?"

"Yes. I could only do it with you."

Ira leans forward, those sharp eyes of hers coming dangerously close even though she's still an easy five feet away. "Why?"

I feel vulnerable. More vulnerable than when I was handcuffed to her bed. "I trust you," I try to say with conviction. However, my voice trembles. Only a little.

"You're asking a lot of me." There's a growl in her throat. Not one trying to overpower me, but a side of her true self. "This weekend was emotional for me as well. You put me through a lot of ups and downs. I would be at the whim of your emotions and what you can handle."

"I don't mean all the time, Ira. Maybe once in a while. In between the casual hookups."

"You're blurring lines. That's more dangerous than dunking your head into the pot."

"I don't care!" I stand up. My stomach hurts, my teeth grit, but I won't let her tell me what I do or do not want. "Fact of the matter is, I need this. I need to know if this is something I really want, or if I'm confused. You're the only one who can help me. You're the only one I can trust with that side of myself."

She also stands. When we're like this, we can't overpower the other person. We're too equal. It's both a comfort and a disappointment.

"Why should I bother?"

My heart beats with the power of a thousand hooves. Even so, I square my shoulders and show her that I'm not a woman who backs down from what she wants.

And I want her.

"Because the thought of breaking me down, of building me back up into your perfect sub who trusts you implicitly turns you so on that you can't stand it. That's why your self-control is so shit around me."

When she doesn't respond aside from glaring me down, I decide it's time for me to take my leave. I pick my purse up, thank her for the drink, and head toward the door.

I'm barely there, my hand on the knob, when her heavy strides come up behind me and latch the door shut again.

"You will be mine," she snarls into my ear. Her hand is above my head, holding the door closed while her body presses me into it. Yet she doesn't touch me.

I want her to touch me. My body is on fire and only she can stomp out these flames.

"You will be mine. Your body, your mind, and your heart. You will not disobey me. I will punish you for disobeying me. I will break you down. I'll erase everything that makes you a Domme when we're together. You will be turned into my perfect specimen."

Her hips thrust against me. I gasp.

"Can you believe I went easy on you last time? I won't do that again. You will know who I am as your personal Domme. I am going to find out who you really are as a sub."

I can't find any words. What is happening? Why do I like this?

"All of this," Ira's hand grips my side before traveling to my breasts, squeezing one then descending toward my thighs, "will be mine. You will call me Mistress. You will do what I say."

I open my mouth.

"And you will like it. You will beg for more."

Her hands close in on my breast and thigh. Deep down, I wish for her to take me right here. Right now.

"You will feed my ego by making me the only woman who sees that side of you. No one else has to know."

Ira clamps her lips onto my neck, her tongue scorching hot against my skin as she sucks me, hard, attempting to mark me before I can leave her home. The only thing hotter is her breath entering my ear, followed by that menacing tongue.

"Are you mine… Katie?"

I whimper. "Yes, Mistress."

"Good." She releases me, and I'm slumped against her door. "You should probably go before I change my mind. You're going to be a handful, and I need to figure out if I have the patience for it."

I don't feel like a handful right now. I feel liable to do whatever she says. That's what my body wants me to think.

"Night, Katie."

I rush out the door, my purse bouncing on the floor as I stumble toward the elevator. I'm barely inside, letting the doors slide shut behind me when I feel my phone buzz in my pocket.

"See you on Monday. Bring some extra folders for the materials I'm going to give you."

The woman is hot. The woman is cold. She's going to ruin me if I'm not careful.

I type the first thing I think of. "BITE ME."

"I can do that too. Not on Monday, though."

What have I gotten myself into? Since reuniting with Ira a few weeks ago...

I'm now so far in deep with her that I'm about to completely compromise who I am. And for what? To find out who I really am?

My phone buzzes again.

"I look forward to training you."

Training me. The woman is going to train me to be a sub. Her perfect sub. My boundaries are going to be pushed. My mind will dissolve. My body will be shoved to a brink I've never before comprehended.

I'm scared. I'm worried. I'm so anxious that my heart is pumping my blood in all sorts of different directions.

She'll either kill me or turn me into a more perfect version of myself...

I can't wait.