I Married a Master(44)
Author: Melanie Marchande

Shrugging, she waited for the bomb to drop.

"You know a little bit about the lifestyle I lead. I have friends there. Professional associates, even, although we follow unspoken rules of conduct when it comes to keeping business and pleasure separate. There’s one club in particular that I typically visit, at least once or twice a month. If you come with me, nobody will doubt our relationship’s real. My ex-wife still knows a lot of the people there, and word travels fast in the community. If you show up by my side, that’s practically half the battle."

She crossed her legs, leaning forward as if she was a journalist about to uncover a particularly juicy tidbit. "You want me to play your submissive?"

She was smiling, a little. She wasn’t running away. I shifted in my seat, suddenly overwhelmed with an image of Jenna in a beautiful little collar, connected to a delicate silver chain – and me on the other end, showing her off to the club.

"I’ll be honest," I said, trying to slow my racing pulse. "I was expecting more of a fight."

"It makes sense, though. I mean, your ex-wife might believe I’ve cured you of your wickedness, but it seems like an easier sell if she thinks you’ve corrupted me." There was something playful in her tone, but I also knew it was rooted in her actual feelings about my proclivities. "So, what are the terms?"

I considered for a moment. "Twice a month, I’ll take you to the club that I frequent. It’s a social event. You won’t have to do anything except be there, and you won’t be expected to watch anything that would make you uncomfortable. We’ll mingle, we’ll let ourselves be seen, and we’ll go home."

She was chewing on her lip again, a rosy blush rising up her neck and slowly spreading across her cheeks. "What do you mean, I won’t have to watch anything that would make me uncomfortable?"

Shit. I shouldn’t have even brought that up. The live scenes were a small part of the gatherings I went to, and she wouldn’t ever encounter them unless she went snooping around in the back rooms. I was losing ground, and fast.

"I mean, whatever insane orgiastic scene you’re picturing with Tom Cruise and Nicole Kidman, that’s not going to happen here." I was recovering quickly; her face relaxed a little. "It’s just a chance for like-minded people to have a few drinks and unwind. No one will bother you. The Doms won’t even talk to you, unless they have my permission."

Her brow furrowed again. Damn it, I was losing her.

"It’s a sign of respect," I said, practically tripping over my own words. "It’s not because you’re a woman, it’s because you’re my…"

Wow, was I ever getting ahead of myself.

"…it’s because they’ll think you’re my submissive," I modified. "Doms don’t talk to subs, as a rule, unless they’ve been given permission."

She folded her arms, stretching her legs out in front of her as she leaned back on the sofa. "It sounds complicated."

"It’s actually very simple," I said. "The thing is, when you’re out in the world – just interacting with people, trying to navigate this massive tangle of cultural mores and personal hang-ups, it’s a complete nightmare. There are all kinds of power structures and unspoken rules and expectations. But then you step into my scene, and everyone’s open about it. There’s an actual rule book, and we’ve all agreed to follow it."

"But what if somebody doesn’t like the rules?" She cocked her head slightly. "They can’t possibly be one-size-fits-all. Not really."

"Then you make your own." I shrugged lightly. "The only unbreakable rule in the lifestyle is respect. Respect other people’s boundaries, respect what they’re doing, and respect how they want to be treated."

Jenna was hugging her knees into her chest, leaning forward again. I had a feeling the constantly changing poses were a reflection of the confusion in her mind, and I could only hope she’d come to a favorable conclusion.

"Sounds like a utopia," she said, with more than a hint of sarcasm.

"I’m not saying it’s perfect," I conceded. "There are people involved, so of course, sometimes things go wrong. But no one who causes trouble is allowed to stay. We take care of each other. At the end of the day, we’re all just human beings trying to navigate the same hostile world."

"Oh, that’s inspiring. I feel like putting a ball gag and a saddle on somebody kind of undermines that, though." She held her thumb and forefinger about a millimeter apart. "Just a tiny bit."

There was no outright hostility in her tone, but I still didn’t appreciate her being so flip. Gritting my teeth, I tried to remind myself how difficult it was to wrap your head around kink for the first time.

"It might look silly to you, but I promise you, it means something to them."

Taking a deep breath, she watched me carefully for a moment. Her eyes travelled over my body, and I noticed that little flash of desire again.

Don’t tempt me. I’d love to show you exactly how meaningful all of this can be.

"So what does domestic discipline mean to you?" she asked, softly.

Hands resting on my knees, I leaned forward to meet her eyes. "Will my answer affect your decision?"

"Maybe." She shrugged. "I’d like to get to know the man I’d be spending the next two years of my life with."

There was no point in being anything less than honest.

"It’s not about what it means to me," I said. "It’s about what it means to her."

"So you get nothing out of it? I don’t quite believe you."

"I didn’t say that. But when I see her come alive, the freedom she can feel because I’ve given it to her…"

"I don’t understand. How is it freeing when someone else is trying to mold you into a version of yourself that they want?"

I had to laugh. She was so far off in her understanding – I mean, how did someone get to adulthood without being able to wrap their head around human sexuality? Shaking my head, I tried to explain exactly how wrong she was. "Is that what you think this is? It doesn’t work like that. Not at all. They tell me what they don’t like, what they want to change. And after that, it’s up to them to confess. Unless they’ve asked for me to monitor them, it’s one hundred percent honor system."

She was even more confused now, her eyebrows knotting in that fiercely cute way that certainly didn’t fit her personality. "I’m not going to pretend like I’ll ever understand this, but for whatever reason, I trust that you’re not a maniac." She sighed. "And I’ll play the role you need me to play. Who knows. Maybe it’ll give me some material."

What the hell game was she playing?