So instead, arm in deep pain, thigh aching, breathing difficultly, I replied: “Yes, Victor…this is what I want…this is exactly what I want.”
Two hours and two orgasms later, he left me. I was laying the floor in my living room. We never made it as far as the bedroom. I was too sore to make it there now. My body ached. I had no choice but to nap right there and then, on the cold hard floor. Perhaps after a nap, I’d be better able to move. My Banana Republic outfit was tattered beyond repair. Victor had ripped open the blouse sending those double buttons flying up into the air. He couldn’t wait to get his thumbs and forefingers on my nipples to show me what rough really meant.
I reached for that torn blouse which was only a few feet away. I curled it into a ball of sorts and rested my weary head upon it. Yeah, I was sick of that outfit. Its final use was to be my pillow for the next few hours.
Then I drifted off to sleep.
CHAPTER 14: AFTERCARE
Just under four hours later…
When I awoke, I was startled to see Lewis sitting beside me on my bed. I jumped up and gasped!
“It’s okay, it’s just me, don’t be alarmed,” he comforted me. At some point during the afternoon, he had carried me to my bed.
“How long have you been here?” I asked, still groggy.
“For a while,” he reassured me.
“Oh. Did you come here to make sure I was okay, Sir?”
“I knew you’d be okay. I would never have played Victor the way I did if I felt there was any risk. Victor has tremendous experience in discipline of this kind from his years in Romania. I’m here because I’m proud of you and wanted to provide some aftercare.”
It was then I noticed the smell of fresh chocolate croissants. There was also assorted sliced fruit, bagels, and cream cheese on a small platter. In the corner was a bouquet of fresh flowers. Lewis planted a soft kiss on my left eyelid. A second soft kiss on the other eyelid. Yet another on the very tip of my nose. He brushed my hair up away from my face. He held a glass of cool Evian up to my lips. He softly rubbed moisturizer into my skin, paying particular attention to any area with evidence of a bruise, or impending bruise. Then he held my hand while we talked. Beside us, on the night stand, were some newly purchased magazines, with the latest issue of InStyle on top, and a few current DVDs next to that.
Lewis cared for me for hours. I’d never felt so protected. Both of us dozed off at one point, with my head nestled onto his chest. When we awakened, we were both hungry, so he slipped outside to a nearby Italian restaurant and came back with a green garden salad, an order of salmon fettuccine alfredo, and garlic bread, which we shared while we watched one of the DVDs.
Because of our earlier nap, our internal clock was all screwed up. It was now 3:30 am, and I was finally getting tired again.
“What can I do for you before I leave?” Lewis asked.
“Tell me a bedtime story.” I responded.
“About anything in particular?”
“Yes, tell me about when you first discovered you were a Dom.”
For the next forty-five minutes, Lewis told me all about his formative years in bdsm. How the feelings were there from as long as he could remember, but he did not act on them until his freshman year at college. His girlfriend at the time was as new to it as well; and together they explored bondage, spanking, control and other games. Subsequent girlfriends brought new experiences, and then he met an older veteran submissive who’d been around the block a few times. She introduced him to her circle of friends, one of them being Steve Jordan, Lewis’ good friend, also currently in the network. For a five year period, Lewis dabbled in all forms of the lifestyle, and while a couple of his relationships became serious, he never fell ‘madly in love’ to use his words. He couldn’t tell me much about the network itself as that was highly confidential.
He explained to me that dominants are not ‘trained’ per se, the same way that submissives often are. Rather they are exposed to various techniques, counseled and provided guidance. Qualities such as honesty and integrity are not taught by bdsm, but by life itself. Same with responsibility and compassion, as ironic as that may sound. As seemingly cruel and sadistic a dominant may appear, there is always a reason, be it pleasure, punishment or purpose.
“Was there a purpose today?” I asked him, my eyes heavy with sleep.
“I was testing you.”
He kissed my cheek, tucked the comforter up around my neck and let me sleep.
CHAPTER 15: MY NEW LIFE
About every other week or so…
There was the older man in his mid-50s who beat me harshly with a thick rubber hose. I couldn’t shower for days afterward because the hot water was too painful. My skin looked awful. I carefully washed my hair in the sink and wore loose fitting clothing.