Tymber Dalton - Domme By Default

I shrugged. "Beats the fuck outta me."

He smiled. "A general gives a command. Is a general always in command over a lower officer?"

"Is this our Yoda moment?"

"Answer the question."

I nodded. "Yeah, I think so. I mean, I guess so."

"Okay. But field commanders, they make 'in charge'

decisions, don't they?"

I shrugged again. "I guess."

He leaned back. "Do you ever tell your husband to make dinner?"

"Yeah, he does it all the time."

"Do you stand over him and tell him how every little thing is supposed to be done?"

"No. I'd do it myself if I had to do that."

"You give him a goal-oriented command and tell him to get it done, correct?"

I nodded, seeing his point.

"And does he do it?"

"Yeah."

"Just because he makes decisions in the process doesn't make him any less your sub."

"Right."

"So you tell him this is something you need. He can serve you by doing it. You get the best of both worlds."

I closed my eyes, feeling like a fucking moron. It was one of those things that was so easy and clear that I'd totally fucking missed it because it was so simple.

"I think you just made the connection," he observed.

"Yeah. I did. So I can order him to be in charge and he's still my sub by taking charge."

"One of those little ironies that makes the lifestyle so interesting. You can have your cake and beat it, too."

It took me a second to realize what he'd said, then I laughed.

We had a good brunch. We didn't just talk about that, although he let me get my thoughts on the table and offered his insight. He never told me I had to do one thing or another.

Before we ended our discussion four hours later, he looked at me. "Any more questions?"

"How do I go home and explain why I did this?"

He shrugged. "You're his Mistress. You don't have to tell him anything if you don't want to."

"I'm also his wife. Don't I owe him an explanation?"

"Do you? Why?"

"Because I love him."

"Show him you love him. Be honest, have communication, but you can't sit there worried about what hasn't happened yet. Just be honest. Maybe he'll surprise you."

Miracle of miracles, I didn't have a seat mate on the return flight home. I stared out the window at the alien landscape as it slipped by below us, thousands of feet away.

How would he greet me?

I still wasn't sure what my next step would be. Should I consider ending this "game" once and for all? I loathed myself. I hated that I could rip into him emotionally, even in as minor a way that I did, and hurt him. I didn't want that power.

I feared it.

The sun was dipping into the Gulf of Mexico as our plane banked over Tampa Bay, landing from the south. An hour later I sat in my car and pondered my next step.

What would await me?

I gave him no instructions when I told him about my flight.

Would he be home? Would he be watching TV or working?

Would he be sitting there, naked, only wearing his collar?

Would he be there at all?

I personally feared and felt I deserved the last.

Yes, he'd asked for this lifestyle. I tried, but no matter what, I couldn't deny that there were needs I had that this game ran totally contrary to. I needed him, his strength. I needed his support.

Could I reconcile what I needed and still give him what he craved?

That was. The longest. Fucking. Drive. Of my life.

Period.

I sat in our driveway for a moment, his car was there.

Lights were on inside.

With a deep, nervous breath, I gathered my things, locked my car, and stepped inside.

The smell hit me first, rolling out the door like a luscious cloud. He'd been cooking. Considering my last meal was a bagel off the hotel's continental breakfast bar twelve hours earlier, saying my mouth watered wasn't an exaggeration.

The lamp in the living room was on, but the rest of the kitchen and dining room were bathed in candlelight.

Stunned, I couldn't move. I was vaguely aware of something soft and jazzy on the stereo. I'd envisioned many homecomings, but nothing like this.

He stuck his head out of the kitchen and raced over to me.

Naked.

Well, except for his collar.

He threw his arms around me and I barely had time to put down my stuff before he swept me into his arms, his face buried in my hair.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry," he kept repeating.

I think that made me feel worse.

I let him hold me, hugging him back, closing my eyes and trying to live in the moment. Obviously he wasn't upset with me for my sudden departure.

"You didn't do anything wrong," I whispered.

And, of course, he hadn't.

We made it to the couch. When he tried to sit on the floor in front of me I refused to let go of him until he was seated next to me, on the cushions, his arm around me.

I couldn't look him in the eye. "We need to have a talk," I managed.

He kissed the top of my head. "Okay."

I'd planned this talk all day. Somehow, the words failed me. Every line I thought I'd memorized went right out the fucking window.

"What did Tony say to you on the phone?" I asked.

I felt his body tense a little. "He told me you were having a normal reaction and that you needed a little time to think things through."

"What else?"

I felt him shrug.

"I didn't sleep with him. That's not why I went out there.

All we did was talk."

His body relaxed, as if tension drained from him.

I sat up and forced my eyes to his. "I would never do that.

I don't want anyone but you. He's right though. I needed time to think. I needed to talk to someone face to face about this who wouldn't look at me like I was a freak."

His eyes widened. "I'm sorry, babe. I didn't mean for you to feel like—"

I shook my head, cutting him off. "You didn't. You didn't do anything wrong. This is about me." Now the words would come, the ones I'd said to Tony, his advice to me. "I need to get better at asking for what I need from you. I haven't done a very good job of being your Domme."

"Honey, you've been great. I'm sorry I've put you through this." He looked at our hands, where he'd laced his fingers through mine. "We can stop if you want. I understand."

"No." I took a deep breath. "That's not what I want. You enjoy this. And I enjoy making you feel like that. But there's going to be times I need you to be and do things for me, too."

His hopeful eyes met mine and he eagerly nodded.

"Whatever you want, you ask."

"I need to do a better job telling you what I want, of teaching you. I didn't realize that before. I guess I assumed since we were playing this and you asked me to do it that you knew what you wanted and what I wanted." I asked the question. "What do you want out of this?"

His mouth opened, then closed.

That actually made me feel better, that he was as lost as I was.

He shook his head. "I want to have fun."

"Okay, that's a start. Why do you want to be my sub?"

He pursed his lips as he thought about it. I was having a hard time concentrating with what smelled like beef stew calling me to the kitchen, but I wanted this handled. Now.

He finally spoke. "I enjoy doing things for you like this. I enjoy letting go and giving myself to you. I like knowing you have full control over me and trusting you like that."

I didn't know how far he could go. I kept Tony's advice in mind. "I will do that for you, but I need to be honest with you. I wish there were times I could just let go and you would be in charge. At least in the bedroom. There will be times I need you to do that for me, to give me a break. Give me a chance to recharge."

I read the surprise in his eyes. Maybe he hadn't really understood me before, all the times in the past when I'd tried to nudge him into a dominant role.