AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Meaning that I think women want men to be more like men again,” I said. “The world went through a bizarre stage for a while where men changed. They started using ‘product’ in their hair and wearing make up for Christ’s sake! Men, wearing concealer and foundation and hair gel and eyeliner… doing everything they could to look like women. I think women got fed up with all that. I think women suddenly realized that in order for them to be made to feel like a woman, they needed men to act like real men again.
“A real man stands in the bathroom doorway watching his woman putting on her makeup, and he’s overcome with desire. His eyes roam up and down the woman’s figure, and suddenly there is a spark of lust in his eyes. The woman sees it in the reflection. She knows that look, and she feels a tiny tremor of anticipation. The man steps up behind the woman and there is a growl in the back of his throat as he slides his hands up across her hips and around her waist. He pulls the woman back against him and she can feel the hardness of his erection. The man’s hands are suddenly all over her – caressing her breasts and sliding down the flat of her abdomen towards her panties. He bites her neck and the woman’s breathing quickens. She has turned him on, and now the man wants her – and she needs to feel wanted. That’s the way it should be.”
I shook my head. I heard the echo of my own voice and realized I was speaking with genuine passion. “The man doesn’t see his woman in the bathroom mirror putting on makeup and ask if he can borrow some eye shadow!”
I took a deep breath. Maybe my rant had taken me off topic. I sighed. “Leticia, BDSM has always been part of our society. Maybe it has never grabbed the headlines before, but it has always been there, and it always will. The fact that more women are aware of the lifestyle choice now is a good thing. Choice means options, and there are a lot of ladies in stifled marriages that know there must be more to living than the boring routine they have suffered through for years. They look to their husband as the first choice to satisfy that new awareness – that new yearning for more. And that means husbands across the country have to up their game. They have to re-discover their manly instinct and drag their butts out of the rut their marriage has become. It’s awkward, and it’s uncomfortable, and it can be intimidating for a guy, but if they don’t make the effort, their wives may start looking elsewhere to make them feel complete. It’s up to men now.”
There was a long silence. The only sound in the room was the scratch of Leticia’s pen as it raced across the page of the notebook. She was frowning with concentration, trying to get down what I had said onto paper. I waited patiently until she looked back up at me. She flexed the fingers of her hand and smiled. “I’m guessing that happens to be a sore point with you?”
I nodded. “Sorry,” I said. “I tend to go on.”
“Have you had married women come to you, Jonah?” Leticia asked. “Do married women come to you and ask you to train them as submissives because their husbands won’t – or can’t – make the effort to give them this BDSM experience?”
“It’s happened,” I said vaguely.
“More than once?”
“Several times.”
“What do you do? Do you take those women on as new submissives?”
“No. Not if I know they’re married.”
“Why not?”
“Because they’re married women,” I explained. “I encourage them to go back to their man and try again. And if they have already tried again, I would encourage them to try harder. It’s easier to save their marriage through concerted, patient effort than it is to start all over again.”
Leticia shook her head. “Surely if a woman has gone to her husband and shared her fantasies about BDSM with him, and he refuses to try to please her, then there’s nothing more that can be done.”
“Not true,” I said. “The man simply needs to understand that he has to change his approach.”
Leticia challenged me with raised eyebrows. “You’re looking at the problem from the wrong side,” I said. “The average man is intimidated by the whole BDSM fantasy. Why? I’ll tell you why. Because they don’t feel comfortable if it’s something they’re not familiar with when it comes to sex. So when the wife comes to the husband all breathless and excited because she has read a collection of erotic BDSM stories, he refuses. In her mind, the woman has the fantasy all played out. She’s visualized the setting. She’s visualized how the man of her dreams looks. She’s imagined how the room will look – the sights, smells, and sounds. She can see herself tied to the bed with soft romantic lighting and rose petals scattered all around her. Her fantasy man blindfolds her, covers her with kisses, ties her hands together and ravages her. It’s perfect – and no average husband can compete with that.”
“My point exactly!” Leticia said.
“So the husband needs to do everything the woman fantasized about, but do it in a different location, and at a different time.”
Silence. Leticia just sat staring at me in confusion.
I went on. “The fantasy the woman has in her head is impossible for her husband to re-create. It will always be a disappointment, because the fantasy is so perfect. So if she imagines these events happening of a nighttime in a bedroom, the husband needs to repeat them of a daytime in the kitchen. That way it becomes their shared fantasy, and he has no expectations to live up to. He can’t fail – he can only produce a different, similar experience – but it will be one the woman will appreciate because he made the effort, and he made that moment theirs.”
Leticia thought about that. She sat in the silence frowning and pursing her lips getting her head around the idea. She nodded grudgingly, as though just maybe the idea had merits after all, and then went back to her earlier question.
“So married women are off limits?”
“To me, yes. Maybe not to others, but they are to me. It’s in the Jonah Noble big book of rules.”
“What about boyfriends?”
“It’s the same,” I nodded. “Every woman in a committed relationship is off limits.”
Leticia tilted her head to the side and studied me. “That’s a strangely old-fashioned attitude…”
I shrugged. “It’s my rule,” I said. “It works for me. If I know a woman is in a committed relationship, they’re off limits.” And then I added, “Leticia, there are plenty of single, separated and divorced women in the world looking to explore their submissive fantasies with a Master. I don’t need to get in the middle of a marriage.”
“You mean women like Sherry?”
“Exactly,” I said. “Sherry was naturally submissive. Remember, this was years before that book came out. It wasn’t something that Sherry read about and decided she wanted to discover more. The need to submit sexually was something instinctive within her. When she came back to the office every Friday night after work, she was in a trembling state
of arousal and anticipation.”
Leticia looked thoughtful and then frowned. “How do you test the limits of someone who is a natural submissive?” she asked. “I mean, I understand if you have a new submissive who wants to explore BDSM submission to discover more about herself. But what if she already knows? What do you do when someone like Sherry comes to you, and she is already a willing submissive? How do you take that to the next level?”
“Good question,” I smiled.
I started pacing again. “For the first few Friday nights, Sherry and I were simply in lust. I took her in every office in the building: bent over desks, or with her back pressed up against a wall and her dress down around her ankles. I laid her out on the front reception counter and slid down between her spread thighs, and I teased her mercilessly with my tongue and fingers. I made her beg for every orgasm she received, and I made her beg to suck my cock. I covered her with my body and felt her tiny heels digging into the back of my legs as she wrapped herself around me and writhed in orgasm. And I made her kneel before me and finger-fuck herself while she used her mouth to suck me to orgasm. She was insatiable.
“Then, one night, she asked me to hurt her.”
Leticia balked. “Hurt her?”
I nodded, and then explained quickly. “Not pain for the sake of pain,” I said. “Not cruelty. Sherry wanted to experience exquisite pain – the kind of sweet pain that is almost – but not quite – pleasure.”
“Oh.” Leticia sat back in the sofa and the sudden tension went out of her body. “So what did you do?”
“We talked about it,” I said. “Sherry told me the idea of being tortured aroused her, but she had never been able to explore the fantasy because she feared being hurt. She didn’t want the kind of torture that was typified by the idea of enduring unimaginable punishment or beatings. She wanted to feel strung out with the torture of needing to come, and being made to wait and wait until she felt she would explode.”
