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Celia
As I walk toward Lydia,she’s eyeing the area around us. “What’s the matter?”
“Where’s Milos?” Her eyes dart all around.
I shrug. “He had to leave.”
Lydia sighs and sags into a chair in the shoe department. “Thank god. He was so sweet at first. Then he walked into the dressing room, I could have sworn the man was vibrating with rage, but from the look of you I can see it was lust.”
Blushing, I shake my head. “No, you had it right the first time. It was rage.”
Her eyes run over me. “Ah, he’s one of those.” She sighs. “My husband is the same. Kind of a daddy dom. Spanking, punishment, using you, leaving you gasping for air when you’re bad. But when you’re a good girl he takes care of everything you could possibly need or want—even things you don’t think of yourself. Then he also makes you come so hard you see stars.”
Holy shit, I’m so red my head swims. She said the magic words—good girl.
Lydia laughs. “Ding, ding, ding. You should see your face.”
I think I hate her right now. The good girl thing has me asking, needing to know. “What the hell is a daddy dom?”
Glancing around, she shrugs. “What we have isn’t technically a daddy dom thing. The daddy sex thing doesn’t have a thing to do with wanting to fuck your daddy. Sure, some women might be into it. But it’s about how your daddy is the first man who ever loves you unconditionally—supposedly.”
Our eyes meet, emphasis onsupposedly.
“Your daddy protects you, treats you like a princess, gives you everything you want and need—not just material things, but emotionally. My husband takes care of me in making sure I eat, sleep, thinks of things I don’t to make my day easier. But he’s in control as in if I don’t sleep, eat, or do things he’s set out for me, then I get a spanking or other very fun punishment.” She giggles.
“The daddy thing is complete trust in him. That he’s never going to stop taking care of you and loving you because you can’t or don’t have sex for two weeks or two months. Loving and taking care of you is a constant. My husband wants to take care of me, make me happy. At the same time he has no problem punishing me if I don’t do what he wants. And although he’s dominant, it’s not that he wants me on my knees—” Her blush says it all.
“So like whips and collars and stuff? I never made it through the gray book, the girl got on my nerves.” I’m not sure if I’m turned on or scared.
“Me saying ‘daddy dom’ is how I see my relationship with my hubby, but it’s not typical of the lifestyle. And it is a lifestyle. There are people who kneel and crawl, tied to beds or a desk and used or played with, and that’s cool. Whatever give you pleasure is nothing to be ashamed of. For us, it’s giving up control—trusting in him.”
I sigh. “I think that’s the biggest problem. I trust him with my life, but not…”
The smile falls from her face as she grows serious. “I didn’t trust either. I wanted to give up control in bed and be submissive, but I was scared it would be used against me. Decker says women wanting to give up control in bed is far more common than many want to admit. It’s because we have to be in control on the daily—jobs, kids, life. We have to make the decisions, handle our shit, and the responsibility can be crushing. So we want someone to take over, to tell us what to do, when to do it. It makes us feel safe and taken care of, and if we get orgasms along with it, how is that not awesome?”
Another glance around. “With men like Decker, who is a billionaire, and I’m guessing Milos too, they are naturally dominant because they have to be. They have to be the toughest guy in the room and get people to bend to their will. Whether it’s through mental gymnastics, manipulation, or brute force, they are in charge. They probably wouldn’t know how to turn it off if they wanted to, but let’s be honest, they don’t want to. Them not in control isn’t an option for them.”
Relief fills me. “I didn’t understand why I liked Milos telling me what to do when I never have before.”
“Because in the end Milos isn’t going to give you a choice, which is freeing. But at the same time, it sounds like he’s doing things you might not be comfortable with. It’s your body, you get a say in your limits.” For the first time she isn’t simply serious, she’s stern.
“I’m not sure I could bring myself to have that conversation with him. But also he hasn’t done anything that I don’t like. I’ve never done anything with anyone but him. How do I even know what I like?” I admit.
“Golden showers? Fisting?” she asks as she tilts her head.
“What?” I’ve never heard of those things before.
“Getting peed on and exactly what it sounds like, him putting his entire fist into your—”
Holy shit. “No and hell no.” I gasp as I look around to make sure no one can hear us.
Lydia giggles. “See, you do know what you do and don’t like. Or you have some idea.”
Peter approaches us. “You need to leave within twenty minutes to get home in time for your appointment.”
“Shit.” I push up from the chair.
Within fifteen minutes I’ve picked out pretty much everything Lydia had set aside and I’m hugging her goodbye. We set a lunch date for the day after tomorrow so we won’t go long without seeing each other.
