Love & History by Cheryl Dragon

Even when you wanted men to dominate you, they ruined everything!

Bridget Stanger slammed her apartment door and locked it behind her. Chain, deadbolt and doorknob were all secure. After three weeks of chatting online with a potential boyfriend who was a Dom, she’d caught him in a lie on their first time out.

Every time! She stalked to her bedroom and kicked off her pumps. Shrugging out of the casual green dress that showed her form but not too much for the dinner date, she cursed him under her breath. He was just another one who’d thought he could work her up to what he wanted.

The dungeons are only social, right! She wasn’t a virgin or new sub. At thirty-two, she knew what she wanted and had been very clear about her limits before they’d met. No reason to waste their time.

Some men were players, even in the BDSM community. Unfortunately, in the small New England college town where she taught, there wasn’t a huge pool of Doms from which to choose.

She carefully removed her nice lingerie and thigh-high stockings and put them away. Her fury wouldn’t cause her to snag the stuff she loved wearing!

Tugging on a terrycloth robe against the winter chill, she headed to her small desk nestled in her living room. Opening her laptop, she used an email address no one would match up with her and created a blog.

“I’m done! No more wasting time,” she said aloud to no one. Up for tenure this year, she had a paper to finish up for publication. The right Dom would encourage her and help her, but the wrong ones only infuriated her. Maybe there wasn’t someone for her. Maybe all the good ones were taken, and new Doms believed they could make the sub do anything. Amateurs!

Her fingers flew across the keys. It wasn’t the great English Literature she taught, but damn it, she was right. The title spoke for itself, but she reread every word. There was nothing worse than an English teacher with typos or bad grammar. Even though no one would ever know this blog came from her she wanted it to be insightful.

Masters Wanted!

Open post from an experienced submissive to the Doms of New England!

Are there no bedroom Doms left in the world? I don’t want the extremes. I don’t need to belong to a club. All I need is one man who has the patience, intelligence and creativity to make me his. Perhaps this is a single girl rant, but having found my niche sexually, it should be easier to link up with sexual Doms.

However, all I seem to get are those who want to test or exceed my hard limits. I don’t play or give in on those things. I safe word out and break off things immediately. There is no second chance with me. Only one Dom has ever caused me a small physical injury. I’m not a doormat. Maybe I’m just a bitchy sub? It no longer matters because I’m now mourning the life I envisioned as part of a Dom/sub couple. Equal in every way except sexually. My partner may not exist.

So I will share my thoughts here for those who might be interested. Some subs may benefit from my experience. The publicity of our subculture, thanks to books and internet sharing and other online outlets, could be a good thing. Finding others discreetly or finding a place to meet others in safety is a huge benefit for a newbie. That doesn’t mean one needs to belong to a dungeon or have orgy parties in their basement to be in the lifestyle. There are subs, like myself, who don’t want to be shared, paraded or caged. It’s perfectly acceptable and no more or less gratifying to be private about your Dom/sub play.

For the Masters, that title is an honor. A privilege earned by those who understand the experience and have the skills to lead the play properly. The limits are not yours to make, but yours to respect. Pushing a sub doesn’t mean breaking her hard lines under the lie of a lesson or punishment. That is a brutal break of trust! Please do not represent yourself as okay with certain limits and then demand to cross them. It makes us all look like sex crazed maniacs.

A true Master doesn’t need an audience or even a single prop to drive his sub to beg for more. He needs only words and will. Of course, I’m not speaking to the 24/7 lifers who take things to their own level. I can’t even comprehend that. Nor am I referring to the plenty of men who’d love to order women around generally. That isn’t being a sexual Dom. But maybe those men have invaded our ranks as society becomes more equal elsewhere?

Bedroom Doms, please don’t feel the need to show off in a dungeon or attempt any extreme play without a genuine desire on both sides. There are plenty of eager subs who want the intimacy of private play as much as you do!

The post wasn’t laid out as clearly as the thoughts in her head, but it made her point. She posted it then sent the link to her BDSM fetish group online. The support and friendships were wonderful, but she didn’t need to attend a house party or visit a club on kink night. She’d met people through the group and knew others shared her frustration!

Hopefully, her message would help her friends and fellow subs in the group understand their worth. The new ones especially were ready to do anything. She understood the feeling, wanting to please and give in. The hope of that deep connection and stunning release never went away. Unfortunately, she’d been around the block too many times to believe the romantic fantasy would fall into her lap just because she got on her knees.

Changing her focus, she checked her work email. There was no way to make her perfect Master appear in her life, but she could earn tenure and have job security. A PhD didn’t mean as much these days. She needed to publish another paper in the proper place and secure tenure. While she was popular with students and faculty, colleges were downsizing, as well. Her online skills helped there. She’d been the first in her department to suggest and volunteer for online classes. Some of the old dogs didn’t want to learn, but they already had tenure.

Her closest friend in the Literature Department, Colleen Sheppard, was quietly promoting Bridget’s name for tenure and helping her. As much as Bridget wanted to call Colleen and rant about the date, Bridget kept her kink off campus and it’d be hard to explain exactly what had been wrong with a veterinarian who made good money and looked great.

Minimizing the blog, she opened her latest paper. Much Ado About People was a critical piece on how Shakespeare’s Much Ado About Nothing proved that perception and influence were powerful things. Bringing it forward to today, with instant information and rumors that could be pushed so hard they seemed true, no wonder people’s reputations meant nothing anymore. Anyone’s dirty laundry could be on display if someone dug for it. Celebrities were fodder for entertainment, much like public hangings once had been. Her piece pulled on her private life and felt highly personal even if it academically paralleled modern day to Shakespeare’s time. She loved her work and it was something she could control and succeed at all on her own.

Her career had to come first! Not that she’d ever give up working, even if the right Dom came into her life. She loved her career, the small college town and the routine she’d found. Since things hadn’t fallen into place romantically despite her best efforts, she needed to lock in the career that she loved.

One more round of editing on the paper, and she’d try to sleep. She had too much pent-up energy to relax now.

Scott Kasten sat in his office in the history department and logged off his forum for the Modern Wars of Europe class. Online classes were a younger man’s game. At thirty-five, Scott didn’t mind virtual teaching at all, but he’d insisted on keeping some in-person education time. He didn’t want to be rusty in the classroom even if European History wouldn’t change.

A knock on his door made Scott sit back. Nelson Cannon from the Information and Tech department stood in the doorway. The lanky guy kept to himself and was one of the few people here Scott considered a friend. They shared some preferences Scott discussed with almost no one else. Still, Nelson rarely made it up to Scott’s office.

“G. Scott Kasten, PhD. What does the G stand for?” Nelson asked.

In the ten years Scott had worked there, five of which Nelson had been there as well, no one had asked that. Scott had taken enough crap as a child for his odd first name that the family had changed to using his middle name. “Gideon after my great grandfather.”

“Almost fits you better. Scott sounds more casual.” Nelson entered and closed the door behind him.

“Do you want something specific?” Scott and Nelson normally chatted over lunch or at the university gym. Scott knew if Nelson had made the effort to stop by it meant something was up.

“I want to help you. Did you see the new blog link go up in the local BSDM fetish group?” Nelson held out his Smartphone with the page pulled up.

Unlike some, Scott didn’t live on the BSDM fetish links. He knew what he was and what he wanted, but people rarely got what they wanted in life. Deserved or not. As he read the post, the passion of it caught him off guard, and he took in every word with sympathy for the woman. She knew her mind. Weak-willed subs had always bored Scott.

“So? You’re going after her?” Scott handed back the phone.

“Nope, she’s got almost a hundred local responses though. Some other subs in the same situation. Doms offering their assistance.” Nelson sat in the guest chair.

“You’ll beat them all out.” Scott had no doubt of Nelson’s skills. The man had been courted as a counterintelligence hacker by the government. If he could’ve passed the background check, he’d have had a cool career. But most everyone had a past.

“Not me. I tracked the blog and IP address.” Nelson grinned.

“And found her online. She’s ugly? Eighty? Married? The online world is wonderful for academics and information, if you check your facts. For dating, sorry but there is no substitute for meeting someone.” Scott ignored the draw he felt to the writer. He’d been alone too long. Over spring break, he’d line up a casual encounter and clear his head. Such things never worked for long, but he didn’t need the complications of a relationship.

“I agree. We have met her. She’s not ugly or eighty.” Nelson shrugged. “She’s hot, single and here.”

“Here? She said New England in the post, but that’s rather generic.” Scott let Nelson build up to his moment. Hackers loved to show off, and while Nelson no longer used his powers for anything too illegal, he loved to brag.

“No, she works here. She’s a professor. Not bad to look at, early thirties and single.” Nelson tapped on his phone then turned it toward Scott.

A thunderbolt of arousal and shock hit him.

“You’re joking.” Nelson leaned in. It was her picture off the university website, but he’d seen Bridget Sanger plenty in real life. Tall with a curvy figure, she had plenty of men commenting on her attractiveness. Her sharp blue eyes and the long spiraling reddish curls against her pale skin were the view that made Scott stop. Her love of skirts and fuzzy cardigan sweaters made her style seem a bit old-fashioned, but this blog post put a new spin on it.

He could see her now in the lounge, pouring over a book with her wild hair falling in her face. There was always a clip attached to her sweater that she’d eventually use to pin back her hair. She looked great with her hair up or down.

“Not a joke, my friend. Traced it to her home IP. Private laptop. She’s no fool. Never does anything on the work system, or I’d know. She’s using a different email to throw people off. She reposted the blog link to the group so it would look like it came from someone else and she’s just sharing it.”

“So why are you telling me? Go get her! You can give me all the dirty details later.” Scott could imagine he was the one with the sexy sub, but Nelson had done the work.

“She’s not my type.” Nelson took back his phone. “She’s yours.”

Frowning, Scott closed his computer. “You know what my type is? We’re friends, but we’ve never played with subs or anything together.”

“Look, I didn’t peg her as a sub either, but I’ve never spent much time around her. You’ve noticed her. Right?” Nelson asked.

That damn hacker was too observant and smart. Scott was controlled and reserved, but few people would pick him out of a crowd as a sexual dominant. Nelson could see the logic in chaos and the truth behind the fronts people put up. “She’s attractive. Outgoing. That’s not exactly me.”

Nelson leaned forward. “No, but it’s what you need. A sub who turns you on and likes it private. In public, she can even you out.”

“Even me out? I’m tenured. I don’t need to suck up. The last thing I need to do is get involved with someone at work. A relationship is the last thing I want.” Scott had always been very clear on that point.

Nelson held up his hands. “I get you. You were burned badly by someone. I don’t need the details. You’d never give them anyway. She sounds like she’s had a few bad Doms herself. All I’m suggesting is maybe you two can satisfy each other’s needs. You’re not getting any younger, and casual hookups aren’t you.”

“They work,” Scott lied.

“So does porn and jerking off. That’s not enough. If she was right for me, I’d snap her up. The vibe isn’t there. If you feel it, just a tingle of wanting to see her naked and kneeling, don’t miss out.”

“And if it blows up? We both work here.” Scott folded his arms.

“She’s English Lit; you’re European History. Different departments for one thing. You can both be grownups if it ends. More importantly, there’s no rule against you two being together if it does work out, so you won’t mess up her tenure. Plus you have something in common.”

“Dom/sub, we all do.” Scott took a deep breath. The temptation grew. He admired her strong mind and behavior. She’d kept her private life far off the radar from her work. Everyone respected her. Rumor was she’d get tenure this year.

“I meant the English and European thing. Those are connected, right? Either way, as soon as I figured out who our mystery blogger was, I thought of you. Don’t let her give up. I’d hate to see her end up alone with a bunch of cats. She’s too eager and passionate about life. Bridget knows there’s a lot of good in our type of sex. Plus she’s right here…”

“It’s a coincidence.” Scott could give Nelson a dozen examples of how dumb luck had helped or hurt armies throughout history.

“I don’t believe in coincidence. I deal in code. It works or it doesn’t. Something doesn’t fall into place and work because you made a birthday wish.” Nelson stood up.

“What do you think that blog is? She’s getting attention. I bet she has dozens of offers right now. Why would she bother with me?” Scott asked.

Nelson laughed. “She needs attention. No Dom is giving it to her. I’m sure plenty of men think exactly what you did. She’s ugly or unbalanced. Some might reach out to her just to get a picture or a meeting. You, she knows you. She’s worked here almost as long as you. Maybe she’d like you to ask her out, but she doesn’t think you’re into what she is. This isn’t coincidence. She asked for it.”

Scott nodded. “I’ll think about it.”

“Good. Don’t get me wrong. I think she’s attractive. If I have to play with her to keep her from giving up on our lifestyle, I’ll do it. Hell, I’ll enjoy it. But she’s not the one I can’t live without. That sub is still out there for me.” Nelson winked and exited the office.

After a few deep breaths, Scott looked her up online. He knew most of the information already. It was odd how working with someone for so long made their information a part of your life as well. They’d only spoken casually, but he’d never minded chatting with her. Others grated on him, but she was comfortable and so easy to look at, with no extreme makeup or obvious flirtation. She was professional at work.

With no clue what he’d say, he locked his computer and left his office. Never impulsive, he had to see her now to know if that spark was there for real. The nagging in him might go away then. Was the attraction really that strong or was it just Nelson playing with people as if they were bits of data? His friend had the best of intentions; Scott believed that. Still, Nelson wanted romance and kink. Time and again, Scott had seen how love failed to last. He’d closed off his heart years ago, but his sexual appetite never waned.

He nodded to people as he entered the English department. Her office wasn’t far, on the same floor but on the opposite end of the building. Finding Bridget’s office door ajar, he listened.

“I can’t believe your students want to read those books!” Colleen Sheppard’s familiar cackle of laughter caught Scott off guard. He waited in the hall, listening to the conversation—it wasn’t his fault if they were talking loudly.

“It’s true. They say because the author is English we should. Those Greyish books are not literature!” Bridget declared.

Scott cracked a smile. The woman knew her work and had strong opinions. Her voice alone sent desire sparking in him.

“They are popular,” Colleen said.

“Then let the pop culture classes cover them. I have nothing against what people want to do privately or want to read for entertainment, but I won’t turn my classroom into a fan fiction forum,” Bridget replied.

“The department head would never let you teach it anyway. I’ve got to go. Class time. Don’t let some annoying students distract you. Finish that paper and get it published. Your goal this year is tenure.” Colleen pulled the door wide.

“My job is still teaching, but thank you for the reminder.”

Colleen stepped into the hall and smiled at Scott. “Looking for someone, Dr. Kasten?”

He felt out of place, and it seemed as if she knew what he wanted to do to her friend. Work and kink never mixed for him before, but he quickly regained his composure. “I just need a word with Dr. Sanger. Thanks.”