The Blooming Season

Dane would change these tiny pieces of my life that I do like. He'd be a random element certain to cause chaos. I don't need chaos. I've had an entire life filled with the insanity of raising two kids. I'm ready for a little peace and quiet. But, maybe that's my problem. My life is too orderly. Maybe, I'm bored and that's why he tempts me the way he does. Dane would definitely not be boring.

Could I be the kind of person who does casual sex? Oh, with Dane there'd be nothing casual about it, but there'd be no strings attached either. I've never had sex with anyone besides my ex. He was my first and I thought he'd be my last. I don't know if I'm even brave enough to get naked in front of a virtual stranger.

The first time I had sex it was an awkward fumbling in the back seat of a car. It got better with time and practice. We learned to please one another well enough. Sex with the ex was...pleasant. The idea of sex with Dane, while tempting, is also terrifying.

I don't know why I'm even considering this line of thought. I'm not filling out the membership application. I'm not going to go looking for him. If sex with Dane would be good, I'll never find it out. Dane was probably flirting with me to get new people into the club. Maybe, he picked me because he thinks I'd be an easy target. The lonely middle aged woman desperate for attention. That's not me. I'm lonely at times, but I'm far from desperate and I'm nobody's target. I don't need that kind of a mess causing chaos and disorder in my orderly life.

I am single. For the first time ever I don't have to answer to anybody. I can do as I please. Today, I'm going to do just that. Clean my little apartment. Get ready for a busy week at work. Spend the rest of the day curled up on the couch reading a novel. Live precariously through the adventures of fictional characters. I am going to put any lingering thoughts about Dane out of my head. He's a temptation and a complication I simply don't need.

Master Dane

After a thoroughly draining session with Laura, I sent her on her way. I do enjoy the way she submitted to my commands. Her resistance only made the game more fun. I love bending people, not breaking them or damaging them, but bending them to my will. If they fight me, it just makes the challenge that more exciting.

I was tempted to spend the night at the club after sending Laura on her way. I live on a few acres of land outside of the city and driving home in the wee hours of the morning in the stark bone chilling cold of winter didn't have much appeal. Unfortunately, as anyone who has pets knows, I'm a slave to my dogs.

I love my dogs just as much as I love a good submissive. I love dogs so much that I've made a pretty good living off of them. I'm not a breeder and I don't do ankle biters. I train dogs to serve the purpose they were bred to do.

I guess training others to submit runs bone deep with me. I train service dogs for the handicapped. I train dogs for the police department and for personal protection. I train search and rescue dogs. Sometimes, I take dogs off people's hands before they become a problem and end up in the shelter. I teach obedience classes. Hate teaching dogs the parlor tricks such as rolling over and shaking hands, but I love teaching the owners how to handle their dogs and keep them safe.

The German Shepherds are my favorite, smart as whips, sometimes too smart for their own good, defiant and self-determined, but loyal to a fault once you've bent them to your will, just like a good submissive.

I work with the local animal shelters. When they get in a problem dog, I'm the one they call. I hate the things people do to animals. I can usually undo the damage that's been done, but sometimes a dog has been too damaged to be saved. It's those dogs I can't save that tear out my heart. Luckily though, they're rare and far and few between. With enough patience and a firm hand, I can usually get through to any dog.

A lot of the rescue dogs I get become family pets. Some show more potential and after months of training become something special. I'm working with a mastiff that spent the first year of his life chained up and neglected in someone's muddy backyard. Oh, he's tried to chew my face off a couple of times, but I think I'm finally beginning to see the dog he can be beneath his fear and aggression.

The mastiff, big brute that he is, has that special spark. Mastiffs aren't typically aggressive by nature. But, the big ox weighs in at one hundred and twenty pounds of pure muscle and in the wrong hands he could be dangerous. He's a prime specimen of good breeding and what can happen to a dog when paired up with the wrong owner. He's damaged, but not broken, and I think I can save him.

Wallflower is a bit like that mastiff. She has that spark. I can see the potential in her peeking out from beyond the walls she's built around herself. She's been damaged, perhaps even cast off by someone who didn't want her anymore. It happens to people just as it happens to dogs. I don't know what her situation is. But, I can see her fear for what it is. She's terrified to put her trust in anyone. She shies away from everyone to protect herself from harm. Usually when I see that kind of behavior in dogs it's because they've trusted and been betrayed. I doubt it's much different for people. She's been hurt badly by something or someone.

The thought of someone neglecting or possibly abusing her rankles me to the core of my dominant self. It brings back too many bad memories from my own past. I tested her a bit. Pushed the boundaries of her personal space. She didn't shrink back, but she didn't appreciate the invasion either. I doubt if it's been physical abuse that she was subjected to, but sometimes neglect can be just as damaging.

I wonder who betrayed her. I want to know whom she trusted so completely. What kind of fool would turn his back on her and why? Wallflower is a good person. I can tell. She works hard at whatever she does for a living. I saw that in the short bluntness of her fingernails and the cracked dryness around the cuticles. She is a kind and caring person, a natural born nurturer. I saw that through the way she watched after her friend last night at the party. She's the kind of person that takes care of everybody while having no concern for herself.

Through caring for others she finds her purpose in life. I don't need that kind of woman in my life. I don't want someone doing my laundry and baking me pies. I don't need a mom. Hell, I don't need a lover either. I don't want to give her purpose through caring for me. I want to ignite the spark within her and start a fire.

Wallflower lacks confidence. That much was evident in her body stance and shyness. I could give her all the confidence she needs. Through my particular brand of dominance and praise, she'd bloom into the person she can be. I'm trying to convince myself that my thoughts of her are completely unselfish. That I'd be good for her and not the other way around and she'd simply be another submissive I've taken under my wing. It's not true. I want her. I'm attracted to her simplicity, her shyness, and her unassuming demeanor. I'm drawn to her and find myself wanting to break down her walls to find the woman hiding within them. I know she's in there. I know I can find her.

I'm grateful to the fool who let her go. I'll be everything he wasn't. I just have to find a way to convince her to give me a chance to do it. The best thing to do would be to walk away. I don't have time to take on a new submissive. I don't know what I'd do with her once we got to the end of the road of her self-discovery. I don't do romance or long term relationships. I truly have nothing to offer her besides her freedom. Freedom is everything in my world, but for a woman like her. I don't know if it's enough.

Perhaps, that's the attraction. She challenges me. I'm tantalized by the prospect of all the things I've never had. I've never woken up next to a woman. I've never spent a lazy Sunday morning eating breakfast in bed with anybody. I've given pieces of myself to others. I've loved and thought I was in love, but I've never known true love. I've never shared the entirety of my life with anyone. I know she's the kind of woman that would want those things. I just don't know if I'm man enough to give them to her.

Since starting this life as a dominant, I've never yielded my will to anyone. Nobody has ever bent me. She's the kind of woman who would want me to bend. She would demand that I trust her as much as she trusts me and that's dangerous territory as far as I'm concerned. I haven't given my complete trust to anybody in over thirty years.

Maybe, this is my version of a mid life crisis. That I find myself longing for things I've never had. I want the hearts and flowers kind of relationship. Unfortunately, I can't change what I am. I might be able to do romance, but I must satisfy my other side too. Is Wallflower the kind of woman I could wine and dine and flog too? Will she accept what it is I have to offer? Could I give her the freedom I want to give her and yet at the same time keep her too? Am I truly ready to share my world, my home, and my life with someone? Am I really ready to abdicate my throne for the sake of love?

I've kept her friend's application. I've got it tucked into my pocket. I've already decided Cassandra is in the club assuming she passes the necessary health exams. She is my best chance of getting to Wallflower. Today, I'll call Cassandra and start the process. The woman is outgoing and far too trusting for her own good. She's an open book and she'll tell me anything I want to know.

Despite the cold, I find my palms sweating at the prospect of starting a relationship. I don't have a clue about how to date. I've never had to woo a female or fight to get her attention before. My entire romantic world has always consisted of dominance and submission. I've never had to ask or risk the possibility of rejection until now. If Wallflower were already in my world this would be a lot simpler. But, perhaps that's the draw. That she isn't in my world. She doesn't know how the game is played and I find the freedom from the rules very tempting.

The dogs are glad to see me. They bark and wag their tails like mad in eager anticipation for their breakfast. Even the mastiff has braved the cold and wandered out of his heated den to greet me. I'm tired, but I make sure everyone has food and fresh water and receives a pat on the head before bedding down.

I try to sleep but don't quite manage it. I toss and turn and practice my interrogation of Cassandra in my head. I think of things I don't want to think about such as domestic bliss with a woman I've just met. Stranger things have happened than a man like me finally deciding to settle down. I don't like the doubt that occupies my thoughts. I don't like the uncertainty of the unknown. But, I want what I want and that's Wallflower. If I want to have any chance with her, I must accept the doubt even though it makes me feel as foolish and juvenile as an adolescent boy risking his first kiss from a girl.

It'll take a lot of convincing to gain her trust. She won't believe that in a club like mine that my cock has rarely seen the light of day. I'm as celibate as a freaking monk. I beat and torture women for fun, because they want me to. I could fuck almost anyone I want, but I don't. The thought of a random fuck leaves me cold. I'm ready for once in my life to be warm.

Wallflower

"I think I'm a dominant," Cassandra announced over lunch today. In the middle of a crowded cafeteria, she simply blurted it out between hurried mouthfuls of yogurt. The cafeteria is a bustling and noisy place filled with the mingling odors of people, the typical antiseptic smell common to all hospitals, and the reek of bad food that's been left to sit too long under the heat lamps. We rarely eat there, but today the census is low and the opportunity to actually eat lunch had us jumping at the chance to get off the unit and our aching feet.

"Shhhh!" I hissed. I quickly glanced over my shoulder to see if anyone had overheard. If they had, at least nobody acknowledged it. Cassandra giggled at my horror and plucked a bite out of my blueberry muffin with her fingertips. I scooted my chair in and leaned closer to her before she could blurt out some other tidbit of personal information not meant for the general public at large.

Cassandra is one of those women that by some miracle always manage to look good no matter what. Even in the standard hospital issue ceil blue scrubs and her hair wound up high in a messy bun. She attracts more than her share of appreciative glances from men. As for me, I think it's a little too obvious that I'm in the middle of a very long twelve and a half hour shift. I'm tired and it shows. I wear makeup and try to do something with my hair before heading out the door. My attempts just don't last much past the start of the shift.

"Well, it's true," Cassandra huffs indignantly. She takes another bite of yogurt and lets it melt on the tip of her tongue before swallowing it down. "There's nothing wrong with being in the lifestyle. You know." She says this as if she's been spanking bare asses and wielding floggers her entire life.

"I know that, but are you sure it's for you? I mean. I thought you wanted to find a nice guy and settle down. The men we saw at the club don't exactly seem like the white picket fence type."

"You never know," she sing-songs. "Didn't you see that gorgeous new resident from NICU there?"

"No," I gasp. "He was there and I missed it?" Dr. Luke Hanson is every woman's wet dream. Tall, dark, handsome, good with his patients, listens to the nurses, and of course, that he's on his way to being potentially rich doesn't hurt his cause either.

Cassandra grins widely and nods like a bobble head. "Now that's an ass I'd like to spank."

"Hell, that's an ass even I'd concede to spanking," I add. "How do you know he's a spankee and not a spanker?"

Scooping the last nibble out of the yogurt cup with the tip of her spoon, Cassandra snorts. "Considering he spent the entire party playing footstool for a dominatrix, Mistress Crystal, I think her name was. It's pretty obvious." I notice Cassandra eyeing the few remaining bites of my muffin and slide it across the table to her. She plucks a bite out of the center and mumbles, "The lucky bitch," before stuffing it into her mouth.

"Damn the luck," I say with mock pity. "You could have saved a fortune on footstools."

'Yeah, no shit." Her eyes light up and widen as she remembers something she forgot. "Master Dane called me yesterday," she says bursting with enthusiasm. "I'm in the club! Well, at least as an initiate. I still have to pass my health screening and the rest of the interview process. I've been invited there tonight. He's teaching a lecture on SSC for the initiates. He says you can come too, if you want to."

"I don't," I say before Cassandra can draw breath to argue with me. "What's SSC anyway?"

"Safe, sane, and consensual, you dummy," she answers rolling her eyes.

"Somehow being bound to a post and having the shit beat out of you with a flogger for fun doesn't sound very safe."

"Aw c'mon, live a little. Damn girl. Ok, so it might hurt a little, being flogged, but there's a lot more to the lifestyle than just whips and chains. The club is a great place to try new things and meet new people. You don't have to be into pain to join up." She eyes me, accusingly appraising me. "You haven't even filled out the application yet. Have you?"

"No, and I'm not going to."

"Why not?"

"It isn't like you asked me to sign up for a gym membership or something, now is it? These people do things to one another that I can scarcely imagine let alone be a part of. I get that some people are into that kind of stuff. Whatever it is they do, more power to them," I said, dismissively waving my hand. "But, I'm not one of them."

"How do you know? Have you ever tried it?"

"No, and I don't need to try it to know it's not my thing."

Cassandra sits back in her chair and looks me over. For some reason her eyes on me has me flinching. I'm scooting my chair away from the table willing to cut a rare and well deserved lunch break short rather than engage in this line of conversation for another minute. "I think you're afraid," she says in satisfaction. "You're afraid you might meet someone. And beyond just meeting someone, that you might meet someone who isn't quite the flavor of vanilla you're used to," she adds with a huff. "And I think you're afraid you might actually enjoy it."

I'm on my feet and gathering up my tray, spilling the cold remnants of my coffee in the process. I'm pissed at her assumptions and annoyed that she, like Dane, thinks she knows so much about me. I don't have time to go toe to toe with Cassandra and argue this to its bitter conclusion. I won't risk our friendship over some crazy ass idea she's gotten in her head about me. "I've got to get back to work," I grumble.

I'm turning on my heel, determined to leave her sitting there while I have the last word. That is, until she says the one thing that has me frozen in the spot. "Master Dane asked about you," she says rather innocently.

I'm glaring at her over my shoulder. "It doesn't matter. Tell him whatever you want. I'm never going to see him again anyway."

"You could answer his questions yourself, if you'd go with me tonight."

"Not happening. Besides, I have to work in the morning." I'm curious about what Dane asked her, but I'm not going to let Cassandra drag me back into a conversation I don't want to have. It really doesn't matter what Dane wanted to know about me. I have no interest in him or the lifestyle he's hell bent on selling my best friend. I won't be sucked into it.

"So do I," she says.

She's right, of course. I am making excuses. I could go to the club for an hour or so, but I won't. "I'll see you back on the floor," I say, leaving Cassandra sitting at the table. Her head is bent over her phone and she's texting at a furious pace I could never master. Too interested in the text to look up, she waves me off with a twiddle of her fingers. I envy her ability to bounce from one thing to another within the blink of an eye. She's already forgotten about our almost argument. That's a good thing, because it was one she wasn't going to win.

I ride the elevator to my floor. Luckily, though it's a rarity, I've got the boxy space to myself. In the couple of minutes it takes for the doors to ping open. I take a deep breath and slide into my nurse persona. I shake off the almost argument and any lingering thoughts of Dane or Master Dane, as Cassandra calls him. I haven't got time for anything, for any other thoughts for the next six and half hours other than those I have for my patients.

Rounding the corner to the nurse's station, I spot a beautiful planter sitting on the counter. It's an amaryllis, a big one with vibrant red petals in full bloom. Decorated with hints of shimmering gold and silver gilt, the bowl shaped pot is almost as pretty as the flower. I don't have to look at the card dangling from a black leather bow to know it's for me or who sent it.

Master Dane

I feel a bit like a fool, scanning the small gathering of potential candidates for my Wallflower. Of course, she isn't here. Cassandra is, practically vibrating with excitement and eager anticipation at the front of the room. She is a pretty girl, young and so enthusiastic. I'm betting by the end of this class, she won't be nearly as energetic. My first lesson in dominance is a simple one. In order to know how a submissive feels, you have to become one yourself.

Cassandra thinks she's a dominant and maybe, she is. But, tonight, she's mine and it'll be a valuable lesson she learns. I'm going to take her to place she's never been to before. Not softly or gently, like a lover, but as harshly and relentlessly as a master breaking in a new filly. She won't like it. She won't thank me for it, at least not right now. But, before I think about putting a flogger in her hand and beginning the training every dominant must receive, she will submit to me.