No Ordinary Love Story: Sequel to The Diary of a Submissive Read Online Free PDF Page A

darkness of my bedroom. ‘It’s better to ask afterwards than before I let you come.’
    I tutted. ‘Actually, you didn’t “let me”, it wasn’t about permission. You asked me to wait and I did. You’re not my dom just yet.’
    ‘Yet.’ I couldn’t work out if he was agreeing with me or pointing out the implicit agreement in my words. ‘You’re right, I asked you. Of course I might not be so polite if I actually were your dom.’
    My heart began beating faster just at the thought of it. Right, let’s do this.
    ‘Maybe we should find out.’
    We began making plans for him to come round the following weekend.
    So what
is
the etiquette when someone’s coming round your house just for sex? Should I get wine in? Would he want dinner? Would he consider food an unwelcome distraction? My brain was a frenzy of indecision through thewhole day. It was a Sunday. He’d gone for lunch with his family to celebrate a birthday and we’d arranged for him to head over in the early evening. I, notionally, had the day off work but after a few hours buzzing round my flat getting increasingly nervous I decided to nip into the office for a bit to write up a couple of interviews before heading to the shop to buy whatever I had decided was socially appropriate food and beverages.
    In the end I bought wine and decided to bake chocolate chip cookies in case he wanted tea. I’d hoped that the precision of the baking, the creaming and stirring, which I’d done dozens of times before would calm me down, soothe me and let me switch my brain off. What I should have done was gone for something exotic that I’d never made before and that I had to concentrate on, because what I found instead was my mind was wandering, trying to piece together the things I knew about him, the things he’d hinted at being into, to try and get a feel for the kind of man – the kind of dominant – he would be, which of course threw up comparisons with dominants I’d been with previously.
    For the first time in a while I’d gone through all the pre-date rituals that make me feel comfortable before someone sees me naked – the shaving and plucking and buffing and moisturising. It made me feel pangs, knowing the last time I’d prepared myself so extensively for fucking had been for James on that last and most intense weekend, the memories of which still replayed in my dreams and saw me wake tired and annoyed and oh so bloody wet. I was second-guessing myself about whether doing this was theright thing to do – if by agreeing (OK, not even agreeing; let’s remember the initial suggestion had been mine) that we meet for no-strings shenanigans I was basically starting myself back down a road I had travelled before with Thomas and had decided wasn’t for me. But then, if I knew I wanted D/s in a relationship but didn’t want a relationship, was it bad to want some no-strings fun with someone clearly filthy and trustworthy, with no baggage? Had I actually learned anything? Was this a terrible mistake? Was being frisky clouding my thinking?
    In between all the, frankly, angsty thoughts that I couldn’t quite push away, there was also a not-inconsiderable amount of anticipation building. The more I’d chatted to Adam, the more intrigued I’d become by him. I was still a bit pissed off by the fact that – thanks to Thomas and Charlotte’s meddling – he’d known my sexual proclivities long before I had a whiff of his, almost an unfair advantage in our early conversations. But enough of what he had said had intrigued me, set me thinking and made me keen to see what he’d come up with and how he would lead me in a dynamic of dominance and submission.
    I knew he didn’t care for pain as much as any of the dominants I’d been with before – which was probably just as well, bearing in mind how I’d stubbed my toe in the office the day before and it had hurt so much I’d felt tears running down my cheeks. It would seem I was becoming a wuss. But he