Finn Ch. 01: Success?

She pulled the dress on over her head and looked in the mirror. It was form fitting, just short enough to be inappropriate for work and just long enough to be appropriate in a small town. She pulled on a jean jacket and slipped her feet into a pair of simple heels. It was far from her normal attire, but tonight she had to blend in.

Her heels echoed on the pavement while she made her way out to the white Subaru waiting for her in the wrap around driveway. The heat from the day still radiated off the concrete even though the sun had disappeared several hours ago.

"Don't you look country," Lexa said when she climbed into the passenger seat.

"Oh good. That's the look I was going for," she replied. They started down the long gravel driveway, passing by the orchards surrounding her property.

"It's so dark out here at night. I don't think I could ever get used to this," Lexa said, turning onto the road.

"People out here say it's peaceful." She had grown up down this gravel driveway. And even though she had been back for a year, it still didn't feel like home. But it never had.

It wasn't long before the flashing neon sign welcoming them to Tiny's Bar was lighting up the inside of the SUV. The parking lot was packed with old trucks from the town inhabitants and new cars from the singles from the nearby cities who were wanting to taste a real life cowboy or cowgirl by the end of the night.

"Good luck," Lexa said. "You have your phone on you, right?"

"Yes. You have Alex waiting just in case, right?" This wasn't her normal hunt.

"Yes. Be safe. Follow your gut," Lexa said.

It was her gut that had brought her here. The proverbial itch she had never managed to scratch. And this was the last time she would reach for it.

The bar was loud and crowded, full of people hoping they wouldn't be waking up alone Saturday morning. Their eyes assessed her while she wandered to a corner table. Though some of the faces looked like shadows of the past, she doubted they could place where they knew her from. No braces, no glasses, a hair color change and no more baggy clothes covering up her figure. High school had passed twelve years ago, and she wasn't the same person anymore. She had grown into the type of woman men always seemed desperate to touch.

She sat at the small table patiently waiting. Bars had never been her thing and she hadn't been in one in years, but when she was driving through town the other day she had seen a truck stopped at the light that piqued her interest. The eyes of the men at the bar repeatedly looked her way as she twirled the straw in her drink, but none of them were his.

Shouting commenced when the door opened and three men walked in. They were loud, crude, and already staggering. She would have recognized them anywhere. Conner Brice, Johnny Cooper and Ryan Moore, infamous members of the community since high school thanks to their drinking and womanizing. Besides having a few more lines on their faces, they looked like they always had. But one was missing.

It didn't take long for the city girls to stake their claims, wooed by boots and cowboy hats. The three men were real cowboys unlike some of the other Wrangler wearing men in the bar. And they still oozed charisma and cowboy charm. Conner and Ryan's eyes glanced her way several times but not out of recognition. They were sizing her up. She knew the look well. They were contemplating their odds of taking her home. They must have decided they weren't very good, however, since neither headed her way.

She heard his voice before she saw him, shouting in from the half open door to his friends. He pushed his way through the crowd over to them, and it wasn't long before Conner was pointing her way, daring him.

"Hi," he said when he reached her table.

"Hi," she responded.

"Can I sit here?" he asked.

"Yes, " she answered. "How are you, Finn Dawson?"

He paused for a moment, biting his lip before he sat down in the chair. "I'm sorry, do I know you?" he asked.

"Yes and no. We went to high school together," she replied. "Morgan."

"Hmmm... I don't see how I don't remember you," he said, shaking her hand. "So, Morgan, what are your plans for the night?" he inquired.

"Fucking you," she responded.

He laughed, and she knew he assumed she was joking. But when her face remained set he grabbed her hand and led her out of the bar. He opened the door to his old grey Dodge, the same one that was shiny and new when they were in high school, and she climbed inside.

When they arrived at his house they went straight to the bedroom. He bent down to kiss her, pulling her clothes off.

"You're so fucking hot," he said, his eyes fixed on her breasts. He hurriedly took his pants off and began backing her towards the bed. As she expected, he immediately started pushing himself between her legs.

"What are you doing?" she asked, blocking his entrance.

"What?" he questioned, confused.

"I'm not even wet yet. You're going to have to work a little harder than that," she informed him.

"Fuck," he grunted, rolling off her. "What do you want me to do?"

"You've fucked the whole town and you don't know what to do?" she exclaimed in feigned disbelief.

He rolled his eyes and started rubbing her roughly with his hand.

"Let's try sixty-nining," she suggested.

He lay back and she rolled on top of him. He had clearly not been properly trained in how to please, but that was something she had expected. She, on the other hand, was well versed.

"Holy fuck," he moaned when she covered his length with her mouth. She stroked him twice more and began to taste a warning this encounter would be short lived. She stopped and rolled off him.

"Seriously?" He sat up and started to stroke himself.

"You're about to come and I'm nowhere near coming," she told him.

"Let me fuck you, then."

She let him get on top of her and rubbed her clit as he entered her.

"Fuck your shit is tight," he groaned, pushing in deeper. His body started to tense after only a few thrusts.

"This is a joke," she said, pushing out from underneath him.

"What the fuck is your problem?" he yelled as she scooted off the bed.

"My problem is I came here expecting to get off and you have no way to make that happen." She turned away from him and began pulling on her clothes.

"What do you want me to do? Just get me off and I'll do whatever you want," he pleaded.

She forced herself to stifle her smile before turning back to look at him. "I came here to fuck a man, not a boy who has no clue what to do," she said, then turned and walked out the door. Lexa was already parked outside waiting for her.

"Success?" Lexa asked when she got into the car.

"That remains to be seen," she replied as they pulled away from the curb.

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The sound of a diesel engine and tires crunching down her gravel driveway brought her to her front window. The old grey truck slowly making its way to her house surprised her even though it was what she had been hoping for. She watched until he was parked and heading up to her door.

"Hi," he said from the doorstep.

"How did you know where I lived?" she asked.

"Small town," he said with a smile.

"Why are you here?"

"Because I can't stop thinking about the other night," he said, looking down at his feet.

"Interesting," she replied. "I don't remember it going so well."

"I don't get why you couldn't get into it," he said.

"When was the last time you concerned yourself with whether the woman enjoyed it or not?" she questioned.

"Women always enjoy when I fuck them," he responded confidently.

"Do they tell you that?"

"I can tell."

"Okay," she said and started to shut the door

"Can we meet up again? You can give me another chance," he said quickly, putting his hand on the door to prevent her from closing it.

"You really want to meet up again?" she asked.

"Yes. Bad," he said.

"How bad?"

"Really, really fuckin' bad."

"Beg me," she replied, crossing her arms and leaning against the doorframe.

"I am begging you," he said with his charming smile.

"Not from your knees," she countered.

"Are you serious?" he asked.

She stood staring at him, waiting.

He looked around to make sure they were alone then got down on his knees and clasped his hands together. "Please fuck me again. Pretty, pretty please," he begged playfully.

"I'll think about it," she said, then shut the door.

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It had been a week since he had shown up on her doorstep and all had been quiet, so the pounding on her front door surprised her. It was only seven thirty and she had told the chauffeur not to pick her up until eight thirty. She was already dressed for a night of debauchery with Lexa and hadn't been expecting any visitors. On her way to the door she put on her black coat, not wanting whoever was on the other side to see her breasts through the sheer dress she had on underneath.

"Open up! Come on!" she heard Finn's voice yelling through the wood followed by more pounding. When she pulled open the door he smiled at her, the smell of alcohol seeping from his skin. He bent down to kiss her and she pushed him away. He fought through her resistance, pressing his lips hard against hers. His hands grasped the back of her head, holding her mouth to his, his tongue trying to push through her lips.

"I wanna fuck you," he slurred as he hung onto her.

She broke away and began heading down the hallway, his footsteps following close behind her. When they reached the second door on the left she opened it and let him follow her in.

"You want to fuck me?" she asked, turning back towards him.

"Fuck ya," he replied, trying to pull her coat open while leaning in to lick her collar bone.

"You haven't earned the privilege of fucking me," she responded, shoving him away.

His eyes narrowed and he lunged towards her. Her hand grabbed the leather strap off the dresser, bringing it down hard on his torso when he reached for her coat.

"Owwww!" he shrieked at her. "What the fuck?" He raised his arms defensively when she whipped him once more across the torso, then struck him twice across the back as he turned away.

"Are you done?" she asked him, bringing the strap down again across his back.

He fell to the floor and huddled up against the wall, covering his head with his hands. Her eyes wandered over his body as he waited for the next assault on his knees and elbows. She dropped her coat to the floor and approached him, running her hands soothingly over where she had marked him. Even through his shock she caught him trying to look at her almost naked body and brought the strap down hard on his backside.

"No," she scolded. "Eyes on the floor."

He averted his gaze to the wooden planks, shivering while her hands ran over him. She pushed her hands under his shirt, massaging his wounds, then reached underneath him and was surprised to feel his erection pushing back against her. He jerked away, trying to prevent her from noticing. The strap came down hard on his backside again. This time he stayed perfectly still while she ran her hand between his legs.

"Good boy," she purred. His erection jumped underneath her hand and she smiled. "Do you want me to stop?"

After several seconds of silence the strap came down again. She could feel the hot pulse underneath his pants, hinting at the answer to her question. Her hand slid underneath his waistband, wrapping around him.

"Do you want me to stop?" she asked again, and brought the strap down hard when he failed to respond. A small amount of wetness trickled into her hand. "Do you want me to stop?" she repeated a third time. She started pushing his pants down over his hips, exposing the light red marks on his pale skin.

"No," he stammered reluctantly.

The strap came down hard twice in a row. This time he jumped at the sting against his bare skin.

"No, Mistress," she corrected him, feeling another small flood of wetness run into her hand.

"No, Mistress," he repeated back to her.

"Good boy," she praised him, his erection jerking in response. When his body convulsed she smiled again. Her free hand ran over his bare skin while his seed leaked into the other, dripping through her fingers. When the spasms ended he buried his face in his hands. She pulled his pants back up and buttoned them, then got up to go wash her hands.

He hadn't moved when she came back into the room, so she turned out the light and left him there.

His truck was still parked in her driveway when the limo dropped her off. She had left him there to meet up with Lexa as planned, assuming he would show himself out once he regained his senses. But when she walked into the bedroom he was still where she had left him, though the alcohol had brought on a deep sleep. She shut the door and made her way to her own bedroom, wondering if he would still be there by the time she woke up in the morning.

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"Would you like some breakfast?" she asked politely when he stumbled groggily into her kitchen.

"Ya," he replied, rubbing his head as he made his way to the table. She smiled when he jumped up out of his seat and sucked in a gasp of air.

"Did you already forget what you learned last night?" she questioned. "Let's try this again. Would you like some breakfast?"

"Ya...Mistress," he stuttered, then sat down more slowly.

"The word is 'Yes,'" she redirected him. "Try again."

"Yes, Mistress," he said timidly while red took over his pale complexion.

"Good boy," she praised him before setting a plate of food down in front of him.

"You're really, like, a dominatrix?" he asked cautiously.

"Yes," she answered.

"So you beat on guys for a living?"

"That's a very offensive stereotype. The BDSM culture is about much more than whips and bondage. And no, I don't do it for money."

"So, what do you do as a dominatrix?"

"I train submissives."

"Train submissives?"

"I train men to be submissives. I teach them how to adhere to a BDSM lifestyle," she explained.

"Lifestyle? Isn't it just a sex thing?" he asked.

"There are many levels of BDSM. It's not all about sex," she said.

He sat quietly, waiting for her to continue.

"Most people think of BDSM as tying someone up during sex and spanking them for fun. That's not BDSM, that's just kinky sex. BDSM is about an intense relationship of trust between a dominant and their submissive."

"Hmmmm."

"Would you like to come with me tomorrow night to see how it works?" she asked him.

He looked down at his plate, refusing to acknowledge her question. "Think about it. I have to go or I'm going to be late for my real job. I'm sure you can handle letting yourself out."

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Thanks for reading. Please don't forget to hit the stars below to rate this story. Any and all feedback is welcome and appreciated. All I ask is before leaving a comment or rating the story, please keep in mind this is not meant to be a stand alone story. It is only 1 chapter in a series. Thanks.