But now it was with other things. Needs. Too many. Too strange. It was my turn to Dom and I was beside myself with how exactly I would do that. I had Tara cooking for me. Still clothed. I was terrified to scare her. Terrified with the need to take her in a way that might get my ass handed to me. Terrified that I might actually want that. Need it. She'd touched something in me that day I got pinned by her. That thing in me. That odd hunger that sent me running out of the BDSM community and into a soul search. Beneath the initial shock of her strength, it was there, that reckless energy deep inside, wanting something, something to do with her, something to do with…something. I needed to figure out what. I mean, was I not a true Dom? Was she actually more of a Dom than I was? What the fuck was a Dom anyway? Who wrote these definitions into the manual? Who decided who I was? No fucking body. I did. I decided. Now I had a more pressing and immediate decision to make.
