thegift

"The Gift"

by
Dani Benjamin

~~~ ~~~ ~~~

"I want to own."

The words slammed into her like a sledgehammer.

They met at the Club Nocturne, a private club for Dominants and submissives. Cassie had been a regular there for several months. A "bedroom submissive," she enjoyed the rush of sexual surrender, but that was the extent of her submission. She'd worked too hard and too long for that corner office and she wasn't about to give it up for anyone. No, she was no slave. Her autonomy was too much an integral part of her.

So, she maintained her corporate image and enjoyed the occasional "scene" with one or more of the Dominants she'd met at the club. She wasn't interested in a relationship. There was no room in her busy life for complications.

Gradually, she began to notice a feeling of discontent. Something was wrong, unbalanced. She felt off-kilter. Lately, when she went to the club, several of the men would gather round her. Each, trying to out-do the others in an effort to impress her with their "Dominance." She was a challenge now. Her reputation for being elusive had made her a target. They seemed more interested in winning "the trophy" than in her. And the idea of men competing to please her unsettled her.

Power is a strange and complex thing. In the hands of a Dominant, power can be intense and compelling. When the power shifts to the submissive, it throws her off-balance. When power is thrust upon a submissive, it is unnatural and unsettling.

In Cassie's quest to protect her autonomy, she had gained power. The one thing she sought to relinquish, even if only momentarily.

A hot tear slipped over her cheek as the realization swept over her.

"You are far too lovely to be so sad."

The deep voice washed over her like a warm caress. Before she could wipe away her tear, a large hand brushed her cheek and captured the tear on a fingertip. She looked up into a pair of warm, chocolate brown eyes. He lifted his finger to his mouth and licked her tear from it.

"The tears of a beautiful woman are better than any scotch."

He smiled gently and said, "Come. Sit and talk with me a while."

He walked to a table in a quiet corner and not knowing quite why, she followed.

She sat silently while he ordered drinks for them. He leaned back in his chair and studied her for a moment, and then said, "Tell me, girl. What brings you to tears?"

She took a deep breath and it all came pouring out.

She talked for hours. She talked until she had no more words. She talked until her voice gave out. And through it all, he listened. Like a sponge, he absorbed her pain.

She barely noticed the club emptying around them. As the bartender began putting chairs up on the tables, she stammered, "I'm sorry. I've been talking your ears off. Please forgive me."

The laugh lines around those beautiful brown eyes crinkled as he smiled. "No worry, girl. I enjoy listening to you."

With a sigh she said, "I don't think I belong here."

"What makes you say that?"

She looked around the room at the couples still lingering over drinks. Some men held girls on their laps, two others sat in easy chairs drawn close to the fire, gently stroking the hair of the girls who knelt quietly beside them.

"I've read so much about the Power Exchange, but this is so not me. I thought I wanted the thrill, the kink. But that isn't enough for me anymore. I'm not some little lap-dog-subbie, content to kneel and be petted like some poodle. I think I am just too strong to be a submissive."

He smiled and reached across the table to brush the back of his fingers across her cheek. The touch was electrifying and her skin burned even after he pulled his hand away.

"You have so much to learn, girl. Power takes different forms. The power of a man is in the strength of his will. The power of a woman is in the strength of her heart. They compliment each other, but there is no comparison. They are completely different. Before you can surrender your power, you must discover it within yourself."

"I have power. That's the problem. I have too much power. I am responsible for millions of dollars in revenue every day. Thousands of people's jobs depend on how well I wield that power."

"And do you find this satisfying?"

She sighed. "No. I feel like I'm spinning out of control. That's why I come here."

They sat silently for a moment until she blurted out, "What's wrong with me? I have a great job and I'm damned good at it! I beat out four men for the job I have! I out-perform every man in the company. Why isn't that enough?"

"Power and femininity need not be mutually exclusive. Perhaps in your quest to become a powerful person, you have lost touch with the woman inside."

"I'm afraid she's gone."

"Oh, she's there. She is in your tears, in your blush. She is definitely in there. You just need to break down some of those walls you've built around her."

It was almost a whisper, "I'm not sure I can."

"You can, girl. And you will."

With that, he drew her to her feet and escorted her out of the club and to her car. He pressed a chaste kiss to her forehead and murmured, "We will speak again, soon."

And speak they did. His name was Justin. In the following months, they met often for lunch, dinner, coffee and walks in the park. He wanted to know everything about her, her life, her thoughts, her dreams and her fears. Nothing was too inconsequential. He wanted to know her inside and out.

The attraction between them was undeniable, but he never made an advance. He never pushed, or touched her in any way that could be construed as sexual. Occasionally, as they walked, he'd grasp her wrist to steer her in a different direction, but once he was satisfied that she was following, he'd release her. She learned to walk faster, the difference in their heights causing her to take two strides to his one. At 6'4" he was a full foot taller than her and she was confused by the feelings it stirred within her. At times, when maneuvering through a crowd, he would rest his hand gently in the small of her back. She lived for those incidental touches. She felt small and fragile, yet� safe.

Where once, her work had completely consumed her life, now it became supplemental to her time with him.

Justin.

Her every thought was filled with him. She never tired of watching him. Her fingers itched to touch him. She longed to trace the strong line of his jaw, to run her fingers through the thick waves of salt and pepper hair. His laughter washed over her like a warm rain and she ached to kiss the lines that crinkled around his eyes whenever he smiled. For such a large man, he moved with the graceful elegance of a jungle cat. He was completely at ease no matter where he was, whether eating hot dogs at the ballpark, or sipping wine at a gallery opening.

Each time she saw him was the first time. He never failed to take her breath away. Her heart would pound and she'd have to remind herself to breathe.

Justin.

Cassie began to dress to please him. Her tailored business suits hung in the back of the closet now, replaced by soft, clinging skirts and dresses. The simple pumps were moved to make way for high heels. She made more time for beauty appointments, having herself waxed and moisturized, manicures, pedicures, facials and massages. Even her secretary noticed, commenting on her new "girly-girl" look. Oddly enough, the softer, more feminine she allowed herself to be, the more successful she was at work. Rather than competing with men, she deferred to them, and they responded. She even changed the way she interacted with coworkers. She stopped trying to prove herself and let her work speak for itself. She spent less time in the office and more time visiting the people whose money she managed. Her clients noticed the personal care she put into their accounts and she gained not only their trust, but also their loyalty. The "don't mess with me," bitch with dollar signs in her eyes was gone and in her place, a gloriously, vibrantly powerful female.

A week before Christmas, she brought in a 5 million dollar account that her company had been struggling with for months. Edwin Yeager was a crusty old curmudgeon of 76 who had soundly thrashed every male account manager who approached him. Her boss didn't think she had a chance, but he agreed to let her try. Their business lunch turned into an afternoon of gin rummy and as they played, he told her how he and his wife built the company from the ground up.

"You remind me of her, my Lucille," he said as he showed her a faded photograph. "She was quite a lady. She had the same quiet strength about her. I miss her the most at this time of year."

She reached across the table and laid her hand over his as he traced the woman's face in the photo.
By four pm the deal was signed and they had a date for a gin rummy rematch.

That evening, Justin took her to dinner to celebrate. As the waiter popped the champagne, Justin said, "Congratulations girl, I am proud of you."

The words filled her with bittersweet warmth. She tried to hide the tears that threatened to spill over her cheeks, but he tipped her chin up and looked into her eyes.

"Hey, why the tears? You should be on top of the world right now. A 5 million dollar contract doesn't happen every day."

She couldn't stop herself. "The money doesn't matter. None of it matters. Not the money or the prestige or the corner office, none of it! I did it for you, Justin. Every thing I do is for you, to please you and you don't want me!"

There. It was out. She said it. She ducked her head, hiding her red face and held her breath.

"Not want you? My God, girl what gave you that idea?"

She lifted her head and stared at him in shock.

"You do want me?"

"Yes, Cassie I do. I want you more than anything."

Her eyes flashed with anger. "Then why don't you touch me? Kiss me? I am not a pet project. I'm a woman! Why don't you take me? Take my submission! Use me!"

His eyes darkened and he leaned toward her. "Is that what you want? Is that what you think submission is? Do you want me to fuck you? If I batter you with my cock will you feel more female?"

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. She watched him bring his anger under control, her heart in her throat.

When he finally spoke, his voice was steady and calm.

"Cassie, Sex is not submission. Any woman can submit her body. I am a Dominant man. I want it all. I want your heart, your mind, and your soul. I am not looking for a girlfriend or a sex partner. I can find that anywhere. I want to own. I want to possess. I want you. But it must be your decision. Submission cannot be taken. Nor is it something that should be tossed around lightly or traded for a quick fuck."

When she could breathe again, she whispered, "I'm sorry."

"Don't be, Cassie. Don't be sorry. Be sure. Know what it is that you surrender. Know what it is that you want. I know what I want. I want to own."

The magnitude of his words stayed with her as the days passed before Christmas. Cassie wandered through stores crowded with shoppers making those last minute purchases. The engraved cufflinks she'd bought him had been outrageously expensive but she'd noticed him glancing at them as they passed by the jewelers and she hoped he'd be pleased. She prayed that she hadn't ruined everything with her outburst.

"I know what I want. I want to own."

On Christmas Eve, she bustled around her apartment making sure everything was ready. His favorite leather chair sat waiting for him beside the roaring fireplace. Beside it, on a table sat a snifter of his favorite brandy. On the other side of the fireplace, stood the tree twinkling with tiny white lights. Brightly wrapped gifts were piled beneath it. Satisfied that everything was in place, she ran to her room to get ready.

Exactly at eight, she heard him enter and felt her breath catch in her throat. His footsteps echoed on the polished wood floor as he moved into the living room. She heard the leather squeak as he sat in his chair and she closed her eyes to picture the scene.

Before his chair on the floor was a large red velvet bag, a gold cord with a tassel threaded through the top. Hanging from the golden cord would be a plain white tag. She pictured his smile as he read the single word on the tag. She heard him chuckle and she held her breath. Her arms ached, but she breathed deeply, trying not to move. She felt a tug at the gold cord and let it go, lowering her arms. The velvet bag fell, revealing his gift.

Cassie looked up at him, as the velvet slowly revealed her to him. The silky tangles of her fiery hair tumbled around her in disarray. Her dark blue eyes blazed with passion. There was no hesitation, no uncertainty in her face. As she smiled, one dimple etched deep into her right cheek. She lifted her chin to extend the long column of her throat, tied with a dark blue velvet bow. The soft fabric caressed her skin as the bag fell away, exposing sculpted shoulders above full, soft breasts, gently rising and falling with each silent breath, tiny red velvet bows tied around the plum colored nipples thrust toward him.

She slipped her hands behind her to rest in the small of her back, pushing her body into a delicate arch. The rounded swell of her full hips curved into long thighs which shifted wider as the bag fell away, revealing to him yet another bow tied around a curl of auburn hair.

He leaned back in his chair, appraising this gift before him. Her heart hammered in her chest and a soft rosy hue tinted her flesh as the heat of her blush consumed her. Afraid to speak... afraid to breathe, she knelt motionless as his finger traced the single word on the plain white tag...

"Yours."