Sebastian
Idon'tbelievein coincidences and chance encounters. The universe is perfectly balanced, and nothing happens without a reason. After being stuck in a long and tedious meeting, my inner voice kept nudging me to take a breather and pop out for a late lunch at my favorite Italian restaurant downtown. As a dominant, I've learned to listen and trust my gut feeling. If I hadn't, I'd have missed the opportunity to see my feisty little sub and her friend strolling into the fetish shop as I was leaving the restaurant. It was a perfect opportunity to test my theory. So far, my sub-dar has never once been wrong. My heart sped up when I saw her tracing her fingers, almost lovingly, up and down the flogger. When I stepped into her personal space, her face paled and eyes widened in alarm, looking like a frightened little rabbit caught in a snare. I've seen the same haunted expression in the eyes of subs that have been mistreated. Irrational anger stirred in me, igniting the need to protect her and get to know her better. I step out of the elevator and rush straight to my office. Dialing Ben's number, I deposit myself on the couch, casting my gaze on the living wall peppered with different plants. There is something about her that draws me in and makes my heart skip a beat. It's as if her submissive beacon is lighting my way, guiding me in her direction. There is no turning back now.
After the fifth ring, he answers, "Hey Seb." I inhale deeply, exhaling through my mouth.
"Hey, Ben. You got a minute?"
"Yeah, I'm on feeding duty. Sam was desperate to have a bath. What can I do for you?"
"Send my love to Sam. I'll try to pop in soon. I need you to do me a favor when you have free time?" My voice trails off. It feels wrong, but I need to know everything about her, especially the bastard who hurt her.
"Sure, man. What do you need?" I claw my fingers through my hair impatiently.
He listens patiently while I relay the quick story of how I met my little sub, asking him to do a background check on her to see if I should get involved with her or not. Ben reassures me he'd do the same if he was in my place before taking her license plate number. We say our goodbyes and disconnect the call.
Christ, what the hell did I do? You asked Ben to run a background check on her when she hasn't agreed to be your submissive yet. Sagging against the couch, I yank my tie off. You did the right thing, I reassure myself. Then why the fuck does it feel as if I'm invading her privacy? Jumping to my feet, I stride to the floor to ceiling window. Gazing at Seattle's blue skyline, I remind myself why I didn't have a choice. In the past, I've run into potential submissives lying about their marital status, withholding information about criminal charges and drug and alcohol use. Many are still pursuing me because of my status and wealth. My gut feeling tells me the little sub isn't like those women. She appears honest and trustworthy, but appearances can be deceiving. I've been burned in the past and I don't plan on repeating the same mistakes again. Raking my fingers through my hair, I exhale, blowing out the stress of the day. I trudge back to my desk, plop into my chair and fire up my laptop. The afternoon passes in a blur of conference calls, replying to emails and reading testing reports. At seven o'clock, I grab my stuff, leaving the office in a hurry. Time to have some fun.