Author's Note: This one is D/s and Mf/f. While some of my other stories were more about sadism, this one is more for the domination aspect. It's also a romance.
Morgan
My wife and I almost had the perfect relationship. To give you the idea, I first met Trish when we were in high school together and we were both already balls deep into the fringe edges of tattoo artwork. More to the point, we wanted to give that artwork to people and Trish always used to say, with a grin, "Your pain. Our pleasure." See, even in high school she had this cousin who was a tattoo artist and she mentored with him. Even if you could draw, it didn't mean you were good at ink work so you had to learn with the gun. Trish chased that dream and I went with her, but the truth was I never would have followed that goal if not for her and the doors she could open.
But we didn't start dating until college. My high school sweetheart and I went to college together right up until I walked in on her hard riding a barista from the campus coffee shop, straight up reverse cowgirl down and dirty. And I've always been a pretty chill person but this event fucked with me a little bit. If it had been something like a party where she'd been drunk or rolling Ecstasy, I would have never questioned it. Maybe that sounds weird, but Ecstasy is the love drug and it makes everything feel good. Alcohol impairs judgement and, fuck me, but we've all been there. But it was none of that, you know? I couldn't get her into my kind of sex is the short version and she was missing that connection.
Anyway, first heart break. And it suuuuuuucked. Trish found me in an emo fucking daze - I'm not proud - and took me by the hand. I'll never forget it. "Come on, Hollywood Jesus. We're going to have a little adventure."
Hollywood Jesus was what she'd called me because of my apparently enviable long, dark hair. I didn't feel like Hollywood anything at that moment though. "Trish, I'm not sure I'm in the mood."
"You'll get in the mood. Don't be a fucking baby and come on."
Ugh. I knew better than to argue with her at that point. Usually, Trish and I would tussle over anything because we were both control freaks but I didn't have it in me at the moment. Before we even went anywhere, she started this bullshit night off by feeding me three shots of Maker's Mark 101 and Trish is a fucking baller. Trish could drink an Irishman under the table, so I thought I was probably in trouble for the night and I was absolutely right.
It only got worse from there. After I was numbed out and had a decent buzz on from some strong whiskey, she took me to this place that... Look, calling it a strip club would be a fucking kindness. This place was small and the dingiest side of tacky as it could be. Warrant was playing as we walked through the door and cigarette smoke was so thick you knew it'd cling to your hair for a few showers. You could pay to bring your own liquor at the door and by the time I walked in all I could tell you about that first dancer was that she was a blonde. And I couldn't tell you anything about the rest. Trish fed me two more shots, made me chase it with fucking Bud Light, and lit a cigarette with a grin while I sang along to fucking Joan Jett when the song changed.
Once again, I'm not proud. It was the trashiest you could get, but Trish knew me well enough by then, knew how I worked, and she knew that downright trashy was the sharp shock to the system I needed after my first heartache. I have vague memories of that night, of going to the bathroom to piss and going back out to find Trish with a stripper's tongue down her throat. And neither of us could ever remember how that circumstance came to be. Had she gotten lap dances? Had she gone up and tipped a ton? Was the stripper just horny? Jesus, we didn't fucking know. I did remember sitting down with Trish after that, taking another few shots of the strong ass whiskey while smoking another square with her. That's the funny thing about that night, is the in and out memory I have of it.
And the other fucking baller thing about Trish? She had bro code. Like, she knew if she was going to get me trashed and make me spew out my emo bullshit along with the liquor, then she had to be drunk as fuck too. It's an unspoken law, you know? If your buddy is going to humiliate the fuck out of himself, then you have to make sure you're as drunk as he is so neither of you remember. That way you purge the demons and it's like it never happened anyway.
It probably sounds heartless, talking about my first heartache and then raving over Trish, and maybe it is. The truth is I think that's the night I fell for my wife. And we never agreed to start dating. We just did it. When I woke up the next morning, I felt like death and we'd managed to end up in our apartments somehow. Trish showed up out of the blue in the afternoon, looking unruffled and awesome while I looked like hell. And she brought me greasy food while she teased me. "Good afternoon, Prince Charming of White Rain. I feel like a Dukes of Hazzard extra was proud of you last night."
And I remember that was the first morning I looked at Trish and it hit me all at once that she was a girl and she was sexy as hell. Seriously, she was 5'6" and her body was banging. She went to the gym everyday, I knew, because she had a sense of vanity like me. But she had curves too and these tits that just made you want to touch. And her hair? Oh man, these dark brown, untamable locks. You ever see Faith from Buffy the Vampire Slayer? That was her hair, with that perfect look that was both hot and rugged. Combine that with her wicked green eyes and this ass that made me want to play rough and holy hell, I got hard for her.
She definitely knew I saw her differently then too. And I think it was novel for her. See, Trish wasn't the makeup, high maintenance type. Trish liked things like gunsmithing when she wasn't being a tattoo artist. Trish cursed like a sailor and drank like hell. Guys didn't think of Trish like that. They thought of her as one of them and I had thought of her like that, too. Until I didn't. And I knew better than to make her feel like a female. I preferred domination in my sex and I liked submissives and Trish didn't have a single submissive trait. No, I knew I'd have to work for it with her, would have to be careful and not make her feel soft. Maybe you'd wonder why I would want that, if the chemistry was missing. Because I'll be honest. In terms of sexual chemistry, we didn't click very well.
But Trish had taken one night and fucked me up to make sure I didn't get depressed and she was the best friend I had. And that's what I wanted from her. I wanted to run the tattoo shop with her when I knew she'd open one and I wanted to stay by her side and have her back while I knew she had mine. And living with Trish would be the easiest thing in the world, I knew.
And that turned out to be true. Our life became almost perfect. No, seriously, you're going to be amazed at some of this. Like, this girl enjoys doing fucking laundry. All at once. On the other hand, I like dishes. We both love cats, she likes taking the trash out, I like vacuuming. She likes sweeping, I like mopping. She likes the right side of the bed, I like the left. We don't cuddle because we get too fucking hot and we don't care enough to need to cuddle. We each have our own closet because we're both control freaks so we can't share things like that and we divide holiday decorations. One year, she gets Halloween and I get Christmas. The next year we switch. We never fight, we work together on taxes. She prefers tattoo work and I prefer piercing, but we can both do the other when a situation calls for it.
It's absolutely fucking perfect. There was just one thing. We both unequivocally and wholeheartedly agreed that there was exactly one thing missing.
We needed a third in our relationship. Because we both loved, fucking loved, to dominate and we refused to submit. We were two married Doms by nature and, even if bringing in a third opened up the door for more drama, we both didn't fucking care. We just wanted a playmate. Only problem with that was, while we were both lighter players, we were intense people so both of our attention on one person? It wasn't exactly easy finding someone interested in something like that.
Because the other part of it was we were controlling and dominating
all the bloody time
when around an S type. I don't fucking know why, but it was almost like we naturally fed and encouraged each other, so an S type with us? Shit, I didn't think it'd ever stop at playtime submission, if we could even bring someone into our arms. I thought we'd be all encompassing about our little games. I mean I thought they'd be fun as all hell and we had all kinds of toys to go along with it. But yeah.
It'd be consuming. And besides that, who the hell would want to be the third of an already stable relationship?
