Dominique had sworn that this time she would run all the way home from work. She was a partner at a law office exactly 7 kilometers from her front door, a path she had been trying to conquer since nearly a week prior. It was a long run, a good deal longer than what she had accomplished thus far, and she had yet to make it the whole way.
Dominique hated failing, and she hated giving up even more. Each attempt she made to run home ended in her grumpily climbing onto a bus, which only made her more determined to make the run the next day. Tom, her husband, insisted that she was setting herself up to fail. Dominique argued that she was setting herself up for a stunning victory.
The bus smelled like defeat, but at least Tom had to good graces to hide his knowing smile once she walked in the door. The scent of garlic mashed potatoes and soft lamb filled the hallway, taunting her while she ran upstairs to clean herself up. By the time she bounded back down, the places were set and Tom was relaxing in his usual seat. Her stomach rumbled so loudly when she walked into the kitchen that he laughed at her.
"Good run?"
Dominique only stuck her tongue out at him.
"Well," He sighed with a shake of his head, "at least you worked up an appetite. Dig in."
He let her shove much-needed calories into her mouth for a solid minute before he started to speak again. Dominique considered Tom's ability to know when she needed silence to be one of his finest traits.
"So, did you have to take the bus again?"
He still spoke in a country-boy drawl that no amount of prestigious engineering degrees could erase. Dominique wanted to be mad, because she was still mad at herself, but his earnest smile deflected her frustration just like it always did.
"Yes. I caved, and I think the bus driver was laughing at me."
"I somehow doubt that's true." Tom replied with a big smirk. "He doesn't know why you're on the bus, and even if he did, he probably doesn't see public transportation as a sign of weakness."
"It's not public transportation that's a weakness. It's my inability to get what I want."
"What do you want?
"I want to run all the way home from work and not wimp out."
Tom was suddenly leaning in close her her, aftershave filling the air with promise.
"You, my dear, are not a wimp."
He gave an unsubtle wink that let him get away without saying what he was thinking. After three years of marriage, he was still shy talking about their sex life together.
Dominique hummed thoughtfully, drawing back from him.
"You're right! It's probably your fault, you must have damaged my running muscles with the paddle last night!"
It was a joke she regretted almost immediately, seeing the momentary flash of worry on Tom's face. He was new to the roll of sexual dominant, and the thought of significantly hurting her during such play still really freaked him out.
Dominique patted his arm to make sure he knew she was joking, and a grin suddenly split across his face.
"If only you were as tough on the running trails as you are in bed!"
She gasped, hand flying to her chest as her mouth flew open. Tom chuckled, darting away from the table and leading her in a chase into the bedroom. She entered to find him flopped on the bed.
The bed creaked when she flopped down on top of him. She took a moment to goose his ticklish ribs in retaliation for his earlier comment. They both grew silent as they were enveloped in one another's arms.
Tom's shirt was soft, his body solid. He had put on some weight since they'd met, but just enough to add a cuddly padding to his frame. His short dark hair was as unkempt as always, but cut short enough to make it look like a fashionable accident. Her doing, of course. It used to be a mop.
Dominique's taste in clothing was born from a professional workplace, which Tom never had. His first job out of college was with a successful startup run by guys like him, who couldn't care less if he lived in a pair of jeans and a rotation of seven t-shirts.
None of that incredible professional luck had softened Tom's drive, though. He was a little younger than Dominique, and pretty as hell, but it was his ambition that really drew her to him. Wise beyond his years and thoughtful to a fault, Tom was perfect for her.
Originally he'd lacked confidence in bed, but she'd certainly taken care of that. Dominique had made it very clear what she wanted as a woman who had to fight and make decisions all day: No decisions. No fights, just utter submission.
A thought made her bounce with excitement, almost knocking the breath out of her now-dozing husband.
"Oh my gosh!"
"Huh? What?"
"That's an amazing idea!"
"Huh?"
Dominique bent her head down close to his, a sharp little smile bending her lips.
"If I can't make my running goals, you're going to punish me."
"Huh? How?"
Dominique just aimed a pointed look at him.
"Oh! I can't do that!"
"Why not?"
"It's not supposed to be a real punishment."
"I'll still have my safeword, it'll be fine."
"But it's punishing you for a real thi--oh!"
His lips went round and his head rocked back as she ground her hips into him with purpose.
"I know." She told him with her lips pressed to his ear. "That's why I like it."
Tom didn't really seem to know what to say, so she kissed him. He managed to catch up only a moment later, pulling away to hold her temporarily at bay.
"You need to change your goals then. Smaller increments."
His agreement sent a thrill through her that was well worth the delayed progress of her running goals.
##
One of the best parts of BDSM lifestyle was the ways in which it could surprise you with thrills, even when your dom was miles away. Dominique found herself pondering that often in the next two weeks, especially during her evening runs.
She had complied to Tom's request that she scale back her goals and work her way up to the seven mile run. Instead she'd started running in increments, making it one bus top closer to home each time she ran. There were times when she wanted to give up, especially after hard days at work, but the special little twinge that the thought set off in her belly made her legs move faster each time. As much as tom's non-threat had excited her, she didn't want to go down easily. That would be unbearable.
The funny thing about their agreement was the way she was avoiding the punishment, even though the very thought of it made her legs weak. It wasn't so much that she felt any real sense of unease about what would go on, but rather that she didn't want to disappoint her husband's alter ego.
She often thought of Tom the Dom as an entirely separate person from her earnest, shy husband. Once Tom had grown into the role she'd put him in, he'd become spectacular at it. Tom was good at everything he put his mind to, and he certainly put his mind to this.
As she rounded the bend to the next bus stop, she imagined show his shoulders would tense, how his voice would lower and grow gravelly. How his words would change from requests into simple, respectful commands. How he'd pull her hair--
She nearly tripped on the curb, straightening and glancing around for onlookers before continuing home. That special twinge that she only got from Tom the Dom was apparently growing a little more powerful.
Tom was out in the yard watering their flowers when she stepped off the bus. He waved to her, a big smile on his face.
"Trying to make sure I'm not cheating?" She teased him as she crossed the yard.
"Nope." He laughed and winked at her. "I'd have to follow you ON to the bus to know that."
She moved closer when he turned the hose off, wrapping her arms around his neck and holding him close. The air was cooling down in the evening, but his skin was still hot from the sun beating down. His cheeks were ruddy with a sunburn weeks earlier, only now fading from the bright red it had been. She kissed him deeply, felt his surprise at the heart of it.
"Hi." He murmured, eyebrows high.
"Hi." she whispered back, voice a little husky. "Are you done out here?"
The hose dropped the the ground with a clatter.
