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“Be more specific. You need to think of concrete ideas for this to work.”

I struggle to find the words. “That I’m not good enough to run my family’s business.”

Crack! My ass is on fire!

It works. That toxic thought I had is blasted from my brain. I can practically see it spill from my ear, snivel on the floor, and then disappear over the side of the stage. My mind is liberated from that crippling fear of disappointing my family.

“What else?”

My fingers are curled into the bench, turning red, then white. “That I’m not womanly enough. Maybe I don’t want kids. Maybe I don’t even want to get married someday. Is it so bad to want to live alone from time to time?”

Crack!

Shit! I feel that one! What, Ira, did I strike a nerve with talk of marriage? Or was it the kids? I remember how much your mother wouldn’t shut the hell up about grandbabies. You’re an only child, right? Well, so am I. Suck it up. We can ruin our family lines together, the Bonnie and Clyde of genealogy, the Paul Bunyan and Babe the Big Blue Ox of family trees… well, shit, that’s nowhere near as sexy, but you get my point, Ira. You get my fucking point.

“What else, Katie?”

Once my legs stop shaking from the last impact, I say, “I feel guilty about turning into a switch. What if the other Dommes don’t want to work with me anymore? What if I’m turning traitor? I don’t want to lose my friends and acquaintances because I’m finally embracing who I am. I can be a Domme and your sub.”

Crack!

I think I’ve got the point now.

My ass is raw beneath my corset. Ira balances the crop on my back and steps away, turning to the audience. She slowly unbuttons her shirt.

I contain a new cry. She’s going to do it. Fulfill her promise.

“I have a confession to make too,” Ira says, letting her shirt hang open. She’s not binding. It wouldn’t work with our plan, just like one of her sports bras would be counterintuitive. So there she is, breasts bare to a world that hardly knew she had any. “I’ve been selfish. A real asshole, depending on who you ask.” She glances in the direction of Eve’s table. “From the beginning, I’ve asked Katie to do nothing but give to me, and I’ve done nothing but take from her. I took from her until she barely knew who she was anymore. For that, I am sorry. But, you see, I had some things to figure out about myself as well. For one, I had to ask myself how far I was willing to compromise with a fellow Domme. Was it love, or was it me acting like a proud fool for doing what it’s done to her?”

My body is shaking again, but it’s not from subsiding pain. It’s anticipation.

When Ira takes off her shirt and tosses it aside, I’m grinning.

There, on her bare back, is what I left on her with a long-lasting marker. It’s not subtle. I practically graffitied her skin with the intent of showing the world…

…That she belongs to me.

That I’ve marked her.

There are some murmurs loud enough for me to hear. I don’t know what they’re saying. I don’t know their tone. All I know is that Ira Mathison is gorgeous with my initials emblazoned on her back, the same mark I’ve left on others before. They all know what it means.

I’ve Topped her. Maybe only once. Maybe every night. They don’t know. It doesn’t matter. Ira did this for me. It may not have been what she craved for deep inside, but she did it for me. She gave back. She explored that side of herself with me. She asked for it. She played along. She proved that she was listening and would do anything to have me.

If that’s not love, then what the hell is!

Ira snatches the crop off my back and stands behind me. “Who wouldn’t want to worship this goddess? What prince wouldn’t sit at the feet of this Queen? She may bend before me today, but Kathleen Allen has not forgotten her other self. That’s how much I love her.”

Tears hit my chin. I can’t believe this is happening.

“I love you too,” I say. “I love you so much it makes me feel guilty and ashamed, because how can I love another Domme?”

Crack!

Fuck. Me.

“I’ve asked myself the same question,” Ira says, breathless. “How could I fall in love with you?”

This time when the crop hits my ass, I feel the frustration in both of us.