Relapse (Doctor Dom Volume 4) (A BDSM & Medical Play Novella) by Tara Crescent

curious.
    “Well,” he said. “If you think about it, a Dom expends a lot of mental energy keeping a sub at a particular state. Balanced between pleasure and pain. Just at the edge of arousal, not tipping over. It’s insanely hard to do that with two women. Someone’s going to be neglected.”
    “Ah. And two Doms?”
    He grinned. “Twice the amount of focus.”
    I shivered. “That sounds intense,” I said.
    “Want to try it?” he asked. His tone was interested.
    “Would you be okay with that?”
    He shrugged. “Honestly, I don’t know. I’ve never shared a woman I’ve been in love with. I have no idea how I’d react. But if you were interested, I’d consider it. And if we did go through with it, I will certainly behave myself, and not be a possessive jackass.”
    I grinned. “Not anytime soon,” I said. “Baby steps. I’m really only just comfortable with you dominating me.”
    He laughed. “I’ll quit worrying about it then,” he said. Our food appeared, and we dug in for a few minutes in silence.
    “Okay, what else have you done?” I asked him. It was exciting hearing about Patrick’s secret life of kink. I felt like I was watching some particularly exciting porn. “Have you ever fisted someone?”
    “Vaginal or anal?” he asked calmly, and I nearly choked. He laughed at my reaction. “Your eyes are as wide as saucers, Lisa.” He chuckled, and ate a forkful of food.
    I flushed. “Seriously? You’ve done both?” I sounded a bit shocked.
    He chuckled again, and he shook his head. “Vaginal, a few times. Anal, never. I know this is going to sound pretty hypocritical of me, given I have no problem putting my dick in your ass, but the idea of my fist there makes me a little squeamish, to be honest.”
    He looked at me evenly. “Are you interested in being fisted?” he asked me, taking another bite of his food.
    I gulped. “Will you judge me if I say yes?” I asked him. I was both scared and intrigued by the idea of being fisted. My internet porn history could attest to that.
    He rolled his eyes. “Did you judge me when I told you I’ve done it?” he replied. “No, of course not, I’m not going to judge you, baby.”
    A thought struck me, one that made me feel suddenly depressed. “So Andrea and you must have done a ton of stuff together,” I said. I tried to keep my jealously out of my voice. I failed terribly. I could hear myself. I sounded disconsolate.
    He shook his head. “Most of this is pre-Andrea,” he said. He made a face. “With Andrea…” he hesitated, and then continued. “Without discussing my marriage in any kind of play-by-play fashion, I can tell you we did very little together. I’m happy to play with a partner that I can trust to be honest about their limits. Right from the start, when she hid what she wanted from me, it was hard to trust her. She really wanted to be my slave. It freed her from any responsibility for her own safety, which made it even harder for me to trust her. If you can’t trust someone, you can’t really play with them easily. The Dom/sub dynamic is mostly about trust, and our dynamic never recovered from the loss of trust.”
    Which reminded me, I hadn’t asked him how she was faring. I felt like a terrible person. “How’s Andrea doing?”
    “Better,” he said. “The signs are promising. She’s still in a coma, but she’s showing periods of consciousness. Eyes still unfocussed, but greater periods of wakefulness. It’s too early to tell what recovery could look like.” He sighed. “Best case scenario, she’s got a long road ahead in rehab.” His voice was bitter. “I wish they’d catch this guy, and I hope he rots in prison for what he did to her.”
    His mood turned pensive, and as insecure as I was about Andrea’s role in his life, I couldn’t blame him. We ate the rest of the meal in relative silence, chatting occasionally about something trivial. At the end of the meal, I reached for the check, and gave him a