No. It wasn’t his chosen name. It was given to him by his parents. Many times he had smiled when he thought about his name, especially since he discovered his dominant side. Where others call themselves Dom Eric or Dom Jack, he was just ‘Dom’.
He had never explained to people why it was only ‘Dom’. Some knew his real name, others didn’t. Ever since he created Dom’s Place, the questions about his name got less, and nowadays everyone knows him as Dom.
It took a couple of years for Dom’s Place to become known in the scene, but thanks to his regular customers he had been able to overcome the meager first years. Dom’s Place was now known as ‘the place to be’ if it comes to dungeons in the city. Dom catered for every purse, from the rich to those who have much less to spend. Some came to have a drink at the bar and then left again; others hired a room for the afternoon.
The one thing where Dom’s Place distinguished itself from other dungeons was the possibilities for singles to book a room. Over the years, Dom had become a kind of matchmaker for the single people who had the need to dominate or be dominated. He had strict rules, and those who didn’t abide by it, were not welcome at Dom’s Place. His most basic rule was that no power exchange would ever take place on a first date. The first date was to discuss limits and safewords and only when there was a proper match, a booking could be made for a room.
Dom made sure everyone was safe. He had his non-intrusive ways to do it, and was known for having expelled people from the club, sometimes for a set period, sometimes for life. He didn’t tolerate anything that could harm the name of his life work.
That is how Dom viewed his enterprise. Where it started out as a place which filled one of his own needs, it became the place that enable him to bring home the bacon. However, Dom never thought of it that way. He knew that he filled a need in the lives of others, as well in his own life. He needed this place to survive. It saved him from himself. Once he started concentrating on Dom’s Place, he was fulfilling a dream he and Mathilda had talked about for years.
Thoughts of her still crushed his heart. She was the love of his life. The one he wanted to get old with. The only living soul he knew better than he knew himself. She was his everything. His wife. Friend. Lover. Soulmate.
Together they had taken the first steps into dominance and submission. It seemed like play at first, like something to spice up their marriage. However, it became much more. The more they talked about it, the more they did, the better they understood each other. It intensified everything they already had: their friendship, their love, their connection. The power exchange they had chosen for seeped into every part of their lives. It didn’t become part of them; it always was. Acting on their desires, exploring it together, fulfilled everything.
Their life was perfect.
Mattie was perfect.
Then, she died. The trickle of dried blood that ran from the corner of her mouth to her cheek. The blood stain on the pillow, almost dry. The spatters of blood. Despite this horror, the peaceful expression on her face, like she was still sleeping. In a split second he took all of this in, knowing that he was far too late to call the emergency services to resuscitate her. She was already gone. An aneurysm in her aorta had caused her to bleed into her lungs. The spatters of blood were from coughing once, but the doctor had assured him that death was almost instant. Dominic had never believed him.
Weeks had turned into months, months into three years that went by in a haze. Dom had existed from day to day. Without his wife he was nothing. Without Mattie he didn’t want to be.
Their friends had saved him from himself. Despite him not wanting to see anyone, they kept on coming around. They kept on telling him about their adventures, and one night, when they told him about a new dungeon they had been to and how they wished they could find something better, he remembered.
He and Mattie had a dream.
It was their dream that saved him.
© Rebel’s Notes