Dominating Amy by Emily Ryan-Davis Page A

him—he doesn’t force himself anywhere. He’s giving you the space he thinks you want.”
    “I don’t feel well.” Amy lowered the empty glass to the table. Her hand shook. “I just have to get over this.”
    “That feeling is awareness that you’re being a coward. It’s self-shame. It’s not going to win you a ‘go home sick’ note. And we both know you’ve been trying to ‘get over’ it for three years. Don’t you think you would’ve worked through your submissive urges by now if they were something you could ‘get over’?”
    Three years of yearning--fantasizing about Mac accepting her surrender, wanting all of her. She stared at her plate. “What am I supposed to do?”
    “Tell him you want to give him control. You need his strength to support you.” The waiter arrived with a new bottle of wine. Elizabeth paused, waiting for him to clear away the empty bottle. “Tell him the same thing you’ve told me.”
    “You don’t understand ! We almost didn’t get married because of this. He asked our officiant to change the ceremony, getting rid of submission and obedience. The reverend refused. He called off the wedding until his mother promised him a civil ceremony wouldn’t disgrace him.” Amy poured another glass of cabernet, downed it in two swallows, and said, “He didn’t even want me to give myself to him in the ceremonial sense. He certainly won’t put a collar on me and let me call him ‘sir.’”
    Elizabeth snorted. “You know the submissive/dominant relationship is more than that.”
    “ I do, but Mac doesn’t. He is equality through and through. Equal obligations, equal responsibilities—even equal turns for being on top.” She’d asked her husband, once, if he’d tie her up while they made love and he’d withdrawn completely. They hadn’t been intimate for three weeks afterward.  “I just need to learn to deal with it on my own,” she said, dejected.
    “Or you could be honest with him.”
    Honest. “I’ve already explained about the shibari demonstration at your party.”
    “I don’t think he cares about the physical aspect of that, Amy. You were fully clothed and had a chaperone of fifty people. He doesn’t think you slept with some other man. It’s not the external that matters, it’s what happened inside. He’s not stupid. He knows I didn’t call him to take you home because you’d had too much to drink. You have to tell him what’s going on in your head.”
    “He’ll leave,” she said miserably.
    “He’s on the verge of leaving now.” Impatience sharpened Elizabeth’s tone.
    Amy winced. “There must be a way to let him know without confronting him. Writing a letter seems weak.”
    “In this situation, it is weak.”
    “I don’t want to trick him.” Trickery and deceit—more deceit--would sever the fragile bond they still shared.
    Elizabeth’s smile caught Amy’s attention. She narrowed her eyes. “What are you thinking?”
    “Seduction isn’t trickery. Figure out a way to introduce him to what you’d like, using your physical relationship as a doorway to your emotional relationship.”
    “I don’t want ‘kinky sex,’” Amy whispered, glancing to her left to make sure the nearest dining couple wasn’t listening. She hesitated, and added, “Not just that. Besides, we don’t even have a physical relationship right now.”
    “I know. My point is that some people are more comfortable with physical stimulus than verbal, emotional, or mental stimulus. Maybe Mac isn’t thrilled with the idea of discussing your submission. That doesn’t mean he can’t be excited by it. Introduce him to it by touch, and investigate the possibilities later, if he’s more agreeable.”
    “Should I use some sort of toy?” Amy ventured, uncertain. “I don’t even have a vibrator.”
    Elizabeth eyed her askance. “You’re thirty-two years old. You’ve been having sex with the same man far too long.”
    She blushed. Sixteen years had passed since the