Pegging Therapy: A Femdom Romance by Elizabeth Myrrh

Author:Elizabeth Myrrh [Myrrh, Elizabeth]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Published: 2017-06-17T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eight

Claire and Zane’s Fourth date

Claire

Jogging was an unconventional date, but in an effort to entwine our lives I invited Zane to join me on my thrice weekly sunrise jogs. I knew Zane wasn’t a morning person, but if this was going to work he was going to have to meet me at least halfway if not more.

I always left the house at 5:45 AM. No exceptions not for weather, colds, or late nights. Monday, Wednesday, and Friday mornings running was my life. It was good exercise, but also cleared my head. Clarity was something Zane lacked recently. He wasn’t sure what he wanted from life.

“I just want to belong to you Claire,” wasn’t a real answer. While some women might enjoy it, I wasn’t in the market for a housewife or arm candy. Ambition is sexy. A man who knows and accepts and admits what he wants is sexy. Right now, Zane was acting more like a doormat than a boyfriend even in a female-led relationship. If this was going to work sooner or later he’d have to realize that despite me taking the lead he was still part of the relationship, if there was going to be one at all.

I told Zane to be at my house at 5:30 so we had a few minutes to talk before we ran. It was 5:44 and he was nowhere in sight. I laced up my running shoes and grabbed my water bottle. I ran at 5:45. No excuses. I taped a note to the door that simply read ‘wait here.’

Zane didn’t know yet, but he was in trouble. With each sprint forward I thought about him being late. I thought about how he’d taken to following me around like a puppy lost from his litter. I liked Zane. I’d fallen for him as a CEO. It wasn’t the money or the power. It was the damn ambition that most CEOs had. He had a lot more to offer than most CEOs though. Now, I just had to get him on the path to realizing that.

At 6:58 AM I jogged the last steps of my driveway before stopping to catch my breath. Bent over with my hands on my knees I reveled in the last few seconds of my runners high before starting to stretch.

“Sorry, I was late,” Zane called from the porch. “I got here at six and you’d already left.”

“I run at a quarter till six. You were supposed to be here at 5:30,” I stood up and stretched out my legs so they wouldn’t cramp up later.

“I over slept,” Zane rubbed the back of his neck.

“Inside,” I pointed to the house and finished off the last of my water. “You undress and wait in the living room. I’m going to take a shower.”

Zane’s expression morphed from remorse to excited. He was a man who thought he was about to score, but the only home run being knocked out of the park was my hand against his ass.

I gave him a quick kiss and headed into the shower.

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