Fighting IrishI was in a foul mood.I wasn’t dressed for running errands. In my opinion youdon’t run errands in black nylons, a long, black, stretchyskirt and an oversized white tunic shirt knotted at hiplevel. It helped that I wore white tennis shoes, but I stillfelt overdressed. I also hate skirts, not to mention nylons.This pair’s suspender-style; technically, crotchless. Andthey’re about a size too small. I’m full figured so thiscauses my legs to bulge over the top edge slightly. It was adetail that didn’t matter when we were home or when Iwore pants. It became critical walking around in a skirt.Basically my thighs were chafing.Pearce had selected my wardrobe for the day so most ofmy mood was directed towards him, which he had noticed.As we stood in the checkout line at the market he crowdedme, his torso pressing against my back. He slipped hisarms under mine to catch the handle of the cart, pulling ittight against my stomach as he dropped his voice to anintimate level, his Irish brogue putting a dangerous accenton the pronoun.‘I’m knackered, girl, and I’m warning ye – adjust theeejit attitude or I will.’Leaning back against him to intentionally implycompliance, I lay my head against the crook of his neck.Pearce shifted his stance to support my change in positionas I spoke softly.‘Yes, sir.’‘It’s a bit late ta be playing nice,’ he noted dryly, hisvoice still pitched for a private conversation. ‘Andagreeing terribly quick weren’t ye now? Are ye doubtingI’ll adjust things ta my satisfaction?’‘Not at all, at all.’‘Don’t be sassing that fake Irish ta me. Answer honest.’‘No doubt.’‘Emmm. Make yerself useful then.’He tapped the counter as he straightened away, thelilting accent threading through his words making theinstruction sound less important than it was. It hadrepeatedly proved all too easy for me to get lost in themelodic sound of Pearce’s words. Pair the musical qualityof his voice with the fact that he was filled with your basicnever-met-a-stranger Irish blarney charm and it was easyto miss that his laid-back good humour was backed bysteel. Most people missed it most of the time, just as theymissed that Pearce was dominant in our relationship.Granted, we didn’t wear stereotypical fetish gear. Theonly fetish item ever seen regularly between us wasPearce’s collar around my neck. To those who understoodthe nuances of domination, the collar was a clear symbolof my submission. But in general it was simply an artisticstatement. The narrow, rounded sterling band created aunique necklace that no one realized was bolted in place.To remove it, Pearce would have to use a special wrench.In the same way we chose not to hide the collar, Pearceand I chose not to completely hide our relationship. Ifpeople paid attention it would became apparent he was incharge. The thing was, no one paid attention. We werehidden in plain sight.As I unloaded the cart Pearce stood hip-shot,emphasizing his pelvis in an utterly distracting way. Iwasn’t distracted enough to fail to notice when he pickedup a tabloid.‘Don’t even think about buying that trash.’‘Right, you’ll be thinking ta tell me what ta do now,Rach?’ he shot back absently, not looking up from a storyabout a potato possessed by the spirit of a dead celebrity.‘You need to maintain some decent standards. Thatisn’t it.’Pearce rotated his hip even farther out to the side,throwing himself off balance to bump me as hetaunted,‘Ye could maintain decent standards by not staringat my crotch, longing fer a ride.’‘Not so loud.’‘Who’s listenin’?’‘Everyone in this line,’ I snapped.His casual cheer, which put the engaging light in hissea-green eyes and lent a captivating openness to hisfeatures, disappeared. In a deceptively natural move hesquared his weight onto both feet. The subtle shift in bodylanguage, like so many other things about my complicatedIrishman, was one more thing people usually missed abouthim. When he squared his feet the width of his shouldershe was, in essence, squaring off for a fight. He was alsosending a clear signal that I was not to contradict whateverhe said next.He replaced the tabloid in the rack with carefuldeliberation. Sliding one hand around the nape of myneck, his fingers curled around my collar, pulling it backagainst my throat. Stepping closer, he thoroughly invadedall of my personal space. His lips grazed my cheek just infront of my ear, giving his command the appearance of akiss as his words vibrated against my skin.‘Stop yer chat.’The no-nonsense tone of his nearly inaudible statementmade my heart pound and my mouth dry. Our days werefilled with conversation fuelled by Pearce’s gift for gab.He talked as automatically as he breathed. By stoppingme, he was, in effect, cutting off his own conversation.Obviously I had irked him far more than I had intended.Pearce tilted his head slightly to the left, the blackwhiskers of his weekend beard dragging against my skinwith a shiver-inducing rasp. Brushing his lips over mine,his tongue sought entry into my mouth. The intimatecaress tasted of the cinnamon mints he favoured,immediately eliciting erotic memories of other cinnamonencounters, making my heart pound and my knees weak.Pearce lifted his head, running a thumb over my lips,taking in my flush, effortlessly reading my response.‘Och, ye can be so easy, Rachel Anne.’His comment made me blush even more. It was true, Imelted at his touch and we both knew it. Pearce spent themajority of his Escort Bayan time guiding my reactions, the past minutebeing a perfect example. After issuing an order sharpenough to make my heart thump, he poured on the charmso my heart thumped for an entirely different reason,creating two opposing reactions within seconds. He wascontrolling me and I knew it, but I couldn’t resist. I didn’twant to.The foundation of our relationship was the power ofcontrol. Anticipating, conditioning, and controllingresponses from me was a critical part of our daily life. Avery large part of Pearce’s interest in having a relationshipwith me was his ability to have control. In order to sustainan intimate relationship he had to have authority not onlyin general, but also over me. He needed to dominate.In the same way, a very large part of my interest inhaving a relationship with Pearce was his ability to besuccessfully dominant. In order to sustain an intimaterelationship I had to have someone else in control. WhenPearce fastened the collar around my neck he tookownership not only of the relationship, but of me. I neededto be submissive.Like yin and yang, Pearce and I were polar oppositescreating the whole.His touch interrupted my thoughts. Carrying the bags inone hand, he used his other hand on the small of my backto guide me to the car. To my surprise, he elected to drive.Having emigrated at twenty-eight, Pearce first drove inIreland. Eight years later he still complained about drivingin America. Five minutes later Pearce’s preference forbeing a passenger was proved wise as I disregarded hisorder to not talk with a sharp order of my own.‘Look left!’Pearce slammed on the brakes, his right arminstinctively shooting out to brace me as the car jerked to astop. A truck blasted past the bumper, making Pearceswear bitterly about focking Yank drivers. He ran ashaking hand through his black hair, pushing it into spikes.‘Ye all right then?’‘I’m fine, honey. Want me to drive?’‘No. Apparently I’m needin’ ta practice.’Carefully looking both ways, he crossed theintersection as I settled back into silence. Tense withconcentration, his hands at the traditional ‘ten and two’positions on the wheel, it took him a few minutes beforehe could relax enough to speak.‘Ye’ve common sense, Rach. Ye use it against me,makin’ me crazy. Point being, even when ye know not tatalk ye know when ta.’He drummed his fingers on the wheel absently, slippingback into the rhythm of driving as he continued talking.‘Originally I wanted – em…what do ye call ’em? –Doormat submissive? Someone ta be seen, not heard, dome bidding ta the letter. Before ye it was girl after girlwho woulda let me pull in front of that truck because theywere under no-chatting orders.’He half-laughed at himself with a shake of his head.‘I need submission, I don’t need ta be hit by a lorry. Ineed a relationship, not blind obedience.’ He hesitated,then admitted, ‘Ye’ve taught me that. And ye’ve taughtme ta enjoy someone strong. I don’t want ta change theway we are, Rach, but I need ta temper yer ways. Ye pushtoo hard, or yer tone gets away.’Pearce subsided, clearly debating what to say next.When he went into lecture mode it meant he was stating acase as he saw it and presenting what he felt was the bestsolution. There would be no room for rebuttal. Mystomach knotted as I waited for him to continue.‘Inna reg’lar relationship,’ letting go of the wheel, heput air quotes around the word regular. ‘There’s noproblem, is there then? But, we’re only mostly reg’lar.There are rules. First, I’m in charge. Second, ye submit, noquestions asked. Thing is, ye bloody well don’t keep therules. Which forces me to correct ye.’He sighed, the candour of his next words surprising me.‘It’s bollocks, Rach, when ye’re not ta chat I don’t haveanyone ta chat ta, it’s punishment for me. I hate it.’Pearce spun the car into a strip mall lot. Parking, heturned the car off and twisted to face me as he continuedto speak.‘The whole point of a submissive is giving me pleasure.Not chatting with ye gives me irritation. And it doesn’tmodify yer behaviour. C’mere, Rachel.’Unwillingly I met his eyes. Pearce propped his elbowon the back of the seat, his head braced on his hand. Withhis other hand he reached out, playing with an errant curlof my hair.‘Next time ye smart off too much or push me authoritytoo far,’ he tugged the strand of hair in his hand. ‘And yeknow what I mean by too much, too far – I’m going tapaddle ye,’ he tucked the curl behind my ear and cuppedhis hand along my jaw. ‘Consider yerself fairly warned,girl. Ye know I’m enough of a sadist ta pull it off once. Yepush me wrong and ye won’t sit for two days.Understand?’I nodded.‘Say it.’‘I understand.’‘I’m gonna do it until yer behaviour modifies ta mesatisfaction. I don’t care if I paddle ye six times a day.Understand?’‘Yes, sir.’‘Subject closed, Rach. Although I still don’t want yetalking. Out of the car, there are things ta be done.’After running errands at stores within walking distance,Pearce took me to a small tattoo and body-piercing shoptucked into the corner of the strip mall. Holding the dooropen, he vaguely waved in the direction of the chairslining the perimeter of the lobby. Understanding thepleasing power of instant gratification I immediatelydropped into one. He spun back, his brow furrowed.‘That was terribly compliant, luv,’ he tucked his handsinto the front Bayan escort pockets of his jeans, rocking his weight backon his heels. ‘What’s this, then?’Careful to maintain my silence, I shrugged, surprisednot only that he was questioning that I had followed hisdirections but that he was doing so in public, using anormal tone of voice.‘Go on,’ he amended belatedly.Following his lead, I answered with the casual respectwe rarely used in public.‘Nothing, sir.’‘Em. Is this from the conversation, then?’Although I had taken the conversation in the carseriously, I knew he wasn’t asking me about it. He wantedto know if I trusted him or if I was worried about the levelof correction the next time I crossed him. I rolled my eyes,my answer dripping sarcasm.‘Like you scare me.’He burst into laughter, chucking me under the chin, hisbrogue flaring thick.‘Och, there’s me Rachel Anne. Just checking. Sit tight,luv.’Slouching in the chair, I watched Pearce have aconversation at the counter until a casual nod summonedme to his side. Dropping his hand to my waist, he guidedme to a private room.‘Jump up,’ he suggested, patting a padded, semireclinedgynaecologist’s table.Awkward in the skirt, I obeyed. Pearce claimed a seaton one of several wheeled stools s**ttered around theroom, spinning himself lazily as we waited. Drumming myheels, I wondered what was going on and debatedquestioning his intent.Since I had several already, tattooing wasn’t out of thequestion. Pearce knew I had something of a fetish forsymbolism. Periodically the topic of permanently puttinghis ownership mark on me came up, but as far as I knewthe concept hadn’t gone beyond idle conversation. Icertainly hadn’t seen him designing a mark. Not that heneeded my opinion, but he hadn’t solicited it, which wasout of character.‘You’re waiting me out.’‘Pardon?’‘You, the compulsive talker, haven’t said one word,you’re trying to goad me into asking why we’re here.’The look he shot me had me amending my statement,correcting my flip, disrespectful tone.‘You’re hoping I’ll inquire why, sir.’He grinned impishly.‘So ye’ll be wantin’ ta know then?’‘No, sir.’‘Stubborn is as stubborn does.’Before I could think of a snide comment about who,exactly, was being stubborn, the door opened. A mancame in, greeting Pearce by name with a friendlyhandshake.‘Ready?’ he inquired, shutting the door.‘Aye.’Pearce gave his stool a push, rolling over to me in onemotion.‘Shift over, Rach. Put yer legs over the short side.’As I did, the man I didn’t know sat on a stool close tothe short end of the table. As soon as my legs were swungover completely he unbuckled medical stirrups from thesides of the bench and locked them into place. My mouthwent dry. Catching one of my feet in his hands, the manspoke to me for the first time.‘Lean back.’Before I could react he lifted my foot into the stirrup,throwing me off balance. Before I could voice the s**thingwords that came to mind, Pearce spoke, slidingdangerously on the stool as he lunged to brace me.‘Careful there, Michael.’A second later I was laying against the reclined back ofthe table, both feet in the stirrups, my skirt tenting over mylegs.‘I told her to lean back,’ Michael grumbled.‘Don’t be dumpin’ her ta the floor.’‘She always so slow to do what she’s told?’‘Don’t be a wanker. She moves at my speed, not yers.’‘And it has nothing to do with the discipline problemsyou have with her.’‘There’s that, too,’ Pearce agreed. ‘Especially taday.’‘Why today?’‘It’s been a bastardly morning.’‘Why?’ Michael asked idly, busy doing something outof my sight. Pearce leaned an elbow next to my hip, hisback to me as he continued his conversation about me as ifI wasn’t in the room, ignoring the hole I was attempting tostare into the back of his head.‘Rachel has a corporate job, sometimes her transitionback ta me isn’t smooth.’‘How long have you had her? Two years?’‘There abouts.’‘Her professional life still affects you? And you’reletting her keep that job?’‘I thought about having her quit,’ he shrugged. ‘Thendecided not ta.’My blood ran cold. Moving in with Pearce meantmoving control of my life to him. Even so, I hadmaintained de facto management of my career. Pearce hadthe final decisions, but until five seconds ago I had no ideahe had considered anything about my professional life.‘I wouldn’t put up with it.’Not only was I tired of being excluded from aconversation of which I was the topic, but I was tired ofhaving a stranger judge me poorly. And I was enormouslytired of not knowing what was going to happen. Before Icould give voice to my mounting questions, Pearce leanedhis head against my angled thigh and answered Michael’sdisapproval with a mild question of his own, his Irishaccent rolling heavily.‘Ye don’t have ta put up with it, now do ye?’‘Nope, she’s your handful, not mine.’‘That she is.’Listening to Pearce I had an epiphany. The only reasonI had the urge to talk was to exert control. But it wasn’tmy conversation. It didn’t matter that I was the topic, noneof it concerned me. Pearce was in control and I needed toleave it in his hands. Trying not to draw attention tomyself, I tipped my head back and closed my eyes,inhaling deeply, willing myself to relax.‘Pearce, tell me placement.’Michael pushed the stirrups to the farthest outsidepoint, taking my feet with them, forcing my legs to spread.A second later his hands were on the insides of my knees,pressing Escort them down and out which pushed my thighsachingly wide as he shoved my skirt all the way up.‘Cut these?’‘Aye.’I froze from the outside in as scissors slashed mypanties. I could feel my face flaming at being fullyexposed. Instinctively, I wrapped a quivering hand aroundmy collar for support and waited. Gritting my teeth Iconcentrated on ignoring the touch of unfamiliar fingersbetween my legs. My heart thundering in my ears blockedall other sound. Eventually a clamp was positioned on anouter lip and screwed down tight.Terrified, it was all I could do not to react. Pearce knewhow negatively I viewed genital piercing. Focusing on thefact that I trusted him, I forced myself to breathe deep andslow, counting to five with each breath. A minute later Irelaxed completely, soaring into the warm silence in myhead.The clamp being removed without a piercing happeningpulled me back. Pearce pushed my knees together beforehe lowered my legs. I kept my eyes closed, drifting, lettingthe warmth of his familiar touch guide me. It wasn’t untilhe started talking that I started to really pay attention.‘Rachel?’‘Yeah.’‘Yeah?’ He echoed with a terrible American accent,making me laugh.‘Don’t imitate me.’‘Och, don’t be so casual.’‘No, sir.’‘Are ye back, Rach?’‘Yes, sir.’‘So what’s this then? I was pushing, but enough fer yeta go inna subspace?’‘I didn’t mean to –’‘I know,’ he caught my wrists, pulling me to a sittingposition. Kissing my brow, he rested his forehead againstmine. ‘I was focking around. Ye wasn’t ta go all soft.’‘You were just fucking around?’‘Don’t take that tone,’ he warned, framing my face inhis hands. ‘I’ll fock with you when I want, Rachel Anne.’‘Yes, sir,’ I agreed without conviction.Understanding the implication of my tone, his jawmuscle knotted and his hands clenched, his wriststightening against my chin.‘Ye’ll be recalling what I said in the car?’‘Yes, Pearce.’‘Don’t push.’‘No, sir.’I held absolutely still as Pearce studied me for a long,silent moment. Finally, in a lightning-quick change ofmood, he banked his simmering anger, his hold softenedand his tone became gentler.‘That’s yer only warning. Now, ye don’t melt like that,help me with the how come and why now. Put me in yerhead.’He sank down on the stool, supporting his crossed armsover my knees as I protested, ‘Not like this.’He snapped his fingers and conditioning took over. Myeyes locked onto him, my mind and body going still as Irefocused on him, the small impersonal room fading away.‘Talk.’I wasn’t allowed to look away, but I couldn’t meet hisgaze. I slid my attention to his eyebrows. On one hand Ihated this sort of intense interest in my thought process.On the other hand, this was exactly why I chose to besubmissive. I needed him to know me inside out, I wantedto submit to this kind of stripping away of privacy, to noteven have my thoughts be my own. It was unbelievablydifficult and unrelentingly intimate.‘I relaxed, sir.’‘Over talking about ye like ye weren’t in the room, aye,but body piercing?’‘I didn’t know about that.’‘But ye never reacted.’I wanted to shade the truth, to be less vulnerable.‘It was you,’ I declared, meeting his eyes.There was a second of incomprehension thenunderstanding dawned.‘Say it.’‘Pearce…’‘What’s the rule?’‘If I can’t say it then I’m not ready for it.’He cocked an eyebrow, waiting. A long minute later Iswallowed and began to speak,‘I decided to relax because you control everything.’‘Define everything.’‘Everything,’ I repeated helplessly. ‘I love you. I trustyou. I agreed to submit to you. So I decided to stopfighting, sir.’‘Just like that?’I shrugged, giving up and relaxing into the inescapablehonesty he demanded.‘It wasn’t that easy, but yeah, just like that,’ I smiled, afeeling of relief spreading through me as I admitted, ‘I’myours. You own me. And you don’t have to look sostunned.’‘Ye do this now?’ he protested, burying his head in mylap.‘Honey, I told you: not like this,’ I reminded him, myfingers playing in his hair.His voice was muffled in my skirt as he spoke, ‘I didn’trealize ye were finally admitting me ownership.’‘You’ve been taking ownership since the day we met.’‘I know that, ye eejit. It’s slow because you, luv, fightaccepting my control.’‘I know that,’ I echoed his words. ‘But you put up withit and you’re everything to me. So I got with yourprogram.’He kept his head down in my lap for several minuteswithout speaking. Lifting his head, he stroked the back ofhis fingers along the line of my jaw.‘Right, so ye’ve stopped fighting, have ye now? I’ll bebelieving it when I see it, but it’s the thought that counts,aye?’I opened my mouth to protest then thought better of it.Pearce watched me make the decision and laughed at myfinal conclusion, tapping my nose as he stood.‘Careful, that was a decision based on how yer owner’llreact. Ye may want ta ease inta that thinking, not over-taxyerself the first half hour of it.’‘Rude, Pearce.’‘Rude, sir,’ he corrected good-naturedly, holding mecaptive with his assessing gaze. ‘Yer mine, eh Rach?’‘Yes, sir.’He dug a hand into the front pocket of his jeans.‘Hold out yer hand.’I obeyed, unable to still my trembling fingers. Pearcesupported my hand in his, raising it to his mouth to kissmy palm. Lowering my hand he dropped a smooth, roundsilver charm onto the spot he had kissed. The interlockingengraved letters centred on the charm were his initials.Flipping it over I found three delicate lines of engraving,my name, the word owned, and a series of numbers.‘You planned this,’ I accused as I realized the numberswere today’s date.Pearce laughed at me again, the lilt of his accentturning his words to music, ‘Of course I did.’