The Good Dom: Obsession Series, Book 2

Chapter Two-1

Chapter Two

Eloise

I thought it best to try to forget Bette and move on with my life by focusing my mind on starting some new kind of business with the settlement money. With the help of a realtor I impulsively bought a cheap old ugly brick building off the highway about 30 minutes out of town and renovated it. It was a rundown piece of s**t and suited me perfectly. I got a good price and paid for it in cash, so I didn’t have to deal with a mortgage. When I bought the building I had no idea what I wanted do with it, other than open up some kind of store, a hardware store or something like that. It was pretty foolhardy of me to invest so much cash in the property without even a rudimentary business plan, but I wasn’t thinking clearly at the time and I was still fighting off feelings of despair about my life, career and marriage falling apart at the same time. It didn’t really matter to me whether the investment worked out or not.

After looking at the stiff competition from Home Depot and Lowes, I decided to become a bartender and open up a bar. What other career choice does a disgraced ex-cop have? By the time the interior was renovated, I applied for and received a liquor license. I paid off all my credit card debt and student loans and still had about $50,000 left in my bank account. After taking a bartender’s class and learning how to mix drinks, I was ready to open. The location wasn’t exactly ideal for a neighborhood bar since the building stood alone off the highway and there would be no walk-by business. I guess I should’ve thought of that before purchasing it, but it was a little late now. At least there was plenty of parking. I thought about some signage, but couldn’t decide on exactly what kind. I ended up just leaving it as is, with the large white numbers of the street address painted on the top of the building as the only indication of the bar’s location. I trained as a cop. A marketing genius I am not.

Two weeks before the bar was about to open for business, it didn’t even have a name for it and I was the only employee. I finally came up with the name from a discussion I had with Big Johnnie when he dropped by one day during the restoration.

“So, what’s this shithole going to be? A Sport’s Bar?” Big J asked, making a face.

“Yeah. That’s kind of what I’m going for. The Grand Opening is two weeks from now on Friday. Of course you’re invited Big J,” I said.

“Great. I’ll be there. What’s the name?”

“What?”

“The name, Jimmy. The name of the bar.”

“Oh,” I said, looking somewhat embarrassed. “Well, I’ve gone over and over it in my head, but I can’t seem to decide what to call it.”

Big J gave me one those looks where I knew he was about to bust my balls, big time.

“OK. So let me get this straight. You’re about to open a bar, but you don’t give it a name? I think you’re supposed to pick out the name first, buddy. You’re doing things ass backwards again, my friend.”

“Yeah, I guess you’re right.”

“You know what? I don’t think it’s bad luck, what keeps happening to you. I’ve been thinking about this a long time.”

“You have?”

“Yeah. You know what your problem is, Jimmy? You got a sickness. You do.”

I shook my head and smiled.

“Come on Big J,” I said. “Stop busting my balls.”

Big J took a long drink and I refilled his beer from the tap.

“I’m not busting your balls. Seriously, I’m just trying to help you. You’re a freaking mess, Jimmy! You are like… obsessed… all the time, you know. You got it bad, kid. You like obsess about s**t, nonstop. For Christ’s Sake, you have like one of those… s**t. What the hell do you call those freaking things Jimmy, you know, when you’re like… obsessing about s**t non-stop?”

“Obsessions?”

“Yeah, yeah, that’s right. Obsessions… You’re stuck in another one of those obsessions of yours… Just like when you tried to do right by that homeless guy and had to turn in your shield over it, just like when you got your face all sliced up when you fought off those older kids trying to save that old lady from getting raped, or even when you tried to get back together with Bette even after you caught her f*****g some other guy! Now you’re obsessing over what to call this hole in the wall you sunk all your money into! You know… obsessions!”

I laughed. Old friends know you best, I guess. Big J was right about one thing. I am an obsessive type person. Once I heard the word “Obsessions”, the name kind of stuck for me. I thanked Big J by promising him free beer whenever he stops by. It’s a good name for an ex-cop’s dark seedy bar, I think.

My friend was also the only one who showed up to the “Grand Opening” which I had spent an arm and a leg on advertising in the Sunday Edition of the Chicago Tribune. It was just Big J and I at the bar with the Cubs losing again in depressing fashion on the overhead TV.

“There’s only one TV here, my man. What sports bar have you ever been in that has only one TV?” Big J said, smirking.

“Yeah, that’s a good point. I should invest in another TV, I guess…”

We both drank our beers in silence and watched a few at bats. One of our guys struck out.

“So what’s up with the Cubbies, Big J?” I asked.

“I don’t know. They suck again this year, as usual. Pre-season this “expert” at ESPN said they had some excellent players in Triple-A. Now those guys are getting called up since the team is tanking. They’re supposed to have the 5th highest ranked farm system in the Majors, but I’m just not seeing it…”

After a weak grounder to short the inning was over. My friend turned to me.

“So this is it? This is the grand opening?” Big J asked.

“Yeah, I’m afraid so.”

“This is pathetic. Did you advertise?”

“Yeah.”

“It’s the location. No one knows you’re here. I don’t see any signs.”

I looked down into my beer. It’s true I picked the worst location for my bar. For the first few months, I was lucky to have a few customers trickle in each day. The business was burning money at a fast rate and I was running out of savings to keep it open. I thought of selling it and trying something else, but the real estate guy told me I’d probably lose several hundred thousand dollars on the transaction as well as the money I spent renovating it. I started to go into credit card debt again.

I decided I needed an angle to attract more customers to the bar. At the time of my financial struggles, a kinky book trilogy was published I kept hearing about called “Fifty Shades of Grey”. It was so popular I heard they were going to make a movie of it. The novels were receiving a lot of attention, selling like hotcakes. I picked up a copy of one of the sexy books to see what all the fuss was about.

I surmised there might be a growing interest in an alternative type of lifestyle depicted in the story, due to the popularity of those books. That’s when I got the idea to turn Obsessions into a bar which catered to people who safely wanted to explore the dominant or submissive sides of their natures. I had my website redesigned with sexy photographs and advertised on b**m websites. It was a huge risk, but I really didn’t have anything to lose since no one was coming to my bar anyway. I had hoped Obsessions would fill a marketing niche as a fun, sexy and safe underground night club to have a drink in and relax. Maybe Obsessions could be the kind of place where people could meet each other who were into that kind of thing. I don’t know. Anyway, they say s*x sells. I thought somebody other than Big Johnnie might finally show up who I could pour a drink for.

Slowly, remarkably, my business began to grow. In the nick of time too, since I had maxed out all my credit cards once again. Word of mouth spread and Dominants started coming to socialize with others of their kind, as well as to show off their pretty submissives. Because of my imposing physique and scary face, I was able to keep everyone in line, break up the inevitable arguments about women and the drunken fights that would inevitably occur. It wasn’t anything I couldn’t handle. For the most part, the people I met in the b**m world were well behaved and respectful to one another, outside of the desire to give a consensual public spanking or two to their disobedient subs, which I carefully supervised so none of the ladies would ever got hurt. I established the “safe word rule” so the sessions of discipline never got out of hand. If the submissive did not want to be spanked or disciplined in public, I didn’t allow it. Any man who took it too far was escorted out the front door. Since I was the owner, as well as the largest and most dominating male in the room, everyone obeyed the rules. As usual, people were more afraid of me because of my face rather than my size.

I broke even after the first month and began to make a profit when I charged a reasonable entry fee and the market value for the drinks I served. I reinvested the profits back into the club and had the interior redesigned to accommodate my patron’s tastes, as soon as I learned more about their lifestyle. For the women who wore a collar and had already formed relationships with their Doms, there was decorum which needed to be followed. I didn’t personally understand it, but I tried to set up a comfortable environment where everyone’s roles were clearly defined.

In the large front room where the bar was placed I arranged three basic areas. Area 1 was for single women without collars who could sit comfortably in booths and socialize with Dominant men who hadn’t chosen a submissive. This area was much like a standard singles bar. They could order drinks from a waitress I hired, but they weren’t allowed at the men’s only bar. The drinks had to be brought to their table. Area 2 was for collared submissives, whose Dominants allowed them to talk to other men and women visiting Obsessions, but could not be touched anywhere on their body, other than a casual handshake, a friendly embrace or a kiss on the cheek. These ladies were seated at tables and booths in this area while their Dominants were at the bar or off exploring another area of the club. At least one of their appendages had to be cuffed to the O-rings I drilled into the walls or attached to their table. They could not order drinks, but their Doms could purchase drinks and bring their cocktails to them.

Area 3 was the most risqué section of the club and the one I had to keep a constant eye on throughout the night. After doing a little research, I learned that most relationships between Doms and subs were bound by a written contract, which both parties needed to sign. In some contracts there’s a clause that stipulates that the Dominant male may share his submissive with others, as long as his submissive enjoys expressing her commitment to her Dom by sharing herself for his pleasure. I’m not saying I understood it, but I tried not to judge it. As long as being touched or kissed by others in front of her boyfriend was acceptable to the couple, I provided this area for my patrons. If it appeared to me that the woman was being made physically uncomfortable by the contact, I would intercede and separate her from the area. At first I thought I should create a private room for this, but part of the excitement for the couple was being watched, so I left Area 3 out in the open on a raised platform, roped off from the rest of the club. In this area, two or more appendages had to be bound at all times, usually at the wrists and the ankles. I had O-rings installed from the ceiling with chains dangling down for this purpose and on the floor of the stage. I had set up some seating where people could sit and watch the proceedings, if they wished. The new design of the club caught on almost immediately. I went from having practically no customers, to having several hundred guests per night. The place was packed, even mid-week. Soon I was flush with cash, CPD be damned.