by Brianna Hale
I’m just finishing the scone and dusting my fingers off when my gaze lands on Dom Fitness. Trey’s out there, looking tall and strong in the morning sunshine. My stomach lurches with longing. Can’t he just kiss me and maybe even be my boyfriend without all that dom nonsense getting in the way?
My instinct is to avoid anything difficult, but I’m learning that’s not how being happy works. You have to reach out for what you want with both hands, otherwise you never get anything.
I take a deep breath and go over to him. After turning cold on him last night I expect him not to want to talk to me, but his eyes light up when he sees me coming toward him.
“Livia. Hey, how are you?”
“I wanted to explain what happened last night,” I tell him, getting right to it. “I like you, but I don’t like…all that other stuff, and what you do here.”
He turns and looks at Dom Fitness, and then back at me. “What is it you think we do here?”
I feel a flash of irritation. He knows what he does, and what am I doing talking to someone like him? He feels strong by making someone else feel weak or in pain, and he probably thinks he needs to fix me. Maybe that’s why he’s been so friendly to me; because he thinks he needs to save me from my fat self.
Suddenly I’m fighting back tears. I met a beautiful man and I sensed kindness in his heart, only to find out he’s hiding something cruel.
Trey’s brow wrinkles in concern, and he says softly, “Livia, Dom Fitness isn’t about bullying you into a size or shape that someone else has decided is right for you. It’s about showing you that you’re already amazing.”
That doesn’t sound anything like the dom/sub relationship that I experienced, and I have a hard time believing him.
“And as for the daddy thing,” he continues, and then glances around, as if remembering where we are and what he’s supposed to be doing. “I’m on the clock right now and I have to keep my personal life separate from this place. Why don’t we have a coffee later and we can talk about it?”
He means talk to me about him being a dom. My fear ratchets up again. Maybe he’s a considerate dom or daddy or whatever, but it’s still about taking someone’s mind and soul prisoner and crushing them until they think they’re no better than dirt.
“No, I don’t want to talk about it. I’m sorry for bothering you at work.”
I walk away, and it feels like my heart’s being ripped out. Tears slip down my face, but I wipe them away quickly because it’s ridiculous crying over a man you don’t even know.
***
I spend the next few days feeling raw and emotional, and walking the long way around to work so I can avoid Dom Fitness and Trey. All the horrible memories of Piers have come flooding back, and I can hear his sneering voice rattling in my ears. You’re eating? I told you that you have to lose two pounds by the end of the week or you’re getting caned. I’m doing this for you. Say thank you, sir. I SAID, say thank you, sir.
I don’t understand how I ended up in such a nightmare. I was always such a strong and happy person, but Piers manage to suck away all my happiness in the year we were together.
By Wednesday, I’m tired of being that scared, needy person that Piers turned me into. I’ve reclaimed so much of myself in the past six months and I’m strong enough to walk past Trey without falling apart.
I grab my shopping bags, head out the door and start walking down the street. When I’m two doors down from the gym, I take a deep breath and look toward Dom Fitness.
There’s a man there handing out flyers, but it’s not Trey. His tank top reads JOSHUA, and a throb of despair goes through me.
Joshua sees me staring at him and comes over, probably thinking I’m interested in signing up. By the time he reaches me, his smile falters, because now there are tears pouring down my face.
“Hey, are you all right?” Joshua asks, leaning down so he can look into my eyes. All the Dom Fitness guys are enormous.
“Trey’s usually out here. I thought I’d see Trey. Where’s Trey?” Suddenly, my despair is overwhelming. What if I never see him again? “I’m sorry. I’m such a mess.”
Joshua just looks sympathetic. “It’s all right. We’re used to a few tears at Dom Fitness now and then. Would you like me to take you to Trey? He’s inside.”
I look up, sniffling. “He is?”
“Come on.” Joshua lays a gentle hand on my arm and steers me inside. At the front desk, he lifts the phone and places a call.
I stand miserably in the middle of reception, wiping my face and wishing that Trey were there.
A moment later he swipes through the barriers. He strides toward me, moving like panther, but in such a friendly way that if he were a panther I’d expect a fuzzy headbutt and a big purr. When he’s standing right in front of me, he says in his soft, deep voice, “Hey, Livia.”
Just like that, my knees are made of rubber and his name is written on the walls of my heart.
Trey notices the tears drying on my cheeks and his smile melts into concern. “Livia, are you okay? What’s happened?”
“No. Yes. I’m here because…” I can’t stop thinking about you. I want to know what you’re all about, because you seem so lovely and so unlike my ex and yet you’re a dom, too. I’m scared and confused and I think I like you. “Um, I want to know what Dom Fitness is about.”
“Oh. Sure.”
Is it my imagination, or does he seem disappointed? If he is, he covers it up with a smile.
“Let’s sit over here and I can tell you what we do.”
Trey gets a clipboard from Joshua and we sit together at one of the tables in the juice bar. I like the décor in here. It’s not aggressive or hypermasculine like I was expecting, but modern with clean lines.
The juice bar attendant brings us water, and I take a grateful sip and wrap my hands around the glass. I can’t believe I’m being such an emotional mess in public.
Trey gazes at me, his brow wrinkled in concern. “Has someone upset you?”
“Rough week,” I mumble. “I thought some exercise would do me good.” Some Trey would do me good. I wish everything wasn’t so complicated.
“Sure. Let’s see if we can figure out a way to help you. So, as you’re aware, we’re a little different to a normal gym. Every trainer here is a dominant of some variety, and we’re here to motivate you and help you achieve your goals.”
He’s brisk and business-like as he talks, and it’s calming, but I can’t help but miss that other Trey, the one who put his arms around me at the club and looked at me like I was an ice cube he was dying to lick on a hot day.
I realize he’s holding a clipboard out to me. “What’s this?”
“The rules.”
I take the clipboard from him and read what’s written at the top of the page.
Rule #1: There will be no physical contact between trainers and trainees, other than for instructional fitness purposes.
I read the rule over twice, and the meaning finally sinks in. If I sign up here, that’s the end of anything romantic that could happen between me and Trey.
Chapter Four
Trey
“Is that rule okay with you?” I ask Livia. She’s staring at the clipboard like she’s struggling to come up with an answer. Say no, I silently urge her. Don’t sign up here. Ask me to show you what this dom/sub thing is about on our own time.
“Yeah. Yeah, that’s fine.” Livia takes another sip of her water, her hand trembling slightly.
It takes all my effort not to let my disappointment show on my face. “Okay. I know all these rules are daunting, but they’re for your safety and happiness and no other reason. Did you have any questions so far?”
She shakes her head. Her beautiful face is pale, but she seems to be pulling herself together in front of my eyes. Her back straightens and she resettles her jersey dress across her shoulders.
I could tell her that I don’t want her to sign up here and that we should get a coffee instead, but maybe she really do
es want some exercise and to get out of her head for a while. I’ve already pushed her enough.
“Let’s go through the other rules. Can you read them out for me, please?”
Livia nods and picks up the clipboard. “Rule #2: The trainee is to speak to their trainer politely and respectfully at all times, and address them as ma’am, sir, mistress, master, mommy or daddy etc., to be agreed on between each trainer and trainee.”
Livia’s eyes almost bulge out of her head.
“You can call me Trey, it’s fine,” I say quickly, and she visibly relaxes. Another pang goes through me. I can’t even ask her to call me daddy here.
“Rule #3: A trainee will commit one hundred percent to each workout and follow their trainer’s instructions to the letter. If a trainer feels as if a trainee is deliberately underperforming or being willfully disobedient, the trainer reserves to the right to set punishments for their trainee, including but not limited to: extra exercises, cold showers and corner time.”
Livia’s mouth quirks at that. “Deliberately underperforming or being willfully disobedient? People actually do that after they sign up here?”
I smile too, glad that the heavy mood is lifting a little. “Yeah, the brats do. They love pushing their boundaries and getting punished. Pushing boundaries is their cardio.”
“I don’t think I’m a brat. I break into a cold sweat if I forget to refill the coffee pot at work.”
I don’t think she’s a brat, either. I think she’s a quintessential good girl who’s highly sensitive and has been through a rough time. She’ll put her heart into whatever she sets out to do, but I won’t be able to pull her into my arms for a deep kiss and tell her that daddy’s so proud of her.
Fuck my life. This is torture.
I clear my throat and tell her to read on. When we get to rule five, Livia bites her lip.
“Rule #5: Trainees and trainers will act in a safe, sane and consensual manner toward each other at all times.”
“Is something wrong?” I ask.
“I’ve heard that phrase before. Safe, sane and consensual. That’s not really what people do though, is it?”
I study her closely, apprehension threading my body. Who’s been telling Livia such bullshit? Or, worse, who’s been subjecting Livia to such bullshit? “What makes you say that?”
Livia shakes her head, forcing a smile. “Nothing. No reason. Just asking questions.”
“It’s a thing. It’s the thing, actually. It’s the most important rule of all.”
I want to delve deeper into why she thinks this way, but I can sense that if I push her too much too soon then she’ll run right out of here and I’ll never see her again. I’d rather have Livia as my trainee than no Livia at all.
I launch into my usual spiel. “Those are the basic rules, but each of the trainers have additional ones, depending on what their focus is. I’m a planner, and I’m goal-oriented, so each of my sessions begins with a discussion of your goals and aims for the session, and then we revisit them at the end and see if we hit them. I expect you to do your best and focus on hitting your goals, or getting as close to them as possible.”
“What happens if I don’t?”
Normally it would be a lecture while my trainee holds weights aloft, or kneeling at my feet while they recite their goals for me three times over and promise to do better. I like an audience for my trainees while they do this so they feel like they’re being held accountable, so we do it right in the middle of the gym. I’m worried Livia will freak out if I tell her that, so instead I say, “Extra push-ups. Now, tell me your fitness goals.”
“I don’t know if I have any. I think I’m fine as I am.”
I think she’s fucking gorgeous, but this isn’t about me. “People go to gyms for all sorts of reasons. Some want to bulk up. Some people want an exercise high or more energy. Some just like the atmosphere and the chance to get out of their head and do something physical.”
Livia looks around at reception and the juice bar. “It is kind of cool in here. I think I’d like to get out of my head for a while and do something physical. I haven’t felt confident enough to put on yoga pants since P—since about a year ago.”
P? Who’s P? Who the fuck is P and what has he been saying to Livia?
“Trey, are you all right? Your eyes have gone all funny.”
I realize I’m glowering, and make myself relax. “Sure, we can do that for you. Is there anything else you’re looking for?”
Livia thinks for a moment. “I’m interested in nutrition, and I’ve been curious about going vegan. Is that something you can…?” She trails off, seeming to lose hope the further she gets into the sentence.
I smile at her. “Me? Help you go vegan? I can probably do that. I’m vegan.”
Her eyebrows shoot up and she runs her eyes over me. “But you’re so muscly.”
I try to keep a professional mindset but it’s difficult when Livia is looking at me. I want to take her hands and press them against my chest. You can touch me. I want you to touch me. “You can build muscle with plant protein.”
She still looks skeptical. “It’s so weird hearing you say that. I thought vegan was a dirty word these days.”
“It kind of is, which is why it’s been rebranded as a plant-based diet, but whatever you call it, it’s good for your mind and body and I’m thrilled you want to try it.”
It also gives me lots to work on with Livia. “Why don’t you go home and grab something you’re comfortable working out in, and let’s have our first session. I’ll talk you through some exercise and meal plans as we go.”
“Are you sure you have time right now? I showed up out of the blue.”
Sweetheart, I’ll clear my entire schedule for you. “I can squeeze you in, but don’t be too long.”
She gets to her feet with a smile. “Okay. I’ll be right back.”
Ten minutes later, Livia returns in loose joggers, runners and a T-shirt, and with her hair in a ponytail. I’ve got to stop staring at her speechlessly every time she appears in front of me. It’s so unprofessional.
I swipe us both through into the gym and set her up on an exercise bike. She sits on it confidently and starts peddling. It seems like she’s used a gym before so that makes my job a bit easier. I plan her workout with her as she warms up, telling her how we’ll divide it up into warm-up, weights, cardio and cool down, and she takes it all in her stride.
As we’re heading to the free weights area, we pass Dom and Amelia, who are in the middle of Amelia’s workout. From Amelia’s flushed and pouting face, she’s this close to a full-on brat melt down.
I show Livia how I want her to do her squats and give her some weights, but her attention keeps drifting to the couple.
Dom raises his voice. “Peaches, if you roll your eyes at me again, you’re getting a ten-minute cold shower.”
Amelia is flat on her back with her arms spread, moaning like she’s on the brink of death. “But I’m tired, daddy.”
“Three,” Dom says, folding his arms and staring straight ahead.
I correct Livia’s movements, trying to get her to focus on her own workout.
“Two.” Dom’s voice is as hard as granite.
“Fine, if you want me to die,” Amelia announces dramatically, springs to her feet and pushes her dom out of her way.
Oh, lord. It was nice knowing you, Amelia. Dom clamps his hand to his sub’s shoulder and steers her toward the cold shower room.
Livia has stopped working out altogether and is staring at them. I lean down and murmur in her ear, “It’s not polite to stare at another trainee’s workout unless their trainer asks for everyone’s attention.”
“Oh, crap! Sorry.” Livia takes a better grip on her weights and stares at the floor, as if suddenly too afraid to look at anyone else.
“It’s all right. This place takes some getting used to. Sometimes we want you to stare, but we’ll tell you when.”
Livia does a squat, down-up, and asks, �
�Do you ever tell your trainees off in front of everyone?”
I hesitate, wanting to say no but knowing it’s better not to lie about these things. “I do, actually.”
Livia’s eyes spark with curiosity. “What sort of things do you say?”
I study Livia’s face carefully, wondering if what I’m going to say will scare her or intrigue her. “I say, ‘I expected this and this from you this session. We were doing so well until you decided not to meet the expectations we both set for you. Everyone here is working hard, and it’s disappointing to me that you couldn’t bring the same commitment to your own workout.’” To Livia, I’d want to say, It’s disappointing to daddy.
Livia winces. “Ouch, that’s excruciating. What happens then?”
“I tell my trainee apologize to everyone in the room for the disruption, then to me, and then finally to themselves.”
“Does that work? I mean, does it get the workout back on track?”
“It depends on the person.” On a brat, the attention is like a hit of sugar and only makes them worse. Brats get cold showers and time alone to think about what they did. On people like Livia? God, does it work. I can tell she’s a good girl who likes rules and hates causing trouble. I would only use it as a last resort though, because as she said, it’s excruciating.
Livia does another squat and then looks up at me curiously. “Would it work on me?”
I smile at her slowly. “Why, do you want to give it a go?”
“No! Oh, my god. I would die.”
“Then you’d better behave yourself, bunny rabbit.”
Livia’s eyes grow round. “Bunny rabbit?”
I cross my arms over the clipboard against my chest. Goddamn it, she was being so cute and receptive that I forgot we hadn’t agreed on what we’d call each other. “Sorry. I mean Livia.”
She hesitates, adjusting her grip on the weights. “I’ve never had a cute nickname before. Didn’t the rules say we could choose what we call each other?”
