by Adira August
“This gives the Dom an excuse to punish the sub, or to control her more completely. The thing to understand is, the sub wants this. She breaks rules on purpose to get the reaction from the Dom she craves. The movie Secretary has a great depiction of this power shift.”
“Are you saying the submissive has the control?” she asked skeptically.
“Absolutely, in most of these scenarios. Her action is the one that allows him to react. She’s the one with the safe word. She can stop activity at any time. She decides when the Dom has gone too far. So-called ‘Maintenance spanking’ attempts to re-balance the scales.”
He could see she didn’t know what that was. “It’s a spanking for no reason other than the Dom feels like it.
“Some D/s couples switch roles.” He went on. “Some restrict the Dom/sub interactions to sexual activity exclusively. A lot of couples do this without being part of a BDSM community. It’s just how they like to have sex. The last most closely mimics the kind of relationship I have with my Companions.
He twisted the cap off his water, taking a long drink. She seemed to be with him so far.
“I’m going to need specifics,” Avia told him. “Like, I’m assuming Companionship doesn’t include dating or watching old movies and eating popcorn.”
“No, it doesn’t.” He said. “I’m also like the fictional characters in that I have no interest in a serious relationship or marriage right now. I think I’d make a lousy candidate for a husband. Or father, for that matter. I’m completely dedicated to my work. That’s my passion at this point in my life.”
“You think you don’t have time or don’t want to be bothered?” she asked.
“I think I don’t like doing anything half-assed. And you? And your career and passion for your work? Do you want to get involved in a relationship that requires your presence with a man several times a week for hours at a time?”
The rueful smile that curved her full lips, told him what he needed to know. “I really don’t,” she answered. “But it didn’t occur to me before now. So, how much time do you spend with a companion?”
“The Companion has the first option. You’ll send me a list of your available times. Blocks of four to six hours over a two week period. I select two or three of them for Sessions.” Her eyebrows raised. “That’s what I call our times together. With mini-Sessions, it usually works out to about six Sessions a month.”
“Mini-Sessions?” She asked.
“Two hours or so. A weekend morning, typically, or sometimes during the week at lunch. We negotiate those separately.”
“And all that happens during the Sessions is sex?”
He laughed. “I don’t know why you make that sound like a bad thing. Long Sessions usually require some eating time. There’s also travel time. Companions come here, but only in one of my cars. I send a car for you and it takes you home, afterward. Or, wherever you want to go.”
“But I wouldn’t have my car.”
“I’ll make sure you do.” He said.
“All excuses about modesty aside, are you good at it?” She asked.
“Oh, Avia,” He shook his head as if she’d done something foolish she’d soon regret. “Yes. I am.”
And for a moment he let her see his power. His face hardening just slightly, his lips curving up in confidence. Gaze travelling openly over her body, assessing. Knowing. She didn’t look away. Her hand tightened briefly on the arm of her chair, again.
He admired her self-control. He looked forward to the Sessions of making her come over and over that would be required to shatter it.
“Okay,” she said. “I can see how I might really like what you describe. The idea of one trusted sexual companion with mutual respect for our work and desire to not pursue a romantic attachment, that’s pretty appealing. But,” she said, “I could accomplish most of that with a series of brief affairs. It’s different for you.”
“How so?” He asked.
“You’re a prominent man. You’re a smart man, a disciplined man. I can’t see a series of casual affairs being anything but a messy nuisance for you. Analogies to vacations notwithstanding, what we’re doing now is more a job interview more than anything else,” she said.
“I don’t hire women for sex, Avia,” he said, frowning. “That would be soliciting for prostitution.”
“But your companions receive a benefit from you, don’t they?”
“They do.”
“Even if you don’t give them cash, they get gifts of various kinds.” she said.
“I give them little that is material beyond a bottle of water or lunch,” he insisted firmly. “Companionship is a mutual exchange.”
“Mutual exchange. Of what?”
“You'll give me your complete trust. I promise you, that’s a great gift when freely given,” he said.
“And you'll give me?”
“Ecstasy.”
“Ecstasy,” she repeated. “Literally?”
“Oh, yes.”
“Are you saying you will - do something - that will allow me to transcend normal consciousness and achieve euphoria?" She used a precise definition of the word “ecstasy.”
“Exactly,” he replied. “That is, after all, what orgasm should be for you.”
“And I’m going to get this, how?”
“Through total submission achieved through perfect obedience. This allows me to lead you to peak experience.” He saw a quick flash of skepticism before the mask of impassivity returned.
“Perfect obedience gives me euphoria?” she cocked an eyebrow.
“The only path to ecstasy is surrender, which gives you perfect freedom,” he returned.
“That’s not even a logical construct,” she objected. “If I’m submitting to your will and obeying your commands, what freedom is left for me?”
“The freedom to truly feel,” he said. “Something I’d wager you’ve never experienced in a sexual context.”
“And what do you get out of this, besides being submitted to?”
He smiled. “I get to make you feel.”
Avia rose and crossed to the terrace doors. But when she attempted to open one, it was locked. She heard the click and looked to Ben, standing at his desk with the remote in his hand. She opened the door.
Paused in the doorway, she took breaths of clean air.
Ben sat back against his desk, hands in his pockets.
“That’s the most arrogant thing I think any man has ever said to me,” she said, finally. “It stuns me when men think they know more about women’s orgasms than we do.”
He strolled over and stood quietly behind her, not crowding her.
“It could just be greater knowledge and not arrogance, you know,” he said mildly.
“I thought perfect obedience was impossible. The rules set up so no one can obey.” She said, refusing to turn and look at him.
“As I said, it’s important you know the difference between Companionship and that kind of Dom-sub relationship. The difference is, I truly do want your obedience. And I want you to truly want to give it. I only have six rules,” he said. “It’s quite possible to obey them. But coming to that point will be a process for you. It takes time.”
She stepped outside. The breeze had lightened. “So I will disobey, you’re sure of that.”
“Yes,” he said.
“But you really want my obedience, sincerely,” she reiterated.
“Very much.”
She turned back to him. “And what happens when I disobey?”
“I’ll discipline you,” he said.
“Spank me, you mean.”
“That’s one form of discipline, but yes.” He regarded her thoughtfully. “But Avia, I’m going to spank you, anyway, at our first session.”
She took a step back from him. “Why is this such an obsession for you?”
“A lot of things comprise sexual exchange and arousal that men and women want to do, but you don’t call them obsessions.”
“Why do you
insist on doing that at the first session, though? Seems like at least a fixation, if not a full-on obsession.” She insisted.
He moved through the doorway and joined her in the sunlight.
“I don’t usually explain myself, but as you’re not experienced … I know you’ll disobey and earn disciplinary strokes because you’re so new to all this. I’m going to protect you from that at first, but only for a session or two,” he said.
“I don’t want your first spanking to be the disciplinary form. I want you to know how much pleasure you can derive from it. I want you to trust me, to see that I deliver on my promises. That I wouldn’t lie to you. But you must submit before that can happen.”
She moved to the balustrade and leaned back against it, crossing her arms. “Okay. Tell me exactly how you do sexual spanking so I’ll like it.”
“No.”
Surprised, her arms dropped to her sides.
In three quick strides he was close to her, dark eyes locked on hers. She felt a tingling rush as his energy swept over her. Her breath caught. Her eyes went wide. She felt his heat, his strength. His will. When he spoke, his voice was hard. Cold. Uncompromising. But his eyes seared her. Her knees weakened. Her hands went behind her to the railing, to hold herself up.
“Nothing is submitted for your approval. You don’t question, object or request. You submit.”
Avia could barely breathe. Dear God, I want him to take me right here.
He took a step back. “Your choice is to trust me. My choice is everything else.”
He walked back to the doors. “It’s time for datamining. Which is a kind of test run. I’m going to touch you intimately and observe your responses.”
Avia managed to find her voice, strained from the effort to sound normal. “You’re going to touch me. Just like that.”
“Yes, I am,” he said simply.
“Sounds pretty cold,” she managed to respond, controlling the urge to look at his hands. His fingers.
“It’s a sample of what you can expect during our time together,” he said. He took one step back toward her, his eyes scorching her. “And I guarantee, you’ll be anything but cold.” He smiled just a little. “We’ll do it now. I’ll be at my desk.”
Ben Hart disappeared into the Keep.
Well, fuck my life, Avia thought, frustrated and shocked. Godammit, godammit, GODAMMIT!! Why does he make me - I get so - why don’t I walk away?
I sound like every hapless heroine of every damned novel I read in the past week, Avia berated herself. She paced back and forth until she got sick of her own crap. That took about thirty seconds.
“I’m going to touch you intimately …”
She leaned on the railing again, needing the support. This was crazy, she’d only known him a few hours.
You took Joey home from that party in ninety minutes.
And look how that worked out.
This man’s no overgrown kid.
He hasn’t even kissed me.
Isn’t that part of touching you intimately?
….
….
I don’t know.
Do you want to find out?
….
Oh, hells, yeah.
You just flashed on him throwing you down right here in broad daylight under an open sky. He’s not mentally disturbed. Not a rapist. He seems to care about people. Women. He reminds you of yourself in a lot of ways. He’s basically a good guy and he wants to give you great sex. It’s not Of Human Bondage, it’s just experimenting with something different.
He’s inside ready to pass out a free sample. And he’s kinda hot. Okay, he’s ridiculously, scorchingly sexy. Especially when he goes all Alpha male. There. You admit it.
It’s also going to give you a hell of a lot of insight into your story. So what’s your problem? It’s not a personality transplant; it’s a behavior choice.
Ben Hart’s laptop screen showed schematics of a new handle design for a vaginal stimulator. He did stare at the screen, but no actual thoughts about the design managed to form in his mind.
What he was really doing, was waiting for Avia. What he was really thinking about, was how quickly this woman had managed to destroy his resolve not to take a new Companion. How loathe he was to allow her to leave without getting her commitment.
What he was really concentrating on was keeping his eager penis under control every time he let his thoughts stray within military drone distance of the datamine.
He heard the patio door open and close. He held his breath, the next sound could be the click of the exit door. Instead, the sound of fabric sliding over leather reached him from very close by.
He typed some nonsense on the screen. Tilted his head as if considering whether he was done. Closed the tab. Swiveled his chair to face her.
Ben gazed at her, his expression carefully neutral, waiting for her to speak. Hoping she couldn’t see his carotid pulse thumping frantically.
“Okay,” she said.
He nodded a few times, looking down as if considering how to proceed, hiding his relief and excitement.
“As I said, in order for me to decide if I’m going to offer Companionship to you,” he began, “We’ll do what I call datamining, a process that will begin momentarily.”
He was gratified to see her eyes darken at his words. He needed to know she wanted his touch.
“During the datamine, the rules will be in force.” He continued. “In this way, you’ll also be datamining. Of yourself, as well as me. Of your response to obedience and submission and the specific parameters, rules, that will be in place, should we agree to proceed.
“This is a one-off preliminary session that takes less than an hour,” he continued. “And even though the rules will apply, no disciplinary strokes can be accumulated. However, unless you take the process seriously, there’s no reason to go forward. Do you understand?”
“I think so.”
“Then we begin. Now.” He paused to see if she would ask a question or object. She simply nodded.
He let himself shift. What he’d let her glimpse outside, spread and intensified. He let her see the implacable force of will in his gaze. He straightened, leaning forward. His indigo eyes brighter, gaze assessing. His energy denser. Darker. Dominant.
Her wide-eyed gaze dropped to her lap. She rubbed her palms along her thighs. Excellent, he thought at her unconsciously submissive response.
“Look at me.” She did.
“The Rules are few but categorical. No lies, ever. One lie and we’re done. No other romantic or sexual partners. Those two rules apply to us equally. You will obey me in all things immediately without question. You will address me as ‘Sir’ or ‘Ben.’”
He waited, but she only nodded. Good girl.
“When I ask if you understand you will respond ‘yes, sir’ or ‘no, sir’ without elaboration. If I ask you to repeat, you will tell me what you believe your instructions to be. I will correct you, if necessary. Do you understand?” He waited.
She nodded. He narrowed his eyes at her. Saw her realize her mistake. “Yes, Sir.”
“You will not speak unless I require you to,” he went on. “No questions. No objections. No pleas. No requests. Especially during sex. During sex, some sounds and verbal ejaculations are to be expected, at first.
“However, you are not allowed to say ‘Oh, God.’ That is, you will not use God’s name or any other name during sex. You may use mine. You’ll say ‘Sir’ or ‘Ben.’ Do you understand?”
She swallowed and he could tell she really wanted to ask why or comment. “Yes, Sir,” was all she said. Yes.
“Finally,” he said. “Whenever you are in my presence, wherever we are, you will sit In Position. You will open your knees as far as the chair or whatever you are sitting on will allow. You will pull your skirt to six inches above your knees. Tuck it in so it does not slide back. Put your hands on the chair arms or on your thighs if the chair has no arms. Do you understand?”
Avia hesitate
d. A long moment. “Yes, Sir,” she whispered.
He was quiet. Waiting. Finally, “Do you intend to disobey me, already, Avia?”
Ben stared pointedly at her lap. The realization of what he expected caused a blush of pink to creep up her neck from her blouse. It was a big chair.
“Well?” He snapped.
“Yes, Sir.”
Avia closed her eyes and uncrossed her ankles. She slowly moved her legs apart. Further … further. She stopped when her knees connected with the chair arm supports.
She slid her skirt up, gathering it as she did. It was a long, full, skirt.
He stared directly between her legs. She felt the heat in her face deepen. He was waiting for her … panties … to come into view. She felt her respirations increase as the hem of her skirt cleared her knees by a couple inches. Then the darker line of her stocking tops appeared. Enough. It would have to do. She stopped.
She began to tuck the sides of her skirt under her thighs -
“- Stop,” he ordered. Avia froze.
“You disobeyed me.” He said in a voice both smooth and dangerous. “You did it consciously and willfully moments after you said you would obey. In the normal course of Companionship, you would have earned four disciplinary strokes.
“That won’t happen now,” he said. “What will happen is you will raise your skirt until I tell you to stop. Or you can leave.”
Ben kept his gaze fixed between her legs, waiting for her to comply. She won’t leave. She wants this. But she had to learn it was no game.
He’d seen the evidence of humiliation in her blush. What he needed to know now, is what form her humiliation took. One form was a serious issue that would make Companionship out of the question. It derived from a self-loathing often tied to some kind of abuse. Proceeding with such a person only guaranteed them more trauma.
The other form of humiliation was a natural reaction to cultural norms and personal levels of modesty. That kind was a useful tool in creating sexual arousal. Ben needed to know which this was as soon as possible, in case he had to abort his pursuit of Companionship with her.
Avia had again begun to slide her skirt up her thighs. Slowly. He knew she was hoping he would stop her mid-thigh. He would not. He was not going to stop her until her pubic mound was fully exposed to the light. To him.
