by AE Lister
When the doorbell finally rang, I felt a sense of relief and anticipation…and also dread. Because I’d protected myself from anything like this for so long, I was scared to get back in the game.
By my watch, it was nine o’clock on the dot.
I schooled my features and opened the door.
“Vincent, you’re on time,” I said with a neutral expression. Merely a statement of fact, not approval.
“Hello, Sir.”
“Come in. Take off your shoes and hang up your jacket, please.” I backed up, letting him into my small entryway.
“Wow, this is really nice,” he said, looking around at my home while I tried to adjust to the weirdness of having this attractive young man in my living space. He didn’t make me nervous at all, just pissed off. Why did he have to be so cute? Seriously, Daphne, I’m legit going to kill you for this. She knew how much I’d like him. I felt like I’d been set up.
“Thank you. Have you eaten today?” Why not get right to business? It would take my mind off the fact that I found him so hot, because that was irrelevant at the moment.
“Huh?”
“Have you had anything to eat, Vincent?”
He finished hanging his jacket and followed me through the living room to the kitchen. “No. I don’t usually eat breakfast. I brushed my teeth, though,” he assured me.
I felt a hint of amusement at this reassurance but didn’t show it. That wouldn’t do. “Sit down.”
He did. “Oh, you don’t have to make me breakfast or anything, Sir,” he said. “I’m not really hungry in the morning.”
I didn’t respond, just finished putting the coffee on and reached into the cupboard for a plate. I opened the bread box and took out a cranberry muffin, peeling the wrapper and cutting it in half. I placed the half-muffin on the plate and put it on the table in front of him, then took the opposite chair.
“I want you to eat breakfast if you’re coming to my place. It’s important to keep your energy up and it’s a healthy thing to do anyway.” I sat back in my chair and observed him.
He didn’t argue, just looked at the muffin. “Okay.”
“Do you have any food allergies?”
“No.”
“Good. After you eat that, we’ll chat.” I folded my arms over my chest and listened to the coffeemaker spitting and growling.
He picked up the muffin and took a bite, chewing slowly. He looked at the table and seemed a little bit pissed off, but he did what I’d asked of him, a slight blush creeping up his neck, like he was starting to wonder what he’d gotten himself into.
It was one thing to submit to sexual dominance, another to do what you were told about random things, but he might as well get used to it. He was to do what I told him, period. Right now, as a guest in my home, he was free to tell me to go fuck myself and walk out. Actually, he could always do that, but I hoped he wouldn’t. Or did I hope he would? He looked entirely too good sitting at my table in black jeans and a gray cotton shirt.
When he’d finished eating, I took the plate away and poured fresh coffee into the two mugs. “What do you take in your coffee?”
“Cream and sugar, please.”
Ah, a sweet tooth. I would make use of that later. “I have milk, not cream. Will that do?”
“Yes, Sir. Thank you.”
I brought the mugs to the table and sat down again. “Did you have any trouble finding the place?”
He shook his head. “No. I looked it up on my phone.”
“Did you drive or take the bus?”
“Uber. My car kind of died on me and I can’t afford to get it fixed.”
“I see.”
“Thanks for the muffin. I kind of got in the habit of not eating until lunch.”
I shrugged. “I don’t care what you do when you’re not coming here. That’s your business. But if you’re planning to see me, I want you eating properly.”
“Yes, Sir.”
“And most of the time, you will be serving me food, not the other way around.”
A tiny little quirk moved the corner of his mouth, and the blush spread. “Of course. Sir.”
We drank our coffees and I tried not to stare at him too much, tried not to look at the way his brown hair fell in soft waves across his eyebrows, the way his chin curved and jutted gracefully beneath those perfect pink lips, the way his arms rested gently on the table. He had attractive hands with long, guitar-player fingers. Perhaps even better for piano?
“Do you play the piano, Vincent?”
He blinked. “No, Sir. Why?”
“Your fingers are the right length for it. Not everyone can, but you’d be well suited to it. Do you have any interest in learning?”
He smiled, and it smacked me in the chest the way it lit him up. “Actually, yeah. I just haven’t really had the time, you know?”
I nodded, my brain already wrapping around this idea. “If you have the time to be my submissive on weekends, you have the time to learn the piano.”
“Yes, Sir. Really? You can teach me?”
I gave him the tiniest hint of a smile. “Yeah. I have an MA in music from the University of Ottawa.”
He seemed surprised by this information. I guess Daphne hadn’t told him much about me.
“Wow. I’m feeling really intimidated now.” He glanced down at the table, then met my gaze. “I like it.”
I swallowed hard and tried to tamp down my sudden arousal. I needed to be good and not get distracted. “Good. I plan to intimidate you fairly often.”
His eyes widened and he swallowed, hard and shifted in his chair.
All to the good.
“Yes, Sir. Thank you, Sir.”
So fucking polite. I wanted to crack that politeness wide open and find the real Vincent underneath—the rude one, the indecent one, the raw and needy one.
“But shouldn’t I be paying you, if you’re going to teach me piano?”
I shook my head. “Not if it’s part of what we’re doing here. Part of the way you’ll serve me is by learning to play the piano. It’s not easy. It takes practice and dedication. But if you put in the time, it can be very rewarding.”
He thought about that. “Okay.”
“That work for you?”
“Yes. I think so. Only…”
“Yes?”
“I mean, I just…”
I stared hard at him. “Vincent, you need to be honest with me if this is going to work. What do you want to know?”
“I mean, will I have rules when I’m here?” The innocence of this query disarmed me. “I want to have rules.”
This time I truly did smile. I lifted my coffee to my lips and sipped. Then I placed my mug down. “Yes, you will have rules.”
I heard him sigh, as if with relief. “What are they?”
I gazed at him a little longer, realizing that this was where it would begin. If I didn’t want any part of this, I needed to say so. Instead, I stood up and walked over to the counter, picked up a notepad and pen and returned to the table.
“That’s what we need to figure out today. What rules will work for you and what rules won’t. I don’t want to set you up for failure.” It had been a long time since I’d done this, but the feeling of order and control was familiar and reassuring. I’d missed it, if I were being honest.
“Okay. Thank you.” He looked down at his feet, then back up at me. The honesty in his gaze was terrifying. “I like to follow rules.”
“I can tell. I mean, that’s why you’re here, right?”
“Right.”
I nodded, trying to be open and as friendly as possible in this circumstance. “You’re in luck, because I like to impose them.”
He laughed then blushed even more. “What you asked me, before, at Starbucks? About whether I wanted to be dominated sexually?” His eyes were burning orbs and I struggled to protect myself from that energy. “The answer is yes. It’s actually hell, yes.”
Chapter Three
I, too, felt a sexual pu
ll between us but I couldn’t possibly acknowledge it yet. It was too soon and I didn’t want to.
“That’s good to know. But neither of us are ready for that yet.”
He looked disappointed. “Okay. Sure.”
I needed to clarify. “Look… If you’re a natural submissive, which I suspect you are, you might get any amount of sexual enjoyment from the things we’re going to start with, even though what I get you to do won’t be immediately connected to your sexual responses. Please feel free to become aroused at anything we do. I won’t penalize you for that.”
The wrinkles in his forehead smoothed. “Thank God.”
I raised my eyebrows. “I don’t care if you get hard, but you’d better not come from doing my dishes dressed in a miniskirt and tank top or the punishment will be severe.”
He visibly shuddered at those words. Oh hell, this boy is perfect. He would struggle to keep this platonic while I enjoyed every moment of watching him. I could tell he was imagining just what punishment I might dole out for a little premature ejaculation at the kitchen sink.
Fuck me. I am so doomed.
He swallowed thickly, and I knew he was sporting wood at my kitchen table. “Yes, Sir.”
We needed to get this formalized and soon. I lifted my pen.
“Okay, so my rules… Please let me know if you have any problem with what I am telling you.”
He nodded.
“The most important rule is honesty. We need to be honest with each other to make any of this work. And, by honesty, I mean total honesty. If I ask you how my hair looks and it looks like shit because I forgot to rinse out the conditioner, I expect you to tell me that. Respectfully, of course.”
“Is that… Is that likely?” he asked, which almost made me laugh, but I caught myself before it happened.
“That I’ll forget to rinse out my conditioner or that I’ll ever ask you how my hair looks?”
“Um, either?”
“No. It’s just an example, Vincent. Total honesty, all right? Don’t worry about hurting my feelings, just be respectfully honest about yours. Got it?”
“Got it.”
“I don’t even use conditioner. I don’t have time for that shit.”
He laughed softly, and I couldn’t help smiling. God help me, he was adorable.
“I want you to eat properly on the days you come here. But we’ve already discussed that.”
He nodded.
“I want you to shower before coming over. Although we won’t be doing anything overtly sexual, you may not be wearing many clothes, so I’d like you to be clean and groomed. By groomed I mean freshly shaved on the face, pubes trimmed or shaved. I don’t care which. You can leave your armpits alone but make sure you use antiperspirant. You should bring some with you because you will be doing physical labor and I might ask you to reapply.”
He licked his lips.
“No underwear, please.”
He blinked. “I thought this wasn’t going to be sexual.”
“It’s not a sexual request. I’m asking you to disobey social norms in a way that will make you feel vulnerable. Got a problem with it?”
He shook his head. “Nope.”
“Good. Next…you do what I tell you to do, without argument, unless you have a real problem with it, in which case you may safeword. Would you like to pick your own safeword or would you like me to pick one for you?”
He thought about that for a moment. “I’d like you to pick one, Sir.”
I’d already picked one for him and was hoping he’d want me to. “Fine. Your safeword is ‘latté’.”
He looked embarrassed.
“Can you remember that?”
He gazed at me. “Yes, I think I can remember that, Sir.”
Sarcasm. I raised my eyebrow and tilted my head.
“I’m sorry, Sir. ‘Latté’ is fine. I can remember that.”
“Good. You can always default to ‘Starbucks’. Either is fine.”
His lip quirked. So did mine. Oh, we are two peas in a pod.
“Yes, Sir.”
“We need to discuss what you’re willing to do for me, Vincent. I don’t want to make you too uncomfortable—at least, not at the beginning.”
I wanted to make him just uncomfortable enough. Later, after I’d gotten to know him well, I could try to push him past his soft limits…never past his hard ones. But I needed to know what those were.
“Let’s start with soft limits. We’re not talking about anything sexual right now. We’ll revisit this when I’m comfortable, if I’m comfortable, taking that next step with you. So, basic stuff. I should start by asking if you have any medical issues that might interfere with your performance or that might require some adjustments on my part. Any chronic illness that I need to be concerned with?”
“No, Sir. Nothing. I’m healthy.”
“Do you get regular exercise?”
“Yes, I go to the gym three times a week and I like to run.”
“Excellent. I’m going to proffer some scenarios and I want you to tell me if they appeal to you, don’t appeal to you or are completely not your thing. Please be honest. Your answers will guide me over our first few weekends together.”
He nodded.
“Just say ‘good’ if you like the idea, ‘okay’ if it’s something acceptable and ‘nope’ If it’s something you don’t want to take part in.”
“Yes, Sir.”
I marked something down on my notepad. “Okay.” I gave him an encouraging smile. “No wrong answers.”
He smiled.
“We’ll start off with standard stuff. I tell you to take all your clothes off and scrub my bathtub while I watch.”
He blushed. “Okay.”
I nodded, wrote that down. “I tell you to sort all the clothes in my dresser by color. You can keep your clothes on.”
“Okay.”
“I tell you to dress in lingerie and cook me dinner.”
He inhaled with an unintended whistle. “Good.”
Uh-huh. “I pick out some lingerie that you are to wear under your clothes and make you go grocery shopping with me.”
He put his hand to his forehead. “G-good.”
More writing. The next thing I said without looking up, because I was pretty sure what his answer would be. “I dress you in something pretty and make you sit for a piano lesson.”
I heard what sounded like a breathy whimper. “Good,” he said in a high-pitched voice.
“Excellent. Well, at least we know where to start.”
He shifted in his chair and gripped the edge of the table. “I’m really hard right now, just imagining all those things.”
I looked up and met his eyes. “How interesting. Thank you for telling me. I want you to tell me these things during our sessions. It’s important that I know, even though neither of us is going to do anything about it.”
He swallowed. “Yes, Sir.”
I sat back, putting my pen down. “How about you strip for me right now. I’d like to see what I’m working with, in terms of visual enjoyment.”
He stared at me for a long moment.
“Feel free to safeword. If you like, we can wait until next weekend to begin.”
He shook his head slowly. “No, I…” Then he pushed his chair back and stood, his fingers going to the buttons on his shirt. “I still don’t see how this isn’t sexual, Sir.”
I grinned. “It isn’t sexual, because I’m able to appreciate the beauty of a naked man without it necessarily being sexual. In fact, I’m generally only sexual with women.”
“It feels sexual to me,” he said, blushing as he unbuttoned and peeled back his shirt.
“I don’t really have power over your perceptions of what we do here. In any case, that doesn’t bother me. It can be sexual to you but not to me. Don’t worry about it. Unless you don’t want to do what I’m asking, in which case, use your safeword.”
“Okay. Thank you, Sir.”
My eyes raked his torso as he
snaked the shirt off his arms and balled it up in his hands.
“Fold it and put it on the chair.”
He shook it out and folded it properly, placing it on the chair.
“That’s better. Now, pants,” I said, straightforward and pragmatic. I really wasn’t doing this for my own enjoyment, but for his. At least, that’s what I told myself as I watched his fingers go to the button on his jeans. He hesitated.
“Is there a problem?”
“I’m wearing boxer briefs. I didn’t know…”
He was so sweet. “How could you know? It’s okay this time.”
He nodded then undid his jeans and pushed them down, stepping out of them. He folded them and placed them on the chair with his shirt.
I could tell he felt uncomfortable but I was sure he’d stripped for Daphne. Was it me or just the fact that we were virtual strangers?
He started to push his boxer briefs down. I could see the outline of his erection underneath the fabric.
“Wait a second.”
He looked down at himself but raised his eyes curiously to me. “Sir?”
In that moment I felt it—my arousal at the innocence in his expression as he waited for my next instruction and at the way he looked in his boxer briefs, which was pretty fucking amazing. But I tamped it down immediately and got back to business.
“How are you feeling right now?”
He blushed. “I’m…nervous.”
“Why? Surely Daphne had you naked most of the time if I know anything about her.”
He seemed confused, and those little wrinkles formed on his forehead again. “Yeah, but she was, I don’t know… She was a stereotypical Dominatrix and I kind of knew what to expect. I don’t really know what to expect with you.”
That made sense. “What are you nervous about, exactly? What I’m going to do once you’re naked? I already told you we’re not stepping anywhere near the sexual arena today.”
“No, it’s not that.” He played with the waistband of his boxer briefs. His erection didn’t flag one bit from this line of questioning, I was pleased to see. He was still into this…big time.
I softened my voice and stood up. I needed to be closer. “What is it then?”
His eyes widened and he dropped his hands. “I’m nervous…about what you think of me. Of my…body. What if you don’t like it?”
