A scene from Hale’s point of view…
Her responses have all been perfect in their delicate submission. The slight dip of her chin, the lowering of her eyes to the floor, the pink flush of her cheeks at my vulgar language. Things are going better than anticipated, and I’m a happy man at the moment, though my expression remains cool and neutral, so as not to give anything away.
I’d pushed her to make a decision, told her that I had droves of women waiting in line, which is true, but I’d clear my schedule in a heartbeat for the chance to work with her. There’s just something about her that draws me in, makes me want a taste.
“Aren’t you going to order a drink?” she asks, noting the plain water in front of me.
I rarely drink alcohol. I don’t like to give up the control. But this beautiful creature before me doesn’t need to know such a personal detail. “I’m fine. Are there other things you want to know?”
She nods, and a little crease between her brows while she thinks about what to ask me. “Why do you do this? This mentoring thing?”
“You want to know if I’m a normal guy and what I get out of this, right?”
She nods. “Yes, basically.”
I tilt my head to the side, considering her quizzical look. “Trust me, it’s a question I get often. I get it.” I take a moment, glancing around at our surroundings before responding. “I have a high-powered, stressful corporate job. I found BDSM a few years ago and it felt like home.” I won’t tell her about the personal tragedy that led me there. “Many Doms have a single sub – a partner to explore this lifestyle with, and since I haven’t found that one right fit yet, this is my way of staying active in the community and, honestly, I enjoy teaching. It’s very gratifying to me to see a woman reach her potential, to watch her let go of all her insecurities and blossom under my guidance.”
Even for men not involved in the lifestyle, I’ve found that by and large, men are attracted to women who are able to submit. Not weak, timid women without opinions and original thought. No, we want a strong woman who can match our wit and intellect and stamina in and out of the bedroom, I’m referring to a woman who is confident enough in herself and her sexuality that she’s not afraid to leave her ego at the door and let me push all her boundaries. A woman who will drop to her knees at my command and trust me to handle every detail. That is sexy as fuck. And that’s what I aim to teach the women I mentor.
Brielle is looking at me with a sort of awe. “That’s beautiful, actually,” she says, surprising the shit out of me. I’m no saint, I teach women how to fuck like porn stars for my own personal benefit, as well as their own, but I nod at the compliment.
A scene from Brielle’s point of view…
I’m lost in his eyes, in his deep, watchful stare, wondering what will happen next. He’s in no hurry to rush this meeting, and I’m appreciative of that. This is all so new for me, I want to soak up every detail.
“Did you do what I asked?” His voice is soft and controlled. It’s the kind of voice that washes over you, making you feel warm and desirable. I could listen to him speak for hours.
“What do you mean?” My heart begins to hammer like it knows something I don’t.
He leans in closer. My pulse pounds in my ears as he draws near. His gaze never wavers. Never strays from mine. Being in his presence is overwhelming. He’s so strong and sure, as I suppose a Dom is, but I had no idea it would feel like this. I can feel my body heating up, growing warm for him. He hasn’t even touched me, hasn’t spoken a single word yet, and it’s as if he owns me. He could do anything he wanted and I’d mold to his wishes. His eyes remain on mine and though my natural response is to look away, I don’t. This is a test and one that I very much want to pass. It’s as though he can read me with a single look. Those warm mocha-colored eyes just dismantled me like a bomb.
“Your panties,” he says, coolly after several minutes. “Go into the bathroom and take them off. Place them into your purse and bring them to me.”
Say what now?
In his email he’d asked me to wear red panties, and it was a point I fought with myself over. I didn’t own a red panty and bra set. And I knew he’d never see them anyways – this being the first time we’ve met, and my general sense of modesty. So, why in the love of God, I’d rushed out to Victoria’s Secret at the last minute last night and bought a red g-string and push-up bra, I couldn’t explain. Maybe my subconscious anticipated this moment.
“I can’t just go take off my panties in a public restroom.” I meet his icy stare with an incredulous look of my own.
He raises his chin. “The choice is yours. I need to know you’re dedicated to this. To me.”
This was apparently my first test. And my stupid type-A personality not only wanted to pass. I wanted to ace it.
I rise from the table on shaky legs. He watches me while I lift my purse from the seat beside me and exit the booth. I feel wicked and dangerous, and I suppress a naughty giggle. I like this side of me that so rarely comes out to play. I could see this feeling becoming addicting. A smirk is slashed across my face when I enter the ladies room. My cheeks are stained with two splotches of pink and there’s a mischievous glint in my eyes. We’ve hardly begun working together and I feel like a different woman already. Funny how taking control of your life will do that to you.