Nov. 16, 2013. Lynn Lane, Tulsa, OK.
Lily
This was not how I would normally spend my Saturday evening. Occasionally, I would find myself at a club for this event or that, but more often Saturdays were me time, reserved for putting pajamas on early, eating ice cream and watching an episode of Sons of Anarchy from my DVR. Saturdays were not for first sessions with new clients.
This particular client, however, was something different, different enough for me to schedule a session for the very day after our first meeting. It was practical, I reasoned; he traveled for work, he said, and wouldn’t be in town for long. Whatever the reason, I was on the edge of my seat waiting for him to arrive, anxiously plotting how to get the most out of this initial session.
There was something about this Zachary, something that intrigued me. In order for this to work, I needed to know him better. It was nothing personal, not really. It was a simple fact that I could do my job better when I understood a client, really got under their skin and learned what made them tick. With Zac, I wasn’t so sure any of that would be easy, but I had a feeling it would be worth it.
Right on time, the doorbell rang. I pulled myself from the couch and brushed off my jeans. I had opted for black jeans and a black tank top; comfortable, casual and just goth enough to satisfy the sort of clients who expected that from their Domme. It wasn’t really about me, though; I could have worn the rattiest old sweatpants I owned and still done my job well. Was I trying to impress Zac? I didn’t think so, but then again, I had put on a full face of makeup.
Pushing those thoughts aside, I strode to the door and pulled it open. Sure enough, there stood Zachary. He looked deceptively normal in his jeans and t-shirt, the only hint of abnormality his long hair, hanging loose and still slightly damp, presumably from a recent shower, on his shoulders.
I looked him up and down one more time, then smiled. “Glad you made it on time. I’m big on punctuality. Come on in.”
He smiled politely, but didn’t speak as he followed me into the house. I lead the way to the living room in silence.
“Now, I suppose we will move this to the playroom later,” I said, motioning toward the couch, “but for now, why don’t we have a seat out here? Make yourself comfortable.”
“Okay,” Zac replied, but stared at me for a moment, seeming to contemplate my words as though there might be sort of trick in them. Finally, he sat down gingerly on the edge of my large, overstuffed couch.
I sat down next to him, close but not too close–just enough distance to maintain a sense of professional distance and remind him that our relationship was truly not personal. “I know we got to know each other a little bit yesterday, but I thought it would be a good idea to talk a little more. And of course, to lay down a few more ground rules for you. Since you are a fan of rules.”
Zac gave the faintest of smirks. “Fair enough.”
“Okay,” I said, then took a deep breath. “Well, once we actually begin the session—right now doesn’t count—no speaking unless you’re spoken to. I’m not going to insist on being called Mistress or anything like that, but you’re free to call me that if it strikes your fancy.”
“Alright,” Zac replied.
“Are you nervous, Zac?” I asked, my tone a bit softer than what I would normally use with a client. He was strangely quiet, yet I got the feeling he wasn’t normally a quiet person at all.
“No,” he replied, his eyes quickly shifting off to stare at the wall. It was a nice wall, but he wasn’t here to admire the décor.
“I’m not sure I believe that,” I replied. “And I’d appreciate it if you looked at me while we’re talking. In fact, let’s make that a rule, shall we?”
He gave a short sigh, but brought his eyes back to my face. “Okay.”
“I know the first time with a new Domme, especially in a situation like this, is nerve wracking. But I want you to be comfortable with me. I had hoped that talking a little more would help with that.”
Zac’s eyes fell to the floor, but flickered upward quickly. “Okay… I’ll try.”
“I’ll let you slide on that one.” I smirked. “But just this once.”
Zac gave the faintest of smirks of his own. “Thanks.”
“You are quite polite. I like that.”
He shrugged. “Just how I was raised, I guess. Always be nice to girls.”
“And you should certainly always be nice to your Domme.” Now we were getting somewhere. I could tell that there must have been a million layers to this boy, but getting him to peel back even one was seeming to be a Herculean feat.
He nodded, perhaps a bit eagerly, but not enough to give much away.
“Good.” I grinned. “I’m glad we’re in agreement about that. It should go without saying, of course, that you’ll be punished if you aren’t polite to me. Yes ma’am, no ma’am and thank you will be the biggest parts of your vocabulary while you’re here.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
I ignored the smirk on his lips at those words and continued with the formalities. “Hmm, what other ground rules do we have… well, of course, you need to be on time. Being late is definitely grounds for punishment. And I think that’s enough to start with. You seem fairly well behaved… so far.”
His smirk grew. “Yes, ma’am.”
“Now, I know you came here to be punished,” I said, lowering my voice. I inched across the couch, closing the distance between us until our legs just barely brushed. “I suppose the question is… what am I punishing you for?”
His smirk faltered. Perhaps he felt that was too personal of a question. More often than not, I was sure the stories my clients told me were nothing more than the product of their imagination, but perhaps my gut feeling about Zachary was right. Perhaps there was something deep and dark lurking beneath his surface.
“I’ve… I’ve thought things,” he finally replied, his voice little more than a whisper. “Things I shouldn’t.”
“I see,” I replied. “I’m not trying to make you uncomfortable, Zac, but I do expect you to answer my questions. Gotta be sure the punishment fits the crime, so to speak.”
He nodded. “Yes, ma’am.”
“So,” I said, with a soft smile on my face to let him know this was still, for all intents and purposes, a game, “would you like to elaborate on those thoughts?”
His brow furrowed slightly. “I’ve thought about certain… people. People I shouldn’t be thinking about.”
“Someone you shouldn’t want?” I suggested.
He hesitated, as if considering whether or not to be honest, then nodded.
“Well, that certainly is naughty,” I replied, smirking just a bit. “What do you think about?”
“Being with them,” Zac replied. With a sigh, he added, “physically.”
I nodded. He really was proving to be a difficult nut to crack, although I couldn’t tell if he was being deliberately obtuse or not. “Mhm. So you fantasize about them.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he said softly.
“So…” I said, adopting a faux thoughtful look. “Fantasizing about someone you shouldn’t want. I think that definitely calls for punishment.”
Zac nodded, his eyes showing just a bit of eagerness.
I gave him a reassuring smile. “Okay, then. I suppose we should get started on the punishment, then, since that is why you’re here. Follow me.”
I stood up and gave a nod toward the hallway. Zac stood and gave me a wide grin. “Yes, ma’am.”
The playroom was just down the hallway, as close to the front of the house as I could get it. I didn’t always schedule sessions at my house; there were clubs in Tulsa that rented rooms for this sort of thing. When I did feel safe enough with a client to bring them into my home, I still didn’t want to bring them all the way into my personal space. At least I knew that if anything went wrong, there were any number of weapons at my disposal.
The room was mostly bare and serviceable. A large bed occupied most of the space. I had laid out a few toys on the dresser, and others still hung on the wall, adding a bit of rather macabre décor that always amused me. Zac’s face was surprisingly blank as he glanced around and took in his surroundings.
“Well, here we are,” I said, closing the door behind us. “I like to keep things pretty simple, unless the situation calls for something more… elaborate.”
He nodded, his face still betraying little to no emotion.
“Now, let’s see…” I said, eying him carefully. “I think we’ll begin with you stripping down for me. Everything off, then on your stomach on the bed.”
Having my clients strip down to nothing wasn’t strictly necessary, depending on the chosen punishment, but it did add to the humiliation. I usually tried not to stare, but it was difficult. Zac was gorgeous.
His body was a mixture of hard and soft. His smile could be sweet, but a flicker of something darker shone in his eyes every so often, and although his features were all a bit unusual, they combined together surprisingly well. There were well-developed muscles on his arms and thighs but a hint of baby fat still lingering on his stomach. His skin was smooth and mostly hairless, aside from a happy trail, seemingly made from spun gold, that led down to a cock that was impressively long and thick even though he was clearly unaroused at the moment. Goosebumps, either because of cold, embarrassment or both, began to break out across his arms, which he crossed over his midsection in an attempt to cover himself.
Perhaps what surprised me the most was the tattoo across his chest. Right over the heart chakra—which I assumed was intentional—he sported an om symbol in white ink. It was large but subtle enough to be missed under most shirts. Aside from his long hair, which I hated to admit wanting to run my fingers through, it was the only unconventional thing about his appearance. Again, I had that niggling feeling that there really was more beneath his surface than he let on.
“Very good,” I said curtly, trying my best to stay professional even though he had managed to take me by surprise. “On the bed now.”
He lay on his stomach across the bed, but turned his head toward me. From that angle, I had an eyeful of the handiwork of what looked like more than one other Dom. Even though his chest and back were already covered in bruises and scratches, he was still easily my best looking client ever. I almost hated to add to the rainbow of injuries he had, but that was, after all, what he was paying me for.
Trying not to think too much about my sudden reservations, I decided instead to make a bit of a joke. “Well, then. Looks like someone else has beaten me to you. Pun intended.”
He stared up at me, seeming to debate whether or not he was meant to laugh at this. Finally, he settled for, “Yes, ma’am.”
“You’ve been good for me so far, though,” I remarked, tracing the bruises with a fingertip. If only I could follow them like a map… “I think this time we’ll just get a handle on what your limits are, okay? Have you used a flogger before?”
“No, ma’am,” he replied. That surprised me a bit, but many of his marks did look more like they had been inflicted by a traditional whip, and even a few perhaps from a cane.
“Well, floggers are my favorite,” I said. “So I think that’s the perfect place to start.”
Zac nodded in agreement, and I turned toward the wall where a few of my favorites hung waiting. It was a bit cliché, perhaps, but I couldn’t resist choosing a hot pink one. It looked sweet and cute, but had a deceptively strong bite.
With a smile spreading across my face, I turned back to Zac. “I think you’ll like this one.”
He blinked, as though in disbelief of what he was seeing, then rolled his eyes. It was a slight movement, but I was sure I hadn’t imagined it.
“I’m sorry, did I just see you roll your eyes?” I knew the answer, of course, but I wanted to give him one last chance to be honest. He seemed like a smart guy, but perhaps he was just the type who liked to fight back and truly earn his licks.
He swallowed visibly, but didn’t respond.
“Rolling your eyes and not answering a question? You’re not off to a very good start, I’m afraid.”
Zac’s lips twitched, and for a moment, I thought he was going to argue. Just when I thought he was going to prove himself that much of a smartass sub, he said, “Sorry, ma’am.”
I cleared my throat. “That’s better. Now, perhaps I wasn’t clear enough about how you need to behave, but eye rolling is definitely out. Shall we make that a new rule? No eye rolling.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“That’s better,” I replied. “Now, I think… hmm, shall we say ten lashes for that little bit of misbehavior? As for the rest of your punishment, I suppose we’ll see how you handle those and proceed from there, but I’m sure you can handle it. Understood?”
“Yes, ma’am,” he replied.
“Good.” I smiled. “Let’s begin, then.”
Zac shivered as I stepped in closer, coming right to the side of the bed and staring down at him. There was precious little unmarred skin left on his back, so I was going to have be very careful; that was why I had picked a rather pitifully small number of lashes to start.
Finally, I picked a spot and brought the flogger down with a satisfying little crack. The noise was deceptive; it often sounded worse than it truly felt. The human mind was easily swayed, though, and the louder it sounded, the more the sub was convinced it hurt. Sure enough, Zac winced visibly, far more than I thought anyone with his apparent pain threshold ought to.
“Now, that was just one,” I said. “I’m sure you can handle more. If you’re going to misbehave, you’ve got to take the punishment, don’t you?”
I didn’t wait for an answer before picking another spot and bringing the flogger down again. He tensed, but nodded slightly.
“Good boy,” I remarked.
I resumed flogging him, enjoying the way his skin turned a similar shade of pink to the flogger itself. The marks on his back were mostly still fresh, but they displayed a wide variety of colors and patterns. Adding my own to them was strangely satisfying, a perverse work of art, and I couldn’t help smiling as I gently massaged the spots I had hit.
“Now, that wasn’t so bad, was it?” I asked. “You think you can handle a few more? For being so naughty and thinking about that person…”
Zac nodded eagerly. “Yes, ma’am.”
“I think twenty more seems fair,” I replied. “For now.”
Zac nodded his agreement with that.
I took a moment to assess the situation before settling on his upper back. Staying clear of his surprisingly toned shoulders and arms, I gave a few quick lashes before falling into a nice rhythm. I could almost lose myself in the sound of it, but I knew I had to stay alert.
“You’re doing very well,” I remarked, the sound of my own voice helping me to focus. “I’m sure we’ll have no trouble getting you to behave better and be a good boy…”
Zac gave an aborted snort, obviously realizing his mistake only a moment too late.
“Shall we add a few extra lashes for that?” I asked. “I’m sure I wasn’t trying to be funny that time.”
“Sorry, ma’am,” he mumbled.
“Just five extra, then,” I replied, giving him the sweetest smile I could manage. “Since you apologized.”
I found my rhythm again, delivering the last few lashes with renewed purpose. He was certainly going to be a challenge, but I thought I was up to it. Most of my clients were easy to read, their needs practically written all over them. A part of me wasn’t so sure that Zac didn’t need a therapist more than a Domme, but the two jobs weren’t mutually exclusive.
A thought occurred to me. While this was just a job, and I never truly wanted to hurt my any of clients, Zac was different. What he needed, I realized, was healing. Whether or not I could provide that, only time would tell.
As the last crack of the flogger faded into silence, I let it fall to the side and ran my hands softly across the bright red marks.
“There we are then,” I said softly. “Not so bad, hmm?”
“N-no, ma’am,” he said, the words coming out in something just above a whisper.
“Good,” I replied, massaging his shoulders lightly, then giving him a soft pat on the back. “You can get dressed now.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he said, but seemed hesitant to do so. It had been a fairly short session, but it was, I thought, a decent introduction for both of us.
I sat down on the edge of the bed, trying but ultimately failing not to watch him as he redressed. He turned quickly, but I still caught sight of the hard-on he was now sporting. Ith wasn’t particularly surprising, all things considered. I quickly diverted my eyes as he pulled his jeans up, but I couldn’t look away for long. The muscles in his arms strained as he pulled on his t-shirt, his face screwed up in a look of pain.
“A little sore, huh?” I asked, smirking.
“A little.”
“Why don’t you have a seat?” I asked. “Or lay down, if you’d like. Just relax for a little while, yeah?”
Zac nodded, and gingerly sat down next to me. I could see he was hesitant to be so close to me after we had shared something so intimate, but I never let a client leave until I was sure they were fully recovered and capable of getting home safely.
“I know it probably seems like I started you off pretty gently,” I said softly. “You were already quite bruised, though. And we’re just getting started. But you handled that well.”
He nodded, then opened his mouth to speak. No sounds came out but a small squeak that might have been the beginning of a word.
“Yes?” I prodded.
“I’m used to taking more than that.”
“I see.” And I did see. The evidence was written all over his skin, and I wasn’t so sure his previous Dom—if there had been just one—had been all that careful with him. There could be a far, far too fine line between sadism and abuse, and it was a line I was determined never to cross. “Well, we can certainly do more next time.”
Zac frowned, but gave a slight nod.
“Is something wrong?”
“No, ma’am,” he replied slowly.
“Are you sure?” I asked. “I can’t stress enough how important it is that you communicate with me. You’re free to talk now, by the way.”
He sighed. “I guess I just expected… more. I mean, no offense.”
“None taken,” I replied, smirking just a bit. “I’ll admit, I do like to start off gently. Don’t want to scare anyone off.”
Zac snorted. “No chance of that with me.”
“Mmm, but you seem so timid,” I replied, my smirk growing. Shy and slow to open up, perhaps, but timid? Some might get that impression, but I thought I already knew better.
He raised an eyebrow and gave me a smirk of his own. “Looks can be deceiving.”
“I suppose so,” I replied. “I mean, I suppose I look the part now, but if you saw me at the grocery store in sweats? Not so intimidating then.”
“Who says you’re all that intimidating now?” Zac smirked.
“I’ll remember that for next time,” I replied, giving him a careful stare.
He fell silent then. I offered him a bottle of water or a snack of some sort, but our session hadn’t been intense enough to really warrant much of that. He seemed happy just to sit in companionable silence, and that was fine by me. He settled in closer to my side, and I finally gave in to that urge to run my fingers through his hair. It was just as deliciously soft as I had imagined.
“How are you feeling, then?” I asked softly, almost hating myself for breaking the silence. “Other than, obviously, being a little sore.”
He looked thoughtful, then sighed. “Same as I’ve felt for a while. Not really bad, but not good either. Just… here.”
“I see,” I replied, but I didn’t really. Somehow I knew he still wasn’t being fully honest with me, but I didn’t feel it was the right time to call him on that. Given time of his own to accept that I wasn’t here to judge him, perhaps he would open up.
After a moment, he seemed to relax a bit more. Not meeting my eyes, he said softly, “I… I work with the person.”
“Oh, I see,” I replied, trying to sound casual. Whether Zac realized it or not, even this little admission was a big deal. He had hinted, although not specifically said, that he was some sort of musician. While I doubted that dating a coworker in a touring band was frowned upon the way it was in a traditional office setting, I could still see how it would be awkward. “That would definitely make your thoughts… inappropriate.”
He nodded, but didn’t speak.
“Does this… person… know?” I asked softly. I had noticed how he never used a pronoun for them, and I didn’t think that was an accident. There was, I had noticed, no ring on his hand, nor any sign of a tan line where one might have been.
He closed his eyes, brow furrowing slightly, and nodded.
“Ah…” I sighed out, seeing the situation just a bit more clearly. “Well, I’m not your therapist, Zac, but I certainly have my ways of helping you deal with those… thoughts.”
He gave a hint of a smirk, and I was pleased that we had lightened the mood a bit.
“Now…” I said, returning his smirk. “I’m assuming these thoughts are sexual, hmm?”
“Yes, ma’am,” Zac replied softly.
I nodded, unsurprised. “And I’m guessing they aren’t just thoughts, are they? I mean, thinking isn’t all you’re doing.”
“No, ma’am,” he replied slowly, but I was sure he knew where I was going with this, and I was sure it was exactly what he wanted and needed.
“Well, we can’t have that, can we? That’s definitely naughty.”
Zac swallowed hard.
“So, shall we set another rule? Next time I see you, I’m going to ask how many times you’ve thought about that person. That, along with any other misbehaviors, will determine your punishment. Does that seem fair?”
He nodded. He seemed to want to play innocent and nervous, but I wasn’t fooled by it. This was just part of the game for him.
“Good.” I smiled. “And don’t expect me to be so gentle on you next time. You know, since you said you could handle it.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he replied. Beneath his smirk, I could see a hint of sincerity when he added, “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” I replied. “I think we’re going to have fun together, Zac.”
He smile. “I think so, too.”
I led him out of the house then, collecting his cash payment and reminding him to call to schedule his next appointment. This was, after all, still a job, no matter how different he was from my usual clients. Zac seemed harmless enough, I thought, as I watched him walk down the driveway to his truck. Yet I still couldn’t shake the feeling that I had gotten in just a little bit over my head with him.