Page 16 of Key of Kink

As we walked towards one of the private rooms, something fluttered in my stomach. My heartbeat lurched into high gear. God, I was tingling.

It had been a while since I’d been caught up in this much anticipation.

The room was small, furnished simply with a table and two chairs, with more against the wall. The lights were bright enough to be unflattering. The chairs didn’t invite lounging. The small table was empty clear except for a notepad and a pen.

I liked it immediately.

Max sat across from me, his posture easy, his attention absolute. I liked the fact that he didn’t loom. He gestured to the other chair, and I sat. He picked up the pen and tapped the notepad.

“Start with experience,” Max said. “And be concise.”

I straightened in my chair, forcing myself to breathe like a normal human being.

“I’m a service-oriented submissive. I’ve been into kink since I was eighteen. I like structure, clear rules, and correction that makes sense. I’m not interested in humiliation. I am interested in control, attention, and intentional restraint.”

Max’s expression didn’t change, but his focus deepened. “And limits?”

“I don’t do anything without safewords,” I said. “Aftercare isn’t optional. And if I can’t say no, I’m not interested.”

“Aftercare is never optional,” Max said in a flat tone.

That landed warm and solid in my chest. “Good.”

“What are you looking for from me?” he asked.

I swallowed. “Just one scene. No expectations outside it. I just want to try it. With you.”

Max’s eyebrows shot up. “You sound as if you’re interviewing.”

“Yes.” I smiled again. “But you’re interviewing me, so it seems only fair.”

A corner of his mouth twitched, but he schooled his features almost immediately.

“How old are you?”

“Twenty. If that’s a concern, I understand.”

He studied me, and I got the impression he wasn’t weighing my youth, but me.

Better.

“I don’t do rushed scenes,” he said at last. “I don’t do improvisation. And I don’t do people who want to be led without thinking.” He paused. “You’ve given me an idea of what you’re into. Now tell me what you want from a scene. Not the polite version.”

I hesitated, then said it anyway. “I like rules. I like knowing exactly what I’m meant to do. I like being told. And if I get it wrong, I want to know. I like being corrected. It means you’re paying attention.”

He arched his eyebrows at that.

“And I like being still,” I added.

He paused in his note-taking, his head cocked to one side. “Why?”

I appreciated that he’d asked. “Because it quiets my head. It makes me listen.”

“Noted.” Max folded his arms. “Now… tell me what you don’t want. What are your hard limits?”

“Humiliation,” I said immediately. “Mind games. Anything improvised mid-scene.”

“What about impact play?”