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“What do you want to discuss first?”
Her brows pinch together. “I researched Dom/sub relationships, but I don’t know where to start. So how about you tell me what rules you’d like to have, and I can say whether I’m happy with them? Is that okay?”
“I only have one rule.”
“And what’s that?”
“You give me complete control over your body.”
She gawks at me. “Complete control?”
“Yes.”
“B-but how would that even work? Like you’d tell me what I could and couldn’t do all the time? I’d have no free will?”
I run a hand over my beard. “You always have free will. But when I tell you to do something, I’d expect you to do it. No matter where we are or what you’re doing. There may be days when I don’t ask you to do anything at all. Other days I may feel like controlling every aspect of your day. Or there may be times when you don’t feel like making any decisions and you ask me to make them for you.”
Deep in contemplation, she rests her fork against her lips. “And in return, what do I get out of this arrangement?”
“You get the freedom of knowing that someone else is always in control. I will always take care of you. Part of my role as your Dom is to know what you need, and giving you that is something I take very seriously. I would never do anything to cause you any real harm.”
“Hmm.” Her brow furrows. “Can you give me an idea of the kinds of ways you’d exert this control?”
“It’s the act of your submission that interests me. Knowing that I have control over you is what I thrive on. I have little desire to police what you eat or wear.” She’s had enough of that in her life. “But that doesn’t mean I won’t sometimes order for you when we eat out or occasionally choose your clothes.”
Nodding, she leans forward in her chair.
“If we go anywhere and I have expectations about how you’re to behave, I’ll outline them before we go. If we engage in any kind of play, I will make the boundaries and expectations clear at all times.”
“I like clear expectations.”
“And there are certain things I’d like to work on with you.”
She frowns. “Work on?”
“Yes. Your nervous chattering for one.”
Hurt flashes in her eyes. “I thought you liked that I talk a lot?”
“I do, sunshine. I’m not referring to you talking a lot, I mean the babbling you do when you’re nervous.” I lean forward now too. “I guess it’s a trauma response, but I don’t think it’s from Brad because you said he berated you for talking too much. So I’m thinking it was something before that?”
Her mouth drops open, and she blinks at me for a few seconds.
“If I’m going to be your Dom, it’s helpful for me to know what causes you to react to things the way you do.”
“Well, you’re right about the babbling. My dad was a drunk. I was his little princess. I used to tell him jokes and stories to distract him when he was trying to beat my mom. Sometimes it worked, sometimes not.” She shrugs.
The fact she grew up in an abusive household explains a lot about her. But that’s a conversation for a different day.
“I also want to work on your low self-esteem.”
“I do not have low self-esteem,” she retorts.
“No?” I arch one eyebrow. “Why the hell have you only eaten half a pancake for breakfast when I made you three?”
She presses her lips together and mutters, “Touché.”
“You want to keep going, sunshine?”
