Chapter 1

The room was surprisingly light, with shallow windows around the top of the walls. The walls were white, the floor dark—covered in the kind of material you’d expect in a gym. The floors were scuff resistant, with just enough bounce to avoid serious damage. The implements were clean… the smell of disinfectant in the air. The furniture led one to think of a combination of a well-appointed gym, and the marquis de sade.

“Make yourself to home.” His voice low, and closer than I’d expected, both startling and titillating.

I was torn. I wanted to drink him in with my eyes, memorize every part of him. I also wanted to avert my eyes, as was appropriate of a subordinate.  In this there was no second-guessing that I was a subordinate.

Turning my gaze to him, I found him looking me over, smiling. His smile spoke volumes, but mostly it spoke of patience. He understood that this was all new to me, he found a certain enjoyment and, dare I say it, joy in that.

Reaching across the space between us, he laid his palm on my cheek.  There was a gentleness.  A smile.

“Take off your clothes.”

The smile never left his face, though his hand dropped. There was a tone that spoke volumes. It spoke to ‘you’ll do this,’ and ‘you’ll do what I want.”

In my heart, all I wanted was to not disappoint him.

I stopped thinking. I stopped worrying… about what I looked like naked, about what it meant to be my age (nearly 50) and being a novice in this whole world and experience. 

I practically tore my sweater off, throwing it to the side. Next came my jeans – even before I thought to take off my shoes.  As I struggled with my shoes I thought, “he must think I’m an idiot,” but even as the shoes came off, I looked—his face radiated the same, calm smile as before.

So, shoes, jeans, sweater, t-shirt and briefs all found their way to the floor.

I stood in front of him, afraid. It was the first time, after all, that I’d been naked with him. There was no artifice, this was the unadulterated, unabridged version of me.  If anything, his smile grew.

“Such a good boy.” The warmth in that one statement… I felt myself shudder—as though the warmth was physical and touching upon every part of me.

“What do you want?” his voice both warm and, slightly, demanding. I looked at him, daring to meet his eyes.  “What is it that you want?” I saw in his face a curiosity, but also a hardness. “You need to say what it is that you want. You need to speak it. You need to tell me.”

“I want to please you.” – my voice low. Even as I said it, I knew it wasn’t enough. It didn’t say anything.

“What does that mean, that’s a cop out. What do YOU want?”

The silence stretched while I thought about that question.

“I want to hurt.” Barely a whisper.

Silence.

“Why?” Gentle, that question.

“I don’t know. I don’t… I hurt inside already, I just want to hurt where I can deal with it.” I wasn’t even sure what I was saying, in a way. Yet, at the same time, it was exactly what I meant.

Still silence.

“Tell me more. I need to know more.” His voice echoed in my head, in my chest. I closed my eyes and really thought about it.

“I’m so… trapped. I’m trapped inside my own mind, in my own thoughts. I feel so weak. There’s no joy in just getting through the day. I need to know that I’m worthy.” There I hesitated…

“Worthy?” he asked, “Worthy of what? Worthy for what?”

Even as the words whirled through my mind, I hesitated. “Worthy for what?” he reiterated.

“I need to know that I’m worthy of love. Of respect.”

Long moments of silence.

Finally, “You know, only you can determine if you’re worthy of those things.”

I felt my shoulders slump. I knew it. I think I’d always known it. But how could I… let myself believe that?

I stood facing the ground. I knew it. I knew the quandary in which I found myself. “God this is so fucked up.” I said, almost a whisper.

I could feel him standing there. Rigid. I needed to explain, to him, to me.

“It’s fucked up because I know, you’re right. There’s a battle inside me—because I want… I need permission.”

“Permission?” He gently drew me to continue talking.

“I’m afraid… of what I want. I’m afraid that asking for what I want is going to make me look… ridiculous.”

More silence. I was standing naked before this man, this remarkable, attractive man. I felt naked, but numb.

“So… what is it that has you so afraid? What is it that you want that badly?”

I thought about it. I’d thought about this – about a scene like this – for so long. And it had only been the surface. A man, a master, a dominant who would test me. He would physically test me, playing with my limits and helping me to learn about what those limits were and what they really meant.  But that was fantasy. That wasn’t enough.

“I…” as the word lingered there, I felt him move closer to me. He was so close.

“Tell me, and trust me.”  That was it. That was the key. It wasn’t just that I needed to tell him, to articulate it – for both of us – I needed to trust him. I needed to trust that he would treat with respect what I was about to say.

“I…” still I hesitated it.

Gently, I felt his hand on my chin—raising my eyes to meet his.  Those eyes, so intent, so beautiful. My voice caught in my throat. Seeing the expression on my face, he offered a gentle smile. He leaned toward me, gently brushing his lips against mine.

“It’s ok… “ as he pulled back. But it wasn’t – I didn’t want to be ‘let out’ of this situation. I was afraid I’d never have the courage to find myself here again.

“I CAN’T!” I said, louder than I’d expected… by his facial expression, I had surprised him too. “I mean, I can’t keep doing this. I can’t hold everything inside. I can’t… I feel like I’m so fucking fragile, like the wrong word, and I’ll shatter. “

I could feel and hear my heart beating in my chest.

“I need to know if I’m stronger than that. I need to know that I AM stronger than that.”

I hated the pleading tone that I heard in my own voice. I felt my heart in my throat. I felt more vulnerable that I’d ever felt.

“And…?”

I looked at him, my eyes locked with his…

“I need you to love me.” I gasped that out, terrified by what I’d said and by what it meant.

“To love you…” He looked at me, and waited.

It took me a long time to put it into words.

“I want to know that this means something. I need to know that this means… something. I want to be… I want to be more than I am right now – it’s asking a lot. It’s asking that this isn’t just academic… for you.” Before he could say anything, I need to add, “I don’t think this is just academic for you. I don’t. But I need to say it, to you. I get that this has… weight. I get that I’m basically asking you to help me become more than I am, or more than I feel like I am, today. I get what that can mean. For both of us.”

There was a pain in my chest. It wasn’t quite physical, but it was visceral.  Took me a minute to have several things register. First, I was shaking. Not the uncontrollable shuddering that happens when you’re cold. In its stead was an almost etheric shuddering. Second, that my hands were balled into fists at my side. Lastly, that I was, indeed, naked. It was like all of my awareness had been from the neck up and only now was the rest of my body catching up.

I know that my eyes never left his face, but for the life of me I couldn’t recall what his facial expression had been during my confession. All I knew was that his face was still, his expression unreadable. But I also knew there was no judgement in his gaze. He watched me, my eyes, my face, for anything he could read.

“You need to know that I take you seriously—that I understand what it is you’re asking of me. You also need to know that I won’t judge you for what you need.” He’d said it better than I could.

“Yes. Yes Sir, I do.” I could feel the beginnings of tears in my eyes.

Before I could look away, he reached out – grasping my face in both hands and making sure that I was looking at him, at his eyes, and all that was conveyed there.

“You are safe here, with me. I will never hurt you—well, beyond what it is you need and what you can handle. Can you trust me?” There was so much conveyed in his gaze. 

“Yes Sir. I can trust you, I do trust you.” My voice all but breaking.

I felt his lips brush my forehead. “That’s all I can ask of you.” A smile, gentle and knowing, broke across his face, “Let’s begin.”