“Yes, Director,” we all say at the same time, all realizing our mistake.
“Unbelievable. You all failed that test. If you do it again, today’s session is over and you all go back to your boring lives. That’s your punishment. Now answer me correctly.”
“If it pleases you, Director,” we all say simultaneously.
“Better. Now . . . you each indicated on your questionnaire that you wish to be verbally degraded, that it’s a turn-on for you. Kayla, you will now be known as Cowgirl Whore. Jayd, you are Cockhound Slut. Nikki, you are Useless Fuckhole.”
Nikki makes a little tamped-down squealing noise and shakes. Kayla and I both look at her. So, she’s the one!
“Well, Useless Fuckhole, you like that, huh? My my my, you are The Most Sensitive of All, you dirty little useless piece of trash.”
Nikki shakes all over again.
Wow! Holy shit!
I thought there was something wrong with me. But Nikki can come from just words. I suddenly have a burning desire to learn how to do that. I think I could.
“So, let’s talk about give and take. I like to give, you like to be taken.”
Oh God, that’s fucking hot! I bite my lower lip.
“But I know at least one of you here feels shame. Is it you, Cowgirl Whore? Is it you, Useless Fuckhole? Is it you, Cockhound Slut? Shame is good. Shame means we are thinking human people. Only dregs have no shame. But shame can hold us back. Shame can limit us from being free. Shame can keep us from all that we can become. So how do we defeat shame? By handing it off to someone else. From now on, if there is something shameful that you want to experience, I grant you permission to enjoy it. Hand your shame to me. By giving me the power to order you to do the thing of which you are most ashamed, you are set free. It is no longer your responsibility. You are free to enjoy it, to revel in it. Because it pleases me. Now, step out a foot from the wall.”
We all pause, and then take a step forward. The door next to the black window unlocks and opens.
He’s coming closer to me! God, it’s about time! I can’t take much more. I may pull a Nikki.
Footsteps clack through the door. Sounds like expensive shoes. I can’t help but smile a little.
“Eyes down! Submissives keep eyes lower than a Dominant’s at all times, unless instructed to raise them. Acknowledge me.”
“If it pleases you, Director,” we all say.
Out of the corner of my eye I see them. Yep, I was right. Shiny black dress shoes. Black jeans again. Seems to be his thing. Bet there’s a flowing shirt up there, but I can’t tell from this angle. Doesn’t matter, really. He’d look stunningly alpha masculine in a pink fluffy bathrobe with bunny slippers.
He walks past me and around Nikki to the far side of the room. I hear the sound of a pen on paper. Then I see his shoes walk in front of me.
“Look up, Cockhound Slut!”
I look up into his face.
Oh my God, those eyes do it to me again! What the fuck is it about this man? Oh God . . . those chest muscles are poking out through an unbuttoned flowing black shirt. I even see . . .holy shit . . . the hint of a tattoo on his bulging shoulder. He’s holding a clipboard with a piece of paper on it.
“Eyes!” he says. “Look me in the eyes!”
I do.
Mmmmmmmm.
He clips the pen in his right hand onto the clipboard, then pats my pussy. Three taps. I shake all over.
Almost. Ooooh, almost that time . . . almost.
He laughs his evil laugh and his detached smile just like he did in the Play Pen at Lorena’s party, like I’m a toy with an On/Off switch.
“Eyes back down.”
I look down again at his pants. Oh, there’s the bulge again. Shit, he’s gotten me off three times and I haven’t even seen his tool, just its outline through the jeans on the plane. And now here again. So close to me, and yet so far. It must be fucking huge. I wonder if it’s as big as Karissa’s. No, nobody’s is that big.
He moves over to Kayla. In the corner of my eye, I see him play with her breasts. He squeezes them, cups them, and then makes another note on his clipboard.
Grrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr.
Then he moves around her and behind us.
He laughs that same annoying little laugh he made at Lorena’s party. Like we’re not worthy enough for him and we’re wasting his time.
“Good girls,” he says. “Very good girls. I admire you. I admire why you’re here. You want to be free. You’ve come to the right place. We mold people here. Strong people. You will emerge more powerful, stronger, more energized than you’ve ever felt. Now I want you to look at each other.”
Oh God, really? He wants me to look at that bitch, Kayla? I sense the same reticence from Kayla as she turns to me.
Goddamn, those eyes are gorgeous. I feel a flush down below.
Then I look at Nikki. Another flush. She’s just as gorgeous, her dark skin shiny in the dim light. My eyes drift down to her moist cunt. I want to lick it.
Who said that? Did I just say that?
“Eyes up!” demands Lukas.
“All three of you checked off that you do not want to experience multiple male partners, but you would be willing to enter into a situation where you are forced to be with the same gender to please a dominant man. Pause. Well guess what? Today is your lucky day. Today you will eat pussy and love it. Do you know why, Cowgirl Whore?”
“Because it pleases you?” says Kayla.
“Very good.” He strokes her hair.
Oooh, it burns me when he touches her!
He places his hand under her chin and raises her face up to look into his eyes.
No! Those are my eyes, dammit! You can’t have them, slut!
I see her face rise to meet his. He leans in to kiss her.
Noooooooooo!
At the last second, he turns to me and smiles, avoiding the kiss. Kayla looks pissed.
“Eyes down, Cockhound Slut!”
I try to gaze downward, but my eyes just won’t do as I say.
“Didn’t you hear me?” he says.
“Yes, Director.”
“What?”
“I mean, if it pleases you, Director.”
“When I say down, I mean down!”
“Yes Director! I mean, if it pleases you, Director.”
“What part of the word down don’t you understand, Cockhound Slut?”
“I’m sorry, Director.”
“That is not how you apologize. You say, ‘I’m sorry to displease you, Director.’”
“I’m sorry to displease you, Director.”
A heavy silence hangs around the room as he glares at me and walks around me in a circle. It’s a fierce and angry stare.
“Now, who is familiar with the term power exchange? Permission to speak freely granted.”
“I am, Director,” I say.
“Very good, Cockhound Slut. What is it?”
“It is the heart of all BDSM relationships. It’s kind of like an agreement that can be emotional, spiritual, or sexual based on participants in a scene—one giving, the other receiving.”
Lukas turns and looks at me. “Very very good, Cockhound Slut. I’m impressed. Where did you learn that?”
“I read it in your book.”
“You read my book?”
“Yes.”
Suddenly his face is right in mine. He seems angry. “You read my book?”
“Um . . . if it pleases you, Director.”
“No, that question was past tense, so, fuck, it’s okay.”
Did he just say fuck? Oooh, he’s disturbed about something. What did I do?
He walks over to the wall, bows in front of it like he’s asking for guidance, and then turns back to us.
“Yes, Cockhound Slut,” he says, “Very good. There are many aspects to this lifestyle. Many variations. But the one constant is consensual power exchange. You choose to be here. I choose to be here. You choose to be submissive. I choose to be dominant. We are hurting nobody. We are only allowing the best of what is in us, our deepest and most fulfilling desires, to rise to the surface.”
He glares at me for a split second. I can’t help it. I look up to meet his eyes. A charge throbs through me.