"Equal education, Mr. Le Croix. If I'm trusting you with this kind of power, you need to understand the responsibility that comes with it."
Smart. Very smart. I respect that immensely.
"Fine. I'll read your books. But I have conditions too."
"Such as?"
"You follow the rules we agree on, even when they're inconvenient. No apologizing for things that aren't your fault - that rule starts now and doesn't end. And you tell me immediately if something doesn't feel right or if I cross a boundary. Immediate honesty, even if you think it'll disappoint me."
"I can do that. I want to do that."
"And Charlie? When we're alone like this, discussing this dynamic? You call me Sir."
Her breath catches audibly. "Yes, Sir."
The way she says it, automatic and breathy and perfect. Like she's been waiting her whole life to call someone that and mean it.
"Tomorrow night. Your place. We'll discuss limits properly and set up preliminary rules. Bring that list and be ready to talk about specifics."
"My place? You want to come to my apartment?"
"Unless you want to keep meeting in the library where anyone could walk in. We need privacy for these conversations."
"No, you're right. My place is better. My apartment is above the bakery next to the candy shop."
I stand to leave, then turn back at the door. "Charlie? Tomorrow night, wear that skirt again. And no panties underneath."
Her mouth drops open in shock. "Marshall! That's— I can't— what if—"
"Sir," I correct.
"Sir," she repeats, squirming adorably. "That's very presumptuous. What if someone notices?"
"It's preparatory. Tomorrow we'll discuss your hard and soft limits in detail. I need you thinking about what you want, staying present and aware. Being bare under your skirt all day will keep you focused on possibilities instead of overthinking everything."
"And being bare under my skirt helps with that how exactly?"
"Keeps you aware of your body. Present in the moment. Thinking about what might happen instead of spiraling into anxiety about what could go wrong. Trust me on this."
I leave her there, flushed and fidgeting and already nodding agreement. John's going to have an absolute field day when he finds out about this. But right now, all I can think about is Charlie's voice reading those dirty words and the way she says "Sir" like it's the most natural thing in the world.
four
Charlie
I'mnotwearingpanties.
I've been bare under my skirt all day, feeling every single movement, every time I sit down or stand up or walk across the library. Mrs. Patterson asked if I was feeling well because I kept dropping books and blushing for no apparent reason.
If only she knew.
My apartment is small but cozy - over the bakery next to Bunny's candy shop, which means it always smells like fresh bread and sugar. I've panic-cleaned three times today. Changed outfits twice before settling back on the black skirt (as ordered) and a soft pink sweater that makes me look innocent and young.
Marshall knocks at exactly 7 PM. Military punctuality.
"Hi," I breathe when I open the door, and I sound like I've been running a marathon.
His eyes do a slow, deliberate scan from head to toe, lingering noticeably on how the skirt hugs my hips. "Good girl. You followed orders."
