“Tie them up–and stuff?” I laugh. “If you’re asking what I think you are, there’s a name for that and the answer is more complicated than a simple yes or no, but yes–sort of. I’m a Dominant and I onlyengagein activities here, or otherwise, with submissive partners who I’ve already established trust with. I don’t play casually and what I do to my submissive partners is not up for discussion.” I have to draw the line somewhere, right?
“How long have you been a Dominant?”
“At least twenty years, maybe longer.” I learned from a mentor after I graduated high school. I needed a way to channel my emotions into something controlled and safe. I wasn’t into anything dangerous at the time, but it could have gone that way if I hadn’t turned my life around.
She pauses and sets the glass on the bar. “Wait–did you–do this with my Mom?” Her chest heaves as she makes a gagging sound. Dramatic much?
“Don’t be dramatic. Not that it’s any of your business, but no. Christine and I didn’t have that kind of relationship. I’m not even sure she knew it was something I was into. Now keep drying.”
She peers up at me with wide eyes, and her next question nearly knocks me on my ass.
“Teach me?”
“Teach you what?” I respond, drawing my head back quickly, in shock.
“Everything. Teach me how to be a submissive. Teach me all the things.” Her request comes out so plainly, like it’s a simple ask. But it’s so far from simple.
Aside from the clear and present issues, like I’m old enough to be her father and used to date her mom, there’s no way in hell I can say yes. I also have a feeling she’s a natural submissive and likely doesn’t need muchteaching. You do this long enough, youstart to see things in people and it’s not hard to see where they likely land on the D/s spectrum. She clearly needs to learn how to do things safely, though.
“No way.” I say, shaking my head with purpose.
“Why not? I want to learn and you’re right here, standing in front of me. A real life Dom. Pleaaaaaaaaase,” she begs and it’s a sound I’m going to have to work hard to erase from my brain.
“I’m old enough to be your father.” I’m still so shocked she asked, I can’t think straight. “You don’t know what you’re asking.”
“I’m pretty sure I know exactly what I’m asking and I don’t understand what your age has to do with anything. You’re notthatold. Isn’t age just a number anyway?”
There’s a part of me that wants to say yes.
To show her exactly what it means to be a submissive–to bemysubmissive.
Teach her how to serve.
But I can’t.
The vulnerability it requires creates an intimacy between Dominant and submissive that often leads to scenes of a more physical nature and I need to be able to maintain some kind of line. If I said yes, I’d end up showing her exactly what her body is capable of. She’s been through too much and doesn’t need my old ass making things harder for her.
“Age is a number, but you seem to forget that I used to date your mother. Last I saw you, you were seventeen. Do you really not see the problem here? From the outside looking in, I’m at best, a pervert–at worst, a predator.” What I don’t say is if Christine ever found out, she’d make our lives a living hell. I don’t care about me so much, but I don’t want that for Arabella. I don’t want to discourage her completely, though, so I compromise–slightly. “I’ll tell you what. Do some research and I’ll answer any questions you have, but that’s it.”
Her exaggerated eye roll is obvious this time and it makes my palms itch to follow through on my threat earlier. Eventually she relents, but I have a feeling this isn’t the last conversation we’ll be having about this, and all I’ve got out of this one are thoughts of her on her knees at my feet, ready to serve.Fuck.
16
Arabella
By the time we're headed back to Ryker’s place, I'm fucking exhausted. He wasn't kidding when he said I'd be by his side the whole time. We cleaned and prepped until the bar opened and then he handed me the soda gun and I was suddenly the soda girl all night while he, Jake and Roxie poured drinks. Having been a waitress, I'm used to being on my feet for an entire shift waiting on people, but the sheer amount of customers we served was next level. Who knew there were so many people into kinky shit.
I watched them scan wristband after wristband and all it did was remind me of how I skirted the system. During a lull, Ryker made a point to have his best friend and co-owner of the club, Hayes, teach me the reasoning for the two drink maximum and corresponding system put in place to ensure everyone's safety. I'm not sure if he meant for it to cause shame and embarrassment to creep through my body, but I felt it, nonetheless. I want to blame Brad for that too, but he definitely didn’t make me drink that night. That was all me.
I can't believe I asked him to teach me how to be submissive. He must think I’m a stupid, naive little girl. I know that kinks exist, but I didn’t know there was such a large amount of people into them, or that there were labels for different kinks. I do know a lot of things most women my age don't know, though. I know SSRI's can't be stopped cold turkey, you have to wean down from them. I know the difference between mania and severe depression. I also happen to have great time management skills.Most days.
I get that he’s twenty-one years older than me, but I don’t give a fuck. If my mom ever found out, she’d probably kill me–and castrate him, but how would she know? It would be a simple teacher/student relationship. Granted, that teacher is stupid hot and has a body that my literal dreams are made of. It’s like every time I look at him, all I can see are those grey sweats holding onto his round ass for dear life. I’ve never been jealous of pants before, but I’d trade everything I own to be his pants for just a day.
Shaking my head, I chastise myself.Get your shit together, Arabella.
I shouldn’t be bothered that he told me no. I’ve been told no before, but this rejection stings harder than any of those and it makes me wonder if he has reasons he’s not sharing. Does he think I can't handle it? Because, I guarantee I can.
Arabella - Age 15
