Page 13 of Axe Marks the Spot

I read each comment, a smile teasing my lips as they get progressively more interesting.

@WhyAmIHere33: Do all Doms look like you?

@WhyAmIHere33: Is wood chopping part of being a Dom?

@WhyAmIHere33: WOW, they allow this on the internet?!

@WhyAmIHere33: I never thought I’d be into this but…here I am.

@WhyAmIHere33: How do you give up control but have control?

@WhyAmIHere33: What makes someone qualified to be a Pro Dom?

@WhyAmIHere33: How do you know if you’re in need of a Pro Dom? Or that you’re a submissive, for that matter?

I’m about to respond to their last few notifications—ready to explain that their question is nuanced and depends on the individual but I’d be happy to elaborate over email—when a new comment notification pops up.

@WhyAmIHere33: I swear I’ve seen your nose before!

I laugh as I read her comments. My old videos do show me from my nose down, where my new videos are shot from my mouth down. I read the comment again and sit straighter in my chair when the pieces click together. This commenter must be Morgan’s friend she emailed me about. It aligns with the timing and what she said about her friend, how if said friend did email me, she’d say she’s not sure why she’s emailing. It also makes sense with what she chose for her username.

Does WhyAmIHere33 live in Starlight Haven? Or maybe she was out with Morgan tonight and visited for the games? If she does live here, have we met before? If we have, she’s not putting the pieces together, so maybe I just have a familiar nose. It’s not like my nose is special—it’s an average nose.

I haven’t been into town enough beyond my weekly grocery run and stop at the diner to know if someone new has moved here in the last few months, let alone the last year or more. If I don’t run into them at the General Store, I don’t know them.

Fuck, maybe Levi is right. I should get out more.

Pushing that thought away for now, I respond to her comment.

@DomInTheWoods: Maybe you’ve seen my videos before?

I stare at the fireplace devoid of flame, and a second later, I see she’s already responded.

@WhyAmIHere33: Oh my god, you responded. I think I’ll go die now.

I chuckle to myself and comment back.

@DomInTheWoods: If you do that, you’ll never get the answers to your questions.

Her response is so fast, I know she must be waiting for my replies like I’m waiting for hers.

@WhyAmIHere33: I don’t know if I want the answers.

I pause, considering how to respond. It’s clear she wants answers and is genuinely interested in my page and what I have to offer. Morgan wouldn’t have emailed me if she wasn’t certain her friend—I’m almost certain that’s who this person is—would reach out to me in some way.

I tap out my answer with this thought in mind, wanting to be as gentle as possible since she’s obviously skittish.

@DomInTheWoods: Take your time to decide, but I wonder: Don’t you want to find out why you’re here, replying to me in the early hours of the morning when you should be getting rest?

I read it over twice before I hit enter, my comment popping up under hers. I read over the conversation again while I wait for her to respond. Another minute passes by, and another. My eyes start to drift closed, the events of the day and the alcohol catching up to me.

I sleepily refresh my phone, wondering why I care so much about her responding. More time passes, and right before I fall asleep, a new notification comes through. A ghost of a smile appears on my lips as my bleary eyes read her reply.

@WhyAmIHere33: Yes, I do.

I wake myself up enough to type out a response.

@DomInTheWoods: Then email me, WhyAmIHere33. I look forward to giving you the answers.