Page 29 of Axe Marks the Spot

He continues. “Before we get started, I’d like your verbal consent. You’ll sign the agreement after we review it here together, and I’ll countersign once you’ve sent it to me. But before that, I want to make sure you’re here of your own free will and that I have permission to speak to you as a Dominant.”

I squeeze my thighs together under my desk and nod. Then I remember he can’t see me. “Yes.” I suck in a short breath when the yes comes out high-pitched, then clear my throat. “I am here of my own free will. And I give you permission to speak to me as a Dominant.”

“Good. Please know that while you’ve given me your consent, you can tell me to stop at any time. We’ll discuss a safe word you may use in the future, but for now, the word stop will suffice. How does that sound?”

“Yes, that’s fine.”

“First lesson.” His voice somehow gets deeper. “If you’re comfortable with it, I ask that you answer with ‘Yes, Sir’ or ‘No, Sir.’ How does that sound to you?”

I wet my lips. “I think that sounds good.”

“Hmm, I never like when the answer has the word think in it. It means you’re unsure or you haven’t thought about the answer before you spoke it. Can you tell me which one it is?”

His gruff and commanding tone means business, and I sit up taller in my chair. It feels weird to have someone question me this way, and a swell of embarrassment builds in my stomach. At the same time, I can’t deny that my throat itches to answer him. To please him. And he’s right, I hadn’t thought about my answer before speaking.

“I answered without thinking,” I say. There’s silence on his end, and the itch in my throat tells me I missed something. Once I figure out what it is, I swallow and speak again. “I answered without thinking, Sir.”

He lets out a pleased hum, and my body tingles with what I can only describe as the feeling of happiness.

“Does it feel uncomfortable to call me Sir as my honorific? We could try something different.”

“Like King or Commander?” I muse with a tone of sarcasm, the words out of me before I can stop them. I want slap my hand over my mouth, but I’ve already said them.

To my surprise, he chuckles. “There’s the woman who commented on my videos and emailed me while inebriated.”

Inebriated. He could just say drunk, but maybe that’s too informal for him. “What do you mean by that…Sir?” I see the muscles of his forearms flex, and my mouth automatically waters.

“You’ve been so agreeable since our first interaction. Your emails are perfect, your answers are perfect. But that first time we talked, and in your very first email to me, your guard was down. Your smart-aleck question just now reminded me of what I believe to be underneath the personality you’ve carefully shown me. Some answers in the questionnaire revealed it to me as well.”

“And what did they reveal to you, Sir?” I ask, suddenly feeling bold.

“What do you think?”

I start to answer with something along the lines of you already know, so tell me but then remember his words from before, so I pause and think. I consider all the research I’ve completed on sublife.com, all the journaling I’ve done, and the questionnaires I’ve filled out. I even took a BDSM test I found that said I was one hundred percent submissive and eighty-four percent brat. Awareness tingles up my neck, and I know now what he’s looking for.

“A brat.”

His forearms flex again. “You thought about it that time, very good.”

My skin warms, and I tuck a strand of hair behind my ear. “Thank you, Sir.”

He leans forward on his desk, his strong pecs closer to the camera. “Thank you for being honest. Now, correct me if I’m wrong, but addressing me as Sir is getting easier the more you say it, yes?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Hmm.” He leans back in his chair. “If Sir does not work, you can call me Dom. King and Commander are not titles I identify with, though I would never shame or judge Dominants who do.”

“If you like Sir, I can address you as Sir. It was only uncomfortable because it’s new.”

“I appreciate your honesty. Is there a way you’d prefer me to address you?”

My heart beats faster in my chest. “I—what would you call me besides my name?”

“Pet, sub—or if there’s something else you think of, we can discuss it.”

I sit with each name and remember how, on his videos, he would call his pretend sub “baby.” But if he called me that, I think I’d end up falling in love with him.

“You can call me Lindsey.”