Page 37 of Axe Marks the Spot

I expect you to hold yourself to the standard we both know you’re capable of. Well, dang. When he says it like that…

My shoulders shift back, and I smile a little.

Me

Thank you for having faith in me, Sir.

Sir

I’m here to support you when you don’t and to help you build that faith in yourself. Now, go to work, and we’ll talk later.

Me

Yes, Sir.

“That thriller book again?”

I fly five feet in the air as I turn to see Billie, who’s smirking as she walks past me. I know my cheeks are pink, not only from her comment but also at the fact that I’m still standing in the same place I was when she was called away. I’m lucky our charge nurse wasn’t the one to find me; I don’t need to be looked at as a slacker or questioned about why I’m not doing my job.

“Yeah,” I lie.

“Definitely send me that title.”

I clear my throat and pick up the clipboard I had earlier. “Will do.”

She chuckles, and I walk toward the waiting room to collect my next patient, who has already been assessed by a triage nurse. I decide right then and there I can’t converse with my Dom outside of breaks, even if the desire is strong. Very strong, clearly. I need this job, and I can’t risk it.

15

Dane

IT’S ANOTHER NICE DAY out, the late-morning heat not unbearable and a gentle breeze flowing through the trees. I’m on my porch, sitting in an Adirondack chair that I got from a local artisan a couple of years back, my phone in hand.

I scroll through the comments on my newest videos, my usual responses flowing from my fingers. But my attention isn’t completely on what I’m doing. Instead, I’m wondering if the Loopr videos Lindsey was scrolling last night happened to be mine. I looked through the past twelve hours of notifications to see if she’d accidentally liked one or maybe even commented, but sober Lindsey is careful. If she was, in fact, looking at them.

I finish an answer to a commenter that isn’t her then upload my newest video with all the appropriate hashtags. Once it’s done, I check my emails and messaging app. I reply to the clients who have sent me their check-ins for the day.

When I’m done, my fingers itch to flip to Lindsey’s chat. There are no new messages, so I shouldn’t want to look or reread them. I shouldn’t have reread them twice already. My pointer finger hovers over the chat, but at the last second, I don’t look, placing my phone in the chair’s cup holder.

I rest my head back, stomach growling. I need to go in and eat lunch. I ran again this morning and lifted weights before that. But the hunger pains don’t force me out of my chair; they only make me think of Lindsey.

It occurred to me the moment she messaged me with her misstep that she did not bring lunch, snacks, or any other food to work. I know enough about her now to know that money is tight for whatever reason. We haven’t dug into her finances yet; that will come later after she gets acclimated to me as her Dom. It’s easier for someone to share more personal and sensitive information once we’ve connected on a deeper level, built trust and respect for each other.

Morning and evening routines are always a great place to start. It helps me learn more about my clients and what they struggle with.

The growl of my stomach brings me back to my earlier thought. Would Lindsey buy food for herself at the hospital? Or would she go the entire day without, ignoring her hunger to save money? The thought of her not eating while working long hours on her feet and doing hard work pisses me off.

If our D/s relationship was not restricted to online, I would have already dropped food off for her at the hospital. I would have ordered her to eat it, even stayed to watch her consume every bit of what I brought her. Even better, I’d have fed her some of it from my hand. Then I would have given her a punishment disguised as a reward. Maybe a toy she’d wear all day at work that only I’d have control of.

My dick strains against my jeans, and I blink open my eyes, which had closed of their own volition while I imagined the scenario. That was inappropriate for me to think about.

I take an inhale of fresh air. I need to think logically about this.

This is not the first time I’ve thought about Lindsey in ways that I should not. But I also have never before met—if you could call our run-in that—my online clients before we started working together. I’ve never felt their bodies against mine or been attracted to them in the way I was immediately attracted to her.

There’s also the fact that I have not had sex for over a year or indulged in masturbation in quite some time. I haven’t needed that release. I’ve had other things to channel my energy into, like running and working out.

I palm my cock through my jeans, hissing at the touch. I could open my fly right here, imagine it’s not my hands touching my heated shaft. It wouldn’t take long for me to find release, and I know I’d feel better in the short term.