Startled by the sudden shift, Sylvia watches their server appear as if by magic. As he had warned, Daniel orders for them both, which makes Sylvia feel very odd. She can’t describe the feeling to herself – it’s not unpleasant, and actually makes her feel – cared for, she thinks. How odd.
The server’s expression is unreadable, and Sylvia, sitting there silently, wonders what the other woman is thinking of her.
“No, no wine,” says Daniel, “bring us both some hot tea, please”
Sylvia wonders how he decided on hot tea for her to drink. She loves tea, but how did he know that? For a moment, she thinks he must be a mind-reader. Then he says, “Hot tea, right? That’s often what you’re drinking while we’re on-line.”
Relieved, she says, “Yes – yes, Sir. I drink hot tea a lot.”
He nods. Then, “So what made you first think you might be submissive?”
The question throws her off balance again, but she says, “Oh – I – it was some books I read. You know, I told you about my friend, Jamie, and how she’d loan me books, and some of them had,” her voice drops and she looks down, “spanking and you know, stuff like that in them. Sir.”
“Yes,” he says, “You did tell me that. But what was it, specifically, that made you think that you might be submissive?”
Oh! Well, um, you know, it turned me on. The books. Sir.” She’s still looking at the table, tracing the ring of water around her glass again.
“Look at me,” he says. He waits for her to meet his eyes, then, “This is not something to be ashamed of. Being a submissive can be a wonderful thing. The shame would be in letting your natural urges and desires go to waste. Have you not talked about this with anyone?”
“No, Sir, no, I haven’t. Just you, when we’ve talked on line.”
“Give me your hand,” he says, taking the hand she has on the table in his hand. He turns it over, palm up. Strokes her fingers until they are open and relaxed. “Are you legs still open?” he asks.
She is suddenly very aware that she has crossed her legs. Quickly she uncrosses them. “No – omigosh, no, Sir,” she says, “they weren’t, I had crossed them without even thinking about it. I’m sorry. They’re not crossed any more.”
“Good girl,” he says. “Now open them a little bit wider. Keep your hand open, yes, just like that, on the table. Good, that’s it, yes”
Sylvia is trembling, she thinks she’s been naked before and not felt this exposed.
The server brings the tea, setting a basket with a variety of types, two pots of hot water, and two cups in front of them. Sylvia starts to move her hand, but Daniel catches her eye and shakes his head “no,” almost imperceptibly. She freezes, and they wait while the server finishes arranging the tea in front of them.
Then, “Your job right now,” says Daniel, “is to keep your hand nice and relaxed and open right here, and your legs open – they don’t have to be relaxed, but I want them open – while we talk a little bit. I’ll take care of the tea bags this time. Another time, I’ll allow you to serve me, but this time I want you to stay just the way you are. Clear?”
“Yes – yes, Sir,” says Sylvia. She is barely breathing, so eager to do this right, so anxious about what he might ask her, so willing to please.
In fact, “Breathe,” he says, “it’s ok to breathe.” He waits while she takes a deep breath. Then, “So you were reading the books that your friend Jamie loaned you, and they had spankings and what did you say? ‘Stuff like that’ in them?”
“So tell me specifically, what about that made you think that you might be submissive? Take your time, think back. What did you notice?”
Sylvia bites her lip, “Well they turned me on. I was shocked, I didn’t know that would happen, but they did.”
“‘They turned me on’ is pretty vague,” Daniel says gently. “Specifically. What. Turned you on?
“Oh, the spanking, the spanking for sure.” Blushing, “And I kind of knew that maybe spanking turned me on, but then he would, the Dom would tell her to do things, or make her do things, and that would turn me on.”
“Make her do things?” His voice is soft and amused.
“Yes, and honestly it didn’t matter what he was telling her to do, it could be some crazy sex thing that I can’t even imagine doing or he could be telling her to, you know, um, bend over his lap, or just anything. I guess it would have turned me on if he’d told her to pick up his dry-cleaning. I was so shocked at myself.” Talking about it turns out to be a relief. Now that she’s started, she’s interested in hearing what she’s going to say next.
“How did it feel? When you were turned on, what was that like?”
“Oh.” She stops to think. He strokes her palm, which is still open on the table, and she loses her train of thought all together. He stops, places his index finger in the center of her palm, and holds it there.
She can’t look away, it is as if he’s impaled her with that one finger, as if he has taken control of her that simply. Overwhelming and scary and arousing, and she’s frozen, the sensation of that one finger is enough to make everything else fade away.
Until the server arrives again, food in hand, and he moves his finger away and she can’t help it, she snatches her hand back like she’s been burnt, and maybe she has. He raises an eyebrow at her, but she can’t help it. She crosses her ankles and stares at the table while the food is served. She’s in such turmoil – she’s disappointed him, and she doesn’t know what he’ll do next and – this is so hard. It’s just so hard.
And she wants it so much.