A Special Letter of Reference
3
I t was ten past nine when Brynne slid into her cube, hoping to go unnoticed.
No such luck. The city editor’s assistant, the prim and pointy-nosed Margaret Smythe, peered over the wall of her cubicle. “Late again, Brynne?” she said in her condescending tone.
“There was a delay on the underground. It was beyond my control.” Brynne was past caring if this owlish woman reported all her transgressions to her boss. Early on, she’d played the game to make a good impression. Today, she was in no mood to explain herself.
“One would think you don’t want this job.”
“Then one would be quite mistaken, Margaret.” Brynne turned away to pull her PC out of her backpack, ending the exchange. The woman huffed and walked away.
Brynne spent the better part of the morning proofreading a tedious article for the Life however, it might get damaged during the scene. The fee of ￡275 cash was required upfront for this custom “test your limits” session and a reference letter would be provided shortly after.
Brynne splurged on a taxi to cover the distance to the industrial area of East London. It reminded her of Toronto’s waterfront and her first full-time job. Toronto Life for some, it’s highly enjoyable.”
“To be honest, I have fantasies like lots of women,” Brynne said, “but they’re more about being forced to comply, not submitting willingly.”
“I appreciate your openness, dear. But you should know most Doms demand obedience. For some, it is the most essential element, because it shows a commitment and devotion to pleasing them. It is also irrefutable proof that everything is by choice and not done under threat.”
Brynne wrote everything down, then looked up to see Patricia was waiting for her full attention.
“The number-one rule is that your submission is voluntary. It must never be forced, or even coerced.” Her expression softened. It was almost nostalgic. “Personally, I view it as a gift.”
“I see. A Dominant cannot have what they need unless the sub is willing to give it.”
“Exactly. It is a delicate balance of power that requires full trust. One could argue the submissive wields more power because they can always stop a scene. The skilled Dom can push the boundaries when they know exactly how far their sub likes to go. It’s up to you to make them aware of what you will and won’t do. For example, if you decide a hard limit is no ass play, your Dom must respect that.”
Brynne swallowed. Patricia peered over her glasses and said, “Sweetie, you are wound so tight, one tap with a crop, and I think you could come undone.”
“Is it that obvious?”
She winked. “Only to the discerning eye.”
Patricia rose from her desk and suggested they sit on the couch to talk through the next set of questions. She glided over to the wall unit and accessed a well-stocked bar. Brynne admired the way her pencil skirt showed off her hourglass shape and toned legs. She poured two glasses of a deep plum-colored liquid and handed one to Brynne.
“This is my favorite sweet sherry. It will help calm your nerves.” She took a seat on the sofa. “It’s highly unusual for me to take on someone I know nothing about. Since this is for Dominus, I need to be thorough .”
Brynne sank onto the sofa and took a tentative sip. The rich sweet wine warmed her, and for the first time in a week, she relaxed.
Patricia raised her glass. “To discovering the submissive in you, Brynne.”
They clinked glasses, and Brynne smiled tentatively. “May I ask, how did you get into this line of work?”
“When I was twenty-eight, I started my own headhunting business with a bank loan and a dream. A lot of psychology is involved in coaching candidates to change companies. I had a knack for reading personalities and could spot the ones who needed to be pushed harder to reach their potential. Some needed to be strong-armed, while others needed coddling.”
Patricia’s eyes lit with excitement. “As I built my business, I found that I really enjoyed using those skills to help people take risks. One day, a gorgeous software executive of about thirty asked me if I would punish him if he didn’t take the lucrative job I’d sourced for him.” She laughed. “I told him I would beat him black and blue. He came to my office the next day and begged me to do it.”
“Wow.” Brynne couldn’t hide her admiration.
Patricia returned to peeling the onion. “Tell me a little about your childhood, parents, and where you grew up?”
Brynne wrestled with where to begin. “I was born in Scotland, but when I was eight, we moved to Canada. Not long after, my mother left. She packed up, told my dad she didn’t want to be a wife or mother anymore, and left to find a more exciting life.”
Brynne kept her face devoid of emotion. “I should have been devastated, but I wasn’t. She rarely took notice of me, dressed me in ugly clothes, and chopped my hair like a boy. It took me a few years to realize that she wanted to minimize the attention people gave me. She wasn’t happy unless the spotlight was on her.”
“Is she still alive?” Patricia asked.
Brynne tensed. “I have no idea and couldn’t care less.”
“How did your father cope with her leaving?”
Jesus, she is dredging up some old memories. “He was a mess. Depressed, drank too much…so I took care of him. I became the lady of the house.” Taking another sip of liquid courage, she continued, “I really didn’t mind. He eventually pulled himself together.”
Patricia continued with the questions and Brynne let it all tumble out of her. It was cathartic. They drank and nibbled on crackers, grapes, and a rich creamy brie that Patricia pulled out of her mini fridge. She asked about her high school experiences and Brynne explained she was “a late bloomer” who only had one so-called boyfriend.
“In grade thirteen a boy I had a crush on asked me out for an actual date. Ryan Woodberry was his name. He picked me up in his dad’s posh Mercedes and I was overjoyed. Halfway through the drive-in movie and a bottle of wine, he begged me for a blow job.” Brynne giggled. “I eventually caved. That night I learned I had a talent, and that power was far more intoxicating than the wine.”
“What happened?” Patricia leaned forward, eagerly.
“I guess I had something to prove. Maybe I wanted all the boys to know they missed out on a gem, so I went down on him like a champion. When he came, I swallowed because I thought only a wimp would spit!”
Patricia clapped her hands and laughed. “That is fabulous! Did he worship the ground you walked on after that?”
Brynne’s smile faltered. “No, actually. We dated for a few weeks, until I found out he was seeing another girl.”
“That little shit!” Patricia exclaimed.
“Yeah.” The memories came flooding back. That was the first of many disappointing experiences with boys.
She looked at her quizzically. “So, you were still a virgin by the end of high school?”
Smiling playfully, Brynne replied, “Absolutely! My dad always told me to keep my legs closed. So instead, I opened my mouth!” Laughing, she added, “I’m sure that’s not what he intended.”
“I bet not! Your experiences were pretty limited up to that point. Did you go crazy at university?”
“No, not really. In year two, my dad was diagnosed with cancer, so I switched to part-time. I was helping at home, so I dated very little. My only boyfriend was cautious and dependable. Basically, I called all the shots. I popped my cherry with him but got bored a month later and broke up with him. My girlfriends called me the man eater because after that I never dated a guy more than three times. When they wanted more, I ditched them. By graduation, I’d found erotica and a five-speed vibrator, but had no clue what I wanted in a man.”
Patricia poured them each more sherry and asked without preamble, “Tell me what you think about when you masturbate.”
OMG . She’d only shared that once, and it turned out badly. Those secrets remained in a mythical lockbox under her bed.
When she remained mute, Patricia reassured her, “There’s nothing I haven’t heard, Brynne. If you haven’t read the book My Secret Garden by Nancy Friday, I will lend you my copy.” She retrieved a worn paperback from her bookshelf and handed it to Brynne. “Fantasies can be an accelerant to help ignite your desires. We all have them—and you’ll see they run the gamut.”
“I’ve never heard of this book.” She handled it gently as the binding was coming apart and pages were loose.
“That’s because they published it before you were born, dear.” Patricia grinned. “It did for a generation what Fifty Shades did for this one. It proved women think about sex as much as men. Our fantasies are vivid, integral parts of our sexuality.”
Brynne carefully considered what she said next. “I have a recurring fantasy of being helpless and unable to stop what is happening because I’m tied down. Sometimes I’m kidnapped or overpowered by a man who is bent on having his way with me…not by force, but by arousing me against my will.”
She saw no shock or judgment on Patricia’s face but wasn’t willing to divulge any of her other deviant thoughts. Those would remain unacknowledged for now.
“I am glad you feel comfortable sharing your experiences with me, Brynne. I think I know what you need. You had a lot of responsibility as a young girl—the man who was supposed to take care of you couldn’t, and no one has made you feel safe and cared for.”
Patricia’s eyes were dark and hypnotic, and she couldn’t look away. “Mmm. It would be wonderful to stop worrying and let go.”
Her expression changed, and Brynne felt the imperceptible shift. “We have both been drinking, so I cannot take you into the playroom now.”
She couldn’t hide her disappointment. She wanted it so badly she could taste it.
“That doesn’t mean we can’t see if you can surrender some of that ironclad control.”
Brynne waited, holding her breath.
“Get on your knees and come here.” She pointed to the floor at her feet.
Her breathing stalled; her eyes wide.
“As a rule, I don’t ask twice. I expect immediate obedience, or you will be punished.”
Brynne scrambled to the floor and kept her eyes down. Patricia had morphed into a Domme before her eyes.
She reached across and undid Brynne’s hair. “What a beautiful shade of red.” She moved closer and took her time running her fingers through it. “Is it natural, or will I find another color down below?”
Brynne whispered, her mouth suddenly dry, “It’s mine. My natural color, I mean. Mistress.”
Patricia smiled. “Have you ever been with a woman, Brynne?”
She shook her head and bit her lip.
She cupped the back of Brynne’s head and took a fistful of her hair. “You are very beautiful, more so because I don’t think you realize it.”
The grip on her hair tightened. Patricia pulled her head back until their gazes met. Brynne’s heart pounded in her chest. She was mesmerized.
“I would like to kiss you.” Patricia moved closer. “With your permission.”
Brynne flushed with arousal. “Yes, please, Mistress.”
She lingered, her hand tightening in Brynne’s hair. She leaned in and ran a thumb over her bottom lip. “Put your hands behind your back and keep them there.”
Brynne did as she was told and licked her lips, anticipating the kiss.
“I may want to do more than kiss you, pet. Do you consent to my touching you?”
Brynne’s body was on fire, her clothes felt too tight, and she craved the kiss and whatever else this gorgeous woman wanted from her. Her voice was breathless and hungry. “Yes, please! I want this. What are you waiting for?”
“There’s the rebellious little girl coming out to play.” She tsked, let go of her hair, and sat back.
“What’s wrong?” Brynne’s voice sounded shrill to her own ears.
“Sweetheart, you have just learned your first lesson of submission.”
“I’m sorry,” she pleaded. “Please give me another chance.”
“In order to get what you want, you must learn to be obedient and patient. Your Domme decides what, when, how fast or slow. Not you.”
“I didn’t mean to. I’m so sorry.” Brynne could cry. She wanted to reverse time and go back.
“Brynne.” She placed a finger on her lips. “I will see you for your proper session on Monday evening.” She left Brynne kneeling on the carpet and went to her desk. “I will give you the limits questionnaire to take with you. Be here at five thirty. Make sure you eat something beforehand, but no alcohol.”
Brynne rose and could not meet her eyes. She took the paper and tucked it into her purse with the book.
“I’m glad we went a little off course tonight and got to know each other. It will make your session that much more…” Her indigo eyes twinkled. “Rewarding.”