Chapter 5
Chapter Five
Emmy
I struggled against my nerves as I held Jack’s hand. We’d taken his truck and he was driving. We’d reach the Ranch in less than an hour, where I’d go through a final, required orientation before I could officially join or attend any events.
It annoyed me that Jack still refused to have sex yet. The closest we’d come to it so far since the night of that revelation a couple of weeks ago was stretching out on the couch with me snuggled against him—and I could absolutely feel his erection.
He also insisted on sleeping in his own bed, which was a special kind of hell for me, him being so close and yet so inaccessible.
Sure, I knew I should feel lucky he was so determined to stick to this strict, Dexter-esque sex code of his because it meant he was a man of his word. But I was fucking horny, and one of the things I’d stupidly agreed to was not to masturbate without permission.
I hadn’t been able to bring myself to ask him for permission yet even though he’d told me I was free to ask and he’d most likely say yes.
No, I couldn’t figure it out myself, why I couldn’t ask, which I guess was his whole fucking point.
Dammit.
That point being we had a lot of things to figure out together about whatever this was and what we wanted out of it and what we wanted to be to each other.
There was a 101 class scheduled for this afternoon that Jack had already signed me up for. He wouldn’t attend with me because it was for people who identified as both submissive and as non-binary or female, plus he’d signed us up for a couples 101 class for after dinner.
Damn him for being so rational and controlled.
It also meant no time for me to convince him to fool around between classes.
I had no doubt that if, for some astronomically improbable reason, I decided not to have sex with him while we were here, that he absolutely would be a man of his word and not pressure or force me or act like a petulant jackass toddler about it.
If sex didn’t happen—or if he said no to me—I hoped he was ready for me to cry or throw a temper tantrum. Honestly, I’d never felt this way about any other guy before despite the relatively short time we’d been talking about whatever this was between us.
Maybe because I’d never had conversations with any other guy the way I had with Jack.
Hell, Lilah liked him and, despite doing her best to find red flags, even she admitted he seemed like the real deal and encouraged me to pursue this with him.
“Why do I need to go to the 101 by myself?” I asked.
Again.
He earned brownie points for patience. “I’m not a woman.
I’m not a submissive. You need to work on figuring out what you want and need, not just go by what I want and need.
I’m serious—I’m never getting divorced again.
I’d rather take my time and take things slow and suffer blue balls than rush things between us.
” He glanced over at me, squeezing my hand.
“I didn’t go through what you did as a kid,” he gently said.
“They also have people on staff who you can talk to about that.”
I shuddered. “I don’t want to think about that,” I muttered.
Fresh in my mind was that long-ago afternoon. How we’d carefully made our way down the hall so we didn’t make any noise. The woman who’d sold us—practically given us—the camping gear.
The smell of the garlic and marinara sauce that washed over us when we’d walked through the back door of Mort’s restaurant.
The smell of cigarettes as a door creaked open in a dark bedroom while I huddled under my blanket, held my breath, and—
I pulled my hand free and stared out the window as I tried to control my breathing, slow my pulse. Despite my best efforts to get over my past, sometimes things bled through.
“Em,” he softly said. “Where’d you just go?”
I shivered, wrapping my arms around myself. “I don’t want to think about that,” I said.
He sighed and reached over, touching the back of my hand, patiently waiting.
I finally gave it to him and he gently squeezed it.
“This is why you need to talk to people who aren’t me about all of this,” he said.
“I don’t want to spend our time together thinking about the past. Especially when it can’t be changed.”
Or paroled, but I didn’t say that part out loud.
“We’re close enough to the Ranch that if we need to make appointments for you to talk to people, we can easily get here.
They might even have phone appointments.
If what we might have together is to last, you have to face your past and your nightmares.
They won’t go away; they’ll only come out in other ways. ”
Logical Dr. Esmerelda Colefield, who was a successful surgeon, knew he was absofuckinglutely correct.
Emmy, the little girl denied a childhood, wanted absolutely nothing to do with dredging up the past and the pain and the memories.
Especially the memories.
He laced fingers with me and brought my hand to his lips, kissing it. “Please be my good girl and do this, baby. I’m not going anywhere. But we can’t go forward without doing this work now.”
I sniffled. “Not fair you having kryptonite against me.”
“You think you don’t have kryptonite against me?”
“Do I?” I glanced at him.
“You sure do. Every time you tell me, ‘Yes, Sir,’ it makes me want to scoop you into my arms and toss you onto my bed and fuck your brains out.”
My mouth went dry as I stared at him, at his playful, sexy smile. “Then why don’t you?” I finally managed.
“Because my good girl has an assignment to complete first, and that’s sitting through the 101 class for me. Right?”
I found myself nodding. “Yes, Sir.”
Dammit, it was like I couldn’t help myself, and I’d never, ever called another man Sir except in the polite sense of the word.
I don’t know what I expected when we arrived at the Ranch. I guess despite the pictures I’d assumed I’d find some sort of German post-war sex bunker, not a…
Well, a ranch.
Our IDs were checked at the front gate and in a few minutes we wound our way up the driveway toward the main building.
“I also don’t want you to think it’s the rope classes or nothing,” he said.
“If what you need from me this week is to spend time together, they have horseback riding, hiking—lots of activities. They’ll always have another rope class.
Or if there are different classes you want to attend, then do that. ”
“But you signed up for the rope intensive.”
“I know. Doesn’t matter. It’s more important to me that we build what we have on a solid foundation.”
I studied his profile. Had I really hit the good-man lotto? After spending the first half of my life scrabbling for survival, it was difficult to believe something might be so…
Easy.
Twenty minutes later, our luggage was being taken to our room while we took seats in Derek’s office. He offered me a kindly smile that wasn’t a bit creepy. “Jack tells me this is all pretty new to you.”
“Yeah.” I struggled not to fidget with my hands. “I’m looking forward to the classes.”
“For starters, since you’ve indicated you’re a submissive, it’s customary around here for me to be addressed as ‘Master Derek’ by people who aren’t Tops. Are you and Jack all right with that?”
“No offense, but I’m not playing with you,” I said.
He shook his head. “No. Does it help to think of it more as a rank than as a personal label for me?”
I looked at Jack. “It’s up to you,” he said. “I don’t have a problem with it, but if you do, let’s discuss it.”
“Okay,” I said. “As long as it’s just a title, like you said.”
“Exactly. And I want you to know that, at any time, you can approach any of our staff for information or assistance. If you’re overwhelmed, or want to speak to someone—”
“Like a shrink?” I noted.
He nodded. “A mental health professional. I don’t know your history, and Jack hasn’t revealed any details to me, but I’ve been doing this long enough I know the signs.
We have people on staff who have lots of experience with trauma-informed care.
And we have a variety of staff who’ve been through things, and who have volunteered to speak with people about their own experiences, both before and after coming to the Ranch, if you want. ”
I shook my head. “What I’d like to do is…”
What, exactly?
“I want to learn,” I continued. “I know I can’t believe everything I read in romance books.
I know that’s not ‘real’. But what I want is to figure out what I want.
Because I don’t know.” I looked at Jack.
“And I’m hoping what I figure out I want dovetails with what Jack wants. I don’t know what I don’t know.”
Master Derek nodded. “That, right there, is the perfect attitude to have coming into all of this. Being open to learning, becoming enlightened, figuring out who and what you are. Don’t be quick to focus on labels, either.
You decide your labels and you can change them whenever you want.
They’re a helpful starting point, but you aren’t married to them… ”
We spent nearly an hour talking, discussing the rules, Master Derek patiently answering all of my questions and also giving me things to think about. Mostly, Jack silently sat, listening, watching, not trying to step in or steer the discussion.
Have to admit, I wasn’t used to a man being who he said he was. He’d promised that this time was for me to learn and explore.
“Enlightened” was the perfect word, actually. Because even my talk with Master Derek already left me thinking about certain aspects in a new light, in ways I hadn’t considered.
And while I still wished Jack would attend the first class with me, I grudgingly admitted it made sense for me to go alone.
Hell, I made it through medical school and dissecting cadavers. A BDSM 101 class should be a breeze, right?
When we finished our talk with Master Derek, we headed to our room which was on the ground floor. I looked around and tried not to gawk at the variety of people I saw during our trek through the lobby, everything from “normal” looking people to adults dressed as babies, and everything in between.
I tried not to be judgmental but I’d already formed one determination.
“I’m not an adult baby,” I told him once the room door swung shut behind us. “That’s a hard no for me. Nothing against them, but that’s definitely not me.”
He set the keycard on the table. “There, you see?”
“See what?”
He gathered my hands in his and kissed them.
Did I mention it melted me when he did that?
“You’ve already defined a hard limit,” he said.
“That sounds too easy.”
He smiled. “It can be that easy. I know that I’m not a heavy sadist, but I want something more than a ‘Daddy/Little girl’ dynamic.
If you were to decide you wanted to explore being a Little, I would support you doing that, but that would be a separate aspect of our relationship outside of our main dynamic. Does that make sense?”
I stared up at him. “Nothing makes sense in my mind right now.”
“Fair.” He pulled me in for a forehead kiss and can I just say how is that not known as the sexiest thing ever?
“Like Derek said, labels are just that. I can call you ‘girl’ or ‘submissive’ or ‘Daddy’s little fucktoy’ and that is something we decide together, but it’s not the sum of what we do together.
Doesn’t even have to be the same as what someone else does. In fact, I guarantee you it won’t be.”
I stared up at him, struggling not to grind against him.
Okay, yeah, that last one? Daddy’s little fucktoy? As wrong as it sounded…
Yeah. It was hot as hell.
His gaze narrowed, his head cocking. “What just happened, baby?”
I swallowed, not sure how to say it, embarrassed to admit it.
He dipped his knees, bringing us eye-to-eye. “Daddy’s… little… fucktoy,” he whispered.
Yes, I whimpered, okay?
A slow smile spread across his face and he nuzzled his nose against mine. “Does my girl like it when I call her ‘Daddy’s little fucktoy’?”
I whimpered again, reeeeallly wishing he’d quit saying it, because every time he did, it made my pulse race and my clit throb and I’d packed a finite number of panties for the weekend.
Hopefully, they had laundry service here.
That sexy, throaty chuckle of his would also be my undoing.
He enveloped me in his strong arms and his warm breath brushed against my scalp.
“Baby, this is why we need this time together, and why you need these classes. I’m not saying I have all the answers, either.
But I’m farther along in the process than you are. ”
“Does me wearing Hello Kitty onesie PJs make me a Little?” I mumbled against his chest.
Because I totally did that on chilly nights.
Another chuckle. “Not if you don’t want it to be. You don’t have to be ‘a’ Little, sweetie. You can do things that make you happy that happen to also be common Little activities, and still be Daddy’s little fucktoy.”
I whined. “Please stop saying that unless you want me to cream right through all my panties this weekend.”
“If you’re a very good girl, maybe I won’t let you wear panties.”
I had no idea that would be such a hot thought, but it was. “Then you’d better carry a towel with you for me to sit on or I’ll be leaving snail trails all over the place. That’s probably against a rule or two.”
That made him roar with laughter and he pulled back enough to smile down at me. “I love laughing with you, baby. I’ve laughed more in the past several weeks than I have in the past several years.”
Come to think of it, so had I. “Me, too.”
We had just enough time to unpack and for me to freshen up—and change my panties—so we could grab a quick lunch before we took the elevator upstairs to the classroom on the second floor.
There were already a couple of people inside, including someone I guessed was the instructor based on her pullover shirt with the Ranch’s logo embroidered on the chest.
Jack took my hands in his and kissed them as he looked me in the eyes.
Did I mention that was hot as hell, too?
“Do you want me to come up and get you when class ends?”
I thought about it.
Reeeeally thought about it. According to the schedule, it’d last nearly three hours.
“That’s okay. I’ll probably need a few minutes to… digest.”
“Fair.” He kissed my forehead and patted my butt to get me moving. “Have fun, baby.”
I nodded, nervous, and turned to focus on the instructor’s welcoming smile.
I can do this.
Even though, honestly?
It scared the fuck out of me.