Chapter 6
Jamie
Arnie gave me homework before our first session at his home this weekend.
After only a handful of library sessions over the last couple of weeks, I was surprised to find a kink quiz in my emails that I had to fill out and keep a copy of.
He also sent me a copy of his, which I wasn’t expecting.
I thought he would be too mysterious and controlling to provide me with any kind of information that made him look more human.
More vulnerable. Seems I was wrong about him.
No surprise that being a Dom was top of the list when I read it. There were others that I either had only a tiny awareness of or had never heard before. I decided rather sadistically to ask Arnie when I saw him, rather than use the internet. Maybe make him squirm for a change.
I was currently in my dorm with a rare night off. I got myself some snacks and downloaded a new spicy romance to read but got distracted and went back to reading our kink lists, looking at the compatibility.
I doubt Arnie would care about his needs, although part of me isn’t so sure. If I’m the one being tutored, then will he expect reciprocation if he’s only engaging in D/s play for work’s sake? Ugh, I’m confused, so I close the tab and go back to eating my chocolate pretzels.
My mind wanders to Simmons and I can’t help but laugh a little. He must know this is how Arnie conducts his so-called tutoring. I thought about going to him about Arnie, that his way of tutoring will probably include me being put over his knee and punished for my grades suffering.
Ultimately, I decided against it. One: cause I will never have the courage to talk about those things with my professor, and two: a part of me is excited to see where this goes with Arnie. I rub my eyes with the heels of my palms until I see tiny black dots dancing.
Like I had confessed to him already, I have never done anything with a man before.
I used to push those thoughts away and only date women.
I’d never been in an actual relationship, only ever using hookup apps if the notion of sex popped into my head.
My course load and work took up far too much time to explore my sexuality, even if university was the best place to do it.
I convinced myself to commit to just the first session with Arnie and see where it led. If I turned out to be 100% vanilla, couldn’t handle any of it — especially with a man, then I’d ask him to stop. Hopefully, we could go our separate ways with a clean break.
He’ll probably help some other poor submissive, while I’ll still be a failure, alongside being more sexually unsatisfied than I was before. Submissive? Was that the right term for the things I was feeling? I wasn’t sure.
Maybe I could talk to someone at work. I recently moved to a new location that had just opened after the owner, Beau, offered me more money at the club to move with them. I would not look a gift horse in the mouth, so I agreed.
I knew little about Beau personally, just that they have been supportive when I have been late or needed extra hours to feed myself.
Despite quitting the gym routine, I’m still in good shape from my dancing job. Who knew when my mom forced me into dance classes when I was a kid that I’d be shaking it on stage, covered in glitter, to pay my bills.
Pictures of my mom and the horrible man she married flood my thoughts.
How she looked the other way when he turned his rage on me.
It leaves a pit in my stomach that I don’t want to think about.
Nope, not tonight. I make myself comfortable and open my Kindle, getting lost in some filthy romance that may have been about two men forming a new dynamic.
***
The smell of dirt hits me as I run through a shortcut in the rain on Saturday morning to catch my bus over to where Arnie lives.
10am sharp, he had stated in his text, along with his address and a list of things I should bring with me. Textbooks, fresh clothes, toothbrush. Basics for an overnight stay.
I would stay overnight which I was surprised about, yet as I caught my bus and planted my butt on a seat near the back, my mind wandered to the possibility of him chaining me up naked in some dark basement where he makes me lick him clean.
Again, with the licking daydreams, however, this time I don’t shake it off, instead feeling nothing but a throbbing desire at the thought of doing that for him. Did that mean I’m attracted to men? Or just Arnie? Or was it the kinky stuff?
I’ve been letting these thoughts linger more than I used to, now that I’ve agreed and signed Arnie’s contract. The anticipation of knowing that we still need to discuss some of my wants and needs has me feeling embarrassed in a way that turns me on.
Of course, I would discover this side of myself, and it’s a humiliation kink that’s tacked on to all the others. I roll my eyes and settle into the bus journey with my headphones. Some calming music to slow my crazy beating heart as I near my destination.
Lust swirls inside me as Arnie opens the front door to his home. We are both in our twenties, Arnie being maybe a little older than 25, yet he has a house with a garden and a driveway.
It makes me feel like a child compared to my little dorm room with its tiny bed frame, and my only choice is to shower with others in a communal space.
I have nowhere to call home, no one that’s missing me either.
It makes me wonder if Arnie has a partner and I’m just a way for him to let off some steam. I cringe at the thought.
Arnie’s dwelling is in a small-scale suburban neighbourhood. The front is neatly kept, and there are even some colourful flowers growing in pots by the door. Does he cut his grass himself? If so, I’d like to stay and watch one day. Especially if he does it topless, like he is right now.
Arnie stands wearing nothing but some low-hanging grey sweats.
He’s tanned and tattooed everywhere visible to me.
Intricate lines and patterns cover his torso, twisting around and up over his pecs before flowing down his arms in perfect detail.
His nipples are pierced, and when I gulp, he notices and winks.
“Like what you see, Jamie?” He inquires with that gravelly voice that makes my lust for him intensify.
I wet my lips, and his eyes tracked the movement. I’m soaked in the torrential rain as I stand on his front porch, basically panting at how obscenely good he looks.
“Come in. Shoes go on the rack; I only allow bare feet in my home. Hang your coat and leave your bag by the door. We will collect it later. We have lots to do, so hurry and meet me in the kitchen.”
He clicks his fingers with his back to me, then makes his way through a brightly lit hallway with mahogany flooring. I shuck off my coat and line my shoes up on the rack. Oh, how easy it was to let him command me.
An uneasy feeling creeps over me as I realise that meeting Arnie at the university was intimidating enough, yet here, in his home, I’ve just given myself over to the lions’ den. The air smells of citrus and spice. Clean, controlled. Like everything here is his.
Including me.
I don’t keep him waiting as I follow into the unknown.