Chapter 10
FREYA
It’s been a week since I last spoke with Sir. I miss our interactions, and my body craves his touch. Work keeps me busy, but in the rare moments of silence, I find myself at war. I promised myself I wouldn’t let my personal life encroach on my choice to pursue becoming a submissive.
I didn’t take into consideration that I would grow attached to my Dom outside of the playroom. My naivety clearly extends to more than my virginity. I thought it could be a simple transaction. A contract devoid of feeling. I never imagined I would enjoy submitting to Sir in my day-to-day life.
I pride myself on being an independent, self-made woman. Anyone who truly knows me understands how much it means to me. My work is my identity—my reason for breathing in and out.
Growing up, I didn’t fit in. No one thought me special except my mother, but that’s her job. Moms love you unconditionally. I was the reason she lost my father, and yet she never once held it against me. He wanted nothing to do with her after she told him she was pregnant.
My mother picked herself up, refusing to fall apart over a man who could overlook his own daughter. She taught me never to give a man so much power over my life in any capacity. I have never given a man control, and yet that’s what intrigues me most about becoming a submissive. I’m different from other women. I’ve never been one to consider relationships with men a priority. The few I have tried to connect with wanted one thing while professing something else.
Sir offers no such complications. I offer my body freely, without emotional entanglements. At least, that’s what I’ve told myself up until now. This past week has felt almost unbearable without our interactions. I have loved them as much as I loved being in his playroom. I want to please him and hear him praise me for being a good girl .
Giving my name may seem like such a small ask, but it’s what comes after that scares me. First my name, then my mask will be gone, leaving no barriers between Sir and me. I fear that when I set eyes on his face, it will only make me crave him more. Until today, I’ve been steadfast in my resolve to do the right thing and keep my distance.
It’s been a long and grueling day, and as I stand under the showerhead, letting it all wash away, I find myself wanting to hear his voice. Yes, I need to feel the way he made my body sing, but I’m just as anxious to let his words caress me.
With my mind made up, I get out of the shower and wrap a towel around myself before reaching for my phone. His phone. He’s the only number saved to contacts. I hit call and wait.
Ring! Ring! Ring!
I expect it to go to voicemail, ready to hang up when his dark, delicious voice speaks into my ear.
“Hello, little one. It took you longer than I anticipated to call.” He knew I wouldn’t be able to stay away. Part of me is excited by how well he knows me. It’s ridiculous when the reason we haven’t spoken is my reticence to give him my name.
“Did you miss me, Sir?”
“You haven’t earned the answer to that, little one.” A thrill courses through me.
“And what would I have to do to earn such an answer? ”
“You need only tell me your first name. Baby steps.”
“Would it earn me a trip back to your playroom?”
“Most certainly, however, it would be for your punishment.”
“My… punishment?” I swallow hard as I contemplate the idea, squeezing my thighs together.
“Yes. You didn’t tell me you were a virgin, and you’ve taken a week to contact me.”
“I’m sorry, Sir. It was never my intention to displease you.”
“I meant what I said. I won’t have sex with you again until you reveal your face or your name to me.”
“Why?”
“It is not for you to question. You might try addressing me appropriately. You’ve just added two to your punishment.”
“Two of what, Sir?”
“That’s for me to know. Are you going to do what’s necessary to reenter my playroom?”
My heart is hammering in my chest, my pulse galloping like an untamed stallion. What’s the worst that could happen? My first name gives nothing away.
“What if I keep wearing the mask?”
“Then I will only teach you. Clearly, you have much to learn. When you ask me a question, I expect you to call me Sir.”
“What does that mean… Sir?”
“Let me worry about the details. First things first, will you agree to telling me your first name?”
I hesitate, a pregnant pause hanging on the line between us. It’s not because I’m unsure of my decision. It’s because I know I would do almost anything to experience his punishment. To bask in the glow of his playroom once more.
“Well, little one, what’s it going to be?” Butterflies take flight in the pit of my stomach as he caresses my name.
“I like when you call me, little one . I don’t want that to change, Sir.”
“If that is your preference, I will continue to do so. One doesn’t negate the other. ”
“Okay.” He waits me out, my voice croaking as I continue. “My name is Freya.”
“ Freya .” I swear I could come just hearing him purr my name. I wasn’t expecting it to spark my desire, making me wet as I sit on the edge of my bed, clutching my towel tighter. “A beautiful name, my little one.”
“Thank you, Sir.” It comes out as barely more than a whisper.
“Isn’t that better? I’ve eaten you out in public and taken your virginity in private, and yet it feels like meeting you for the first time. My name is…”
“Don’t,” I squeal. “Not yet.”
“You just added another three to your punishment.”
“When will you punish me, Sir?” Even I hear how eager I sound.
“Pull up the calendar. Now.” His commanding tone sends a shiver down my spine. I do as I’m told, excited when I see our availability. The stars have aligned and are screaming my name.
“Tomorrow night.”
“Eager little thing, aren’t you?”
“Yes, Sir.”
“I’ve missed you, little one.” My heart takes flight.
“Really?”
“Is it that hard to believe?”
“Yes. You are… amazing.”
“As are you. I don’t want to hear you question my taste in submissives. If you are down on yourself in my playroom, you will be punished. I see great potential in you, little one.”
“Thank you, Sir.”
“Tell me, are you confident in your career, Freya? In other aspects of your life?”
“Yes.” I don’t have to think this one through. “I excel outside of… relationships.”
“You are fulfilled by your work?”
“Yes, Sir. I love my job, and I’m good.”
“I’m sure you’re more than good. I venture to think you’re great. ”
“I will be.”
“What do you mean?”
“I have goals. I’m not at my peak yet.”
“That’s not a bad thing. Better to build a solid foundation.”
“Exactly.” Sir is so easy to talk to. I’m about to address my lack of success with relationships when he interjects.
“Be in the playroom tomorrow at seven,” he commands.
“Yes, Sir.”
“And, little one, do not touch yourself tonight.”
“But I’m naked and wet from the shower.” I’m not sure why I say it, but I’m rewarded by a deep rumble.
“That’s two more added to your punishment.” I poked the bear, and it has me so riled up, I desperately want to touch myself.
“Why, Sir?”
“You know why, you little minx. If I have to endure knowing you are ready for me right now, then you must pay for it.”
“I didn’t realize it would affect you, Sir.” There’s no conviction in my voice.
“No lying, little one. It will only result in sexual frustration for you. You think it’s bad that you can’t touch yourself tonight… you have no idea what I can do to your body. I’m going to enjoy punishing you tomorrow.”
“I think I’ll enjoy it, too, Sir.”
“I am certain you will. Be on time and make sure you’re in the position when I arrive.”
“Yes, Sir.”
“Goodnight, Freya.”
“Goodnight, Sir.” The line goes dead, and all I want to do is slip my hand between my legs to satisfy the ache Sir’s voice alone caused. My mind is racing with ideas of how he may punish me. I’ve read a lot about various kinks, and pain has always intrigued me. I’m giddy with excitement and so turned on I can hardly stand it.
I usually sleep in sweats and a baggy T-shirt, but tonight, with Sir’s voice fresh in my mind, I lean into the frustration. I stand and let my towel fall to the floor, leaving me completely naked and acutely aware of my arousal, my thighs wet as I climb into bed.
The sheets glide over my naked flesh, goose bumps spreading across my entire body. My nipples pebble as the cotton sweeps over them as I lie back and think of tomorrow. The ache between my thighs intensifies, and I spread my legs, letting the sheet settle against my pussy.
I’m making it worse, but I continue to tease myself. I’ve never slept naked before, and it feels forbidden somehow. Knowing I’m not allowed to pleasure myself is a rush. I’m not sure how I’ll get through work tomorrow with Sir on my mind.
When the ache is so bad, and I can think of nothing else, I push the sheet down to my waist, letting the ceiling fan caress my breasts, my nipples so tight they’re on the edge of painful—just the way I want it.
Eventually, I pull out my phone and reread some of my research on pain, kinks, and delayed release, only making it harder for me to fall asleep. Tomorrow can’t come fast enough. My first punishment .
Shit! Shit! Shit!
I’m used to work getting in the way of my attempts at a social life, but I needed today to be the exception. There’s no way I’m going to make it to Venom tonight. I wait until the last possible moment to contact Sir, wishing for a miracle to get me into his playroom.
Me: I’m so sorry, Sir. I have been delayed at work.
Sir: Is it a life or death career emergency?
Me: Yes. Trust me, I am devastated that we cannot meet tonight.
Sir: It’s okay, little one. I’ll look at our calendar and reschedule. Don’t fear, you’ll still get your punishment.
Me: Promise?
Sir: I promise. My cane is twitching. I’ll let you get on with your work. Let me know you get home safely.
Me: Yes, Sir. Thank you for being so understanding.
Sir: You’re welcome, little one.
Did he just mention a twitching cane? Desire sparks deep in my core, a bolt of lightning, setting my body on fire. If he’s serious, a cane is will smart for sure. My pulse quickens as I slip my phone back in my purse. I’ve got a long night ahead, and I need my mind to be focused on the task at hand. Not in a playroom with Sir and his cane.
I take a few moments to calm my breathing, only to be interrupted by my boss. He’s imposing, intimidating, and brilliant.
“Are you sure you’re up for this?”
“Yes. I won’t disappoint you.”
“I saw you flinch earlier when I stated the details of this case. I need your A-game.”
“Always.” I never bring less than my best, and I don’t plan to change that tonight. Maybe I was right before when I dedicated every breath I took to my work. Relationships complicate things, and my current contract with Sir was supposed to be simple—an exchange of like-minded people.
I want to know if I have what it takes to be a submissive. I don’t do anything half-heartedly. If I’m going to enter this lifestyle, then I want to be well-informed. I need to learn about my kinks and train to be an excellent submissive. Being a good sub isn’t enough for me. I strive for perfection in all things. Why should this be any different?
Taking a few minutes to meditate, I calm my mind as I do before any big case. I can do this. I’m a strong, confident, more than capable woman. I go through all the steps, playing it out in my mind. Each action has an equal and opposite reaction. One decision creates a knock-on effect, dictating the next move. You have to be prepared in life. Otherwise, you can be blindsided. That’s how I feel when I think of Sir—caught completely off guard by how deeply he affects me.
Eight hours later, I emerge under the cover of darkness, my body tired, my mind exhausted, and my heart full at a job well done. Hailing a cab, I jump in and pull up the calendar on my phone, eager to find the next time I can meet with Sir.
It’s only as I think of him that I realize I may have given him my first name, but I refused his offer. What does he think of that? Do I even want to know? I add my availability for three days from now and type out a quick message to Sir.
Me: I updated the calendar. Does Thursday work for you, Sir?
I almost sent that without addressing him as Sir. I’m a little disappointed that I won’t be adding to my punishment.
Sir: That works. Why are you up at this time, little one?
Me: Long night at work.
Sir: Did you take a cab home? I don’t like the idea of you walking around Manhattan alone in the middle of the night.
Me: I’m in a cab, Sir. I knew it would displease you if I walked the couple of blocks to the subway.
Sir: Good girl.
Why do I crave his approval? I barely know the man, yet my mind is consumed with the desire to please him.
Me: Thank you, Sir.
Sir: Are you prepared to be punished?
Me: Yes, Sir. I’m looking forward to it.
The moment I hit send, I regret it. I shouldn’t admit such a thing. Who wants someone to hurt them in pursuit of sexual gratification? It’s a rhetorical question, of course. I’ve done extensive research on the matter, and Venom is full of people who enjoy punishment.
Sir: You say that now, little one. Wait until your body is shaking, your ass burning from the sting of my cane. You might think otherwise.
Me: I trust you, Sir.
I really do . I trust him with my pleasure and conversely with my pain. He’s shown me tenderness, and there is something in his eyes—a discernment I admire. When you look at someone behind a mask, their gaze is magnified, distilled with a clarity that’s refreshing. It’s as if I truly see him and him me.
Sir: Trying to get on my good side?
Me: Always, Sir.
Sir: Good answer. Are you home yet?
Me: No, Sir.
Sir: Let me know when you’re home safe with the doors locked. If you’re going to be working these hours regularly, I’ll have a town car pick you up.
Me: Then you’d know far too much about me, Sir.
Sir: Safety comes before anonymity. I’ll figure it out. Let me worry about the logistics.
Me: Yes, Sir.
By the time the cab driver pulls up at my apartment building, moving my limbs is hard work. I’m so tired. Once I’m safely inside, I let Sir know I’m home and crawl into bed, sleep instantly settling over my weary body, my mind taking me to a certain playroom, a set of piercing forest green eyes staring back at me.
“Hello, little one.”
The bite of the restraints against my wrists is deliciously wicked as I sit on my heels in the position Sir requires of me. Waiting for him like this is the greatest form of torture. Tonight, he set out sumptuous wine-red lingerie—a stunning basque lace thong and a matching jewel-encrusted mask. The ropes that currently hold my hands above me are the same deep shade of red.
“Hello, Sir.” My voice is barely above a whisper, my breathing shallow as my pulse races.
“Are you ready for tonight’s lesson?”
“Yes, Sir.” I’m already wet for him, and he hasn’t even touched me yet.
“Let’s be clear on the rules of this evening. After every point I’m about to list, I need your verbal acknowledgment that you understand and consent to everything that’s going to happen.”
“Yes, Sir.” My nerves burst into a thousand fireflies, swarming my chest.
“You can stop at any time. All you need do is say your safeword. You will not be gagged, so your safe signal will not be required. What is your safeword, little one?”
“Lavender. I understand, Sir.”
“Good girl.” The fireflies multiply .
“Tonight is a lesson in punishment. What did you do to require punishment?”
“I didn’t tell you I was a virgin, Sir. I have also forgotten to address you correctly at times… Sir.”
“Yes. This punishment is predominantly for your lie of omission. Also, I will not fuck your beautiful little cunt this evening.” My heart sinks.
“Understood, Sir.”
“If you take your punishment like a good little girl, you will be rewarded because you offered your first name, Freya.” I could detonate right now at the way my name drips with sex from his lips.
“Thank you, Sir.”
“I haven’t told you what that reward will be. You might not want to thank me yet, little one.”
“Sorry, Sir.”
“When I release your restraints, you will stand, keeping your gaze on the floor, and make your way over to the table. Bend over with your arms outstretched to be secured in the leather cuffs.”
“Yes, Sir.”
“You will count each lash, continuing to address me correctly.”
“Gladly, Sir. I want to be good for you.”
I feel him at my back, the scent of his cologne invading my senses, casting a haze of arousal with every brush of his fingertips up my arms. I tremble at his touch. My entire body sings as he loosens the ropes, gently massaging my wrists before stepping back.
“Get up.” His deep, growling command courses through my veins as I get to my feet. It takes everything in me not to meet his gaze. All I can see are his bare feet and the bottom of his jeans. I want to look at him so badly it’s an ache in my chest.
I do as I’m told, stopping at the narrow ebony table, which is at waist height. Bending over, I splay my arms out to either side of me. He makes his way to the other side of the table. “You may look at me while I restrain you, little one.”
I greedily take in the length of him as he reaches for my left hand, pulling it into the leather cuff and buckling it tight. He’s wearing nothing but his mask and jeans, his lean, muscled chest on display, his happy trail dipping beneath the waistband, the top button undone. He’s teasing me with that button. I want to rip the rest of them open and drop to my knees for him.
He takes my right hand and buckles the leather cuff tightly around my wrist, leaving me completely at his mercy, a thrill coursing through me.
“See something you want?” he says with a wry grin, following my gaze to his crotch.
“Yes, Sir.”
“Shall that be your reward, little one?” he asks, stepping closer. The table is just wide enough for my head to be perfectly positioned should he decide to fuck my mouth, and I squeeze my thighs together, desperate to suck his cock.
“Yes, please, Sir.”
“Oh, we can’t have you alleviating the ache between your legs. That would make this too easy.” He moves out of my line of sight before dropping to grip my ankle. “Lift.” He runs his hand up my calf before positioning my foot to secure a leather cuff around my ankle, shackling me to the table leg. He does the same thing on the other side, leaving me with my legs and arms spread wide, bent over at the waist. “Good girl. You look so pretty splayed out for me, little one.”
“Thank you, Sir.” My voice trembles as I speak, the gravity of what’s about to happen hanging in the air between us.
I hear various noises, but they’re unfamiliar, making them difficult to place. It’s not until he walks in front of me that my breath catches. He’s holding a long, wooden cane.
“Safeword once again.” He levels me with his stare.
“Lavender, Sir.”
“Good girl. You will receive fifteen lashes. Remember to count, or you’ll be forced to take an extra lash for each one you miss.”
“Yes, Sir.”
“This allows me to assess your tolerance and preference for pain. I require absolute honesty. If it’s too much, you say your safeword.” He starts to pace, letting the cane slap against his hand. “If you feel overwhelmed, you say your safeword. Certain rules are different in training. The main one is, if you have a question, you. Say. Your. Safe. Word. Understood?”
“Yes, Sir.”
“Good, then we’ll begin.”
He walks behind me, my body jolting when his large, warm hand caresses my ass. I try to slow my breathing. This is the moment I’ve been dreaming of for years.
The anticipation is killing me, but I steel myself when his hand disappears and is replaced by the cane. I feel a gentle stroke across my cheeks on display in the thong he made me wear.
Crack!
The cane makes contact with my naked flesh, the sting making me flinch.
“One, Sir.”
He brings it down a second time with more force, setting every nerve ending in my body on fire.
“Two, Sir.”
Again, and again, and again.
“ Yes! Five… Sir.” It’s everything I dreamed it would be, the pain straddling the thinly veiled line of pleasure.
I give myself over completely, lost in the moment, lost in him.
Crack!
“Six, Sir.”
“You’re doing so well, little one.” His voice almost pushes me over the edge, so turned on I can feel my arousal start to wet my thighs. I want him more than my next breath, all inhibitions gone. Any inner turmoil eradicated with each strike of his cane.
“Yes… oh God… seven… Daddy! ”
His rhythm falters, silence crawling over every inch of my skin as I lay prostrate and shackled.
What have I done?