Lindsey
THE SOUND OF MY phone pinging jolts me from sleep. You’d think my body thought a murderer was in the house with the way I sat up on the couch, heart beating rapidly in my chest. But no, no murderer. I’ve been on edge since I emailed DomInTheWoods, waiting for him to email me back.
I check the time—I’ve only been asleep for fifteen minutes, which explains why I feel so groggy. I got home from work and plopped down on the couch, too tired to do anything else.
My shift felt longer than usual with my lingering hangover. Not only that, we were busy tonight, and every free moment that I did have, my mind wasn’t on work.
Prior to my shift, I journaled vigorously on the questions he’d sent me. With each stroke of pen to paper, I discovered things about myself that I’d never even thought about. Like the fact that I personally enjoy when I earn approval, awards, or praise.
Another thing I learned is that the reason I find DomInTheWoods’s formality appealing is because it earns my respect.
It makes me feel safe, like I could and want to submit to him.
I even imagined him praising me for doing something right, and I got wetter than I ever had in my life.
Which is saying something considering nobody was touching me.
I got so into answering and fantasizing about working with him that I was almost late for work. When it was time for my first fifteen-minute break, I nearly ran to the break room to finish journaling.
While I was helping Mrs. Crane with her diverticulitis, my mind raced with the only question I had left to answer, one that was not on the list but one I needed to answer for myself: If I’m truly a submissive, do I want to submit to DomInTheWoods?
Ultimately, the answer I kept coming back to was yes.
The questions he had me journal on spoke to me in a way that I didn’t think they would. Nearly every question was a yes or a maybe depending on the situation.
That had to mean something, right?
My phone notification goes off again, and my heart thumps, figuring this is a new email from him before I even look down. I spoke to Kas on my dinner break, and she’s long asleep by now, so it wouldn’t be her. And Nathan would call me if something was wrong.
Nervous excitement builds in my lower belly, and I inhale a breath and look.
It’s him.
DomInTheWoods.
I click the notification and open his new message. It doesn’t escape me that I’m acting like a teenager with a school crush on a man that I’ve never met nor seen his full face, even if his nose—and, for some reason, his voice—is familiar.
I pull the fuzzy blanket off the back of my couch and pull it over me, settling in to read his long-awaited email.
To: lindsey_c@
From: info@
Date: July 16, 11:50PM
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Questions (This is WhyAmIHere33)
Hi Lindsey,
I’m so pleased you chose to email me back.
My skin buzzes as I imagine his voice saying that to me. And I’m not going to lie; I like that he said he was pleased with me. It only makes me crave him saying it more.
I see that you also attached pictures of the answers to the questions I sent you. I did not ask you for those, but I appreciate them nonetheless, and it makes me happy that you sent them. It will give me insight into who you are and how you view yourself. I’ll review them.
I press my thighs together, heat creeping up my neck. Is it normal to get turned on by this? I’ve been asking myself this a lot over the last twelve hours. He hasn’t technically done anything for me. All I’ve done is read his emails and answer his questions. Yet my body responds to him.
Before we move forward and get contracts signed, I ask that you review the below to see what I do and do not do with my clients.
I let you know a few of them in my last email, but it’s very important that I lay out everything I offer from the beginning so there’s no confusion.
I pride myself on being open and transparent, always.
I pull the blanket up to my chin, too eager to keep reading and sick of questioning my every thought and action. It’s getting old.
“Let’s see what things you can help me with, DomInTheWoods.
I hope it’s everything, because I need it,” I say as I begin reading.
It’s a very thorough list of things he can provide—including discipline, physical training, behavioral correction, and control—and what he cannot—including professional therapy, twenty-four seven power exchange (where Dominant and submissive roles are permanent), and, perhaps most importantly, sexual services.
I balk a little as I read the comment next to that no-go:
While I don’t provide sexual services, sexual release or arousal can be natural responses. If those physical or emotional responses happen, there is no shame in that. However, I do ask you don’t share any sexual reactions with me.
As if I’d share that with him.
I know this is a lot of information, and if you have questions, please do not hesitate to reach out and ask.
If you would still like to move forward, email me a written confirmation of consent.
After I receive it, I’ll send you a questionnaire that will help me set up our agreement.
This will be about limits, safe words, etc.
Once that’s completed, we’ll have our first call.
I look forward to hearing back from you, Lindsey.
- DomInTheWoods
The blanket I pulled over my body at the beginning of the email is on the floor. My chest rises and falls, my breathing heavier than usual. I guess I’m not breaking rules already by getting turned on by this, which is good.
Because I don’t think I could stop the reactions I’m having. My body feels as if it’s been lit on fire, and for the first time since I read his email this morning, I’m questioning if maybe I’m considering this only because I’m lonely and horny.
Like I did in the bath earlier, I read his email again and again to make sure that’s not why, fully absorbing what he says he offers.
Discipline and accountability, structure and routine, stress relief and mental unloading, chore enforcement.
Those are all things I’ve been struggling with and need help with.
When I imagine him supporting me with these goals and receiving praise from him for it, it makes me feel…
calm. For the first time in a long time.
Maybe ever, if I’m truly being honest with myself.
There are some things I don’t really understand, but I’m sure he’ll explain them to me. Like etiquette and obedience and protocol training. I also know I’ll spend the rest of my night looking up those things on the website he linked.
If there’s one thing I’m good at, it’s research. I was at the top of my nursing class. I like information, and I like to be good at whatever it is I’m doing.
I’m not just considering this because it turns me on; I’m considering this because I do think it will better my life—and, by proxy, Kas’s—in so many ways.
I lift my gaze from my phone and look around my A-frame cabin that’s sparsely decorated and filled with secondhand furniture I got thrifting.
It’s two floors and a loft, the layout simple like most A-frame cabins in the area.
When I moved in, I had so many dreams of how to fix it up.
I wanted to paint the walls from the beige color they are now to a white.
I wanted to redecorate the loft above my room into a reading nook for me and a gaming nook for Kas.
I wanted to get a pontoon boat or something to have at the dock. Make it our own little oasis.
While we haven’t lived here long, only two years now, I could have at least painted the walls. But one thing after another got in the way.
My attention drops back to my phone, to DomInTheWoods’s email.
Yes, I do think I need this. What’s more, I want it.
I want structure, accountability, and routine.
I want to feel like I did a good job when I go to sleep each night.
I don’t want to feel…well, how I feel now.
Tired, overworked, and stressed. I want to feel how I felt while journaling.
How I felt reading DomInTheWoods’s formal emails. I want to be calm and unburdened.
I hit reply and send an email back to him with the written consent he requested. It isn’t until my head hits the pillow a while later that he emails me back.
To: lindsey_c@
From: info@
Date: July 17, 12:30AM
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Questions (This is WhyAmIHere33)
Lindsey,
I’m so happy you want to continue and that you sent an email back so quickly. It shows me how willing and eager you are to work with me. I think we will fit together quite well.
Please see the attached questionnaire and answer the questions after a night of rest. Do not do these now if you are still awake, which I have a feeling you are. I want you to have a clear heart and mind, as these questions are important to our success together and require honest thought.
I’d like to note that there is a section of the questionnaire that includes questions of a sexual nature.
You are not required to answer them if you don’t feel comfortable.
The reason I include these is that, as mentioned in the services I offer, some clients seek support in working through blocks or anxieties related to intimacy, desire, or submission—particularly within their personal relationships or dynamics outside the professional one they share with me.
While I do not offer sex or submission/punishments involving sex, understanding how someone relates to those aspects can be valuable in supporting their personal growth and goals.
These questions are entirely optional, and you’re encouraged to skip anything that doesn’t feel aligned with your goals.
Sleep well.
- DomInTheWoods
I read over the email, my heart pounding like I find it does every time I get a message from him, and reply back.
To: info@
From: lindsey_c@
Date: July 17, 12:32AM
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Questions (This is WhyAmIHere33)
DomInTheWoods,
Do I have a time limit on filling out the questionnaire?
To: lindsey_c@
From: info@
Date: July 17, 12:33AM
Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Questions (This is WhyAmIHere33)
Hi Lindsey,
I can’t tell you how happy your question made me. I like when my submissives ask for clarification, especially when it relates to doing things for me on time.
Please return the questions back to my inbox by tomorrow at midnight. If you need more time, please email me and let me know. I’m always happy to accommodate when asked.
Now, if you can, get some rest for me.
- DomInTheWoods
That now-familiar tingly feeling sparks between my thighs, and the urge to watch one of his videos on Loopr overtakes me. But instead, I obey his command to get some rest. I plug my phone in on my nightstand and flip onto my belly, forcing my eyes to close.
It occurs to me as I fall asleep that I’m already trying to please him.