Dane
THE MUSCLES IN MY back tense and release as my axe cuts into the massive log. I swing again in the spot I hit before, and the wood logs clunk and clatter to the ground.
I cut a few more logs, then set down my axe, moving to the tripod that’s holding up my phone.
It’s Monday, which is always the day I batch film outdoor content unless the weather is bad.
But today is a perfect day. The sun is shining, and it’s seventy-eight degrees, a little hotter than I normally like but not hot enough to make working unbearable.
I look through the videos I took to make sure my face isn’t showing in any of them. Satisfied, I decide to go down to the river. It’s about a ten-minute walk from here, and a bit of exercise and a cool off in the water sound great.
My modest two-bedroom cabin is deep in the forest, which I prefer. I don’t have a lakefront property, and it takes me about twenty minutes to get to the General Store by truck, but I don’t mind the drive.
I can also trek a thirty-minute trail that will bring me to Fox and Morgan’s doorstep. I don’t use it often, but when I worked for them, I liked that I didn’t have to drive, which was nice when the snow was bad or a mudslide hit from too much rain.
I pick up my T-shirt from where I’d thrown it on the ground and wipe my forehead of sweat. My muscles twitch from the exertion of chopping, but I invite the bite of pain. It makes me feel alive, and I like the feeling of being strong and in control of my body.
I slip my phone in my pocket and stretch my quads, deciding to run the short distance to the river. I take a deep breath and pump my arms as I begin to run, my lungs burning the farther I get down the path. The sensation only fuels me to want to run a greater distance than I planned.
My feet pound on the dirt, echoing in my head.
I’ve never been a huge fan of music while I run, something I’ve been told by Levi makes me a psychopath.
But music has its purpose, like everything else in my life.
I listen to classical music when I want to focus and enjoy punk rock or metal when I’m filming content.
My lips turn up as a bead of sweat drips down my forehead.
I grab my shirt, which I’d tucked into the side of my shorts, and wipe it away.
I’ve tried to listen to music while I run, but I’d rather hear each intake of breath, the pounding of my heart in my ears, and the beat of each foot hitting the ground.
It’s meditative, which is something I need with the workload I’ve committed to.
Especially when my workload involves caring for other people.
The sun above shines on me, heating my skin.
The muscles in my legs and biceps tingle, the sensation causing the image of a certain curvy nurse in green scrubs to enter my mind without my permission.
In her first email to me, Lindsey mentioned she felt “tingly” thinking about submission.
That isn’t an uncommon reaction for someone who either is a submissive or has submissive fantasies when talking or thinking about the act of it.
But as I told her, being one and having fantasies are two different things.
I spent time reading over her journal answers, and while she’s never submitted before, at least mindfully and with a Dom, there is no denying that what she craves is more than a fantasy.
The true test will be when we officially start working together.
But I do get feelings about people, and the feelings I have about Lindsey have only gotten stronger now that I know her mind a bit better.
She answered the journal questions I sent her in great detail, more so than anyone I’ve sent them to before.
She doesn’t know it yet, but I’ll have her keep a journal while we’re working together.
I’ll ask to see it each week, so the fact that she has already shared her private and inner thoughts pleases me more than she knows.
I ease myself into a slow jog, my mind no longer in a meditative space.
Instead, it’s completely on Lindsey. I’m already curious to know more about her.
The questionnaire I sent her will give me more info, but that’s more to help me understand her limits and her desires.
Not her personality. Not what makes Lindsey, Lindsey.
I bring myself to a walk as I approach the riverbank. We had a good amount of snow the last two winters, which means the water is running beautifully. The sound of it flowing through the riverbed and over rocks soothes my overworked mind.
I stop at the edge of the bank and remove my clothes and shoes. I pull my phone from my pocket and stop when my phone screen lights up. When I see the notification is from Lindsey, I smile.
“So eager,” I say, though no one’s around to listen.
I take my phone and tap the screen, fully aware I’m standing in the woods naked.
While this river runs through my property, it wouldn’t be uncommon for someone to follow the river’s edge and end up getting an eyeful of my dick.
But nudity is something I’m not ashamed of, and this is my property, so I can do what I like.
If someone comes along, they’ll just have to deal with it, though the likelihood is low.
I walk into the waist-deep water. It’s cold, but my sticky skin and sore muscles welcome it. Once I’m acclimated, I lean against a tree root at the opposite side of the bank and open Lindsey’s email. “Let’s see what you have to say, beautiful.”
To: info@
From: lindsey_c@
Date: July 17, 1:01PM
Subject: Completed Questionnaire
Hi Dom,
Can I call you Dom? Or is there a certain way I’m supposed to address you? I know you mentioned Sir, but I read on that website all the different titles you can call your Dom. However, I’m not sure what you like.
Anyway, I’ve completed the questions, and I’ve attached them. I answered all of them, and I think I’ve learned a lot about myself.
I hope the answers are satisfactory.
Best,
Lindsey
I splash some cold water on my chest and chuckle.
Lindsey’s opening question amuses me, delighting me in a way that hasn’t happened in a long time.
It’s a fair question, but it’s rare that I work with brand-new submissives.
I get a lot of inquiries because of my Loopr videos, but a lot of them fall into the “I have submissive fantasies, but I am not actually submissive” categories, so we don’t end up working together.
In fact, all but one of my current clients have been in the lifestyle previously, and a lot of my subs are referrals from past clients. They emailed me with specific goals and reasons they needed my help. But I admit it’s nice to start fresh with someone, and it excites me.
I wonder how she’ll be when we truly start to work together. Will she give me pushback? Maybe have a little brat in her? Could her eagerness to please me at this moment come from perfectionism rather than the true desire to please? These are things we will figure out as we go.
I set my phone down on the bank near the tree I’m leaning on and sink into the water.
I dunk my head under, scrubbing at my hair and beard before breaking the surface.
After wiping off my face and blinking water from my eyes, I consider floating for a bit but find myself staring at my phone.
I guess Lindsey isn’t the only eager one.
I run my hand over my face again. The feeling is a bit unsettling since I pride myself on being able to withhold pleasure, specifically instant gratification.
One of my earlier self-practices as a new Dom was ordering something I really wanted, like new oil paint or an expensive cognac, then delaying partaking in it until the eager itch went away.
I stare at the phone again and grit my teeth.
“Fuck it,” I say to the trees.
What’s the harm in answering a client’s email right away? I did the same late last night after she sent her consent. In this email, she asked questions, ones I can answer without it meaning anything more than what it is.
I grab my phone and lean back against the tree, the sun warming my chest as I answer.
To: lindsey_c@
From: info@
Date: July 17, 1:11PM
Subject: Re: Completed Questionnaire
Hi Lindsey,
I’m very happy to see your email before midnight. Thank you for sending me the completed questionnaire; I’m glad it helped you learn more about yourself and your desires. I’ll review the answers and send you a link to schedule our first call.
To answer your other question, if you’re comfortable with it, please address me as Sir from now on, both in writing and verbally. In power exchange dynamics, titles like Sir are called honorifics. They’re not just labels but intentional acknowledgments of authority, trust, and mutual respect.
Please find that I’ve attached the same questionnaire I sent you but with my answers. I ask that you review it before our call.
Thank you, Lindsey.
Till then,
Sir
I go to send the email, but, at the last second, add a P.S.
P.S. It pleases me greatly that you did your own research.
I attach my questionnaire I have in a folder on my phone and hit send. Once it goes through, I put my phone back on the bank and resist the urge to look at her questionnaire.
I lie back in the river, floating in the water so I feel weightless. My eyes train on the blue sky through the forest of trees, and I push all thoughts of work—of Lindsey—from my mind. Even if I find it hard to do.
This is simply another client, another person I’m going to build a relationship with and help through my dominance. It isn’t and won’t be more than that.