15 Dane
Dane
IT’S ANOTHER NICE DAY out, the late-morning heat not unbearable and a gentle breeze flowing through the trees. I’m on my porch, sitting in an Adirondack chair that I got from a local artisan a couple of years back, my phone in hand.
I scroll through the comments on my newest videos, my usual responses flowing from my fingers.
But my attention isn’t completely on what I’m doing.
Instead, I’m wondering if the Loopr videos Lindsey was scrolling last night happened to be mine.
I looked through the past twelve hours of notifications to see if she’d accidentally liked one or maybe even commented, but sober Lindsey is careful. If she was, in fact, looking at them.
I finish an answer to a commenter that isn’t her then upload my newest video with all the appropriate hashtags. Once it’s done, I check my emails and messaging app. I reply to the clients who have sent me their check-ins for the day.
When I’m done, my fingers itch to flip to Lindsey’s chat. There are no new messages, so I shouldn’t want to look or reread them. I shouldn’t have reread them twice already. My pointer finger hovers over the chat, but at the last second, I don’t look, placing my phone in the chair’s cup holder.
I rest my head back, stomach growling. I need to go in and eat lunch. I ran again this morning and lifted weights before that. But the hunger pains don’t force me out of my chair; they only make me think of Lindsey.
It occurred to me the moment she messaged me with her misstep that she did not bring lunch, snacks, or any other food to work.
I know enough about her now to know that money is tight for whatever reason.
We haven’t dug into her finances yet; that will come later after she gets acclimated to me as her Dom.
It’s easier for someone to share more personal and sensitive information once we’ve connected on a deeper level, built trust and respect for each other.
Morning and evening routines are always a great place to start. It helps me learn more about my clients and what they struggle with.
The growl of my stomach brings me back to my earlier thought. Would Lindsey buy food for herself at the hospital? Or would she go the entire day without, ignoring her hunger to save money? The thought of her not eating while working long hours on her feet and doing hard work pisses me off.
If our D/s relationship was not restricted to online, I would have already dropped food off for her at the hospital.
I would have ordered her to eat it, even stayed to watch her consume every bit of what I brought her.
Even better, I’d have fed her some of it from my hand.
Then I would have given her a punishment disguised as a reward.
Maybe a toy she’d wear all day at work that only I’d have control of.
My dick strains against my jeans, and I blink open my eyes, which had closed of their own volition while I imagined the scenario. That was inappropriate for me to think about.
I take an inhale of fresh air. I need to think logically about this.
This is not the first time I’ve thought about Lindsey in ways that I should not.
But I also have never before met—if you could call our run-in that—my online clients before we started working together.
I’ve never felt their bodies against mine or been attracted to them in the way I was immediately attracted to her.
There’s also the fact that I have not had sex for over a year or indulged in masturbation in quite some time. I haven’t needed that release. I’ve had other things to channel my energy into, like running and working out.
I palm my cock through my jeans, hissing at the touch. I could open my fly right here, imagine it’s not my hands touching my heated shaft. It wouldn’t take long for me to find release, and I know I’d feel better in the short term.
But I’d be disgusted with myself afterward.
Lindsey deserves more than that. She deserves more than being a client I jack off to when I’m horny, something I’ve never done or even thought of doing before.
If I’ve gotten turned on in the past, I’ve just let it be what it was with no judgment and gone on with my life.
Fuck. I remove my hand and stand up. I’m not going to give in to myself in the way my body craves, but I can be the Dom Lindsey deserves. The Dom she expects me to be.
I call Levi, and he answers on the first ring. “Dane, my man. You called early.”
Fuck. I’d forgotten briefly that I was going to call him after one o’clock to talk about the obstacle course gig I said I’d take over for him starting tomorrow.
“I have a favor I need to ask you,” I say.
“Alright. It’d better not be asking me to get someone else to volunteer—I told you, you’re it.”
“No, I need you to call the General Store. Ask Carlee or Hollyn to deliver as many premade sandwiches and chips as they can to the ER nurses at the hospital.”
“Um, that’s an odd request.”
My jaw flexes. “Tell her it’s a thank-you from the loggers for all the work they did during the games. You know the nurses were not taking care of only you during the weekend.”
“Dane, I can’t pay for that.”
I want to reach through the phone and throttle him. “I’ll pay for it.”
“Why can’t you do it?”
“As a favor to me, just do it, and keep my name out of it.”
“Damn, you’re rich, aren’t you?”
I’m not a millionaire, but I’m not hurting for cash. Between the services I offer and the money my videos on Loopr pay out, buying lunch for nurses isn’t going to put a dent in my bank account. Not in the slightest.
“Levi, as a favor to me, will you do it or not?”
“On one condition.”
I rub my hand over my face, pacing across my deck. It’s already after eleven, and I want this done as soon as possible so Lindsey eats.
“What is it?”
“You don’t complain about the obstacle course. Not one more peep or groan or grouse.”
“Fine,” I answer without delay. I wasn’t going to, anyway. I put my phone on speaker and open a pay app, finding Levi by his name. I send him five hundred dollars and hear his gasp on the other end.
“I don’t think it will cost that much.”
“Keep the change or donate it, I don’t care.”
“So grumpy.”
“I’ll call you later. Text me when it’s done.”
“Okay, boss, you got it.”
“And remember, don’t say it was from me.”
“Okay, weirdo.”
I hang up before I say something asshole-ish, grateful he’s at least doing what I requested.
I put my phone in my pocket, not allowing myself to question if what I’m having Levi do is the wrong move.
All I care about is that itch to take care of my submissive is scratched.
Lindsey will eat, and the rest of the nurses will, too.
That’s what I’m choosing to focus on.
Lindsey
Thank you, Sir. It feels good to know you’re happy with me. And while I was annoyed at first with your request to pack my future lunches, it did feel good to get it out of the way before tomorrow.
Lindsey’s reply to my most recent message came later than I expected—around eleven, nearly two hours after she first sent it.
I answered the photo of the cute purple lunch box she sent with my praise within minutes, but then there was nothing.
As the time dragged on and I went through my usual nightly routine—settling into my chair, messaging my other submissives, answering emails—I started to wonder if she’d been called back into work.
I already know from the schedule she sent me that she’s running herself ragged taking extra shifts and working overtime.
I’m not surprised she hit snooze on her alarm this morning.
Even without her scrolling social media late into the night, she probably would have done it anyway.
She’s exhausted. I’d be exhausted if I was her.
I type out an answer after reading over her response again.
Me
It pleases me to hear that. Have you done your nightly routine yet? It’s getting close to midnight.
I’m surprised when the bubbles pop up right away given her last response took so long to come in, but I’m happy to see them. Happier than I probably should be. But I brush it off as me being glad she’s okay after not hearing from her for so long.
Lindsey
I did. I’m in bed right now.
Me
Good girl. How did the routine feel for you?
The bubbles telling me she’s typing pop up and then stop. Then pop up again. And then stop. This happens a few more times before one word comes through.
Lindsey
Hard.
I recline in my chair. All my other submissives are taken care of for tonight, and my work is done, which I’m glad for. I can give my focus to Lindsey, who seems to very much need it.
Me
Would you like to tell me why it was hard?
Again, the bubbles reappear then disappear multiple times, showing me she’s struggling to find the answer. Several minutes later, it finally comes through.
Lindsey
It’s hard for me to take time for myself, even if it’s something as small as doing my new nightly routine.
Me
Why do you think that is?
When no answer arrives after a minute, I become irritated. She needs guidance, and a messaging app isn’t the place for it.
Me
I’m going to call you, is that alright?
Her answer comes through quickly this time.
Lindsey
Like on the phone?
I chuckle to myself as I answer.
Me
Is there a different way?
Lindsey
Walkie-talkie.
My fingers itch, and I won’t deny the image of spanking her comes to mind. She really does have a smart mouth when she wants to.
Me
Answer my question, please, Lindsey. Can I call you?
Lindsey
Yes, Sir.
Warmth blooms in my chest from her agreement, and I tap the call button on the message app. It won’t show video on either end, but we don’t need visuals for this conversation. Even if it would be nice to see her face.
“Hi, Sir.” Her warm voice echoes through the phone’s speaker.
“Hello, Lindsey. Thank you for taking my call.”
“Aren’t I supposed to do what you ask?”
I press my lips together, and my chest smarts. “You only submit to me if you want to. You can always say no. Always.”