if we do click romantically?”
He grins and looks playful, like a boy who’s about to do a fun trick. “Well, then you definitely wouldn’t lose me as your disciplinarian.”
My stomach tightens. What the hell does that mean?
“We’ll talk about it on Friday,” he says, getting up and taking the final sip of his beer. “You can come over anytime you’re done with work.”
“All right.” I agree. He gives me a quick peck on the cheek. Then he's gone, back behind the bar. I signal to the young woman to bring me my check.
At home, I call Samantha. I’ve been better at keeping keeping in touch with her—for the most part—since what I refer to in my mind as the Day of Discipline. She’s all bubbly and excited because she’s off to the beach for a few days with some of our friends.
“I’ll miss you,” I say, and I realize I honestly will miss her. I really have improved.
She pauses. “Yeah, I’ll miss you too. Hey, I wanted to ask you something.”
“Shoot.”
“What made you change back to being you?”
I shrug but realize she can’t see my body movements. “Don’t know. Just realized I was being horrible.”
“Hmm. I don’t buy it.”
“Why?”
“Because I told you that you were being horrible. So did some of your other friends. Anyway. I was just wondering.”
I decide to change the subject. “I think I have a date.”
“Whoa! Hold the phone! Rachel has time for a date?!”
I giggle. “Yeah. Friday.”
“Who is he? Some guy from work?”
“No… I met him… well, I met him online, actually.”
“Yeah, that’s more and more common these days,” she says, and I can see her nodding seriously on the other end of the line. Samantha in all of her dating wisdom. “Wait a minute. When did you meet him?” Her tone is slightly accusatory.
“Um… about a month ago.”
“Ah ha! That’s the change! I have to meet him, Rachel. Seriously. I have to thank him for whatever he did.”
“That isn’t it,” I protest.
“Keep telling yourself that. All this time, who would’ve thought. You just needed to get laid.”
“Sam! I haven’t slept with him.”
“Whatever you say,” she replies in a sing-song voice. “OK, listen, I gotta go pack. I’ll call you first thing when we get back.”
“Have an amazing time,” I tell her sincerely. Samantha deserves a great vacation.
When I hang up I cannot think of anything but my upcoming date with David. At David’s house. I'm wondering if we should have our date in more neutral territory. If we went to a restaurant, I wouldn’t be constantly thinking about that room down the hallway, to the left, where David spanked me.
And what exactly had he meant about dating me and being my disciplinarian?
I lay down on my couch with a glass of red wine and let my mind wander back to that afternoon session with him. How vulnerable I felt, but how right it all was at the same time. How he was so at ease and comfortable in his role. How he convinced me to take more than I thought I could because he felt I needed it. And how he was right; I had needed it.
When I returned home from that discipline session, I spent about five minutes studying the reflection of my ass in my bathroom mirror. It was bright pink but there were no bruises. I almost took a picture of it with my phone but felt too embarrassed.
It hurt to sit down for a day, but only mildly, and then that was it. No marks lasted more than twenty four hours. I was impressed that such pain didn’t have a longer visual effect.
A thought occurs to me and I sit upright on the couch, my eyes wide. What if David plans to spank me on Friday? I’m sure he doesn’t, but what if he does ? I would prefer to avoid any awkwardness. So, I open up my laptop and write him a quite e-mail:
David,
I just want to make sure that we are clear that Friday is dinner. Not a discipline session.
Rachel
Two minutes later, he’s replied.
Rachel:
We’ll see.
David
What am I supposed
He grins and looks playful, like a boy who’s about to do a fun trick. “Well, then you definitely wouldn’t lose me as your disciplinarian.”
My stomach tightens. What the hell does that mean?
“We’ll talk about it on Friday,” he says, getting up and taking the final sip of his beer. “You can come over anytime you’re done with work.”
“All right.” I agree. He gives me a quick peck on the cheek. Then he's gone, back behind the bar. I signal to the young woman to bring me my check.
At home, I call Samantha. I’ve been better at keeping keeping in touch with her—for the most part—since what I refer to in my mind as the Day of Discipline. She’s all bubbly and excited because she’s off to the beach for a few days with some of our friends.
“I’ll miss you,” I say, and I realize I honestly will miss her. I really have improved.
She pauses. “Yeah, I’ll miss you too. Hey, I wanted to ask you something.”
“Shoot.”
“What made you change back to being you?”
I shrug but realize she can’t see my body movements. “Don’t know. Just realized I was being horrible.”
“Hmm. I don’t buy it.”
“Why?”
“Because I told you that you were being horrible. So did some of your other friends. Anyway. I was just wondering.”
I decide to change the subject. “I think I have a date.”
“Whoa! Hold the phone! Rachel has time for a date?!”
I giggle. “Yeah. Friday.”
“Who is he? Some guy from work?”
“No… I met him… well, I met him online, actually.”
“Yeah, that’s more and more common these days,” she says, and I can see her nodding seriously on the other end of the line. Samantha in all of her dating wisdom. “Wait a minute. When did you meet him?” Her tone is slightly accusatory.
“Um… about a month ago.”
“Ah ha! That’s the change! I have to meet him, Rachel. Seriously. I have to thank him for whatever he did.”
“That isn’t it,” I protest.
“Keep telling yourself that. All this time, who would’ve thought. You just needed to get laid.”
“Sam! I haven’t slept with him.”
“Whatever you say,” she replies in a sing-song voice. “OK, listen, I gotta go pack. I’ll call you first thing when we get back.”
“Have an amazing time,” I tell her sincerely. Samantha deserves a great vacation.
When I hang up I cannot think of anything but my upcoming date with David. At David’s house. I'm wondering if we should have our date in more neutral territory. If we went to a restaurant, I wouldn’t be constantly thinking about that room down the hallway, to the left, where David spanked me.
And what exactly had he meant about dating me and being my disciplinarian?
I lay down on my couch with a glass of red wine and let my mind wander back to that afternoon session with him. How vulnerable I felt, but how right it all was at the same time. How he was so at ease and comfortable in his role. How he convinced me to take more than I thought I could because he felt I needed it. And how he was right; I had needed it.
When I returned home from that discipline session, I spent about five minutes studying the reflection of my ass in my bathroom mirror. It was bright pink but there were no bruises. I almost took a picture of it with my phone but felt too embarrassed.
It hurt to sit down for a day, but only mildly, and then that was it. No marks lasted more than twenty four hours. I was impressed that such pain didn’t have a longer visual effect.
A thought occurs to me and I sit upright on the couch, my eyes wide. What if David plans to spank me on Friday? I’m sure he doesn’t, but what if he does ? I would prefer to avoid any awkwardness. So, I open up my laptop and write him a quite e-mail:
David,
I just want to make sure that we are clear that Friday is dinner. Not a discipline session.
Rachel
Two minutes later, he’s replied.
Rachel:
We’ll see.
David
What am I supposed
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