Training Day
Claire learns the ropes, so to speak.
I started the next day.
Fuckboy's brother, whose name is Gale, insisted that for the next three days I learn the ropes. The 72-hour orientation, he calls it. I'm to learn everything he's taught me on the day of Testing Day, and I'll be a bonafide Dominatrix.
I'm sitting at his island countertop, watching as he grills the bell peppers for breakfast paninis.
"Now, Claire," he begins, "I want you to know the basics. BDSM is a sensual, erotic ordeal but it could be dangerous and lethal to those who don't know what they're doing. Do you remember what we went over just now?"
"Safe, Sane, and Consensual," I answered.
"Good. We're going over Safe today. Safety is very important. A Dom who knows what he or she is doing is better than a newbie any day. We need to establish safe words, and go over the tools."
The paninis are done; their spicy aroma makes my mouth water. I reach to grab one but his hand swats me away.
"Ask first. Don't you have manners?"
"Not if I'm starving. I have literally nothing edible in my fridge."
"I'm supposed to care because?"
"A beginning Dom shouldn't do anything on an empty stomach."
"This is a job. It's your responsibility to make sure you are well prepared for your tasks. I'm responsible for your payment, not your nutrition."
"Do you have to be this difficult?"
"Do you have to be this rude?"
I inhale sharply and slowly exhale. Gale is really starting to grate on my nerves.
"May I please have a panini?"
"May I please have a panini...?"
"...sir,"
Satisfied with the answer, he hands me my grilled sandwich and I bite into it. Flavors of tart bell pepper, creamy cheese and savory steak zaps my taste-buds in orgasmic bliss. I moan my approval as I tear in for another bite. God, can this man cook!
"Like it?"
I can hear his smirk, the asshole.
I nod anyway, licking the cheese that escaped the corner of my mouth.
"My cousin Acapulco taught me how to cook," He began, looking down at his plate, "He used to make these New York style paninis every Thursday afternoon when he got off work."
"Where is he?" I asked.
"Six feet under," He answered. He then grabbed knife and fork and sliced through the sandwich. Neat, clean, and fast, he destroys his panini in minutes when I'm on my last three bites.
"Let's talk about the tools."
He leads me to his room. With a flick of the switch, I'm introduced to Eros himself. The wallpaper is a rich maroon hue, illuminated by the glow of the soft lamps. Dark mahogany furniture stands out against the red like black outlines. His black curtains are drawn, giving me no idea if it's night or day. His bed is of black silk sheets and a simple red comforter set with plush-looking pillows. What caught my eye was the headboard: iron enforced with vertical bars that have large spacing. The glint of something silver hanging on one of the gaps peaks my curiosity.
