Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 82829 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 414(@200wpm)___ 331(@250wpm)___ 276(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82829 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 414(@200wpm)___ 331(@250wpm)___ 276(@300wpm)
CravingMore: Thank you, Sir. I would like that very much…and I’d also like more with you…to meet up sometime or video chat? Is that something you would allow?
I hold my breath. The indicator that he’s typing shows, so I know he’s not leaving me hanging this time.
FulfillingDominance: Not tonight. In fact, I’d like you to get dressed for me. Tonight, we just talk. We’ll continue this way for a little while, and maybe have another scene here, but I don’t do face shots or videos. It’s important to protect yourself online, and I would like you to do the same. You don’t know me, and once your face is out there, you can’t take that back.
I roll my eyes, slightly frustrated. I get what he’s saying, but in this day and age, does it really matter?
FulfillingDominance: You’re disappointed.
CravingMore: Yes, Sir.
Is he a mind reader or what?
FulfillingDominance: But you’ll obey because it’s what I wish for you to do…and you want to be a good boy for me. I’m only looking out for you.
Ugh. Why are my insides melting? Why do I want some random man to take care of me like that? Even when it’s completely annoying and ridiculous.
CravingMore: Yes, Sir. I want to do as you say. I’ll get dressed now…even if I don’t want to.
FulfillingDominance: You can’t see my face, but know I’m smiling.
Damned if that doesn’t make me smile too.
*
“So you’re still talking with the creepy guy who won’t show his face?” Reggie asks as we walk along the trail at Dorothea Dix Park. This isn’t the first time we’ve had this conversation. It’s been about a month since my one and only scene with Sir, yet we’ve continued to meet up about four nights a week.
“He’s not creepy. He’s…nice.” Really nice. I like talking to him in ways I wouldn’t have foreseen. In the beginning, I was just looking for someone to dominate me, and while that’s totally what I still want—and it’s not like I expect or want a relationship with Sir—I do enjoy our conversations. He has a sense of humor, and he seems to think I’m funny too.
“What’s his name again?” Reggie asks, and I shake my head.
“He’s protective online and wants the same for me, which is sweet. I like feeling taken care of in that way, like he wants what’s best for me, and…well, also just because he likes to be the boss of me, and he knows it drives me crazy not to see him.” I chuckle, looking out at the green space of the rolling hills and trees around us. I can’t pretend I don’t want to know more about Sir, that I wouldn’t love to know what he looks like, but the satisfaction I get in doing as he says, letting him make the rules, eases that need.
“Yeah…I don’t know. I feel like he has something to hide. Everyone sends photos. Everyone video chats. If he won’t do anything like that, he’s not who he says he is—or wants to chop you up in little pieces and bury you in his backyard.”
I nudge Reggie’s arm. “You’re being dramatic.”
“And you never are?”
He’s got me there. “I like him, Reg. Not like Oh my God, I love him, but I like talking to him and how he makes me feel… I really want to meet him.”
He sighs, and I get it. He’s being a good friend and looking out for me, but somehow, I just know Sir is on the level. I feel it in my bones, and I’m not the type of guy to usually think things like that. Feel it in my bones? I mean, what the fuck even is that?
“I just don’t want you to get hurt. You sit in that room, talking to him like he’s your boyfriend. I’ve never seen you get attached to someone like this, and I hate that it’s with someone you don’t really know anything about.”
In some ways he’s right. While it feels like Sir and I talk about everything, like I’ve let him in on parts of me no one else knows or sees—and I do think he does the same with me—we don’t talk about anything too personal. I know he’s not married and never has been. I know he has no children. I know he likes to read and watches foreign movies and works out, but I don’t know where he works, his name, or the nitty-gritty details of his day-to-day life. He doesn’t know any of that about me either.
Jesus… Maybe there’s a reason we don’t talk about those things. Maybe he does have something to hide.
“I’ll talk to him again about meeting…or at least video chatting. Will that make you feel better?”
“Take your pepper spray and leave your location on so I can find you. If I have to go kick some old man’s ass, I will.”