The Shane Journals

My smile slid from my face like panties down a whore’s legs, the moment I set my phone down. I stood from the chair before my vanity and gave myself one more glance over before I headed into my interview. My hair was pulled tight into a ponytail at the back of my head, its ends reaching well below my shoulder blades. Not a frizz or stray hair out of place. My dark, honey eyes examined my makeup next. My naturally high-cheekbones would make the contouring gods weep. My ruby red lips twitched at the thought. I relished in making gods weep, or at least those who liked to think themselves as such. I straightened the black bowtie wrapped around the collar of my starch white, buttoned blouse tucked into my high-waisted, black gaucho pants. I turned on my black, laced-up peep-toe heels to look over my shoulder and make sure the back of my ensemble was a match to the pristine front. Even I couldn't keep my eyes from my curvy ass. Hopefully, it wouldn't be too much of a distraction. Then again, I did always like to correct them when they were distracted.

With a huff, a tightening of my ponytail, and a hand swipe down my thighs, I marched from my dressing room. My hips swayed as my heels clicked down the torch-lit hallway. Yes, bitch. I had real-life torches lining my walls. The only thing I was missing was damn armored knights to go along with the whole scene. There were three other doors in the long hall. One read ‘Exit’ that led out to the back parking garage designated for...guests. Another, restricted to all, opened to stairs that led up to the main house. The last one, the door I was headed to, was straight ahead at the end of the hall. It was my pearly gates, albeit the glowing holiness was more like a beaming aura of debauchery, to my long week of trials and tribulations.

The door didn't creak open as I twisted the knob. Silence met me when I slid into the small office. Good. This interview was already going to my liking. I knew the moment I laid eyes on the potential prospect, he would be a good addition. Reading people was a talent I possessed. It was a much-needed requirement for the job.

I didn't announce my arrival with words as I sauntered around the back of his chair and walked around to the other side of the desk. Nor did I offer any apologies for keeping him waiting. Normally when I conducted business, I remained on my professional Ps and Qs. If we were back at the agency, I would've had my assistant offer him something to drink forty-three minutes ago when he first arrived after being buzzed in. And I would've started the meeting thirty minutes ago with a winning smile. Now, I just stared at him without any affliction in my face as I took my seat. I clasped my hands lightly on the desk, palms facing down on the surface. My eyes moved up and down, noting the demeanor of the male before me. He'd worn a black and white checkered button-up along with well-fitting slacks. Not too far from what he wore earlier in the day at the office. I wondered if he took note of my tendency to dress in monotone colors and decided to follow suit, or if it was just an unconscious coincidence. The fact that he seemed to not know whether he should keep eye contact with me or not kind of hinted that his choice to initiate the uniform was a conscious one.

I was pleased to note that my initial suspicion of his potential was correct. The meeting ending in success and satisfaction was turning out to be promising. He showed no anxiousness or annoyance for my late arrival and lack of a greeting. In fact, though his eyes remained glued to the edge of the desk - for the most part, anyway - he seemed completely at ease with himself. He was sitting up straight with his shoulders back and his head held high. And those couple instances when his eyes peeked up at me, there was a challenge in them. I didn’t know whether to be pissed and offended at his nonverbal call-out or filled with admiration for his strength. Maybe I was a little bit of both. I never did like weak-willed men. My nights wouldn’t be as entertaining if they all went down easy. It was a welcome attitude adjustment for me to realize I might have to work for this one. I strutted into this meeting with my usual flare of domineering confidence, but I needed to take a step back. Yes, he needed to prove to me that he could handle the job, but I also needed to impress him for all of this to work. And I really hoped it did work.

I cleared my throat, “You may look freely during this interview.” His piercing, ice-blue eyes instantly flashed to mine. My lips had been parted in the midst of preparing to speak more, but slowly clasped back together. I’d never been shuttered into speechlessness before, but the intensity of his gaze left me feeling unnaturally thrown. The knowing glint in his eyes is what finally brought me out of my befuddled trance. He at least had the decency to refrain from smirking.

I tilted my head to the side and frowned. “Are you sure you’re in the right role?”

“Indubitably,” he answered without any hesitation.

My eyebrow rose at his curtness.

His eyes darted away and a slight pink hue covered his cheeks. It was the first time I witnessed any type of softness from him since I walked into the room. He almost looked sheepish when he looked back up at me.

“Uh Ma’am,” he grated. “Mistre-.”

“It’s Dama,” I interjected crisply. “But it remains to be seen if you’ve earned the right to address me as such.”

He nodded imperceptibly as if to say ‘fair enough’. “For the record, I do hope we are a matching pair.”

I let my lips twitch up at one corner of my mouth and smoothed the frown from my forehead. It was the most positive emotion I usually allowed to be perceived in these situations. I stood up from my chair and walked around the desk until I stood right in front of him. I folded my arms beneath my breasts and leaned back on the desk behind me. I didn’t miss the way his eyes took their time lifting from the objects resting on my arms and back up to my face. He extended his legs, slouching even, so that he could cage me in with them. My nostrils flared. Impatient air rushed from my nose. I’d taken this stance as a non-verbal way of taking dominance. Most people didn’t feel in control when someone’s body lorded over them. Apparently, my interviewee found a way to take some of his control back. My hands clenched. I didn’t like feeling caged. I didn’t like being topped from the bottom...unless I asked for it. I was seconds away from jumping onto his big body and snatching his head back by the wavy, auburn-colored man-bun he had atop his head. He was testing me and I needed to get through this interview quickly so that he could learn why that was a very bad idea.

I straightened from the desk and walked further between his legs. I lifted a leg and placed my foot in between his thighs, right at the apex and breaths away from his most precious body part. He flinched but didn’t sit up.

Quietly, I began my spiel, “ I won’t make you lick my boots or clean up the floor with your tongue. I don’t specialize in humiliation. I don’t share and I won’t parade you around on a leash for the world to see.” His eyebrows lifted in surprise at my words, but he was smart enough not to interrupt.

“So if you’re looking for that, I suggest you search elsewhere. I can give you some referrals. What I do specialize in is pleasure. Sometimes pain might mix into that, if the situation permits,” I said emphatically, moving my eyes up and down his frame to accentuate my obvious displeasure with his behavior.

I kicked away from his chair and walked back around to my side of the desk as I finished my introduction. “With me, the only places your tongue should be touching are on my body, yours, and maybe your fellow brothers and sisters in submissive lust.”

Our eyes bore into each other. I'm not even sure either one of us was breathing much, if at all. The silence in the room was palpable.

I couldn't believe it. He had me at a moment of frazzlement again. I might as well have been shifting on my feet. I was disgusted. To the average person, my control would seem intact, but in my head, I knew I was falling all over myself. And the glint in his eyes told me, he knew as well.

“Mr. Reid,” I punched out. “Do my...conditions meet your needs?”

He didn’t answer me right away. He actually folded his arms and rubbed at his bottom lip with the side of his middle finger before opening his mouth. His stare seemed to go distant as he thought over my words.

“What if,” he began slowly, like he wasn't certain if he wanted to finish his sentence. “I don’t want to share either?”

I frowned, “Excuse me?”

“I’ve never been good with sharing,” he actually let his smirk surface this time. “I’ve always usually been the sole submissive for my Domme. I don't think I can be ok with you seeing others and I will not be comfortable with partaking in any scenes with them either.”

I had to constrain a derisive bubble from bursting from my mouth, but I couldn’t stop the amusement from bleeding through my tone when I sat back down and responded to him.

“Mr. Reid, if those are your stipulations then it would seem we are not a match. Even if I were willing to meet you halfway by keeping our sessions solo, there is no way I could and would break off all of my other relationships for you. Truly, you must understand. After all, we’ve just met. I don’t really know you. So why would I choose you over my other partners?”

“Hmm..” he frowned.

I raised my eyebrows in question, my fingers clasped back atop my desk. He scratched at the stubble along his jaw as he kept his eyes on me. He seemed to be trying to make a decision.

“What can I do to convince you to meet me halfway?”

I closed my eyes and pinched the bridge of my nose. “And why exactly would you be open to meeting me halfway, Mr. Reid? Your concerns were presented as if they were pretty significant limitations.”

He gave one curt nod. “Yes,” he dragged out the word. “The thought of you being with others does affect my very possessive, jealous streak, but I am willing to compromise because as I stated earlier, I really do want this to work out.”

“Why?” I was utterly confused. It was apparent to me that we were not a match. So I didn’t understand why he was so adamant about being my subject. His behavior in the interview was a complete one-eighty from how he presented himself at the office. I was dismayed to realize that I was turning out to be wrong about our potential relationship.

“Don’t you feel the tension in the air? It’s beautiful. Genuine. We’d be dynamite.”

I bit into my bottom lip. His hungry eyes zeroed in on the action. “I did think us a perfect match earlier, but I’m not even sure you’re truly submissive. You may be a switch. There are those who believe themselves to be submissive or are curious about the ‘other side’ so they try it out, but in my experience, neither partner enjoys what doesn’t come naturally.”

That glint I was beginning to become accustomed to shone in his eyes again. “I assure you, I am every bit as submissive as you are dominant.”

My eyes narrowed. What the hell was that supposed to mean? Did he think me not dominant? Was I losing my mutherfuckin’ edge?

He continued before I could decide whether to just kick him out of my domain or jump over the desk and strangle him. Not fatally of course. Too much breath play was not sexy at all.

“If you give me the chance, I can prove to you how submissive I can be. I just need a strong and experienced woman who can break me.”

My back straightened and my shoulders stiffened at his words. There was that challenge again. Why did that make my nipples harden?

“Alright, Mr. Reid,” I was practically purring. “If you want me to meet you halfway, I will. We’ll try a month-long trial run. There will be no one else in our sessions besides you and me.”

His face softened into pleased contentment, like he was a kid who had just gotten away with receiving a treat despite his incorrigible behavior.

“I have one more condition,” he rushed on with an unapologetic shrug to his shoulders.

“You’re pushing it, Mr. Reid,” I intoned through gritted teeth.

He gave me his customary, curt nod. “Yes, I know, you can punish me for it later.”

I lifted an eyebrow. This fool…

“While we’re going through our month-long trial, I’d like there to be no penetration.”

I choked on my spit, “Excuse me?”

“No penetration with your other subjects. I’d like to be the only one coming in that body of yours for the next month…. Dama.”

I blew out an exasperated sigh. “I really do not like to be told what to do or not do with my body, Mr. Reid. I'm about two seconds away from slapping you in a not-so-sexual way.”

Different expressions flitted over his face. At one point he looked to be trying to hold in a laugh but it was instantly schooled into grave seriousness.

“I'm sorry. I was not trying to be disrespectful or offend you. I just want to be given a real chance during this month. I want to prove to you that you don't need any other submissive to fulfill your needs.”

I snorted. He seriously thought he could do what normally took four people, including myself, to accomplish? I'd be lying to myself if I didn't admit that despite being severely pissed off, I was still intrigued.

I tilted my head to the side, looking him up and down. He really was gorgeous. But weren't all jerks? He was shaped like a smaller framed center forward basketball player. He wasn't obnoxiously tall, but he definitely had to work out. His face was chiseled to a point that if it weren't for his Irish features, I would have wondered if there weren't a Greek god in his ancestry.

After what I hoped was a couple of very agonizing minutes for him, I finally spoke. “I'll take it under advisement.”

His nostrils flared in response and he couldn't hide his discontentment, but he didn't say anything. He just nodded. Ah, so there was a head on those broad shoulders. He must have realized he'd push me far enough.

“You've brought your test results, yes?” I moved the meeting along as I opened one of the desk drawers to pull out my own medical records.

“Yes, here -.”

“Sí,” I corrected as we exchanged our paperwork.

The corner of his mouth lifted as he took a cursory glance at my test results before returning them back to me. My eyes narrowed at the quickness of his review. He was being way more nonchalant than I would have personally been comfortable with while going over the STI test results of a future partner.

“I trust you,” he shrugged in response to what was probably a quizzical look on my face.

After a moment, I nodded and gathered up both sets of results. “These will be kept filed away in this locked drawer and you're free to look them over at any time.”

I took out a notebook and pen. If we were in the office, I would have typed up this next part of the meeting. But there was just something about going old school and writing out lists that spoke to my semi-purist heart.

“Next, I think we should probably discuss and notate our limitations, safe words, and signals.”

I wrote his name in big letters at the top of the page, underlined it, and titled the next section safe words and signals.

“Are there a set of safe words you like to use?” I looked up at him.

“I’ve always thought the best safe words are the simplest ones that can be remembered even in the throes of subspace. An easy stop light signal should be a perfect set of words. Green to proceed, yellow to slow things down, and red to stop things immediately.”

“Bueno,” I nodded, my second language and accent started to seep through the more excited I became in preparation. “And what about nonverbal cues for the times you won’t be able to speak?”

He straightened at my question. I sensed his own excitement rivaling mine as I took in his increased breaths and flushed neck.

“How about an open and closed fist? Or a foot stomp?” he breathed.

I frowned as I thought about it. “Either one could work, I guess. Depending on if and how you’re tied up...well, I should ask first. Is bondage a limitation for you?”

“No, Dama. Bondage is a green for me,” he practically growled. Growled? Yup, my nips were pebbling.

I cleared my throat and studied the paper I was writing on, “That’s good to know. So I’ll make sure to keep either your hands or feet free at all times.

Now that we have those out of the way, we can move on to limitations. What are some hard limits for you?” I scribbled down the title of the next section.

“Other than the obvious that no decent human being would even have to consider?”

“Sí. No child, animal, or any other being that cannot consent play goes without saying,” I waved him on. “I told you I don't participate in public activities or humiliation and my pain play is very mild. So you won't have to worry about blood, permanent damage, fire play, or the use of any tools that have the potential for fatal accidents. Safety and sanitation are a must, so there will be condoms and dental dams and no anal to anything else. In fact, anal play is a soft limit for me.”

“And for me as well,” he agreed with relief in his expression that we appeared to be on the same page. “I've done anal a couple of times, both on the giving and receiving ends, it wasn't anything I was crazy about, but I wouldn't rule it out if you ended up wanting to try with me.”

I nodded intuitively, my eyebrows slightly raised because I was still stuck on and slightly surprised about the fact that he’d been on the receiving end of anal sex. My shock had nothing to do with my attitude towards the act or the fact that he was a man. You didn't become someone in my role with prude proclivities, but I was taken back to picture someone of his stature and demeanor to allow someone to stick something in his ass. Maybe he really was submissive after all.

I fiddled with the bowtie at my neck. “When I mentioned anal play as a soft limit, I was referring to it in regards to me being on the receiving end. It would take a lot of coaxing and lubricant. I'm a topper through and through and getting fucked in the ass doesn't scream dominance, to me. On the other hand, if you change your mind about receiving it, I have no qualms about giving you what you need. Especially if it's going to make you feel good and I'm a pro at loving on the male g-spot.” I winked at him. “I'm by no means pushing. It doesn't matter to me either way. I'm just putting it out there.”

“Noted,” his voice graveled.

“So,” I looked back down at our listed contract. “Any other hard and/or soft limits?”

“We've pretty much gone through them all. I'm big on sanitation too, so unless it's saliva, cum, or sweat, all other bodily fluids should remain away from our scenes. That's a hard limit.”

“Definitely.”

“Otherwise, you can tie me up, spank me, slap me, call me what you like, choke me, fuck me in any position your heart desires. If things get uncomfortable, I have my words and signals.”

I nodded and finished writing up our lists. “Good.” Once I felt them completed to my satisfaction, I slid the notebook into the drawer, filing it away with our test results.

I looked up at him, folding my hands back onto the desk. I had no clue what I was going to do with him or where even to start. What I did know was that I didn't have to or want to decide on it tonight.

I stood up from the desk, “Well, that'll be all for now. Goodnight, Mr. Reid.”

He remained seated, looking up at me in confusion. A line formed between his brow.

“I'm sorry, I thought -.”

“Two days,” I cut him off. “I will see you back here in two days. Same time.”

I walked around the desk and opened the door leading to the exiting hallway. He remained seated. I could see the back of his neck turning red and his hands fisted on each of his thick thighs. I was just about to become impatient when he finally stood. He slowly turned towards me and walked the few feet to the door. He stopped right in front of me before leaving, staring down at me. His eyes were so intense, they almost made me uncomfortable. I could tell he wanted to say something as his jaw clenched. He even brought up a hand as if he wanted to touch me. My raised eyebrow had him intelligently dropping his hand back down. The corner of his mouth lifted after what sounded like a patient sigh. He leaned down towards me, putting his mouth right at my ear. My eyes closed involuntarily as I took in his expensive cologne.

His lips brushed my ear as he said, sending shivers through my body, “Sí, Dama.”

Then he left without another word or a glance back. I was still staring out into the hall five minutes after he'd left. I shook myself out of my reverie, at a loss for words to even put into perspective what just happened. I shut the light off to the office and exited the room. I took a small keycard from my pants pocket to slide it down the pad beside the door, securing the office. Once I got the red light signaling that everything was locked up nice and tight, I walked back down to my dressing room. I didn't remain in the room. I just stayed long enough to retrieve my phone and to take a look at the security cameras lining the back wall. The area doubled as a panic room. I noted that my most recent visitor had indeed cleared my land and left to go up to the main floor.

I entered my code to walk up the stairs and it was like taking my bra off after a long day. And yet, the comfortable silence that met me was suffocating. It was a relief to finally be alone, to be able to wipe the masks off from the day. And yet, the drip of the kitchen sink grated against my skin as I closed the door to my darkness below and entered into the warmth of normality. I didn't know if I actually liked being alone or if it was out of habit to waft in my comfort zone of solitude. I couldn't tell if I secretly wanted to blow the dust off my social wings or if I was just feeling the social pressure to share my time with others. It was a conundrum I usually fought with avoidance but lately, the calamities within my personality had been pretty hard to ignore. Some would chalk it up to the proverbial biological clock ticking. That was another possibility I chose to fight with avoidance. Besides, there was a woman in my life that felt like the child I would probably never have.

Thinking of my younger sister brought the first smile to my face all day. She was always doing incorrigible things such as that; bringing smiles to my face, making me laugh even while I was yelling at her, being unapologetically herself despite any consequences. I had been fiercely protective of my sister since the day she was brought home from the hospital during my fifth year on Earth. And with a mother like ours who could blame me. I tried my best to lead by example, but while I loved structure, rules, and for things to be black and white, Dylan preferred color and to do so outside of the lines. It was a wonder the girl wasn’t currently backpacking in Tibet instead of doing the college student life. When she told me she’d not only enrolled at the local university, but had been accepted with a scholarship, I think I looked at her like she’d grown two heads. Certainly, she’d been chosen as a host for aliens. I was proud and happy she was staying closer to home, of course, but I was suspicious and shocked at her choice. She eventually convinced me that I wasn’t the sole reason she was staying home and that I wasn’t killing her “light”. People seldomly surprised me, but I should’ve known Dylan would never be caught falling into a category as mundane as “people”.

Grabbing a water bottle from the fridge, I pulled out my cellphone to call my sister. Thinking about her made me realize I hadn’t spoken with her today, which was outside of our usual routine. I lifted the bottle to my mouth and choked on the water as I tried to stop myself from spitting. I threw the bottle on the counter, splashing water everywhere, and pounded on my chest. My sight blurry as I coughed life back into my lungs, but it didn’t stop me from rereading the text message I received from Dylan. That girl was going to be the death of me. Once the fire in my chest settled down, I snatched up my phone to give the first-ever virtual ass whooping. But just as my finger hovered over the call icon, another text came through. Only it wasn’t from my sister, it was from my most recent visitor.

Hola Dama. I just wanted to say thank you for deciding to meet me halfway. I know this will work out between us. It’ll be the hardest two days as I wait, not very patiently, to do things to that perfect body of yours.

I stared at the text, unsure of what to think of it. I wasn’t used to my subjects initiating any conversation. His message of gratitude was thoughtful but unnecessary. And now I was stuck standing there with another social pressure I wanted to avoid. Aiden Reid was turning out to be another person in the world I couldn’t keep in a box. So far he’d been constantly full of surprises. Someone that left me in a state of confusion and questioning. I wouldn’t be able to keep him at arm's length like the rest of my submissives. It was already going to be a change of element seeing him at work every day, but I could tell he would want me outside of our sessions. He would want a sort of relationship, something I wasn’t used to giving. And I needed to decide if I was willing to step into this new territory. It was the reason I told him to return in two days instead of getting down to business tonight. I needed the time to think.

Still, with no reply to his message, I left the kitchen and walked through the open-floor living room, down its long, connecting hallway, and into the main house’s office. I sat at the desk facing the door and woke up the laptop in the middle of it. I had tried to pull up social media accounts for Aiden before I proposed our arrangement. I was unsuccessful and I’d be lying if I said the mystery wasn’t what pushed my intrigue even further. If it was anyone else, I would have never approached him. If it was anyone else, I’d be running the other way after feeling like I was being pushed into something more than I set my boundaries up to guard. But there was something about this man. Something about him that made me want to risk my safety net and bring some danger to my very black and white world. I was Indiana Jones and I was trying to dig my way to the mysterious artifact that was Aiden Reid.

I pulled up the company picture we had on file for him. I know it’s unethical, but with him not having any type of online accounts, I had to work with what I could. Even from a picture, his icy-blue stare felt like it was penetrating my soul. Like he could see past my mask. It made me uneasy and yet aroused.

I made quick work of the buttons on my pants and blouse. I slipped one hand into my panties and the other into my bra. Why the hell did I send him home again?

Wetness greeted my fingers as I rubbed down my nub and up again. I groped at my breast. Hard. Picturing it was his hand that I commanded. I moaned at the thought of his hands handling me. I knew they would be strong. His big hands would probably almost engulf even my ample size. His long, thick fingers in me would be able to compete against some of my collection. I can’t wait.

I took out the hand that was gripping my breast and stuck my index and middle fingers in my mouth to wet them. I took my time sucking them, pretending they were things on Aiden’s body for me to get my mouth around. The hand in my panties moved two fingers inside me while my thumb went back and forth between circling and pressing on my clit. I was close. I used my saliva-drenched fingers to flick and pluck at my nipples. My eyes closed as I pictured him sitting across from me, my fingers pumping in and out of me, steadily faster. His words from earlier cycled through my mind. I want to be the only person coming in that body of yours. I'd had to pretend to be offended by what he said earlier, but truthfully I had been beyond turned on. I had wanted to pin him down atop my desk and ride him until that motherfucker broke. Him. Or the desk. It didn’t matter. Remembering the cadence of his smooth, deep, perfectly accented Sī, Dama sent me over the edge. My pussy clenched around my fingers as my other hand pinched my nipples. I threw my head back against the headrest of my chair. My mouth opened in silent abandonment. For the first time, I came thinking about someone I wasn't sure I had absolute power over.