She Seeks Out Older Men—Master D Teaches Her to Set Boundaries novel · Chapter 3 of 24
Chapter 3: The List
It took me four hours to write my list.
I started at seven p.m., sitting at my desk with a sheet of scratch paper and a chewed-up pen.
I had never put those things down in black and white.
In my head, they were hazy and burning.
On the page, they became words, and every word felt like a confession.
I made three columns: what I was okay with, what I refused, and what I wanted to try.
In the first, I wrote “spankings,” “insults,” “being called a little slut,” “being put down,” “being tied up.”
In the third, “being shared,” “a weekend with another Master,” “being led on a leash,” “being watched.”
In the second, I wrote almost nothing, because I didn't know what would scare me.
I wrote “blood,” “scars,” “women,” and hesitated for a very long time over the last line.
Then I typed up a clean copy and sent him the file at eleven p.m.
He didn't reply.
At half past midnight, he called me.
“I read it.”
His voice was the same as it had been the other night, low and unhurried.
“Good evening, Master D.”
“You wrote down a lot of things.”
“Yes, Master D.”
“I'm going to read them to you. Stop me if I get anything wrong.”
I heard paper rustle, as if he'd printed it out.
He read my list aloud, line by line, in such a neutral tone that each one sounded more indecent than the last.
“Spankings. Insults. Being tied up. Being led on a leash.”
He stopped.
“‘Permanently marking the skin.’ You checked yes.”
I hadn't checked that.
I searched my memory and found the line, down at the bottom, the last one I'd added, my hand trembling because I'd wanted to seem like someone who wasn't afraid of anything.
“I don't know what that means,” I admitted.
“I know.”
His voice hadn't risen.
“You wrote it to impress me. I'm crossing it out.”
“But...”
“If you ever want me to mark you, you'll tell me yourself, in your own words, and I'll ask you why. Not before.”
I felt my face grow hot in the dark.
“I'm sorry, Master D.”
“Don't apologize. I'd rather have one fewer line than one that's false.”
I pressed the phone against my ear.
Other men liked it when I said yes to everything.
He had just corrected me for saying yes to too much.
“You also wrote: ‘being shared.’ I want you to tell me that in your own voice.”
“It's a fantasy, Master D.”
“That's not an answer.”
I swallowed.
“I'd like one man to watch while another takes me. I want them to talk about me as if I weren't there.”
“Does it turn you on?”
“Yes, Master D.”
“Will you do it if I decide?”
“Not unless you ask me first.”
“Good answer,” he said.
I felt something loosen in my chest, and I didn't dare name it.
“Here's the rule, Élise.”
It was the first time he'd called me by my first name, even though I'd never given it to him.
He must have heard my breath catch.
“Your student ID,” he said.
“You can keep your first name to yourself, but I know it. Don't forget that.”
“Yes, Master D.”
“You'll call me Master until I give you permission to say something else. Is that clear?”
“Yes, Master D.”
“Now take off everything you're wearing.”
I stood up from my desk, my legs weak, and undressed in the lamp's yellow light.
“Done.”
“Look at yourself in your wardrobe mirror.”
I looked at myself.
Naked, small, my hands hanging at my sides, my nipples hard in the cool air of my studio apartment.
“You're beautiful,” he said.
No one had ever said it to me like that.
There was no flattery in his voice, just a simple observation.
“Tomorrow, you'll go to campus wearing the lingerie I choose for you. Black lace, stockings, nothing else under your dress. I'll send you the style tonight.”
“Yes, Master D.”
“You'll send me a picture in the library restroom mirror, without your face, at two p.m.”
“Yes, Master D.”
“And you won't touch your pussy until I let you. Not once.”
My stomach tightened.
“Even tonight?”
“Even tonight.”
He let two seconds pass.
“You know you can say no to me.”
I turned my head toward the phone, surprised.
“I don't want to say no, Master D.”
“I know you don't. I'm just telling you that you can.”
He hung up after that.
I waited a long time, standing naked in front of my own reflection.
A few minutes later, a link came through: a black lace bodysuit, a pair of garter stockings, and a garter belt.
I ordered them with express delivery, using my credit card.
I didn't sleep, because I was aching with desire and keeping my promise.
The next day, at two p.m., in the university library restroom, I took a picture of myself from behind in the mirror, wearing my old black bodysuit under my hiked-up dress.
I sent him the picture.
His reply came before I'd pulled my dress back down.
“Good.”
"Now, tonight, you're going out. A short skirt, no panties, no tights."
"To a café across from your university. Alone. For an hour."
"You'll tell me how many men looked at you."
I stood still, my heart pounding against my ribs, surrounded by the smell of soap in the restroom.
He was asking me to go out into the city, in front of everyone, with his command beneath my skirt.
And I felt that I didn't want to say no.
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