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HHow One Man Recruited and Trained a sub

By JRLuxor All Rights Reserved ©

Erotica / Romance

Blurb

Each Dom and sub have a unique arrangement as they do scenes for each other with unashamed raw sexual energy at their events, costume parties and in taboo-defying relationships. Complex interaction between distinctly developed characters,world-building and constant, dryly observed humor.

The Plan

The Plan

He had placed another ad on his favorite online dating site, the one with the most edge in its approach and the only one with questions about BDSM in its profile format. Instead of seeking a female experienced in BDSM who didn’t require any of the niceties of first dates before he began to enjoy them, he was fishing for a female just at the stage of experimenting for the first time. He craved the challenge that is totally missing from a hook-up where both parties identify as seeking BDSM sex.

He smiled to himself, thinking that fishing was an apt analogy. As in fishing, it began with choosing an environment to make his efforts. His edgy dating site handled that. Then there was choosing the bait. He was trying a new approach. This time he created a title: “LOOKING FOR a sub WHO WANTS TO FIND OUT IF SHE IS ONE. Reply to The Teacher.” He had actually considered signing it The Trainer. His first impulse was always to push the envelope (often too far, too soon). So he proofread twice, made accommodations to the classic female desire to fool herself, and softened his approach by signing it The Teacher.

He liked to provide a filter at several stages of meeting women through ads. He learned early that most meetings were time wasters. He used to make it clear in his ads exactly what he wanted in a female playmate, but everybody lies. Then they would appear – usually not the slim figure he emphasized as a requirement, frequently different heights than they quoted, certainly different weights, and most didn’t even pretend to be truthful about their ages.

So he developed his system. First, an email exchange where he requested a photo showing her face and G-rated full body shot. They would send what they considered good photos and he could weed out those who weren’t his type.

The next stage, after no more than a couple emails, was to suggest a phone chat. He liked to call it a pre-interview call, the interview being the face-to-face meeting that would follow. Because men are simply so easy to have if a good-looking woman wants them, even women who answer sex ads play it a little cagey, requiring some ritual symbolism and drama of chase, struggle and takedown. So, he adjusted his approach to accommodate each woman’s personality as he read her.

One of the bonuses of phone calls was that a woman tends to go further in her flirting over the phone than at an initial face-to-face meeting, perhaps because it feels anonymous. Maybe it’s because in person a man’s facial expressions can give her an idea of what he thinks about what she’s saying. She can back off if he looks shocked or horrified by her statements.

On the phone, she measures how someone is reacting to what she says by her imagination. Hope might spring eternal, so she might say whatever passes through her mind, thinking it makes her sound cosmopolitan, experienced, and sophisticated. He commented to himself outloud, “The things that came out of their mouths on the phone!” He would need to see an escalation of sexual undertones during the pre-interview call before investing his time in a face-to-face encounter.

The eventual face-to-face meeting in a public place, like a coffee shop, had the opposite effect on her loquaciousness. He knew he made an imposing impression, especially a first impression. On their first face-to-face meeting, the woman would be more subdued. She would try to think about what she’s going to say before saying it - unfortunately. As he captured her complete attention she would feel very pleased with herself because of the interest and attention he shined on her. In the end, women just love to meet and talk.

The trick was to weed out the ones who would not fit his eventual needs. He was not there to get laid. That would be too easy. He had a special kind of relationship, a special sexual dynamic in mind. The females who would have corresponding needs to his were fewer than one out of one hundred. When he found one, he was still cursed with his narrow standards of what type he would be attracted to. This meant a lot of filtering, a lot of drinking coffee, sizing each other up, and talking about sex.

The face-to-face meeting in a public place guaranteed two things. Either party could bail easily at any time - and it wouldn’t last long. He would schedule an hour. He would make it clear beforehand that he doesn’t have much time, but that he wants to schedule this short meeting because he doesn’t want to wait another day to meet her.

His first rather odd tic was how she walked. She would have to glide; she would have to sway her hips like she knows she’s doing it. For the role he had in mind in this fishing expedition, she had to be perfect. She had to be comfortable talking in a way that assumed a mutual expectation for a sexual encounter, which would occur on their second face-to-face meeting - their first actual date. He would decide on his approach as soon as he could study her face close up. He prided himself on being able to watch a woman’s eyes and mouth and sense what she needed and what it would take for her to want to impress him, to please him, and have him want to take her.

He saw a reply announced on his computer screen. Someone was nibbling at the bait! He straightened in his chair, his back and neck upright. Her reply was just what he had hoped for.

“Dear Teacher, Your message was just what I’ve been thinking about. I’m not sure enough to jump into that right now, but I’d like to know what it would be like. – Curious, but nervous.”

Perfect. Just perfect. Like he was just thinking, women lie to themselves so easily. He deconstructed her answer in seconds.

She said she had been thinking about the subject of his message, which was experiment with becoming a sub-female. Clearly, she wanted to try the dom/sub experience, so it’s probably just a matter of her deciding if he’s hot enough.

Her words, “I’m not sure enough to jump in,” was stated in the indefinite. Maybe not means maybe.

She said, “I’d like to know what it would be like.” The only way she could know was to try it, and that could only be accomplished by doing it.

So she began by playing the coquette by implying she might say no, but hin her next lines inplying she had already decided to say yes.

He wrote back.

“Dear Curious. No need to be nervous. Anyway, I think that’s sweet. I like you already. In any case, please remember I said ‘meeting – interview - relationship.’ I meant that you would be interviewing me as much as I’m interviewing you. You see, Curious, there has to be a chemistry between us that can’t be faked. There has to be a “connection” on some level. Even the mating ritual of swans reveals an intense connection between two living beings with hot blood pumping through them as they express primordial needs that cannot be refused. Can you and I connect like that? I don’t know, but I’m already hopeful. What I do know is that it can’t be faked. I can only promise that, if we both feel our chemistry is right and decide to meet again, then I’ll provide you with an experience that will not harm you and that you’ll absolutely learn what a BDSM date is like. I guarantee that you will know yourself much better after the experience. I will be your Teacher, your Guide, and your Trainer for one evening and deliver you, like Cinderella, to your door safely and on time with all your questions answered. – The Teacher.”

He read it again. He liked it. Something occurred to him. “Let’s show her a little affection, even in an email.” He changed the word where he had called her “Curious” to “Curi,” an affectionate diminutive.

There. He had done it. His words had been unthreatening, gently professor-like, and still intimate. She couldn’t take any middle road here, he made sure of that, but he made his invitation sound as unthreatening as a BDSM first date could be. She could walk away here, or she could submit in a small way by taking this little step, this easy, painless step that is so necessary to take if she was to stay in the game. He had written the words, BDSM date. He had said it, literally spelling it out and using the word “Trainer.” Had he gone too far? Again? It was already sent. What if he had blown such a promising lead by not exercising enough patience, by going for all the marbles too soon?

Less than a mile away in her apartment, she sat in front of her computer, wearing just a white bra and panty set, reading his reply. It had taken all her daring to answer his post. She had often fantasized during sex with men on vanilla dates about being tied down like girls in bodice-ripper novels or famous movie scenes. The men of her experience had never taken her little hints or introduced restraints or rough sex on their own and she had been far too shy to take the first step. Until now.

This first step will be safely anonymous because of meeting through the internet. If it was a train wreck it would never touch any existing part of her life, and it would be as if it never happened. In the meantime, she smiled to herself naughtily; she would indulge in this lifelong curiosity. She nervously constructed her answer, proofread it at least six times, and sent it. Then she gasped, having forgotten to breathe during the last few proofreads. She sat back in her swivel chair and walked back to her nightstand, watching herself sway her hips in the wall mirror. She loved feeling her body move to music when she walked. She bent over and opened a drawer. She removed a satin case and took out the Minna, her favorite vibrator. She glided the few steps to her bed, turned up her Pandora channel and turned down the light. Soon her moaning was louder than the little electric motor between her legs.

He was still by his computer when her answer appeared. She must have been online when he sent his reply. He thought of her sitting somewhere, reading his message, getting wet as she read it, and finally finding her courage as she stabbed out her reply on the keyboard, squeezing her thighs together as she feared moving too fast.

“Dear Teacher. Thank you for saying I seem sweet. Somehow that makes me trust you. Chemistry? Connection? Let’s meet. – Sweet Curi.”

He leaned back and smiled. To continue his fishing analogy, she was biting, more than just nibbling at the bait, and she accepted the name he had given her as well as repeating “sweet” twice after he called her sweet. She was taking direction from him already. That was huge, even if she didn’t know it. And she talked about trusting him? Clearly, she wants to trust a dominant man. Could she be that special one he’d been visualizing?

Next: to set the hook. First, he made the reward uncertain. Made her wait. Made her wonder if she had gone too far too fast. He made her wonder if she was inadequate in some way and gave her another reason to prove herself. He got up from his chair and noted the time. He would give it 30 minutes, have a snack, and then give her a treat. Good girl.

Thirty-five minutes later he sent his message, telling her that he was looking forward to being close enough to sense their chemistry. He told her to meet him at a specific coffee shop, quiet but public, so she could feel completely comfortable. They could have a snack and chat for a little bit and see if there was a connection. After their meeting, he would have to go to his business meeting. They could talk again on the phone to make plans if they both wanted to proceed.

He had done it neatly this time. If she accepted this proposal, then he had set the hook - to continue the fishing analogy.

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