Page 8 of B is for Baby Me (Classes in Kink #1)

Chapter seven

Simon And Safewords

Fletcher

“Tommy, it’s been ages. I was about to send out a search party.” Simon’s amber eyes sparkle as he greets me at the door to his home. With a kiss on the cheek, he ushers me inside, giving me a playful scolding, “All work and no play makes Dr. Fletcher a dull boy.”

I’m grateful for the warm welcome. After my talk with JR this afternoon, I need a confidante. Simon was the first person I’d thought of. The only one, honestly. Who else would I trust to help me make this decision but my oldest and dearest friend? Who but the man who’d trained me as a dom and taught me the pleasures of BDSM?

The forty-something businessman leads me to his wet bar. “What are you drinking tonight? Gin and tonic, bourbon and bitters? I’ve got a nice Pinot Grigio chilling.”

“Whatever you’re having is fine, Si. I’m hoping to pick your brain.” I watch as he pours a generous amount of Hennessy into a tumbler. “I’ve crossed a bit of a line, and now I find myself between a rock and a hard place.”

Simon hands me the cognac, the golden highlights in his stylish brown hair reflected in the color of the liquor. “How deliciously scandalous, and between a cock—I mean, rock —and a hard place, you say? Give me all the lurid details.”

We settle into comfortable armchairs, sipping our drinks. “I’m considering taking on my own D/s student,” I tell him, “and I could use your advice.”

He gasps. “Your own baby dom? You? ”

“Not a dom,” I say. “I’d like to train a sub—“

Simon chokes mid-swallow, coughing. An orange tabby jumps into his lap, but he hardly seems to notice. “You want to collar someone? But who, Tommy, and why haven’t you mentioned this man before now if your relationship is so serious?”

“Good lord, it’s nothing like that.” I grimace. “An acquaintance of mine suffers from acute anxiety. I’d like to teach him how to use submission as a stress management technique.”

He puts a hand to his chest as he lets out a sigh.“You almost gave me a coronary. So, what’s the problem?”

After taking a sip of Hennessy, I set down the drink, peering sideways at my friend. “He’s one of my students, and I’ve already behaved inappropriately.”

“Mmm… the scandalous line you mentioned.” He runs a finger along the edge of his glass. “He’s not jailbait, is he?”

“No, he’s twenty-two—of age, but quite young.” I blow out a deep breath. “I’ve asked him to apply to my master’s program. He’ll make an excellent geneticist.”

Simon smooths a hand over his darkly stubbled jaw as he contemplates the situation. “Well, you do love tending your little garden of grad students... Watering your tiny Spartacus sprouts until they grow into Nobel Laureates. Why don’t you find another dom for him, if you’re feeling so conflicted?”

I hesitate, staring into my cognac. Simon has been my confidante for over fifteen years—the closest thing I’ve had to family since I was twenty. It would devastate me to lose his respect. “I offered to help him find someone younger and more suitable, but he’s chosen me, and… goddammit, I want him. Talk sense into me, Si.”

Curiosity burns in the other dom’s eyes as he absently strokes his pet cat. “My, my... Dr. Thomas Fletcher, thinking with his ‘little Einstein’. Describe him to me, Tommy, and don’t skimp on the naughty bits.”

Where should I start? “He’s intelligent—“

“We’ve established his brilliance,” Simon cuts me off. “Tell me what he looks like.”

I purse my lips as I ponder the question. “He isn’t my usual type. He’s larger than me, for one. Very large. Not what you’d expect from a sub.”

“I need adequate descriptors, Thomas,” he says. “Height. Weight. Condom size.”

“OK, OK.” I snort. “I would say he’s about six-four or so, two hundred and fifty pounds. Muscular. A football player—quite a good one, from what I hear.”

“You’re kidding.” His jaw drops. “Hair? Eyes?”

“He has both.” I smirk.

Simon groans. “Stop being a smartass and give me details! Paint me a mental portrait.” He squeezes his eyes shut, gesturing with an imperious hand for me to proceed.

As I picture JR, I can’t help but smile. “Imagine a St. Bernard puppy. Big brown eyes. Sandy blond curls. A dimple in one cheek and a tendency to blush.”

“Adorable,” the businessman purrs, his eyes closed as he savors the image. “I’m half in love with him already.”

“He’s attractive. And innocent.” If only the young man wasn’t quite so inexperienced. Damn my moral compass.

A slow grin spreads across Simon’s face. “A newbie sub... how delightful. A babe we can train in our wicked ways.”

I take a deep swallow of Hennessy. “He’s not just new to the lifestyle. He’s inexperienced with sex altogether, both heterosexual and homosexual.”

My friend’s eyes pop open. “How inexperienced?”

“Utterly and completely,” I admit. “Other than the blowjobs we exchanged.”

Simon gasps. “The scandalous line you crossed! Tell me all about it, Tommy—in detail.” He settles into his armchair like he’s about to enjoy a good book.

I close my eyes with a sigh, reliving that night at the club. “He was magnificent, Si. So eager. So obedient. He worshiped my cock like it was a god.”

“A religious experience, was it?” The dom arches an eyebrow. “And how did he react when you returned the favor? I bet you ate him with a spoon.”

“I licked the bowl clean.” The corner of my mouth quirks up.

Simon hums in approval. “Tell me about his dick. Does he have skin in the game, or is he a clean-cut young man?”

“Circumcised,” I confirm. “And when the doctor took the axe to him, he had to yell, ‘Timber’ . Lumberjacks can’t handle all his wood. He’s like a giant sequoia. I’m nicknaming his cock General Sherman.”

“No wonder you want him,” he moans.

“I can’t stop thinking about him.” I shake my head at myself. “I’ve never gotten such a rush from dominating a partner. All that raw power submitting to me. Obeying me. When did I become such a caveman?”

“I haven’t even met the young man, and I want to drag him by the hair and show him my club.” Simon takes a sip of cognac, then sets down his tumbler with a clack. “It’s settled—we simply must have him. If we maintain clear boundaries and open communication, there’s no reason this shouldn’t go well.”

“ We? “ I raise an eyebrow.

“You’ll mentor him. I’ll mentor you.” His eyes light up at the challenge. “It’ll be like guiding the hand of Michelangelo as he sculpts the statue David. I’m already basking in the secondhand afterglow.”

I snort a laugh at my closest friend. “Oh, Si. I do love you.”

“Tsk-tsk, Tommy. You know our rules—we never say the L-word. No collars but the one on Sebastian.” He pets his beloved ginger cat. “Though you might keep an eye out for St. Bernard collars.”

JR holds the café door open for me. “Have you ever been here, Professor?”

I glance at the sign on the window, which reads Whole Latte Love Café . That has got to be the stupidest name for a coffee shop in history. It’s an insult to Led Zeppelin and to coffee-lovers everywhere. My desire for an Americano—and a few brain cells—dies just looking at it. “I can’t say that I’ve had the pleasure.”

“Oh, it’s great! My roommate, Josh, and I come here all the time. I usually get a Cold-Brewnication Breakdown, but today I think I’ll try a Kashmiruccino.” The undergrad studies the menu like it’s a textbook.

“Is your roommate on the football team, too?” I make small-talk while we wait. Anything to keep myself from commenting on the idiocy of the menu board.

“Josh?” JR’s eyebrows shoot up. “Nah, he just hangs out with us dumb jocks. Trust me, he’s the genius of the group. Hey, there’s a table opening up—I’d better go grab it.” He hurries to claim a spot in the crowded café.

I order our drinks from a stoned barista with the word ‘ Karma ‘ pinned to his apron. (Is that his name or the reason he works here?) After receiving our drinks, I join JR in a private corner of the busy coffeehouse. I pass him his coffee, then take a sip of the Stairway Tea Heaven I ordered for myself—god help me.

Settling into an overstuffed chair, I cross a leg over one knee. “Thank you for taking the time to meet with me today.”

JR blushes his usual rosy red. “I’ve been looking forward to this for days, Professor. I’m hoping you’ll answer some questions for me.”

“Very well. Let’s get started, shall we?” I lean toward the inexperienced man, pitching my voice low for our private conversation. “There are certain agreements we should make up front. Do you mind if I lead the discussion?”

“That’d be great, sir.” The blond takes a sip of coffee, giving me his full attention.

“The first item is non-negotiable,” I warn him. “Our primary relationship is an academic one. We will end the D/s arrangement if it compromises our intellectual pursuits. Agreed?”

“Yeah, Professor,” he says. “My education is really important to me. I respect you too much as a scientist and a teacher to jeopardize that relationship.”

“And I value you as a student, Mr. Bennett. You’ll make a fine addition to my MS program.” I give him a pointed look. “I expect to see your application on my desk by next week.”

JR’s blush deepens. “Yes, sir.”

That’s more like it. “Good. Let’s discuss roles, expectations, and limits. Do you have questions before we get started?”

“Yeah, tons of ’em.” He leans forward, lowering his voice, “Like, what am I supposed to do exactly? And what happens if I do it wrong? What if you’re into stuff that freaks me out? I don’t think I’m ready for whips and chains.”

“Breathe, Bennett,” I remind the anxious man. “We’ll discuss each of your questions, but for now let’s start with roles. We began this conversation in my office, but I’d like to expand on it. May I?”

My prized pupil nods, taking another sip of coffee.

I relax into my cozy chair as I enter teacher-mode. “A healthy D/s relationship is an equal partnership. The role of the dominant partner—or dom—is to assume control, while the submissive, or sub, surrenders control. They each benefit from this arrangement in their own unique ways. The dom may enjoy a sense of power or the trust that he’s shown, while the sub may gain a feeling of freedom and relief as he lets go of decision-making. Each role requires trust in the other person—trust which is earned over time. Do you have questions about roles, Bennett?”

JR bites his lip. “Um... as the sub, can I still make requests and stuff?”

“Of course. Honest, open communication is the only way to preserve a healthy D/s dynamic.” I take off my glasses, staring directly into his eyes. “You must express your boundaries, though you can expect me to push those boundaries on occasion. That leads us to our next topic—expectations. What do you expect from this arrangement?”

“Um, well... I’m not sure,” he says as he rubs the back of his neck. “I guess I thought you’d be my gay sex-ed teacher or whatever.”

“Not all D/s relationships are sexual,” I tell him. “You can still gain the benefits of submission without it.”

The football player deflates like a balloon. By the look on his face, you’d think Christmas had been canceled. “Oh. It’s just that... I was kinda, um, hoping that maybe… we could keep doing stuff? I mean, only if you want to. We don’t have to, I guess.”

“Shall we continue exploring the sexual side of our dynamic?” I ask. When that earns me an eager nod, I smile in smug satisfaction. “Good. What other expectations do you have?”

JR thinks about it for a moment. “Well, I expect you to tell me if I do something wrong... give me instruction and feedback... don’t baby me. You know, keep being a hardass, Professor Fletcher. I can take it.” He gives me a lopsided grin, his dimple popping out.

“Is that so? Challenge accepted, Mr. Bennett.” I eye him over my cup of tea, watching his cocky grin falter. “Now let’s talk about my expectations of you. As my sub, I expect you to submit to my leadership. Though I’ll need to continue earning your trust, you must try, at the very least, to obey my commands. Disobedience—especially brattiness—will be punished.”

“Punished?” His deep voice cracks.

Mmm... I’ll enjoy teaching that lesson. “We’ll go over punishments another time, Bennett. Let’s discuss limits. Are you familiar with the term ‘hard and soft limits’?”

“Um... like ‘there’s a limit to how much I can take’ kind of thing?“ JR lowers his voice. “Like whips-and-chains limits?”

“Perhaps.” I raise an eyebrow. “A hard limit is an act that you absolutely will not do. A soft limit means that you may be open to exploring it in the future, though not at the present moment. We will review a system of safewords to help express those limits, but that can wait for another day. Do you have any hard or soft limits that you would like to mention?”

“I’m pretty sure whips and chains are a no-go for me.” He gives me a nervous look. “Besides that, I don’t really know. This is all new to me.”

I let my eyes roam over the muscular man. Such a sweet little virgin. “There’s no need to apologize, Bennett. That’s why safewords are helpful. They’re a quick way of expressing hard and soft limits as they’re reached—on the fly, as it were. If you’d like me to slow down or stop an act, just say your safeword and I’ll comply. I’d never force you to do anything.”

JR lets out a deep sigh. “Thanks, Professor. I appreciate you helping out a newbie like me, letting me try stuff so I can figure out what I’m into. I don’t know what I don’t know, right?”

“That’s correct. Knowledge requires study. Speaking of which, now might be a good time to discuss your application to my master’s program.” I can be persistent when I want something.

The football player glances toward the café‘s bakery case. “OK, but can we get something to eat first? I’m starving—and you gotta try their Rock & Cinnamon Rolls.”