Sub for a Week (5 page)

What if I dropped? Subdrop didn't sound appealing at all. It's something I had yet to bring up with Daniel, but seeing as I'd dealt with my fair share of depression in the past, subdrop sounded even less inviting than subspace. Was the act of dropping or feeling so alone and abandoned worth the brief freeing moment some describe by reaching subspace?

You could always ask them.
I was in the middle of a session with one of my sub clients, but bringing
myself
into those sessions was completely uncalled for, even if it would've offered me some peace of mind.
Just wait until Daniel gets on.
He'd be the best one to ask anyway.

He assured me that he'd reacted to safe words in the past, so there was that. Breeching the subject of subdrop though, or my curiosity and fears of subspace ... I wasn't even sure where to begin.

Opening a Word document in the background, I started to jot down my concerns along with questions I'd probably ask Daniel later in the evening. By the time I finished with my client, the list of random thoughts about everything BDSM was well over three pages long. Single spaced.

It was way too much to cover in one evening through IMs, even if we both stayed up until midnight. Given that, I saved the document to my desktop and opened my browser. One thing I did have on all my clients were their email addresses. It was how I warned them I'd be out of town for a week or how I sent them pamphlets of information or even lists of centers in their area that might be able to help them outside our sessions.

Luckily, Daniel's email was saved in my address book, so it wasn't hard to find. And before I could back out, I sent the document as an attachment. I didn't say anything in the email. And the only thing I put in the subject line was
Please
read.
Saying anything else may have been too much too soon.

He wasn't my Dom.
Yet.
And even if he was, there was still a fine line of professionalism between us. Yet another thing we had to discuss. We'd agreed to skip our session for the week. To keep it off the record and use a plain IM program instead of the one hosted by the site seeing as most of the time we spent chatting concerned me more than him.
Not to mention we don't need any of the other therapists stumbling across our chat logs.

I'd already broken a handful of rules, so why not break a few more? Dating a client (which definitely seemed to be the direction we were going in) was prohibited.
Fantasizing about a client—dead wrong.
And chatting with one outside the site after hours? That wasn't just means to get me fired. It would probably land me in jail if someone ever found out.

But it was worth it. I had to believe that. Daniel assured me it was, so why not take the risk?
He's not risking anything, you are.
I could still find a new job, but given how long it had taken me to feel this way about someone else? I'd give up my job for a chance at whatever Daniel had to offer. Even if it was just his company and the evenings we'd been sharing over the computer.

I hadn't felt this kind of connection to anyone. Not even my family. It was almost as if something was driving me toward him, and any attempt I could’ve made to veer from that path was corrected before I’d considered it.

Rubbing my forehead, I leaned back in my chair and checked the clock. It was a little past eleven, which meant I had about fifteen minutes until my next client and that whatever Daniel was sending had probably come by now.

Once I was sure I still had a client at 11:30, I got up from my chair and walked into the kitchen. I'd opted to work closer to the front of the building today. It made it easier to hear any deliveries, and with a laptop, working wherever I wanted in the apartment wasn't a problem.

Assuring myself he hadn't sent me a pony (even though I still wanted one)
,
I unlatched the bolt and opened the door. As promised, there was a medium-sized box sitting right outside my door.

That's strange,
I thought, turning the box over.
There's no label on it.
I turned it over again once I reached my desk, but like before, there was no address label. It was then I realized that not just anyone delivered the box.
It was Daniel. Fuck.
I knew I shouldn't have worn headphones. Maybe then I would've heard him.
Then what? Pulled him inside to have your way with him?

Yeah, that probably wasn't the best idea either. I had four clients left for the afternoon, most of which were back-to-back. Still, if I could've just seen him,
kissed
him ... no. No, it was better this way.
We're still professionals here.

But now I couldn't decide if him knowing and visiting where I lived turned me on or freaked me out more. If he knew where I lived, that meant he could visit any time.
With one or two windows that are no bigger than a small picture frame for him to get in by?
Okay, so it wouldn't happen, but it was still nice to think about.

After adding that thought to my Rolodex of fantasies, I headed back into the kitchen for a knife. Being careful as to not ruin whatever was inside, I opened the box. My breath caught, and I pressed a hand against the counter to keep my knees from buckling.

There, wrapped in a clear plastic bag were two sets of leather cuffs, and beside that was what appeared to be a flogger with a note. Once I was sure I'd found my balance again, I carried the box and its contents back into the living room. I still had a few minutes to pick my jaw up off the floor before my next client, so I decided to read the letter that came along with my new toys.

Cuffs - two sets to be worn on both the wrists and the ankles in the evenings. Try and get comfortable with wearing them. They're made from
a soft
leather so as to not bother the skin. If you break out in a rash, take them off.

Flogger - deerskin.
This flogger is what I usually use on a new sub. It's smooth and can be very gentle if used with a controlled hand. Play with the tails a bit. Let them slip through your fingers.

If either of these makes you uncomfortable, don't wait until you talk to me in the evening to address the issue. You can be nervous and possibly a little anxious, but I'm not in this to scare you.

P.S. the cuffs are Velcro so they're easy to put on. The hooks in-between them can come undone so you can wear them like bracelets.

Talk to you tonight,

Daniel

Turning the letter over, I hoped to see more, but like our chats in the evenings, Daniel kept it short and sweet unless asked to do otherwise.
And I'll definitely have to ask him about this.

I removed the cuffs from their bag and opened one of them up. As stated in his letter, the leather was smooth.
Completely worn.
But when I pulled on both ends, it was just as strong as I'd expected. Next, I tested the Velcro, which was about the same.

Sure, they were easy to take off, but if he had my hands bound or if I was bound to something else, I wouldn't have been able to undo them just by pulling on them.

Knowing I wouldn't be able to type with them on, I put the cuffs on my ankles instead—like bracelets, just as he'd instructed. The hooks that connected one cuff to the other jingled whenever I shifted in my chair. A constant reminder not only of the cuffs, but also of why I'd put them there in the first place.

While I waited for my client to log in to the chat, I took the flogger out of the box. I pushed my chair away from the table before slapping the flogger down against a hand. I hissed at the small bite the tails of the flogger left behind, but the pain wasn't something I couldn't handle.

Satisfied, not to mention turned on, by Daniel's delivery, I put the flogger away and went back to work.
Seven hours.
Seven hours at most until I chatted with Daniel again.
I can do this.

****

"You get my package?"
Daniel asked as soon as he logged on.

I smirked at him asking about
his package. Why no, no I didn't. Why not come over and deliver it yourself?
Clearing my throat, I said,
"I did, thank you. Did you get my letter?"

"I did. Thank you for sending it to me. I was able to read through it during lunch. I would've IMed you sooner, but I knew you had clients."

Oh, I'm sure you wanted to do more than that.
I bit at the inside of my cheek. If anything in my letter had set off alarms, I had no doubt in my mind he would've come to my apartment again. And this time he would've knocked.

"I understand you're worried about subspace,"
Daniel said a few seconds later.
"Can you tell me what it is that concerns you?"

"I don't want to not know where I am.
Not sure how else to explain it."

"You explained it just fine. You know, there is a way for you to almost reach subspace, but still be conscious. What I mean by that is you'll be aware of everything that's going on. Subspace isn't just the numbing sensation you mentioned in your letter. It can be less than that. It all comes down to the Dom and how deep into subspace he wants you to go."

"You mean
there's different levels
to it?"

"Of course.
Just like there are different levels of pain, there are different levels of subspace. It can be as little as a sub willingly submitting to her Dom and getting to that frame of mind to as much as a sub blacking out. She's still conscious, but her mind isn't there."

"So what would you do if I wanted to stay somewhere in the middle?"

"We wouldn't get you there in the beginning. Because of your concerns, I'm going to put deep subspace down as a hard limit. I'll never push you to reach that level of subspace. If anything, during the first week, I’m not going to push you at all.
If you reach it, great.
However, that shouldn’t be one of our goals. Usually, it takes time for a sub to feel that sensation, unless she's been in the lifestyle before."

"So the subdrop wouldn't be a concern either?"

"It actually can be. Because of the level of endorphins you'll probably experience from pain
play,
it's still possible to have some form of drop a few days later. If you’re comfortable with the idea, I'll do my best to help you achieve subspace before the end so you can experience it, but that isn't what makes a sub. That said, if we don't reach it, don't take the experience away as a failure. Every sub is wired differently. Because of this, aftercare for one sub will be different from another. And that's what brings us to tonight's discussion. What comforts you?"

I furrowed my brow.
"How do you mean?"

"When you're unwell, what makes you feel better?"

"Like when I'm sick?"
I shrugged even though he had no way of seeing it.
"Soup.
Tea.
Blankets."

"So warmth then."

"Yeah."

"Baths or showers?"

I was going to come back with a smart-assed remark on how inappropriate his last question was, but I decided against it.
"Shower.
I only take baths if I can't stand up."

"What about being held? When you aren't well, are you one to cuddle, or do you like being left alone?"

"I don't know. I haven't been sick like that since I was little, and I'm pretty sure getting coddled by my mom doesn't really count."

"We'll play that part by ear then. As for me, I like to hold my sub after a scene.
The closer the better.
Would this be a problem?"

"I don't see why it would. But, wait a second. Doms need aftercare?"

"Not in the same way that subs do, but yes. We also need the comfort after a scene. Some of us like to know our sub's okay and that she has no ill feelings toward us."

"Why would she? From what I understand, you're nothing but kind to your subs."

"You say that now, but if you ever drop, which I hope never happens, you might feel differently. Holding a sub and comforting her is my way of assuring the two of us that I was there when she needed me most."