He came to me as a client. Articulate, but hesitant, almost shy in his approach. He had some idea about what he wanted but seemed filled with as many questions as I had answers.
His early emails had a blue patterned background. He stood out in many good ways.
The first session came and went all too fast. He did indeed like flogging, and spanking, and cbt, and just about any and everything that hurt.
I smiled to myself as I watched him writhing under my attentions. I couldn't resist taunting him just a little. I leaned down, pressed my lips to his ear and whispered, "you're just a little slut, aren't you?"
Magic words. A naming, sure as a finger pointed at a mythical creature to cage it. The power of a name is said to work only once but that once is enough, the spell is cast and the beast is tamed.
Funny that I should chose that word. It is one I had never uttered before. But sure as bunny's first time calling me Mistress, it clicked into place, perfect at the time and perfect ever after. Our secret whispered in the dark.
This boy would be special. I knew it the moment I saw him. He was eager for knowledge and happily soaked up everything I taught him.
Our emails went on forever, back and forth over every little detail. We meshed in so many ways. Each morning found me eagerly climbing out of bed to see what he had written next.
From the very beginning he considered himself mine and acted accordingly. It was soon clear to me that this boy would need more- deserved more- than a professional relationship.
I took my time about it. Through our emails and a few more sessions I began to feel him out, get an idea for who he was as a person.
Then came February and his request to see me on a feast day. I very much wanted to but the date complicated things a bit. So I opened up, told him secrets and details I would not usually share with anyone, let alone a paying client. But I did, and he understood and embraced, cherished really, the things I told him.
We had the session. I played it a bit darker and deeper than we had gone before. There on his knees in my living room on a night made for magic he cried for me. As I held him afterward I thought again about what a special boy I had and knew this had to become more than a business transaction. But something told me not just yet. So again I waited.
I saw him again as a client late in the month. He tried to leave without his shoes. As he straightened his tie in my mirror I found my heart flutter and tilt. I knew it was going to be the last time I could ask him to pay me. He would, I knew, but that wasn't want I wanted. Not from him. Not anymore.
Then work threw me a surprise. I had too many vacation hours and had to take some of them. This was it. It was time.
I broke it to him gently. The sweet boy was actually surprised, but very happy. He wanted nothing more than to belong to someone and now he was going to.
I made him go through the formal negotiation process. That was another first for me. In the past it's always just sort of happened. This time I did it very deliberately, explaining in detail what I wanted and what he could expect. He agreed.
And so I named him. Hudson, for a gargoyle; a mythical creature who spends his days as stone but comes to life at night. For my Hudson I am his night and he comes alive under me as his stone skin shatters as falls away.
Tomorrow he gets his first discipline spanking, and a belt that will serve as his collar.
Welcome to the family, boy of mine.
