I spent the week working with Ricky on setting up the website and taking it for a test drive. We had a log-in system where people could register to join the club by filling out a short application and choosing a username and password. They had to give us a valid email and tell us why they wanted to join. I recruited our first members—subs I knew from Riddle and from other kink events. I tried to get a wide variety of genders and orientations, and I encouraged them to list the Fet names of doms they’d played with so I could post those names and make them available to rate. Meanwhile I put up the names of a few doms I’d played with over the years and started rating them. Ricky had designed a cute little flogger icon in place of stars, and we’d established a one to five flogger rating system.
I didn’t go out all weekend. On Sunday morning Miles came over.
“I was involved in a certain amount of carnal jollification last night.” He dropped his messenger bag on one of the kitchen chairs and took out his tablet.
“Dude, you can just say you got laid.”
“Someone I met on Fet.”
I passed him the bag of Hershey’s Kisses I was eating from. “And? How was it?”
“I guess you’ll find out when you see my . . . rating.” He unwrapped a Kiss and stuck it in his mouth, then fired up his tablet and logged in to the site to show me. “See? Five floggers for safety—he was a skilled negotiator who sterilized his toys like nobody’s business. Four for competence—he pushed a needle too deep a couple of times, but nothing heinous.”
“Gross. I don’t want to hear about needle play. Ever.”
Miles ignored me. “And five for attitude. He was polite, let me set the limits, and he gave me snacks afterward.”
“Aww, snack doms are the best!” I slapped his shoulder. “See, this is fun, right?”
Miles shrugged. “It is gratifying, in a way.”
“And did you see, we have fifteen members already? They’ve been rating some of the doms whose names I posted. And so far, nobody’s been uncivil.”
Miles nodded. “I was looking at it earlier. People do sound surprisingly intelligent and respectful.”
“I mean, there’s this one guy, Tito Blacksaw.” I pointed to Tito’s name, which had a two-flogger average. “Three women rated him low on attitude, and their comments are negative but not, like, hostile.”
I hadn’t put up the Disciplinarian’s name yet. But I’d made up my mind I was going to ask him for another session. A full session. And then I was going to rate him honestly.
I couldn’t stop thinking about him. I’d been half-hard all day at work on Friday, remembering sitting at that school desk, watching him take the paddle down from the wall. The way he’d touched me as I’d stood in my underwear in his den of horrors. His blue eyes and his stupid haircut, which I really could have fixed in five minutes.
The more I thought about him, the more I realized that the issue had mostly been on my end. I’d freaked out about Hal, and that had kept me from talking to D man to man. Right now, I needed to figure out how to get D to agree to a second meeting with me. Which would mean apologizing. Something I didn’t typically do well unless I believed I’d been totally in the wrong.
Still, I could fake it. For the sake of the review blog.
So I messaged D after Miles left.
Hey D—
I just wanted to say sorry for the other night. I think I overreacted.
—d
I had my response two hours later.
David,
A shame it didn’t work out.
—Sir
I hadn’t exactly expected a No problem, wanna have another go? But his curtness was unfortunate.
Maybe it could work if we try again. I promise to be more respectful.
—d
David,
I’m not sure that’s a good idea.
—Sir
Not sure it was a good idea? I’d show him a good idea. I ate five more Kisses, then tried again.
D,
I apologize for my actions Thursday night. You have no idea how tempting it is to try to justify them. But I want to say sorry and not make excuses. I’ll never apologize for standing up for myself, but I am sorry for the way I talked to you. If you are willing to give me another chance, I can’t promise I’ll be a choirboy, but I will behave better. I’ll take whatever punishment you see fit, minus mouth-peeing, which you have already stated you don’t do, so that’s good. We agree on something.
You have many admirable qualities, and while I stand by what I said about your haircut, I retract what I said about you not treating me like a human being. You’re actually one of the better guys I’ve met.
I hope we can try again.
Respectfully,
—d
David,
You have until Thursday to write up a detailed, coherent apology for your behavior. 500-600 words. Double spaced with 1” margins. Bring it to my house at 7:30. Wear white briefs.
—Sir
D—
What are you, my freshman comp teacher? And what is your thing with white briefs? Did your mother accidentally bleach all your underwear when you were a kid?
P.S. Should I also staple it and include my name and class period in the upper right-hand corner?
—d
David—
Of course you should staple it. And proofread. If you can’t obey a request as simple as wearing white briefs, I shudder to think how the rest of our scene will go.
Please address me as Sir if you intend to continue our correspondence.
—Sir
Dear Sir,
How about this? You discipline me for how I behave, not what I wear or who I am. I’ll try to be respectful to you, and you can punish me if I’m not, but I don’t own tighty-whities and have no desire to.
Shudder away.
P.S. “Proofread” is amusing coming from a guy who misspelled “obedience” in his profile.
—d
David,
Consider the white briefs part of your punishment, as well as a test to see if you can follow directions—a test you failed last week. No tighties, no deal.
—Sir
P.S. Who are you, my freshman comp teacher?
Sir,
See you then. Maybe we can spend all night proofreading each other. If you know what I mean.
—d
David,
I don’t.
—Sir
D,
I mean sex.
—d
d,
I see.
—D