He was nervous when he came to me for his first session. Naturally, he’d put a lot of thought into what he wanted for this first time; he had all sorts of preconceived notions about what was about to happen. He thought he wanted some kinky sex, to experience a darker flavor of intercourse, to walk on the dangerous side of his own sex drive.  He thought he knew what he wanted.

He was 27 and full of himself. Young, dumb and full of cum, he wanted to rule the world; he thought I was a sex worker, to be used, abused and tossed aside when he was done. He had decided that my thoughts, feelings and opinions on the matter didn’t matter, that I was there to do kinky sex acts to him, take his fee and be happy. He underestimated me.

This sweet faced boi, practically virginal and fresh from the womb of college came to me swaggering, with just a hint of that fear of the unknown lurking under the surface. He sat opposite me in the office, in a chair strategically placed so the sunlight streaming in the window behind me shone in his eyes. I’d had the legs of the chair shortened by two inches, just so he would feel smaller.

I greeted him from behind the desk, standing, in my position of power. I asked him to take a seat, gesturing him to the less comfortable of the two chairs available. He sat on the sprung cushion coils, leaning slightly forward to combat the sag of the chair, hands clasped between his knees. He was still trying to take control of the situation from the very beginning, starting to tell me all about himself, just as though he hadn’t filled out the questionnaire online the week before.

“I know all about you, John. I know that you’re looking for a walk on the wild side, that you’re seeking some sort of sexual liberation in easy one-screw doses, and that you think this is all about what you want and need.”

I waited a beat for that to sink in. Just as he opened his mouth to reply (having finally gathered his scattered wits) I said

“This isn’t all about just ~you~, John. Did you think I’d do what you wanted, accede to your needs, wants and desires with no thought at all to what I want? This is a two-way street, John. You get what you need, and I get what I want.”

The blush on his face was painful in its intensity; red and spreading across his cheeks, down his neck, even into his ears. My carefully worded questionnaire had revealed a few interesting quirks in John’s mental makeup. Humiliation, bi-curious, inclined to bluster and yet ultimately easily led. I stalked out from behind my desk, deliberately invading his personal space and standing over him. I reached out and stroked his hair, down the side of his face, across his neck, cupping his chin and directing him to look up at me.

“I want you naked, John. I want you stripped and kneeling before me before I can count to ten.”

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