Ellie and Sir (his name was Richard, but she’d starting thinking of him, in her own mind, as Sir) had been talking for weeks since he’d replied to her ad. She felt she knew him quite well.
He could be professorial, but he didn’t take himself too seriously. He made jokes about his own absurdities. They weren’t very funny, but only a sane man would make them. He laughed at her jokes. He’d told her his name and address and where he worked. Those details had checked out. Some men’s hadn’t. He’d lectured her about having a safety call in place before she met anyone, including him.
But she’d told him her address only an hour ago. They lived just a few miles apart. He’d asked her if she’d like a visitor, but then before she could answer, he’d apologised for moving too fast. She’d said, “Yes”, interrupting him.
She’d heard the surprise and relief in his voice. But it was gone a few seconds later. He’d told her how she was to meet him, and that he’d punish her if she hadn’t complied exactly.
When she took her place, on her knees for him, she’d felt, for the first time in her life, that she was obeying.
She was submitting. Even that knowledge of her own mental state was pleasurable.
When he arrived she’d be looking up at him, her body presented for him. As if it was responding to that thought her fell open. She could move her hands and close it. But that’d be cheating; that would be no way to begin.
She heard someone’s steps near her door. Her heart thumped with anticipation, and just a little fear.