Total pages in book: 147
Estimated words: 137135 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 686(@200wpm)___ 549(@250wpm)___ 457(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 137135 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 686(@200wpm)___ 549(@250wpm)___ 457(@300wpm)
I cross my legs and discover I’m wet, my face warming as I look around the café, feeling as if everyone is suddenly staring at me like they know everything that’s happened and all my reactions in the last hour.
Is my body really readying itself for a man who so far is completely nameless other than a goofy nickname I gave him nearly a year ago?
WillDive4Plants:
Sidenote while I compartmentalize so I don't embarrass myself: I don't even know your name! And believe me, I've lost a stupid number of hours trying to discreetly find it out. My usual amazing FBI skills have failed me, and it’s probably why I missed my deadline.
And here I was trying not to embarrass myself. Well there you go😂
It’s true. I’ve used every search engine in existence to seek out anything containing bits and pieces of his username and what little I know about him. I went on our town’s Facebook page and scoured the members, looking for anyone with the initials LL who could possibly be my gym crush. Nada! I even downloaded a few photo lookup apps, trying to see if there was some sort of facial recognition feature that would pop him up on Instagram or something. Again, nothing!
And with my making it known how desperately I searched him out, I’d bet money he won’t just tell me now. Especially since he hasn’t offered it up before now.
RomanticSadistLL:
Well then, that will make this next part even easier for you. From now on, you will call me Sir. If it helps, you may think of it as my name. Use it so often that it feels odd to end a sentence or thought without saying it to me. Am I understood, sweet princess?
“Called it,” I grumble.
WillDive4Plants:
I had a feeling you were going to say that—*sighs—Sir.
I read his message again, and a smile takes over my face, knowing I’ve written so many books in which the Dom hero first tells his sub what he likes to be referred to as.
Yes, Master.
Yes, Professor.
Yes, Doctor.
Yes, Husband.
And, in a few stories: Yes, Sir.
A reader might find the moniker simple, too generic, especially if they’re from the South, where we’re raised to refer to any man as sir.
But this isn’t that same sir.
This is Sir.
More relative to knighthood, like Sir Lancelot, a great hero embodying alpha leadership and demanding of respect.
And also capitalized to show it pertains to a Dom.
It fits him beautifully. Gym Daddy transforms into Sir in my mind with little effort, and I’m grateful to have something else to call him, a name he finally gave me to use to address him with when I need one.
I still wish I knew his name though.
WillDive4Plants:
But that is so not fair. I'm just saying… Sir. And this gives me the best memories of writing one of my books, Sir.
I jump onto my Kindle app and search the word “sir” in said book, screenshotting the Dom telling his sub to call him by that name. I attach it to the message and send it, receiving one from him at the same time, and my face falls, literally, going from a big grin to an open-mouthed whimper as I read it.
RomanticSadistLL:
Sweet girl, if your first response to calling me Sir is sighs and sadness, then I don't want it. A true Dom is not a bully, and I get no pleasure out of forced submission. There are other kinks that enjoy that. If my sub enjoys that, then that changes things, but a sub serves so much better and honestly when she gives it freely. Submission is a gift. It has to make you happy to do it, or there is no pleasure in it for me either. My name is Felix.
My heart is pounding in my chest while I reread the message again and again, but it’s not from excitement at learning his name. The emotion I’m feeling at the moment, with my scalp tingling and my neck breaking out in a cold sweat as my tummy turns… is shame. This is my instinctive response to the disappointment I read woven throughout his words.
I want to take back my message, erase it and resend it without the playful sigh I included before.
“Idiot,” I snap at myself.
He doesn’t know you. He doesn’t know you’re just being goofy when you say shit like that. He can’t hear your tone in a written message, dumbass. Now he thinks you’re an argumentative bitch who doesn’t want to submit, when that’s the exact opposite of who you are, the cunty voice inside my head reprimands, kicking me when I’m already down like she’s known to do.
I have to correct him. I have to let him know that’s not at all what I meant.
WillDive4Plants:
I promise the sigh was only from frustration that I couldn't find out your name on my own, Sir.