Master Chef

by Danielle Berggren

  “Do tell.”

  “Well,” I sighed. “I’ve only ever been with my ex.” I was having trouble looking at Ethan. I could feel his gaze on me, intense and unwavering. “We met because we had classes on a shared campus. I told him what I was into and he said he was too, and at first it was—nice. But then, later, he said that I had forced him into it, that he’d never liked it and that I was a freak for craving it. I tried to do it his way, I did, but vanilla just...doesn’t seem right. And, um, there were other issues, but that was...well, after that I just...”

  I faded off lamely, twisting my napkin around and around in my lap until it was tight on my fingers.

  His voice was gentle when he said, “You really haven’t talked about this before.”

  I shook my head.

  He sighed and leaned back into his chair again, regarding me over our plates. “Four years ago, I started working in Boston. I struck up a relationship with a woman who worked in the kitchen with me. She was a submissive. Active in the local community. We played, and after some time we progressed to dating.”

  His gaze unfocused a little, but he did not look away from me. “When things went south, she accused me in front of the entire work staff of abusing her. She had marks. She filed charges. I had a sympathetic judge, and people from the community to stand as witnesses, but my name was dragged through the dirt and I was blacklisted from most restaurants.” He crossed his arms over his chest. “That’s when I vowed not to get involved with anyone from work again. I do not want my private life to compromise my career. I’ve worked hard to get where I am today.”

  I smiled a little, “You’re a great chef.”

  “Thank you.”

  “I’m sorry that happened to you. But I—I am serious when I say that’s what I want.”

  He raised his eyebrows, “But you can see why I may be a little hesitant. You say that you’ve never been with someone that has the same kink as you, aside from the great pretender. You’ve never experienced all that I or another dominant has to offer and, even though we are both into BDSM, we may still be incompatible. This takes planning and care.”

  “It does?”

  He nodded. “I am a dominant. A sensual dominant. I am serious about the role.”

  My throat went dry and I reached for another sip of wine. The bubbles tickled my nose as I swallowed and I let out a polite little cough. “What is your role?” I asked, voice quiet.

  “It is my job to make certain that you are sure of what you’re getting into, and that you are always comfortable with whatever we may do.” He leaned forward again, “That is if you wish to pursue a relationship of that nature with me.”

  “I might,” I admitted. I sighed, “I’m not sure how to handle romance and work together.”

  “It’s a tricky thing.”

  “Yes,” I agreed. “How did you do it before?”

  “Badly.”

  “Right,” I said, blushing again. “Sorry.” I paused, “So... what are you thinking?”

  He tore off a piece of his roll and popped it into his mouth. I waited, poking at the pasta on my plate. I wasn’t quite full yet, but my stomach was like a bundle of raw nerves. Suddenly, no matter how delicious the food was, I found it difficult to even consider taking a bite.

  He chased his food with a swig of wine. “I believe in keeping my work and personal life separate.”

  “You said that.”

  He inclined his head toward me. “Yes. But I mean that I would treat you no different at work as I have before.”

  “You mean you’d still call me an ‘incompetent waste of a Sous Chef’ whenever you felt like it?” I asked tone dry.

  He smiled, “If the situation merits it. You are an excellent chef. You may have noticed that I focus on you very little compared to some of the others. You have the skill, it just needs to be better utilized. I think you let yourself get distracted too easily.”

  I frowned at him and folded my arms across my stomach. “You could be nicer,” I pointed out. “I’m serious. Since you’ve come to work at Poisson, I’ve almost quit, and most of the staff are in the same boat.”

  He shrugged, “It is how I was trained.” He sighed, “That’s just the way it is going to be for now. I will take your thoughts into consideration, but for now...you should not expect that I will treat you any different at work. What happens here, or between us, should not in any way affect our professional relationship.”

  “Easier said than done, I think. I’ll warn you now,” I pointed a finger at him. “If you piss me off too much, I might not be in a very forgiving mood later on.”

  His smiled. He stood and moved over to where I was sitting. He leaned down and placed a hand on either side of my shoulders, trapping me in the seat. I looked up at him, my breath coming faster. He seemed to loom over me, the smile and the dark expression still on his face. “Ms. Delaware,” he purred. “If you and I enter into an arrangement, you will do as I say, when I say. That will be a part of it.”

  I opened my mouth to argue, but he leaned down and kissed me. It was brief, compared to what we had shared in the parking garage, but still hard and enough to leave me breathless.

  “So,” he said, reaching up to cup my cheek. “Shall we talk?”

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Ethan

  Experience told me that this was a horrible idea.

  Instinct told me to hell with it.

  I loved her skin. It showed her emotions so well, the blood rising to the surface whenever she was embarrassed or desirous or wanting. I wondered what it would be like to use a crop on her. How long would her pearly skin bear those marks?

  The very thought of it was enough to make me hard. I swallowed the impulse to just throw her down and have my way with her. If we were to enter into a dominant/submissive relationship, she would need to be properly educated on what was expected of her, and of me. The rules would need to be put into place, safe words selected and toys examined.

  The storm that seemed to arise between us whenever we were close made me wonder if I would want her even if she did not share the exact interests as myself. I always imagined her in the ways I had grown to desire a woman, bound and at my mercy. Would the heat between us be enough if she did not share those same needs?

  There was only one way to find out.

  We left the dinner dishes on the table and I led her to my bedroom. The master suite comprised of two rooms adjoined by a door with a deadbolt. It was a different key than that which allowed me entry into my condo, the fourth key on my key ring. I had set up the door and the room when I moved in, but once settled at Le Poisson d’Azur I had been so distracted by Victoria Delaware that I had not reached out to the local community.

  She paused when we entered the bedroom. “Did you decorate the condo yourself or do you have a decorator?”

  “A decorator,” I said. “I have no eye for these things. But her influence stops here. I set up my own playroom.”

  Her eyebrows rose. “I thought this was...oh, never mind. I’m naïve, aren’t I?”

  I cupped her cheek again—her skin was so soft—and lay a soft kiss on her forehead. “Yes, you are, but that can be rectified.”

  I started to the door and paused with the key in the lock. “Promise me one thing before we go in.”

  “What?”

  “If you back down from this, please do not talk about anything you see here at work. Like I said, I want to—”

  “Keep your private and professional life separate, I know.” She smiled. “Yes, I promise. I’m not a complete asshole.”

  I frowned at her. “One more thing.”

  “Yes?”

  “If we do enter into an arrangement, I’ll expect you never to interrupt me again, and to curb that tongue of yours. Curse words are not something I admire in my partners.”

  She raised her eyebrows. “Is that a thing?”

  “Yes.”

  She sighed. “Okay then. Let’s see what you’ve got and we’ll go from th
ere, okay?”

  I nodded and unlocked the room. I stood back and motioned her forward. She entered and I turned on the light so that she could see.

  I had covered the two windows with a combination of shades and blackout curtains. The walls were painted a medium gray over sound proof panels, and the floor was black carpet. I stepped forward and glanced at Veronica. Her eyes were wide. Damn it, I thought, this was too much, too soon.

  But then her breathing started to get heavy, and I noted that her eyes began to sparkle. She approached the dungeon horse and ran her fingers over the leather cover. She looked to the wall of racks, where I kept my collection of whips, floggers, straps, rope, and other various impact toys. She glanced at me, “You don’t have any vibrators or dildos.”

  “When I find a new partner, we go shopping together. It’s not very eco-friendly, but I do not re-use pleasure toys. I play safe. If I’m engaging in group play, condoms are changed between partners.”

  She nodded, “Good to know.”

  I watched her take in the swing, the bench, and the narrow twin-sized bed fitted with a black rubber sheet. There was room to maneuver within the room, but only just. “Everything is kept clean and orderly within these walls,” I said. “If we do this, I’ll expect you to help me keep it that way.”

  “Of course,” she breathed. She went to a wall where there was tall, narrow cabinet with multiple shallow drawers. She opened one of them. “What are these?”

  “Clamps.”

  “Just clamps? Not nipple clamps?”

  “Some of them are for the nipples. Others are for other parts.”

  I saw her shiver and went to her. I couldn’t help it. “Are you alright? Is this too much?”

  “No,” she breathed. She opened another drawer that had handcuffs, and then the one beneath which held manacles. She closed them all and turned to me. Her eyes were fever bright. She licked her lips. “I’ve watched... videos where they use,” she motioned toward some of the dungeon furniture. “I’ve always wanted to, but I never thought...” She shook her head.

  I stepped a little closer and reached out to her, but did not touch. “Do you want me to go through any of this with you?”

  She nodded. “Yeah.” She looked at me. “You know, I had a dream about this last night.”

  “About my playroom?”

  She laughed. “No. But, yes, I guess so. I had a dream we were... you know. You had tied me up and were using a flogger.” She shook her head, “I had no idea how right my subconscious was.”

  I smiled and touched her shoulder. “Tell me what you want, Veronica.”

  She looked at the room, and then at me. She bit her lip. “I want this,” she said, her voice low and husky. “I want you.” She took a deep breath and it hitched. “I think we can do this. Keep this separate from work, like you said.”

  I can’t believe this is happening. What were the chances that this woman, who has taken over every waking thought, would be as interested in the lifestyle as I am? I still wasn’t sure if she was. There was a difference between fantasy and reality. I nodded to her, “I believe we can give this a shot.”

  She stepped toward me, but I stopped her. “What is it?” She said.

  “We still have to discuss your limits, and a few other things.” I loved how hot she had become when she saw my toys, but the system was in place for a reason. If we were going to do this, I was going to make sure that we took it at a pace she was comfortable with. “I’ll be honest—I have wanted you since I accepted the position and first met you. I do not want to scare you off, to have you for just one night. It would be worse than not having you at all.”

  She blushed. “I’m sorry, I didn’t realize.”

  I smiled. “Don’t tell me that it wasn’t mutual.”

  She giggled. “Oh, you’re hot all right, but I was distracted by your temper. I didn’t think you could be so nice and...” she paused and looked around again. “Compatible.”

  “Neither did I.” I motioned toward the narrow bed. “Do you want to do this here, or in the other room?”

  “Here is fine,” she said. She gave the bed a testing pat and sat, folding her legs. She still wore her newly-cleaned work clothes, though the jacket was unbuttoned to show the blue fitness tank below. “What do we need to discuss?”

  “First off is, are you interested in straight play, or do you want intercourse mixed in?”

  “I—” she swallowed and her eyes flicked around the room. She whispered the words, “I think I’d have to work up to straight play.”

  I tried to swallow the smile. I have participated in straight play in the past, and enjoyed myself, but that was not what I wanted with her.

  “Alright, second question; are you on any form of birth control?”

  She nodded, “I have an IUD. I got it six months ago, and it’s good for five years.”

  I smiled, “Good. When was the last time you were tested for STD’s?”

  “After Jason,” she said. “My ex. Among everything else, he was cheating on me, so I wanted to be sure he hadn’t transmitted anything to me. And when I went in for the IUD I got tested again, just as part of my visit.” She smiled, “Clean bill of health. You?”

  “The same. I’ve been very careful.” I paused, “Are you comfortable with having sex without a condom, or would you prefer one?”

  Her blush deepened. “I don’t like condoms, except the first couple of times, just to feel safe until I can see your bill of health.” She said. “And that you asked makes me feel like I can trust that you’re clean.”

  “You can.”

  She nodded, “So we need condoms?”

  ‘We,’ not ‘I.’

  “I have some.” I knelt in front of her. “Now, standard procedure for a bondage/submissive relationship is to have code or safe words. Red for stop, yellow to ease up or if you need to center yourself and talk, and green for all clear.”

  “What about when I’m gagged?”

  Oh, I’m going to like you. I smiled, “We won’t be playing with those until we’ve established your limits.”

  She nodded.

  “Is there anything that you see in this room that you know you will not enjoy?”

  She looked around again. She stared for a long time at the racks of floggers and whips. Good, she’s not flippant about the entire thing. That’s a positive sign. “I’m not sure how I feel about being struck with something wood or metal. I think I’ll be okay with leather, but I’m not sure.”

  “We’ll work up to the heavier stuff,” I said. “What about the clamps?”

  The blush strengthened, “I’m very interested in those.”

  “Now, there are things that I might do that are not within your tolerance. Do you enjoy getting your hair pulled?”

  “Yes.”

  “Called names?”

  She paused, “Sometimes. I have to be worked up to it. If it comes out of the blue, when I’m cold, then no.”

  “Alright, that’s good.” I smiled, “It’s okay not to like something. I want to make sure that this is enjoyable for both of us.”

  She nodded, “Thank you.”

  “I do not play to the point of blood, nor do I enjoy scat or golden showers.”

  She shuddered, “Me either. I mean, I’ve never, but... ew.”

  I laughed, “Alright. What about spitting?”

  “No, I don’t think so.”

  “Spanking?”

  “Yes.”

  We continued in this manner for some time. I was happy to note that, aside from one or two things, she was happy or willing to try almost everything that I enjoyed. Perhaps my moving here wasn’t such a blow to my sex life, after all. I had enjoyed the community out on the East coast but had yet to make inroads here.

  When we had finished, a silence fell between us. She broke first. “Well, how do we start this?” She laughed. “I’m sorry, but that felt like an erotic business negotiation. I’m not sure how to go from here.”

  I stood an
d held out my hand to her. She took it and rose. I noted that she was trembling, whether with excitement or fear, I wasn’t sure. “First, a few more ground rules. We’re going to explore your limitations over the next few weeks if you’ll have me, but I have a certain way that I expect you, as my submissive, to act.”

  “And how is that?”

  “First, when we’re in here you may call me either ‘sir’ or ‘Mr. Craymore.’ Never Ethan.” I leaned forward, “Second, your pleasure belongs to me. You may not come unless I give you leave to do so.”

  Her breath hitched, “I’m not sure if I can stop it.”

  I tightened my grip on her hand, “You will, or you will be punished.”

  “Punished?”

  “Yes. Anytime you break one of my rules, there will be a punishment.”

  “How?”

  I smiled, “That will be up to my discretion. Third,” I continued. “You will keep a civil tongue, no matter what happens. This extends to any time you and I are not actively engaged in a dominant/submissive situation.”

  “Does that qualify at work?”

  My smile widened, “No.”

  “Oh, good.”

  I laughed, “And lastly... when I tell you to do something, you will obey without question.”

  “What if it’s something I don’t want to do?”

  I shook my head, “We have mapped your limits. This is a relationship that is based on trust. Trust that I am a good dominant and will take care of you. I will never ask you to do something that you have expressed an aversion for but,” I paused. “Remember your code words. They are there for a reason.” I let out a long, shaky breath. Thank God, she’s still interested. I can see the need in her eyes. “That’s all for now.”

  “There will be more later?”

  I shrugged, “We’ll see.”

  She reached out and touched my chest, her fingers running up the thin fabric of my shirt. “What now?”

  I pulled on her hand until she was pressed against me. I reached up and ran my hand along her neck and then plunged my fingers into her hair, gripping the strands and pulling her head back. “Now we start.”