By Jodi Payne
Close your eyes, boy.
That is how the ritual always begins. I know the words are coming as I stand in His office, still and naked before Him. Precisely the same words, yet different each time; a reflection of my Master’s mood. I await them eagerly, longing to know how I may best serve Him, and–Oh, my heart.
“Close your eyes, boy.” Tonight when I hear His words, I hear calm, I hear affection.
I hear His love and I’m instantly overwhelmed.
My heart beats faster, warmth spreading through my body; under my skin and deeper, down to the very tips of my fingers. Still, I try to stay focused. My actions are what He cares about right now. He doesn’t want me to speak, it pleases Him for me to just obey. My eyes slide closed.
Without the distraction of sight, I become aware of the earthy smell of Master’s fine leather desk chair and the dark, musky scent of His cologne. It’s always a struggle for me to stay in the moment and not wonder what he has planned for me. He knows it.
“Breathe.”
I take a deep breath and let it out slowly, relaxing, secure in my headspace, already feeling the room around me beginning to expand. “Lovely. Listen now, dearest one. Listen. Listen to my breathing. Listen to my steps as I move around you. Listen to the sound of my voice.”
I recognize the rustle of His dress pants when He moves; standing up, stepping around His desk, pausing right in front of me. I sense Him there, so close. I feel His gaze moving over my face, His breath brushing gently past my cheek.
“Listen, boy. Let me in.”
He begins to move again, walking in a slow, deliberate circle around me. I envision His sharp and focused attention and it makes the hair on my arms stand up, my skin pimple and tingle. I shiver.
He laughs softly, His words indulgent. “Very pretty, boy.”
With effort, I resist the urge to thank Him, the words rising in my throat. I swallow them and instead straighten my shoulders and stand taller, hoping He will understand my delight in His approval.
He goes still. “All right, dearest. Kneel for me.”
I obey, sinking to my knees. His words make me smile. I can’t help it, I know now what comes next. I know I will do this well and that it will please Him. He’s rewarding me, taking me down a path of confidence, and I know He needs it as much as I do.
“Don’t get ahead of me, boy,” He warns, His voice low and rough as gravel. “The rewards are so much greater if you stay in the moment.”
Master knows best, and I take His admonishment to heart. This time words are necessary. “I’m sorry, Sir,” I reply softly. Contrite. Earnest.
“Shh. Listen,” He commands. His tone grounds me in an instant. “Listen, and hear me.”
I breathe and focus, schooling my thoughts to the now.
“Arms behind your back. Lace your fingers together.” He instructs me slowly and clearly, and I obey, just as gently and smoothly as the words that flow from Him.
“Good, boy. Now, cross your ankles.”
The pose is simple but powerful. I am bound without bonds, restrained without restriction, confined without cuffs.
“Listen, dearest, and you will be heard. Bow your head.”
My body obeys without need for thought. I am caught in the trammels of His words alone, and my soul is free.
He moves again, though I confess that it’s grown difficult for me to track His movements; the sound of His steps and the rhythm of His breathing seem loud in my ears. “You look beautiful, my boy. Your submission is a gift to me. My love is my commitment to you.”
I feel Him all around me, everywhere, His words lifting me up, embracing me. I make a sound, I don’t mean to, but I’m unable to stop it before it escapes.
“Yes, my dearest one, I hear you,” He whispers, forgiving. “You may speak.”
“I am yours, my Master.”
“Such a good boy.” He praises me, and then – oh. He threads His fingers through my hair, rests his palm on my cheek and my heart explodes. The force of it bringing tears to my eyes.
The warmth of His touch is pure joy.
