Cav
Holy shit. Should I text him? Was I really going to do this?
For the past couple of days, I’d been looking forward to what these two men had in store for me, but I’d admit I was nervous. Domination and submission was something I found fascinating, wanted to explore further, but I understood what Edge and Cav had told me. This was real. This was their lifestyle. They weren’t playing games.
And though they were considering my request, it wasn’t a guarantee that they would see it through.
That was the first issue. The other was the fact that, at some point, I’d started thinking about this on a more personal level. Not merely a chance to delve deeper for my dissertation. In fact, most of the time I didn’t think about the extensive essay I was required to write at all.
Which did not bode well for me considering Edge had been adamant about the rules he’d assigned to this endeavor. I had to keep it on a professional level at all times, to remember the reasons behind my actions.
With that in mind, I grabbed my phone, pulled up Cav’s number, and started a text message.
Me: Thank you so much for the flowers. They’re beautiful. I look forward to tonight as well.
I didn’t hit send. I deleted the entire thing, then tried again only to come up with the exact same wording. When I realized I was being a chicken about this, I opted to tack on: And I am very interested in your additional instructions.
Boom. I did it.
I hit send and then I waited, holding my breath, both terrified and excited about what Cav might send back.
A good half hour passed before I decided I needed to get in the shower. Perhaps he was busy. Maybe in a meeting. I wasn’t even sure what Cav did for a living. I’d heard he was interviewing with Zeke, but I wasn’t sure if that was going to pan out. I tried my best not to stick my nose into my brother’s business. Work business, actually. When it came to his personal life, I did not have any qualms about voicing my opinion and he’d be the first to admit it.
By the time I got out of the shower, I was even more wound up than before. The hot water hadn’t done anything to relax me, nor had the mandarin-orange-scented body wash. After checking my phone to see there were no messages, I pressed on. I did my makeup, dried and straightened my hair, then grabbed a glass of water. I glanced at the clock and noticed I had twenty minutes before Cav arrived. I did not want to be wearing only my robe when he showed up. But I also didn’t want to wear something he didn’t want me to. After all, his note had specifically mentioned clothing.
“Why is this so hard?” I muttered as I started back toward my bedroom.
As I was opening my closet door, my cell phone chimed with a text message. My heart nearly leapt right out of my chest. I was breathing hard as I touched the screen to bring up the text message.
Cav: You agreed, so I expect you to follow my instructions precisely, cupcake.
I held my breath as I waited for the next text message to come.
Cav: The only things you’re allowed to wear tonight: a little black dress that falls no lower than mid-thigh, black bra, black strappy sandals with heels, a small amount of jewelry, and I love your hair, so keep it down.
Hmm. He seemed to have forgotten panties.
Or had he?
I stared at the screen for a second longer, then carried my phone into my closet. The jewelry was no problem. I didn’t tend to wear much. When I was at school, I usually wore a watch but that was it. Tonight I had on a pair of small diamond studs that my brother had given me for Christmas two years ago.
I flipped through the hangers until I found a cute little black number that I’d bought for a night out with my friends. I’d only worn it once, so I figured it would be perfect for tonight. It wasn’t too tight, and the flared skirt was flattering. Since it was relatively cool out, I had a pea coat that would go nicely with it.
I rummaged through the drawer where I kept my sexy lingerie sets. I found a black lace bra and matching thong. With a frown, I left the thong but snatched the bra. I’d never not worn panties before. Never. It seemed weird, but then again, it seemed to be a fairly popular thing in BDSM novels.
I grabbed the pencil and notepad I kept with me and jotted down a note: Does a Dominant take pleasure in dictating how a submissive should dress? Is it a sign of possession or simply a way to exert their power? What does it say for the power exchange when a submissive follows the rules precisely?
