05

Every Sub had a strong need to serve, as much as every Domme had a strong need to take care of her own. I was no different as a Sub; my core heard the call from the Domme, and the call had to be answered.

However, I'd admit that Miss Givens's call was louder than Mistress Lincoln's call had been in the last few months; the power in Mistress Lincoln's commands had been waning, when Miss Givens's commands brought life in me.

I took out the hanky from the breast pocket of my suit jacket and wiped my mouth and my forehead. I was burning up.

"Never show anyone that you're nervous, Mr. Grey," Miss Givens advised, combing the hair of the whip with her fingers; she was looking at me, and waiting.

Wiping my mouth and my forehead had already become a habit that had grown to be too strong to break. I'd been wiping my mouth with my hand and my forehead with my arm for years; my sister Mia had always complained that it was gross, and that was the reason she bought me two thousand one hundred handkerchiefs.

Miss Givens had a point, so I dropped the hanky and removed my jacket, my tie, my shirt, and then my shoes and my trousers. I was in my socks and my trunks; I was ashamed that I already had an erection.

With Mistress Lincoln, I hardly had an erection this early, but it usually took a build-up of almost half an hour before I could have a good enough erection; with Miss Givens, however, the erection was already strong to the point where my penis was even throbbing.

As I walked to her, Miss Givens said, "I don't really like that underwear, Mr. Grey, and I never have. Smart, young men wear boxer briefs, and real men wear boxer shorts. What you're wearing is for boys. Lose them… and the socks."

I had to swallow hard first, as if I were swallowing my nerves and the embarrassment. Being completely naked would expose me, and Miss Givens would know how affected I was by her. However, the Domme had given me clear instructions, and so I had to remove my trunks and my socks before walking to her again; my breath was quickening.

Miss Givens was smiling at me, and the smile was small as though her lips were stretching on their own. She then held her red, lower lip with her white, straight teeth as she glared appreciatively at my manhood; her small face flushed into a pale rose.

Mistress Lincoln had reminded me to shave.

But then Miss Givens's eyes grew darker and darker as I got closer and closer to her. She was looking at my chest, which had dark hair running across… She wasn't looking because of my hair, though, but because of the small, round scars across my chest.

It wasn't easy to see the scars because of the soft hair, but Miss Givens saw them, and now she was smiling at me, her powder-blue eyes on my soft gray eyes, as though avoiding to look at my chest.

There was pity in her eyes. Those eyes couldn't lie.

Miss Givens didn't ask about the scars, as if she knew I didn't want to revisit those bits of my childhood memories; she was the only person to act this way upon noticing the round, white circles across my chest, and I liked her even more for that.

By the time I reached her, I was puffing with arousal, as though I were already having sex. She didn't mind that, but seemed to take it as a compliment… or at least that's what I thought the widening smile meant.

I went on my knees before her, sitting back on my heels. I parted my knees wider as Mistress Lincoln had taught me. My hands were clasped at the back, and my eyes were up at Miss Givens, who then raised her thick, dark brow.

"It seems like you'd been taught, Mr. Grey," she said, sounding satisfied with me, but then her mouth twisted. "However, not well enough."

Miss Givens grabbed the back of my head and lowered it. I was looking at the tiled, white floor… I was looking at her black boots. She lowered my head even further, and now I was somewhat hunched.

Mistress Lincoln had never done this to me; when I was on my knees, kneeling before her, I always had to be looking up at her. Hunching felt foreign, and it needed a lot of trust since I didn't know what Miss Givens was actually doing.

Did I trust Miss Givens?

Not exactly, but enough I guess.

"I need your hands and your arms flat on your thighs," she said, and I did as she asked. "Very good, Mr. Grey. Very good." She brushed the fringe whip against my arms, one arm after the other, and it kinda tickled. "You're familiar with this whip?" she asked, and I nodded. "I can't hear you."

"Y-yes."

"Yes, what?"

"Yes, Miss Givens."