Chapter 3 Dominance

One of my pet peeves: disrespect where there shouldn't be any.

The stupid little white boy called out at me, like I was an object for his fucking entertainment. I don't tolerate disrespect.

For others, it might have not come disrespectful. Maybe a student forgetting their place.Possible a teacher with lax rules that allows the students to speak when they want.

But I have a secret weapon. I can read people like a fucking book.

That boy was not good people. I watched as he left a the class with a tension to his pace that wasn't there before, and I can't help the wave satisfaction that flows through me.

I turn back and noticed that everywhere seems to be too......:. Quiet?

I cross my arm across my chest. It's a defensive stance, but the way it pushes up my breasts into focus is a temporary distraction that I use to create a false sense of comfort.

"Please feel free to ask questions. I will answer what I feel is appropriate" I soften my voice so that it is less sharp and loosen the frown on my brows.

Being a domme is more than a combination of simple commands. It's how your carry yourself .

For me, it is a game as I predator, I provide my prey a false sense of comfort before I strike.

I have already established my rules through my previous demonstration. I would be incredibly surprised if anyone fails to raise up their hands before attempting to speak to me.

A timid hand raises at the back, I made contact with an adorable redhead girl with striking green eyes I can't help but linger at the way the white dress stretches right across her tits.

I definitely noticed the fact that are thighs are tightly pressed together.

I smirk and lift my eyes back at hers. I nod in her direction.

And like a good little girl, she speaks.

"Um, can I ask, why did you become a dominatrix?"

My smiles grows a bit wider at her question.

"I'm a bit of a control freak" I winked at her and I relish in the blush that spread on her face.

Another hand was raised and I wasn't surprised to find it was a woman. Man have an irrational fear of strong and demanding woman. Well you can say society has a past to play in that, since women are aspected to be weak, and docile.

I'm here to challenge that.

"Hi, I'm Cynthia"

I raised a eyebrow in amusement "I didn't ask for your name"

She shrugs and I find myself wanting to choke her for that. I hate non-answers.

"Do you like women?"

I ponder her question for a bit, wondering what bits of information I want to reveal. It's clear to me there is an interior motive to her questioning.

"Like in subjective terms. Am I attracted to women? Yes. Do I fuck women? Sometimes. Do I like women? That's debatable."

I move my gaze to the next hand raised and I stop.

I consider myself as a rational being. Like every human, I have my patterns. I also have my type, and I have fun.

That is not it.

I glance at the boy who has his hand timidly raised up in the second row. His stormy gray eyes that looked her the sky when it's about to rain caught my attention, I hesitated. That was enough to encourage me not to look at him again.

But now his hands were raised, and trembling, in front of about hundred spectators. I can read people well enough to know it isn't there presence that makes him shiver.

"Your name ?"

I nodded towards him Why did I ask that His gray eyes widen slightly in shock. I watched as his pink lips parted a bit. He fumbled with the pulled out wools on his sweaters as his wipe his hands on it. Interesting.

"Ae-sir" Something about the stutter and the way his cheeks turned rosy color........

"W-what do you ...... what do you do to your c-clients? He choked out, and the red travel from his cheeks to his nose.

I find myself wanting to lick him everywhere I smiled dangerously. "That's a very good question, Aesir" his name rolled from my tongue, I noticed his eyes a bit dilated.

I took slow and steady steps toward his seat near the aisle at the second row. I made eye contact with him as I slowly made my way to him so that he is aware that I'm coming towards him, so that he doesn't chokes on his breath.

Again.

"Many clients have different kinks and fetishes. That have different level of pain tolerance and also different things to arouse them." I stopped in front of his seat, and from the way he is staring at me I have all his attention.

Good .

"Just yesterday I had a man with a leather fetish in full bodysuit. He didn't need me to touch him, I just needed to be there to help him in and out of the suit and provide a safe environment to explore his kink."

I noticed the way is pupil dilated, what dirty things is running in your head. "Earlier today, I had a man come in who liked to be tied and struck with a bull whip"

I could feel his arousal

I see it in his eyes, I see it in the way his legs are shifting.

I bend to his level, remaining a few inches between above him to ensure my dominance. There's an odd innocence that you don't often see in men around his age.

"Most who comes to me wants to relinquish control. Their life are consumed with decision making that they wish to leave the decision making to someone. That's where I come in, I take the calling shot from their shoulders and in return they take my punishment, my pain and my demands."