There is a huge difference between BDSM and D/s
D/s does not mean abuse.
Cassie thought about that for a minute. She had always assumed they were basically the
same thing. She couldn’t count the number of times on the job men had wanted to do things
that would make most women blush; not to mention that there had been several occasions
when they had wanted her to let them beat her up a little. Of course, they’d offered to
pay extra. To her mind, no woman, even a hooker looking for a few extra bucks, should
allow herself to be beaten. Just the thought was enough to make her angry. Men, she’d
decided a long time ago, could be unadulterated asses.
Still, she was intrigued by the subtitle of the D/s site. Well, she thought, it couldn’t
hurt to go to the chat and see what was going on. She didn’t have to actually speak, she
assured herself. She downloaded the required program and tapped her fingers on the desk as
the program installed. As much time as she’d spent on the Internet, she’d never gone into
a chat room.
When the program was installed, she typed in the command to enter the chat room. The
right side of her screen showed about fifty names, some of the nicknames were using
capital letters and some in lower case. Did that even mean anything? She leaned back in
her chair and followed the dialogue, absently twirling a long curl around her finger as
she watched. One of the men chatting caught her interest. Sir Lancelot. “Gimme a break,”
she muttered aloud. “Original.”
Still, she was intrigued. She followed his conversation.
Sir Lancelot: You will call me Sir, sherre.
Sherre: Of course, Sir. I apologize.
Her fingers flew on the keys before she could even stop herself. She’d given herself the
nickname Brandy. It was one of her street names.
Brandy: Why should she call you Sir? Are you her father?
Brandon sat at his desk and grinned at the obvious challenge set before him. He noted
that she had her name capped, not lowercase. Was she a Domme? Or, as he thought more
likely, was she even aware that there was significance to how her name was listed. Doms
used capital letters for their nicknames, and the submissive used lower case. This was a
room for beginners that he’d started several years before. He spent quite a bit of time in
the room, making sure it was kept safe for all who entered. But, he was in a mood to play,
and this Brandy had caught his eye.
Sir Lancelot: Because she is a submissive, and does as she is told.
Brandon knew before he’d even lifted his fingers that his comment was sure to raise
Brandy’s hackles. He tried to envision her, and smiled to himself. Redhead. Definitely a
redhead. It was strange, but he was almost certain he was right.
Cassie narrowed her eyes and glared at the screen. What a jerk. She started to close the
laptop, but changed her mind. She decided to vent a little steam. She’d worked almost all
night the night before, so it was early in the morning. She was too wound up to sleep, and
had gotten on the computer instead. Hell, he was probably a pervert without a life off of
the Internet. Most men that she knew were either still sleeping or at work, not hanging
out in a chat room.
Brandy: Does everyone do what you tell him or her to do?
Sir Lancelot: No. Only submissives that don’t want a sore bottom
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