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Jaime sat in the chair watching her wander around the room. Most of the women that came to him sat on the couch in front of him in supplication. This woman was different. She was tall, remarkably so. Her face, not beautiful, but memorable. She had the body of a swimmer, strength and muscle hidden beneath her sensible navy blue suit.
Brienne was nervous. It had taken all of her courage to make the appointment, arrive on time and walk in the door. The man was beautiful. His hair was golden; his eyes were green. He was wearing a suit, an expensive suit. She hadn’t expected that. She looked around the room. It was spartan, black leather couch, white carpeting, a wall of windows looking out into a beautiful garden, a bed off to one side. This was not what she had expected when she decided to visit a professional dominant.
Normally, he would wait for her to speak. The women who came to him were always eager to share their stories, explain their needs. Most needed a few weeks of spankings and insults. Most were bored housewives looking for something different, an experience. He gave them that. Brienne needed something different. “How did you hear about my services?” he asked.
The sound of his voice startled her. She turned to him and answered, “I overheard some women discussing the concept. I put out an anonymous inquiry. Your name came to me.” It had been a lot more difficult than that, at least for her. She’d had his name for weeks before she called.
He waited for her to continue. She turned to look out the window again. He wanted to go to her, force her to look at him, to pay attention to him. It was an act of will to remain in his chair, but Jaime was very good at being in control. “And what are you expecting from this experience?”
She spoke to the window. “I’m not quite sure.”
Again he waited. Again she said nothing. “Why are you here?” he asked.
She crossed her arms and looked at her own reflection. Why was she here? “I’ve lost focus at work. I’m irritable, annoyed. I feel completely out of control and yet I control every aspect of my life, of my day.”
That he could understand. Women, powerful women, sometimes needed to hand over the reins, leave the decision making to someone else, be controlled in bed, in order for the rest of their lives to fall into place. “Do you have a husband? A boyfriend? A girlfriend?”
She nodded, still not looking at him. “A boyfriend. He’s in Essos for the next four weeks.” She had been seeing Hyle for two years. The relationship was comfortable bordering on boring. She was glad when he went away on trips for extended periods of time.
“Does he know you’re here, Brienne? Has he asked you to come to me to be trained?”
Her head whipped around at the sound of her name. She met his clear green eyes with her bright blue ones. “No. He knows nothing about this, Jaime.”
He grinned at her. He’d made a breakthrough. “Some men like to send their women to me. I send them back better lovers. More obedient, more willing. Is that what you need?”
She shook her head. “I don’t know.” She turned back to the window.
“Do you enjoy fucking him, this boyfriend?” He usually didn’t ask, but he needed to know from her.
She shrugged, “It comforting.”
He chuckled. “That sounds terrible.” He was strangely pleased. “It won’t be comforting with me.”
She pulled her arms around her tighter. “I’m not sure I understand. What is it that you do?” She bit her lip. “To women, with women.”
He leaned back in his chair. “Depends on the woman. Some need spanked for being bad girls. Some need more pain. Some need more pleasure. Some need to just let go. Almost all need to learn to obey.”
His voice made her shiver. He was so confident, so sure of himself He sat there looking half a god. “I don’t know what I need.”
“I can guess where to start.”
“Where?”
Her nervousness was making him twitchy. He stood up and walked up to her, standing about ten feet away. “Your suit is expensive, but unflattering. You’re trying to hide your femininity, maybe because you feel too tall. You need to learn to enjoy your body. I can teach you how to enjoy your body.”
Her skin flushed. She turned to look at him. He was disconcertingly close. “I just don’t understand. What does that entail?”
“Are you asking me if I’ll fuck you?”
She nodded.
He stepped closer. “I might. I might not. It depends on how things go. It depends on what you need.”
She turned back to the window. “So what do I do?”
“We make a standing appointment. You come to me here. The moment you walk through that door, you do what I say. If you want me to slow down, you say yellow, if you want me to stop, you say red.”
She snorted. “And if I like it I say green?”
He laughed. “If you like it, you say ‘more please.’”
She turned back to him with a half smile. “All right.”
“I’d prefer that you not come between now and our first session.”
~--~
On Monday at 8pm, Brienne walked in his door. Her palms were sweaty and there were knots in her stomach, but she was here. She wanted to do this.
Jaime was standing at the window when he heard her come in. Some of the tension left his body.”The door on your right is a bathroom. Go in there, take off all your clothes. There is a robe you can put on if you’re not ready to be naked yet. When you come out, sit down on the bed and wait for me.”
She stood in the bathroom looking at herself. She stripped off her clothes, hands trembling. The robe was blue and satin. She wrapped it around herself and walked back into the room. He was still at the window. She sat down on the bed. She looked down at her own trembling hands.
He turned to look at her. He cocked his head to one side. “Did you leave your panties on under the robe?”
She shook her head, still looking at her hands.
“Good girl.” He walked over to stand in front of her. “Lie back on the bed.”
She scooted back on the bed and rested her head on the pillow. She first put her hands to the sides, then crossed them over her chest, then back to her sides.
“Do you trust me?” he asked.
She nodded again.
“Say it,” he commanded.
She met his eyes. “I trust you.”
“Good girl.” He sat down on the side of the bed and lifted one of her arms. “What don’t you like about your body?” He fastened a leather cuff around her wrist. He stood up and walked to the other side.
She tested the cuff. It didn’t hurt, but she wouldn’t be able to get free. “I’m too tall, my shoulders are too broad.”
He fastened the other hand. “Too tall for what? Too broad for what?” He ran his hand down her thigh to her ankle. He cuffed one ankle and moved to the other.
She shrugged.
He slapped her thigh lightly. “When I ask you a question, answer me.”
She caught her breath. “Too tall and broad to be pretty.”
He cuffed her remaining ankle. “You think only tiny women are pretty?”
“That’s what society thinks.”
“Hmmm.” He sat down on the side of the bed again. “Before you forget, what means slow down?”
“Yellow,” she answered. “Red means stop.”
“Good girl,” he praised her. “Most models are as tall as you. There are women athletes with bodies like yours and they are considered attractive, desirable, pretty. I’m going to look at your body now, Brienne.” He reached over her and untied the belt of her robe.
She squeezed her eyes shut and turned her head.
He opened her robe and stared at her.
As the moments went on and he remained silent, she flushed. He palmed her breast and tweaked her nipple. She caught her breath and turned to look at him. He was staring at her chest, his brow furrowed. She began to squirm under his inspection. He ran his hand across her stomach and down her thigh.
He looked up at her face. “I’m not sure I see the problem you have with your body. Your skin is soft and smooth. Your nipples are a lovely shade of pink. Your breasts are small but perfectly formed.”
She turned away from him.
He sighed. “Would this be easier if I blindfolded you?”
“I don’t know,” she answered frankly.
He pulled the belt of her robe from under her body. He lifted her head and wrapped it around her head, covering her eyes. He ran his thumb across her lower lip. “How sensitive are your nipples, Brienne?”
“I don’t know how to answer that. Regular? I guess?”
“Mmm, I’d like them to be extra sensitive. I’d like them to harden at the slightest touch.”
He licked her nipple and blew across it. She arched off the bed.
“Now that’s a no-no. No coming off the bed. Not yet. “
She felt him reach across her. She felt a wide strap across her hips, fastening her to the bed. She moved experimentally. She could maybe raise an inch off the mattress.
He ran his hands through the curls above her clit, before palming her and sliding one finger inside her. She tried to buck against his hand, but the strap held her down.
“Please?” she whined.
“Mmm, not sure what you’re asking, but the answer is no.” He left his finger still inside her. She clenched around him. “You can do that all you want though. Did you come since I saw you last?”
She turned her head.
He slapped her thigh, harder this time with his other hand. “Answer me.”
She inhaled. “Yes. Once. On Saturday.”
He pinched her nipple and held. “Didn’t I tell you not to?”
She set her chin. “You told me you’d prefer if I didn’t, but you didn’t tell me not to.”
He released her nipple. “I suppose you’re right. From now on, no orgasms unless you have permission. Understood?”
“Yes.” She clenched around his finger again.
“Tell me about fucking your boyfriend. How big is his cock?” He usually didn’t ask these kinds of questions.
Her face turned red and she was grateful not to be able to see him. “About five inches? Five and a half?”
“Small then. Does talking about him turn you off? You were wet and squeezing my finger, practically begging for more until I asked about him.” He flicked his thumb across her clit. She tightened again.
“Sex with him is fine, it’s not...I don’t...not usually.”
He kept his finger still inside her and began playing with her nipples, tweaking one and then the other. “He doesn’t make you come?”
She tried to rock against his hand but was unable. She arched her back. “No.”
“My cock is bigger, Brienne. Just so you know.”
She pressed her hips down into the softness of the mattress and then released them, fucking his finger that way.
“Hmm, that’s a nice little trick you’ve discovered there. Good girl. But not yet. No coming yet. We have hours yet to go. You’re going to enjoy your body tonight Brienne.”
--
Brienne stared at her body in the mirror the next morning. She didn’t look any different, but she felt different. Jaime had kept her tied to the bed for hours, finger inside her, asking her questions. He’d made her detail every significant sexual experience that she’d had, from the first time she masturbated, to losing her virginity to sex with Hyle. If she failed to answer a question, he’d slap her thigh or pinch and hold a nipple. If he liked her response, he called her good girl.
When he finally let her come, she’d flooded his hand, her robe, the sheets and the mattress. He’d called her a good girl and asked her to thank him for making her enjoy her body. It had been awkward, but she’d said the words. The man had given her the best orgasm of her life, and he hadn’t even taken off his shirt.
She felt an almost desperate need to masturbate, but she’d promised not to come until she saw him again. He’d told her to be at his house every Monday and Thursday at 8pm. She was to make no plans for afterward. Thursday seemed a decade away.
--
Jaime wondered what in the hell he was doing. He had a system. A woman would come to him. He’d order her around, spank her, a little bondage, clamps, a little pain, more than she thought she could take, make her call him Sir and she would be satisfied. Tyrion said he liked to punish women because he couldn't punish his sister, Cersei. Tyrion was probably right.
None of that explained what he’d done with Brienne Tarth. He’d researched her before their first session. She was young, successful, owned a business, no scandals, no drama. She rarely got her photograph taken and never with a boyfriend. Also never in a dress.
He’d spent hours with her last night. He’d been compelled to find out every detail of every man who’d ever touched her. He’d all but ordered her not to fuck her boyfriend. That wasn’t his job. His job was to make them comfortable with themselves, comfortable enough to explore their wants and desires, before he sent them back to their husbands and lovers. This one though, he flexed his fist at the thought of any man touching her. And Thursday. He never saw a woman more than twice in one week. Thursday couldn’t come soon enough.
--
“I’m not going to touch your cunt, but you can if you want to,” he whispered in her ear. She was naked, sitting on his bed. He had taken off his jacket and shoes and was sitting behind her on the bed, his legs spread to hold her, pulling her back onto his chest.