Punished By Passion: His Dirty Submissive

My hand hovers over the ‘Accept’ button. Even though I’m all alone in my dimly lit college dorm, my anxiety is through the roof.

Relax, Jacqueline. They’re just words on a screen.

I close my eyes and click the button. It’s done. I shut my computer and turn back to my calculus homework.

•2 hours later•

For the past two hours, my brain’s been mush. I’ve been redoing the same question and getting nowhere. I’m trying to concentrate, but every time I pick up my pencil his face flashes in my mind.

Fuck it, I think to myself. I give in to my temptation and hop back on my computer, pulling up the sugar baby website.

My mouth is suddenly dry. One new message.

Holy shit.

With shaking fingers, I click on the red icon. His message fills my screen.

••

Jacqueline,

It’s lovely to meet you (virtually). I was intrigued by your profile, I didn’t expect to come across a future physicist on here. Would you be interested in meeting for a coffee next week? We can meet wherever you’d feel most comfortable.

Best,

Cole

PS—Did you read the latest Nature article on Hesenberg’s uncertainty principle? I’d love your thoughts.

••

I read his message twice and then click on his profile. Cole, 40, works in finance, single, seeking ‘Something Casual’, and interested in ‘A sexy and intelligent woman who fights as hard in a debate as she does in the bedroom.’

The last line of his profile catches my eye. Fights hard in the bedroom? I don’t know how to interpret that. I definitely fit the first part of what he’s looking for, though. I’m on my college’s debate team and can hold my own in an argument.

I scan his photos and immediately get suspicious. There’s only two of them, a full body shot, and a close-up of his face. He looks wayyy too good-looking to be on this site. Plus, he’s 39. If he’s really in finance and is as hot in person as he looks online, why the hell would he pay for sex? I’m 99% sure that if he made an online dating profile, he’d be flooded with matches in no time.

My catfish radar is on high-alert. I consider my words carefully as I craft my email.

••

Hi Cole,

Thanks for your message. Your profile intrigues me too. I’m sorry if this is rude to ask, but why are you on here? I doubt you’d have any trouble finding dates on a conventional dating site.

Best,

Jacqueline

PS — I have, and I wasn’t too impressed with the researcher’s methodology. Your thoughts?

••

I’m about to minimize the screen when I get an instant reply. Holy hell, that was fast.

••

Jacqueline,

If you’ll indulge me and meet in person, I’ll tell you all about it in person. I don’t like to leave a paper trail when it comes to these sorts of things. Let’s meet at Walnut Grove Cafe on Sunday at 2pm. Feel free to suggest another place if you’d prefer. I’ll be wearing a light blue tie.

If I don’t hear back from you, I’ll assume you’ve accepted my invitation.

See you Sunday,

Cole

••

What the fuck?

I’ve never had a guy end a conversation like that before. Part of me is ticked off by his arrogance—assuming I’d be fine meeting him—but another part is turned on by it.

And of course, I’m dying to know what’s so top secret he can’t risk leaving a ‘paper trail’.

I decide not to email him back.

I’ll decide on Sunday whether I want to go, I tell myself. I don’t owe him anything.

•Sunday, 1pm•

I keep refreshing my inbox, heart racing, but there’s still no new message from Cole. The last thing he sent was practically a declaration that we’d meet today at 2pm. His confidence both thrills me and makes me nervous. What if he doesn’t show?

You have nothing to lose, I remind myself. If he’s a catfish, I can walk away. He doesn’t even know what I look like.

I step into the shop and my gaze sweeps the room. No sign of him. My pulse quickens as I join the line, eyes darting everywhere.

Then I see him.

Thick black hair. Sharp brown eyes. A suit that clings to broad shoulders as he leans back in his chair, legs spread with effortless confidence. The sight makes my stomach flip. Intimidating. Magnetic. Dangerous.

“Um, Miss? What would you like?”

“Oh, sorry,” I say. My attention snaps back to the tattooed barista in front of me. “Medium coffee, dark roast.”

I pay for my coffee and discreetly steal glances at Cole. I’m wondering what’s the best way to approach him. Does he suspect I’m the girl he’s meeting? Judging by his relaxed demeanor, he doesn’t seem to be scoping the place out.

I pick up my coffee with trembling hands and decide to go for it. I want to approach him before I lose my nerve.

“Uh, Cole?” I ask, standing above him. He looks up from his sip of coffee, his eyes twinkling. A smirk spreads across his face, and I feel myself melt a little. God, his eyes, I think to myself, temporarily distracted. They’re chocolaty brown with depth to them. As I stare at Cole, transfixed, I get the feeling that I’m slowly sinking into molasses.

“Jacqueline?” he asks.

“Mhmm,” I murmur.

“Take a seat,” he says. I sit without thinking.

“I see you went ahead and already ordered,” he says, nodding at the coffee in my hand.

My cheeks heat. Innocent words, but his tone makes it sound like I broke some unspoken rule.

“Well, so have you,” I snap.

He chuckles. “I like you already.”

Then, without missing a beat, “Listen, Jacqueline, I have to get back to work soon. So if it’s alright with you, I’d like to cut to the chase.”

I blink, thrown off. His profile screamed workaholic, but I hadn’t expected him to skip straight past small talk.

“I get it now,” I blurt.

Cole raises a brow. “Get what?”

“Why you’re on the website. You’re too impatient to actually get to know a girl—so you pay them to do things your way.”

His eyes widen, then narrow with amusement. That smug smirk of his only fuels my irritation.

“Ah, so I’ve got a little armchair psychologist on my hands,” he drawls. “And here I was thinking I was lucky to snag a physicist. Must be my lucky day.”

His half smile is aggravating. He’s not taking this seriously, or more importantly, me seriously. A part of me is ready to get up and leave, but curiosity keeps me glued to my seat.

“Wish I could say the same,” I mutter.

He’s silent for a second as his eyes roam over me. He drinks in my eyes, lips, and breasts. The way he’s looking at me is somehow intimate yet invasive, like he’s groping me with his eyes.

After staring at me for what feels like an eternity, he finally breaks the silence.

“I want you, Jacqueline.”

My face heats up, “E-Excuse me? We just met.”

He meets my stare, unflinching. “I know,” he says coolly. “I want exclusive access to you, and I’m willing to pay ten grand a month for it.”

“What the fuck?” I hiss, whispering across the table, “I’m not a prostitute.”

“Oh, really? Then why did you agree to meet up with me today?”

Trembles go up my spine and my palms start sweating. I try to backtrack. “It’s just, you know, it doesn’t have to be so transactional.”

He laughs, “I like how naive you are. It’s cute. Listen, Jacqueline. I don’t have time to fuck around and play games. I know what I want, and I’m going to get it. Whether I get it from you or from another girl, that’s up to you.”

His gaze drags down my body, and his voice drops. "While I’d love to flip up that little skirt of yours and fuck you until you’re screaming, I can easily find another girl to take your place. You were right earlier, I am impatient, and I like to do things my way. That’s why I’m willing to compensate you so generously.”

I stare at him, dumbfounded. This is not what I was expecting.

He reaches into his suit pocket, pulls out an envelope, and slides it across the table.

“Go to the washroom and open it,” he says. “It’s yours. If you want to give this a go, meet me in front of the black Porsche in the parking lot in 5 minutes. If you’re not interested, you can get in your car and never see me again. Ok?”

“I—Umm…” I’m lost for words.

“It’s a yes or no question, Jacqueline,” Cole says, exasperated.

“Uh, yes?”

He looks down at his watch, “You have until 2:15 to decide.”

Dazed, I stand up and head to the bathroom. I shut myself in a stall and open the envelope.

Holy shit.

It’s filled with 10 crisp 100 dollar bills. I’m about to seal it shut when I notice a small sticky note inside. Curious, I pick it up and notice something scrawled on the front in black ink.

‘Safe word is electron.’

I roll my eyes at Cole's corniness. I check my phone and realize I only have a few minutes left.

‘You know you’re going to do it,’ says the little voice in my head.

I try to think through the pros and cons, but as the clock ticks down, logic goes out the window. I have to rely on my intuition. And my intuition is telling me I really want to fuck Cole.

I shove the envelope in my purse and march out the door.