Say Uncle

Mise En Place

As a chef, Mise En Place was a French term I knew very well as having all the ingredients cut, peeled, sliced, grated, etc. before starting to cook to make it easier and quicker to get meals ready for patrons. When I first spotted this club, I believed it’d been a sign to enter despite the lack of a restaurant atmosphere, and then I found my place outside of the kitchen. What a fitting name, despite it having nothing to do with meal preps.

Instead, Riza, who created this place after finding her passion as a dominatrix years after an incident as a chef, wanted everything to be prepared for patrons, classifying themselves as delicacies of a seven-course meal. There were seven dungeons in the back, the first, l’aperitif, the appetizer, for beginners just dipping their toes in for the first time. Slowly, as they become more experienced as doms or subs, they can take their time on the main course. And for the lovers who just want to experience one another, alternating for more intimacy, there’s the dessert dungeon.

I never go there.

Instead, I sat with the stranger at the bar and grabbed a “menu” as the music rattled through the room, coursing through the bar and our seats. “How experienced are you with b**m, sir?” I asked.

This was crazy, taking a b**m journey with a total stranger. Most patrons needed a level of trust when interacting with each other, already establishing a relationship before participating, and then there were already established doms in which patrons could enlist...for a price.

“I’ve dabbled in it but haven’t explored too much into it,” he answered, adjusting the mask on his face to tighten it. His mouth remained uncovered while his hazel eyes were now shaded by the mask but still shined with a heavenly glow I’d never seen before. “May I ask…how old you are? You seem pretty young to be in a place like…” He gestured around the club, his chair swiveling. “This.”

I smiled, having been asked that many times. “I’m twenty-five but I’m told I look young for my age.” Mainly by perverts hoping I’d be an impressionable college girl they could mold into their ideal mate while not being too ambitious for them.

“No, I was gonna guess twenty-two, twenty-three.” I smirked, checking off ‘Hors D’oeuvres’ for our “meal” for the night, considering he was familiar but still not experienced. “So, I’m the sub tonight.”

“Yes.” He nodded, looking over my shoulder at the menu. I straightened at the closeness, his body already radiating a nice warmth I’d fall into if I wasn’t careful. “We’ll start as hors d’oeuvres tonight.” On the menu, I crossed out kissing and penetration. I’d just met this man and I didn’t even know his name. “Is there anything special you’d like?” I slid the menu towards him as he examined it but didn’t inch away from me, his body heat slowly enclosing on me.

Going down the list, he checked off biting, spanking, body worship, and hair pulling. There was only so much patrons could do within the first three courses and I knew we wouldn’t be venturing into bondage during this session.

“What’s your name and age?” I asked, finally expressing my curiosity about him once he signed off on breast worship. We wouldn’t be mean to one another this session. Wait, will there be another session? Callie, you’re getting ahead of yourself.

“Nickname or real name?”

“Both.” The waitress came around for our “order”, gesturing for us to sign our consent and the time limit (half an hour) on the dotted line. He passed the menu to me first, waiting for me to sign my name so he’d get a glimpse before I could tell him. With a smile, I wrote my name in cursive, while telling him, “Callie, but tonight, it’s Blue Raven.”

“Nice to meet you, Callie.” He took the pen and menu, writing his name in the same abrasive cursive with his left hand, carefully lifting his hand so he wouldn’t smudge it. “Demetrius, but for tonight, you can call me Daddy Dem.”

He gave me a cheeky smile which I rolled my eyes at with a chuckle. “Not gonna happen, Dem.”

He shrugged, handing the waitress the menu and pen. “Can’t blame a guy for trying.”

“Yes, I can and I will. And I’m guessing, thirty-two…?”

“So close but very generous. Just turned thirty-six.”

“Happy birthday.”

With a nod from the waitress, signaling that the hors d’oeuvres room was prepared, I stepped down from the stool and he followed. Without question, I grabbed his hand, so large it engulfed mine, and headed to the back with the waitress. “Would you like to change?” she asked.

I shook my head, heading into the familiar dungeon which only held soft fur rugs, a large plush couch, and a few scented candles. “We’ll be fine. Thank you.”

Setting the timer, she nodded and left us as we stepped into the dimly lit room. The golden couch was large enough for us both to lie down on comfortably and the fur rug was soft and warm as I slipped my heels off and stepped down. Turning to him, I boldly unzipped my dress, allowing its silk material to flutter down my body onto the ground and watching his hazel eyes widen behind his mask. Not to sound narcissistic, I kept my body in shape with perky t**s, a slim waist, curvy hips, and thin legs. I kept smooth and soft, enjoying his gaze upon me.

It’s been a while since I had the admiration of a man’s gaze like this. He wasn’t admiring me with sleazy eyes and a perverted desire like most, their hands itching to touch me until they realized that wasn’t allowed in the way they wanted. No. His eyes catered an admiration that made me feel appreciated, his eyes gazing down my arms, my chest, as though knowing I jogged at four in the morning and spent my days in a heated kitchen running around. In a way, his eyes reminded me of the diners at the restaurant who had to squeeze and save for an expensive meal, their thanks genuine as their eyes savored the meal before their mouths. I enjoyed those kinds of diners.

“You look…”

Before he could finish, I turned from him and took a seat on the couch, stretching my body along the length of its soft leather texture. “Get undressed and come here,” I ordered.

This had him curling his lips, an eyebrow arched as he unbuttoned his suit—luxurious and expensive—and allowed it to fall onto the floor without care. I watched him with the same intensity he’d shown me, licking my lips while his hand drifted to his slacks, unbuckling himself before zipping down. Now, I’m not a picky girl. I’ve seen them all from girthy to scrawny, short to long, and curved. Although he kept his boxers on as he undid his collar shirt, I knew he had been endowed, and by the cocky grin he gave me as he watched my eyes linger, he knew it as well. “No penetration, right?” he reminded me.

I nodded, leaning back as I kept my eyes on him. “None whatsoever.”

In only his boxers, he approached me with a body sculpted eloquently, muscles cascading down his arms and chest. I didn’t even need to touch him to know he felt like cool marble rippling down his stomach, a sight worthy of a historical museum rather than a dim dungeon. On his left forearm was a whimsical tattoo of a book with an orchid stemming from the pages, the book titled ‘Animam Agere.’ I wondered what it meant before my eyes drifted to another tattoo on his right shoulder, just five lines descending into an arrow. Unconsciously, I licked my lips at the sight as he stepped closer, looking down at me with a hauntingly beautiful gaze that wished to ravish me. But that’s not how it worked. Not tonight, not ever. Gently, I sat up, gazing at him with a matching expression.

“On your knees.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He did so without hesitation, now looking up at me as I slowly spread my legs, keeping him between them. The heaviness of his warmth touched my legs before his hands attempted to inch up my ankle and graze my shin.

Hastily, I grasped a handful of his curly honey-brown hair and yanked his head back, bending down until our lips were barely an inch apart. He smelt like heaven but I held myself back. He flinched at the sudden attack, not expecting the roughness so soon. “Here’s the rules: no kissing, no penetration. I’ll tell you when to touch me…if I allow it, and where. Understood?”

With a breathless sigh, he nodded. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Good.” With a simple peck on the nose, I released him and sat up. “Tonight, we’ll just get to know one another. If you’re uncomfortable with something, say ‘Let’s skip this’ and if you’re done early, say ‘My palate had enough’, then we’ll end the session. Understood?”

“Yes, ma’am.”