Johanna woke suddenly to a knock on her door. ‘Form, intention and Power. An advanced guide for the new Channeler’ had served as an adequate pillow for the night, however short it had been. “Yes?” She asked in a gruff voice, halfway from her tired state, halfway from how she had practiced. ‘Fake it till you make it.’ She said to herself and stood, doing her best to make herself presentable in the seconds she had before the door swung open.
“Channeler Johanna.” The man who entered greeted her. It took some effort for Johanna to keep her face neutral. While she had passed every test with flying colors, published articles on the wielding of essence and shown amazing potential in class she could not see herself as a Channeler. Even if the order would call her such.
Johanna, however, knew that there was one thing she had not been prepared for. Something she could only learn from experience. How to care for her source.
Like this man, formerly teacher Torp, now simply Amund. She outranked him now, and while the title felt unearned calling him by his first name certainly did not. “Amund.” She returned his greeting.
He did not manage to hide his distaste. “They have picked one for you.” Johanna took a deep breath at this revelation. She had to close her eyes, steeling herself.
“Lead the way then.”
Johanna had never been naturally dominant. Unlike her peers who were drawn to Channeling for the power, prestige or in certain cases, the sadistic glee of it, Johanna was fascinated with the craft she was taught for the craft itself.
She studied techniques. From the heavy, direct strikes of power to the intricate dances of grace and precision. She knew them all. She studied the practice of ritualists, passion caters, tomes upon tomes of guides and theory. She knew how essence was formed within a channeler's source, but she didn’t know how to maximize her harvest.
That was her issue, really. She did not feel qualified for this. Cultivating and harvesting essence was such a personal experience. Sure, they were taught how to create protocols, how to practice safety, useful tricks and techniques. But with every lesson one thing was reinforced. “The relationship between you and your source will be unique to you.”
That was where the problem lied. Johanna could write an amazing protocol. Intellectually she knew all kinds of tricks and tips. But she couldn’t help but feel like she lacked something essential. She didn’t have the aesthetic, the presence, the attitude required for dominance. She was a book nerd, not a Dominatrix.
“Here we are.” Amund had led her to one of the cellar dungeon rooms. She gave him a muted thanks and then he left without as much as a ‘good luck’. Not that she had expected one.
Johanna closed her eyes, and pushed the door open.
The room was simple, comfortable, and clearly, designed for a specific use. Johanna had been to some of these rooms before. Group displays and instructions. But this room was different. Gone were the intricate bondage equipment, replaced with a comfy chair and a selection of the tools of her trade.
That was where he was, kneeling on the floor, just the way she had said she liked it. Johanna had to admit, there was something very satisfying to that and it surprised her. Seeing the academys’ sources kneel during demonstrations, or even in front of herself during practice, had never done anything for her. But this, this felt different.
Johanna took two questioning steps into the room, letting the door close behind herself. Deep breaths, she told herself and then walked with all the confidence she could muster, sliding into the chair in front of him.
She honestly had no idea. Sure, there had been a plan, a scene, meticulously laid out step by step and changed erratically over weeks. But at that moment she couldn’t remember a second of it.
The biggest problem was him. It was hard to tell for sure with him kneeling and staring at the floor. But he was tall. Tall and gorgeous. His muscles were well defined, but not overly so, that much she could tell easily. How was she supposed to dominate someone like this? Why did they choose someone like this for someone like her?
She had to do something, anything, but everything she had been taught felt wrong. “I can’t do this.” Shit, did she really say that out loud?
A long moment passed, and then the most beautiful voice Johanna had ever heard rang out. Sweet like honey yet low and deferring. “May I speak freely, Channeler?” His words were not allowed under her protocol. ‘Wait for permission to speak.’ Make her source wait for her. But right now she didn’t care what her protocol said. ‘No plan survives first contact with the enemy.’ Seemed the same was true for her protocol and source as well.
“Permission granted, and please look at me while you do.” She sighed, sinking deeper down into her chair. She knew this had been a moment to assert herself over her source and she had failed. Miserably. But when she looked into his eyes for the first time it was hard for this to feel like a mistake.
She had been right, her source was gorgeous. His face was smooth shaven, hair cut short and those eyes were dazzling. She felt a jolt of arousal shoot through her body. “Channeler. I have read your writings, I have seen your work. They even let me watch your practice. Channeler, you are brilliant.”
Johanna felt the power inside her source grow as he praised her. It wasn’t by much, but it was there, and there was something satisfying about that, even if it couldn’t break her insecurities. “Please Just call me Johanna, miss Johanna if you must.”
“yes Miss Johanna.” She could hear the happiness in his voice as he said it. Another drip of essence added to her source.
“But does that qualify me? Does that make me worthy of the power you trust me with?” She inquired, unsure what answer she could get.
“That is not for me to decide, Miss Johanna. But if I may, I would be proud to be your source and I’m yours to wield, however you see fit.” He smiled reassuringly. “Every relationship is different, right? Be yourself.”
Johanna closed her eyes. Be herself. Make the relationship her own. “Disregard the protocol they gave you. I think we need to start over.” Her source nodded and crawled over to her, folding himself into a seated position next to her and resting his head against her legs.
“Will you correct me if I act out of bounds, Miss Johanna?” She nodded, tentatively resting a hand in his hair.
“I will.” She reassured him, tightening her grip ever so slightly. His hair just long enough for her to run her hand through. Perfect. “You will keep your hair like this.” She then tentatively moved her hand down, stroking sweetly against his cheek. “And your face stays smooth.”
The essence that was added to her source as he smiled felt wondrous. “Yes Miss Johanna.” She finally allowed herself to revel in that feeling. To enjoy it.
“You have a lovely voice.” She murmured, astonished that she almost denied herself the pleasure of listening to her source speak. “You should use it. Tell me about yourself.” Her hand was back to his hair, leaning him against her knee and tilting his head up towards her. This was so much better than watching him kneel.
“It would be my honor, Miss Johanna.” He smiled. God did she love that smile. She felt the slow trickle of essence forming inside her source and felt her connection to it strengthen as she grabbed for it. Her source. A tool, yes. But so much more.
“Good boy… Start with your name.” Johannas body relaxed and her confidence surged.