A/N: So, I got this idea while watching a documentary on Fifty Shades of Grey. I know it's strange but there was nothing else on the t.v. Anyway, it said that there are actually more female dominatrix out there than there is men and it got me thinking, if this is true, why isn't there any fanfictions about this? You see all the s/d stuff for everlark but it's all the same stuff so I figured I could go against the mould and do it differently.
Warnings: s/d and all that entails. OCC.
Disclaimer: I don't own the Hunger Games.
It began with Delly Cartwright.
Delly was a firm catholic. She believed in the practice of no sex before marriage to secure purity, being the only way to be welcomed into the Kingdom of God, or something to that affect. Having met at bible club, she had been Peeta's first and only girlfriend, her christian beliefs always having kept him on the right track. Peeta wasn't as strong a believer himself but it had meant so much to her, so he always went to services and religious groups with her.
When they were fifteen, Delly's parents told her they were getting divorced. Depressed and confused, Delly had drank herself into a intoxicated mess and went to Peeta, drunk as a skunk, and had somehow managed to get him into a same state as herself. Two drunk teenagers mixed together are never a good mix and, true to popular suspicion, they'd spent the drunk night fooling around. They didn't have sex. No, Delly's 'purity' was still intact. But they did everything in between.
The thing about Delly was that she didn't cut her fingernails often. They were sharp as talons and the next morning, Peeta had looked in the mirror and saw long thin scratches up his back. Out of the entire drunk, blurry night, he seemed to be able to remember how Delly's nails felt ripping through his skin. Which struck him as odd, since he couldn't remember anything else.
A couple of months later, after a local wedding, Delly-as an altar girl-had been cleaning up the church and sorting out the priest's robes when she disappeared into the back and asked Peeta to blow out the candles while she took off her own robe. Thinking nothing of it, Peeta had stepped up to the altar-feeling slightly demoralized since he wasn't interested in religion at all and if there was a god out there somewhere, it could probably tell this-and took stupidly picked up one of the candles while it was still lit.
Immediately burning his skin, the candle fell from his hand and dropped to the floor. Stamping the flame out before it caught fire on the old church carpet, Peeta hissed and shook his hand. It stung like hell but for some reason, the moment it had burned him, there had been a little pang deep down in his gut. Something that almost . . . approved of the injury.
Before he could dwell on it too much, Delly had came back. Instantly noticing the burn, she went into mommy mode, gushing over the wound and insisting to fix it up for him. Even though the burn was covered up, it did not leave Peeta's mind. A voice at the back of his head starting niggling at him, asking a variety of questions like, what was that pang? Why had it happened? He tried to make it happen again but it seemed that the only cause was the candle burn.
His natural interest getting the better of him, Peeta found himself doing things like letting the hot water tap in his kitchen run until steam started to rise and sticking his hand into it. At first, he couldn't take it and would pull his hand back out, but he kept doing it. The pang came back, stronger and stronger every time until he was finally able to decipher what he was feeling.
By this point, Delly had almost turned into a nun and his hand was nearly scarlet with third degree burns. They were growing apart with Delly's obsession with religion and Peeta's obsession with burning himself for kicks. They eventually parted ways, on a surprisngly happy note, and (shocker) Delly joined a convent.
The first person to actually notice the burns was Peeta's best friend Madge. He'd been wearing gloves for ages because he'd been ashamed by the way he actually enjoyed scalding himself. Madge hated people wearing things such as hats and gloves and scarves in her apartment and forced him to take them off.
"What? Is my house too cold for you?" she'd asked.
"No, obviously not," Peeta had answered, picking at the gloves. "I'm just . . . I just like wearing them."
Madge scoffed. "Liar." She reached out and yanked the gloves off. By now, the skin of his hand was peeling away because Delly wasn't there anymore to remind him to treat the burns properly. "Shit Mellark, what did you do? Stick your hand into a fire?"
Madge was a very persuasive girl and got the truth out of Peeta with ease. He explained everything to her. The scratches, the candle, the pang, the tap water, the constant desire to burn himself because it felt good, everything. He'd expected her to be as stumped as he was, to be confused by the weird pangs and burns and excitement to the same extent as him. Instead she pissed herself laughing, which was odd since he was pretty sure that he was on the verge of being one of those depressed teens sitting in a mental hospital with bandages over the slits on his wrists while he wanted on a doctor to come and give him a 'talk' about what brought him to this do this to himself.
"What's so funny?" he'd asked defensively.
"Oh Peet, it sounds like you've become a masochist," Madge replied.
Peeta frowned. "A what now?"
"Mas-uh-kist," Madge pronounced. "It's psychiatry, I think. It's a person who has masochism, the condition in which sexual or other gratification depends on one's suffering physical pain or humiliation. You've been . . . burning yourself because it makes you feel good, right? You remembered those scratches Delly gave you because it felt good, yeah?"
Peeta was horrified, lowering his face into his hands. "Oh god, I'm disgusting," he said. "That's worse than I thought."
"Ah, Peet, don't think like that," Madge said, unable to fight her grin and laughter. "It's kind of like a fetish . . . some like feet, others like farts and you like pain. It's not that bad." Knowing she wasn't getting anywhere, the blonde girl had smiled and changed tactics. "Okay, I haven't told anyone this but I used to get turned on by watching Gale Hawthorne do the news readings on the school news channel."
Peeta peered over his hands at his best friend with a frown. "What?" he asked.
Madge shrugged. "What? He was sexy, not my fault," she said. "I used to have to go into the toilets and touch myself so I could survive the school day."
"T.M.I Madge," Peeta muttered.
"What I'm trying to say Peet is that this isn't the end of the world. Just . . . when you're hurting yourself, make sure to treat yourself properly afterwards," Madge said. "Or, of course, you could find yourself a dominatrix."
Madge grinned. Leaning over, she grabbed a post it note pad off her coffee table and scribbled something ontop of it. "I know of an old friend of mine, she's very experienced in the s/d field. She practically feeds off the pleads of a masochist. We haven't spoken since college but I'm sure she'd be more than willing to help you," she explained. She tore off the top note and passed it over to Peeta.
Katniss. Exotic name. Peeta glanced up at Madge skeptically, only to be met by two bright blue eyes grinning back at him. "Who is she? What does she do? And what's a dom-dominatrix?"
Madge smirked. "A dominatrix is just what you need."
And that's how he ended up sitting in the waiting room of the biggest office building in Panem. How come Madge had never said that she knew someone who worked in the Quarter Quell building? Surely something like that would have came up at one point! He was nervous as anything. Who was this Katniss woman and how could she help him? He had no idea what a dominatrix was, he could still barely comprehend what a masochist was and was still recovering from the idea that Madge used to go into the bathrooms and touch herself because the News Network eye candy did it for her.
There was a reception desk across from him but the girl sitting behind it barely looked up at him. She just sat and picked at her nails, occasionally flicking through the pages of her glossy magazine. Peeta wondered if she knew why he was here. He definitely didn't look like the usual people who'd frequent the building. If she did know, she didn't bring it up, which did nothing to soothe Peeta's frayed nerves.
The phone suddenly rang, making him jump violently in his seat. The receptionist answered it. "Hello Mrs Everdeen," she said, her voice chirpy in the faux 'I really don't want to be here but have to be happy anyway' way. She glanced up at Peeta through her eyelashes, nodding her head. "Yes, he's here. Okay, I'll send him in." She put the phone down and looked up at him properly. "Go on in."
Nodding his thanks, Peeta stood up and went to the door that had Katniss Everdeen Head of Department printed onto the window. Wiping his sweating palms on his trousers, he pulled the door handle and went in.
The office was almost blindingly bright. With cream walls and grey carpets, the room was a stereotypical copy of an office. Every piece of furniture was made of mahogany wood and gleamed as the sun that streamed in through the giant window that took up the entire wall directly in front of the door. The view was magnificent. On a clear day, you could probably see right out to the beaches of 4th Avenue.
Peeta was immediately aware of her presence. She wasn't the sort of person who would melt into the background very easily. She practically radiated confidence just by the way she sat at her desk. There was no denying she was beautiful. Long, chocolate brown hair tied back into a tight braid that hung over her left shoulder and bright red lips that stood out against her caramel skin. He couldn't stop staring at her.
She looked up at him without pausing what she was currently writing into her notepad. Oh, her eyes! They were a mystifying smokey grey that held the promise of secrets and experience. "Mr Mellark, yes?" she asked, her voice sweet as a sugar.
Stunned into being mute, Peeta nodded.
Katniss smiled, putting her pen down and leaning back against her seat. "Please sit," she said, gesturing to the seat across from her desk. Her easy perfection made Peeta question everything he did. Was he standing straight enough? Did he walk okay? As he sat down, he even wondered what would be the best way to sit. In the end he opted with just sitting stiffly in the chair because he was too scared to do anything else.
"I haven't heard from Madge in years," Katniss said, crossing a leg over her knee. Peeta kept his eyes on her face, trying not to let them drop to her long, tanned legs. "You must be something special."
Peeta swallowed, realizing that she expected him to answer. His throat was as dry as a bone and when he did speak, he didn't sound like himself at all. "I w-wouldn't say special."
Katniss quirked an eyebrow. "Okay then," she said, unconvinced. "How long have you been a masochist?" Hearing her say it out loud, with so much ease and acceptance, made Peeta wince. Even though she said it as if it wasn't something to be ashamed of, Peeta never failed to feel ashamed of it.
"N-n-not long," he answered.
Katniss nodded. "Right. So, in or out?"
"Since you don't know what I'm talking about, you're an in," she said. Noticing his confused expression, Katniss elaborated. "What I'd call an 'out' is a masochist who knows and actknowledges that they get off on pain and don't get flustered and embarrassed or ashamed about it. An 'in' is someone who does and is, i.e you."
Oh . . . right. Okay, yeah, he was definitely an in.
Katniss leaned forward again and twined her fingers together, resting it on the top of her desk. "What I do, Mr Mellark, is provide the outlet that people like you need. Of course, I have rules and regulations, just like any other dominatrix you'll ever meet. I like you, you're cute, but cute doesn't matter if you don't know how to follow rules. I haven't had a sub for at least two years now and the only reason that guy stopped our arrangement was because it got too intense for him and he basically broke the rules. Can you follow rules?"
Peeta found himself nodding before he had thought it through properly.
Katniss smirked and stood up, lifting a sheet of paper off her desk and handing it to him as she walked around her desk. Her black pencil skirt was tight, hugging her hips and thighs and stopping just above her knees. "You'll have to sign this before we go any further with this conversation."
Peeta looked at the piece of paper and back up at her apprehensively. "What is it?" he asked.
"A promise of secrecy of what I do behind closed doors," Katniss answered. "Also, once you sign it, you're swearing that you won't hold me liable for any serious damage or injury inflicted upon you. Which means you can't sue me or try and accuse me of abuse or whatever. Because if you're a wimp then you might as well leave right now."
Peeta took the piece of paper out of her hands and skimmed it. It was written all professional, like she had gotten her lawyer to write it for her, but it was all basically what Katniss had said. If he signed it, he couldn't sue her for damage or report her for abuse to the police. He also couldn't reveal to anyone outside the office he sat in that Katniss did what she did.
Suddenly he wasn't so sure. Seeing such a thing written down, a promise of future pain and maybe torture, he wasn't sure if he could go through with it. A large part of him wanted to grab the closest pen and scribble down his signature but something held him back. It was partly Katniss, the way she could carry herself with so much confidence and ease. Her natural beauty was intimidating and made Peeta constantly wonder what he looked like in her eyes. Another pathetic small man who had an issue with what got him excited?
"Okay, maybe Madge jumped to conclusions . . . I think I better go." Peeta quickly stood up and made a move to leave, surprised when Katniss caught his wrist, stopping him from leaving.
Her grey eyes were imploring, taking in every inch of his face in five seconds flat. She slowly lifted his hand and pulled the black glove off slowly, finger by finger. She held contact the entire time, her gaze strong and dominating. Even her stare alone made Peeta feel weak at the knees. Katniss dropped the glove to the ground, looking at the scarlet burn that was still engraved into his skin. The previous night he couldn't resist sticking his hand under the tap again and had . . . urm . . . ended up enjoying it a bit too much . . . as usual.
"You don't indulge in this, do you?" Katniss asked.
Peeta shook his head.
"You just burn yourself until you realize you're getting worked up and stop, ashamed with yourself as if you just snapped a crucifix and flushed it down the toilet," Katniss stated, not asked.
He nodded again, already feeling the familiar shame creep up on him.
"This-" Katniss trailed her finger nail along the burn, inflicting a sharp sting-"is impressive. This is third degree material. You're not a wimp, I can tell that already. So you're just ashamed of yourself. Of course, if you want to leave, leave." She let go of his hand and stepped back. Peeta stared at her, slightly confused. What was her angle?
He turned, hesitantly, feeling as if he'd been dismissed.
"Of course, if you do leave, you won't find anyone like me again," Katniss said. Peeta turned around again and frowned. What? "If you ever did indulge in it, you wouldn't have much options to work with. There's always what-ever you're burning yourself with, obviously, but you'll eventually get bored. When that happens, there's fanfiction or erotica but, if you haven't noticed, a lot of authors don't seem to actknowledge that there's more female dominators in reality than there is male."
"Is there?" Peeta frowned. From what he knew of such works as Fifty Shades of Grey (something Madge had read and explained to him in such detail he didn't need to hear) he had assumed that the submissive side of a s/d relationship was more made up of women than men. Was it really the other way around?
Katniss nodded, the smile never leaving her face. "Odd, isn't it?" she asked. "Us girls are a lot more strong than most seem to think. Basically, 50 shades and other female erotica is insulting. I, for one, prefer something where the girl is the one who pins the guy against the wall, where the female chains the male to the bed, where the woman spanks the man."
Peeta inhaled his own spit and had to thump his chest to stop himself from choking. Katniss laughed and stepped forward so they were chest to chest. Her heels made her slightly taller than him, forcing him to look up at her.
"You don't want to say no," she stated.
"I don't know," Peeta replied.
"I can read you like a book Mr Mellark, you don't want to say no," Katniss said in a low voice. "No one ever wants to say no. " Could Katniss hear his heart pounding in his chest? He hoped not. He felt like he was close to a heart attack and it was all caused just by the proximity of this women. "If you sign the contract, I will bring out a side of yourself that you didn't even realize existed." Katniss adjusted his tie, fixing his collar and letting her palms rest on his chest. Oh god, heart attack was definitely imminant. She slid one hand down his arm and took the burned hand into hers. "Imagine a burn like this one, but not just on your hand. Imagine it everywhere."
Peeta swallowed the lump in his throat. "Everywhere?" he croaked.
Katniss nodded slowly. "Everywhere." She backed away and walked back to the desk, strutting with purpose and perching on the edge with folded arms. Peeta felt himself missing her touch immediately. He still had the contract in his hands. He lifted it to his eyes and read the first warning written on the sheet.
1) The Katniss you are talking to now will not be the Katniss you will encounter in the bedroom.
"Is there two of you?" he frowned.
Katniss laughed. "No," she answered. "What that means is that I'm two different people. If you decide to be my sub, there will be a word I will say. I will only say it only once. If you mishear me or talk back, you'll be punished. Because once I say it, that is when I wish to resume our roles. We'll also agree on a safe word and such but there's no point in that unless you sign the contract."
"Is there anything else I should know before I make my decision?"
Katniss shrugged. "You should know that I don't do do's and don'ts. You do what I want, case closed." She quirked an amused eyebrow. "Think you could handle that?"
"Yes," Peeta said. Katniss stared him down with an unwavering gaze, obviously wanting for his answer. He didn't know what to do. Katniss obviously took what she did very seriously, needing a contract to prevent herself from being sued or arrested. That was worrying but somehow he found himself walking back towards her, clenching his brunt hand anxiously.
Smirking, Katniss held out a pen and held it up between his eyes so they crossed together. Peeta took a deep breath and exhaled shakily.
"Where do I sign?"
A/N: *IMPORTANT NOTE* If people want me to continue this fic, I might need some help. I can't write s/d female x male sex and I might need some help. A partner in crime if you will. Just someone to help me write some of the s/d stuff because I get embarrassed really easily. If you're interested, let me know in your review or PM me!
The stuff Katniss said about fanfiction and erotica is actually some of my own beliefs of some of the things people write. I'm not forcing my beliefs on others, I don't mind if people disagree with me, it's all good (-: