Dom Fitness: Just Say Yes (Sir)
I stare at the social media ad with my arms folded. The subhead reads, You do the work, we do the worrying. Pure results. It went live ten minutes ago. We went live ten minutes ago. Us. The gym, Dom Fitness. My crazy-ass venture that’s going to see us all plummet into bankruptcy and become the laughingstock of the city. Who the hell is going to want a six-feet-tall BDSM dominant riding their ass while they’re trying to work out? What was I thinking?
Joshua slaps my shoulder. “You worried, man?”
We’re standing together behind the reception desk in the foyer at Dom Fitness. Everything around us is sparkly new and ready for our clients. It looks like an ordinary gym rather than a BDSM dungeon. I was very clear about that with the designer. No actual sex or sexual punishment goes on here. It’s all about the mental dynamic between trainer and trainee.
But are people going to get that? Are people going to sign up and pay for that? I’m only risking all my savings and the employment of a dozen staff without knowing the answers. Why would I be worried?
I open my mouth to answer, but the glass doors suddenly slide open, and in steps a young woman in a pastel pink dress with her hair in a ponytail and a gym bag over her shoulder.
She greets us with a huge smile. “Hi! Um, I saw the poster outside last week and I’ve been counting down the days until you opened. I’m not too late, am I? You still have memberships available, right?”
Joshua and I stare at her, and her face falls. “Oh, no. You’re full, aren’t you? I knew I should have come earlier.” Her lower lip juts in a sad pout and her shoulders sag.
Joshua recovers first and slides a questionnaire across the counter toward her. “Not yet, but you arrived just in time. Sit over there and fill this out, and then head on through and get changed. The trainer you match with will meet you in the free weights area.”
She grins at us and picks up the clipboard. “Awesome! This is going to be the best thing that ever happened to me, I just know it. Thanks so much, guys. Um, I mean, sirs?”
“You can call us Joshua and Dom,” Joshua tells her with a wink. “Save the sir for your trainer.”
“Okay, Joshua!” A pink blush joins her smile. Flustered but happy, she goes over to the row of seats and begins filling out her answers to the questions.
I breathe a sigh of relief. Our first customer, and she gets it. I think we’re going to be okay.
Joshua punches me on the arm. “Hey, you were worried.”
I grin back. “Who, me? I’ll leave you to it. Keep sending them through.”
I swipe through the barriers and head into the gym itself, admiring all the shiny new workout machines and rows of weights.
It is going to work. Fitness is all about routine and structure, and no one understands routine and structure like a dominant. The men and women I’ve employed are going to give this city’s submissives the motivation they’re craving. The babies, the littles, the princes and princesses, subs, slaves, kittens, and, of course, the brats.
I smile wickedly to myself and crack my knuckles, thinking of all the naughty boys and girls who’ll find the structure and authority they need in here that will level out their moods. We’ll give them all the boundaries they’re craving in order to feel safe, and then we’ll send them back out into the world again, happy and calm. It’s the best feeling in the world when I can do that for someone.
This place is for everyone, but in my heart, it’s especially for the brats.
The questionnaire we have each new member fill out will match each sub with exactly the right trainer. I’m one of the trainers, too, and I can’t wait to see who I’ll be paired with first.
I stare at the sign in disbelief. Dom Fitness. It’s emblazoned over the door in black, foot-high letters. Below them, slightly smaller, is the phrase, Because we said so.
So it’s not a joke then? This place is real?
Through the glass doors in the reception area, a huge man is standing behind the front desk, scanning membership cards and handing out towels. He’s working hard, because this place is busy. A dozen people have gone inside while I’ve been standing out here.
Dom Fitness is a gym run entirely by dominants. BDSM dominants, or doms for short. It’s the first of its kind and brand new as of a week ago, and my editor, Suzanna, just had to get a story about it. I, the donut-eating, exercise-allergic junior features writer, was asked to “volunteer” for the job.
The sexually inexperienced junior features writer.