Domination

It was six in the morning and he was looking at me in the rearview mirror as if he already knew what I was going to let happen. This really happened, and I regret nothing.

Tonight I’m sleeping on the floor, and I brought it on myself. The paradox of asking your Dom to order you around, then finding there’s no turning back.

That Monday the gym was almost empty. I only wanted to shower in peace, but I walked through the wrong door… and he was already inside, watching me without saying a word.

I served that house since I was a boy and watched as that woman’s fire-red mane brought the valley’s most powerful men to their knees, one by one, by day of the week.

I’ve never been attracted to men, but the thick cock of a macho who knows how to give orders drives me wild. Does that make me bisexual or something worse? I need someone to tell me.

Dommes squeeze, ring, burn them. We barely lick. The first time I looked at a pair up close was in a student flat, long before I knelt before anyone.

I let my guard down the moment he stepped into the stall. I hadn’t come looking for any of that, but his voice ordered me to kneel and I no longer knew how to say no.

I knew something was wrong the second I saw his face when he came in. No greeting, just calculated coldness and an order: “Say out loud what you’re responsible for.”

When the elevator door opened and I saw the apartment door ajar, I knew there would be no rules this time. And part of me had been craving that for days.

I had seen him only once and couldn’t forget his body. When I learned he was looking for me too, I waited for my mother to go to work and let him in.

I never imagined that an ordinary Sunday at the river would end with me on my knees in the grass, giving myself to him and begging him not to stop.

I’m naked while I write this. And I want you to know exactly what goes through my head when I shut the door and no one can hear me.

I thought I controlled everything at home, until the woman I married made it clear who really ruled the three of us.

When her number appeared on the screen as a missed call, I knew that night in the mountains was going to break something in her that could never be put back together.

When he had us go up on the stage and people started betting on what we were wearing under our dresses, I knew the luxury party was no longer normal.

For years I told myself I was the typical straight guy. I was lying. My hand jobs were for the guys in the locker room, and it took me too long to admit it.

I said I had heartbreak just so someone would look at me. I didn’t expect two strangers to take my cure so seriously… or for me to let them.

She was fifteen years older than me, drove a red convertible, and knew exactly what she wanted that night. All I had to do was obey and enjoy it.

I was sweaty and breathless when his voice reached me from behind. He didn’t want to take me to dinner: he wanted to buy my whole night, and I wanted to be bought.

She pulled my pants down in the middle of the path without a word, and I understood that afternoon my body didn’t belong to me, but to her.