CONTENT WARNING

You wouldn't know He is a sadist if you met Him casually somewhere. The first time I had met Him, we had chatted and laughed, I had seen his face light up from the naughty twinkles in his big, beautiful eyes (Oh, those gorgeous eyes...Sigh). But then that was before. Much much before I decided to submit to Him.

How the serving boy gave me his virginity He had shown up to transport me from the airport disheveled. I didn’t expect the wrinkled pink shirt, not with the way he could barely raise his eyes to mine. You would think he would be standing at attention in formal attire- that was my rapidly disappearing delusion. So now everything was in question.

When I initially came to know about BDSM, and was fascinated by the concept of domination and submission, I thought that Doms are always meant to be real serious and submissives should always be cowering and in awe of their Doms. That was the impression I got after interacting with many so-called Doms and subs.

Words are not always compliant but the man at my feet is doing his best, his obedience fueling a reckless urge in my chest. Sometimes I can only breathe not sure what scent is mixed in with his sweat what line delineates the flicker in the back of his eyes right before he drops his gaze to the floor.

We initially carry our "dominant ego" a little everywhere, including in places where it has no place being. One of those is reality. To dominate someone, there is a price to pay: we need to submit. To reality. Because reality is there whether you like it or not. You don't dominate it. You accept it or get hurt. Badly. And ridiculed and humiliated. And you lose all the dominance you tried to build over time.

Reminiscing the pain of the harsh clamps on my nipples followed by your silky soft kisses on my oh so tender clamped nipples Reminiscing the confusion I felt wondering whether it is pain Or pleasure...as I melted at the feel of your delicious suckling... Reminiscing the dread I felt as you removed the clamps