“We’re really doing this, aren’t we?” She looks a little shell-shocked.
“The time to wonder about that was yesterday before we started packing all your worldly possessions into boxes.”
She walks into my arms, wrapping her arms around my waist. “I don’t have cold feet. It’s just so quick. Everything with us seems to be at warp speed.”
“When you know, you know.”
“I’ve dated guys for years without feeling ready for this level of commitment.”
“And thank fuck, they were wrong for you. None of them were me.” I’m genuinely so lucky to have found Aspen. She’s everything I ever wanted and more. I know we’re finding our way with the Dom/sub dynamic, but I know we’ll eventually get there. I’m happy to take it slow so I don’t spook her. It’s a huge life adjustment.
When I was introduced to BDSM, I was young and horny as hell. My professor could have asked me to crawl over hot coals to fuck her, and I’d have done it without question. It’s only in hindsight that I see her position of power in our dynamic. As much as she wanted me to dominate her, it was at her command. That’s different from any of the relationships I’ve had since training.
I had found my sweet spot, knowing exactly what I wanted or what I thought was everything I needed. Aspen has upended everything I thought I knew, and I gave in to my desires. I should have walked away at the beginning, but I fell hard and fast for her. I couldn’t walk away. For a time, I felt so guilty about it,but seeing her flourish as a submissive tells me it was in her. Somewhere, deep down, she wanted the security that comes with a Dominant. I will always put her needs above my own. She will always be safe to speak and act as she wishes in my presence.
In the end, I know I will give her more than any other man could—my unwavering love and devotion.
“I have something to show you.” I take her hand in mine, leading her down the hallway.
“Is it a pony?” She quips.
“Not quite, but there is a riding crop.” I stand before her, nervous about what she’ll think. She’s not my twenty-four-seven, but that doesn’t mean we can’t have some fun at home. “You don’t have to feel any pressure. If you don’t like it, I’ll get it changed out for a home gym or something.” I step to the side as I throw open the door.
She’s silent at the sight, her eyes going everywhere at once. “You built us a playroom?”
“Yes, and before you say anything about our contract, this is in no way a push for you to be a full-time submissive. I just know that we work long hours, and sometimes we might want to indulge from the comfort of our own home.”
She takes a step inside, running a hand over the ebony wood drawers. “Our home. That has a nice ring to it.”
I walk to the far side of the room, grabbing a black leather riding crop. “As promised, a riding crop.”
“You’re usually a man of your word, but I remember you telling me I was going to be rewarded for taking off my panties a few weeks ago, but it didn’t materialize.”
“You’ve had plenty of rewards since then, baby girl. What were you hoping for?”
“At first, I was thinking a light spanking followed by your head buried between my thighs.”
“And now?” I gently caress her curves with the hard leather.
“I think you should choose something new to punish me with.”
“You want some punishment as a reward?”
“Yes, Sir.”
“It turns out I didn’t shape you into a submissive after all. If anything, you are shaping me into the Dom you desire.”
With a wicked grin, she undresses in front of me before dropping to her knees and assuming the position. “Idesireyou to punish me and then fuck me with that glorious cock of yours.”
“As you wish, baby girl.” We play long into the night, ignoring the boxes that need unpacking. My cock is the one thing I’ll never leave my girl waiting for. Over, and over, and over again.
“It wasn’t in the contract.” I can’t believe we’re having this conversation. This is one of the ways Aspen shows her maturity—or lack thereof—as a submissive. It would appear our honeymoon phase is over.
“I didn’t think it had to be. We’ve had this discussion. Being an escort isnotacceptable.”
“I suggest you rephrase that. Are you asking or telling me what I can do with my life?”
“Are you telling me I don’t matter? I’m not comfortable with this. You said yourself that you weren’t going to do it anymore.”
