“It was common,” I said quietly. “At Lockswell, they used it to isolate us. To make us feel forgotten. Like we didn’t matter.” It was one of the better punishments. “But sometimes… it felt like relief. No eyes on me. No expectations. Just stillness.”
I looked up, just for a second. “It gave me time to think without distraction.”
“Not a punishment I’ve ever given a partner before, but that will stay green. Next, isolation.”
That was marked red. If I could have, I would have made it a bold and big as I could have.
“They kept us separate, a lot, after a certain age. Punishments were done in public areas sometimes, to warn others from making the same choice. But afterward, we were put into our room, alone. No one was to talk to us.
“I like being alone, but after a punishment, I never did. I hated it. It made me feel empty inside.”
“You’ll never be alone if you don’t want to be again. I promise that you’ll never be sent to bed right away after any type of punishment, or even reward, if you don’t want to. Although, let's say, we are both ready to have sex, and I send you to the bedroom to kneel on the floor and wait for me.”
“That’s not the same as being scolded.”
“No, it definitely isn’t.”
Vincent went one by one, talking through each item and hearing me out. Some I changed colors, others stayed the same. A couple of times, he wrote down notes on the side, just like I had.
But with it all, I felt lighter. I felt heard and seen.
He wasn’t mad at me for my answers. He didn’t yell. He explained everything, even the stuff I didn't know.
Just because I had done things with clients before, it didn’t mean I had to do it here. With each item, I realized that being in Vincent’s care wasn’t like Lockswell. Here, I would be taken care of. Here, I would be able to find joy.
And heck, maybe, just maybe, I’d find happiness.
Chapter 32
Vincent
After the long day of answers, I knew he’d prefer to kneel at my feet. He confessed that it was his favorite spot. But I wanted him to see and understand that it was okay to be seen as an equal.
Believe me, I wanted him to be at my feet, too. Warming my cock, or even simply laying his head against me made me feel full and content in ways that most others didn’t understand.
I loved the idea of twenty-four-seven master/slave life. It gave me the structure that I wanted in life, as much as what the Omega beside me desired, too.
I knew Charlie would want that eventually. He already spoke of needing rules and structure and protocols. So I could see the Omega wanting more of that, day in and day out.
And I wanted to give it.
But only once he understood that the power was truly his. It always belonged to the submissive. No Dominant worth the title would ever take more than what was freely offered.
This wasn’t just a power exchange; it was a responsibility. Yes, I set the rules. I defined the structure. But it was never for me. It was for the Omega. For the one submitting.
To give them something steady to lean into. To help them find courage in the everyday. To offer what they needed, not what I wanted.
Because real dominance isn’t about control. It’s about care. And care begins with consent.
Having Charlie sit on the couch was more of a break for both of us. Although I loved a sub’s mindset, I didn’t want to push him into a full-time thing. Not yet. In time, yes. But right now, he was still healing. He didn’t exactly see himself as my sub, but he would. Probably sooner than I expected.
This Omega was adaptable to all sorts of changes. Mostly due to his training, but with it, would come the downfall of haunted memories that were surely going to make healing challenging.
I was prepared as well as I could be for when that time came.
When Charlie shifted, uncertain, maybe unsure how to sit, I turned down the volume on the TV.
At first, he’d perched on the edge of the couch. Feet flat, spine rigid, hands folded tight in his lap. Then he leaned into the cushion, only to pull himself upright again.
