There are two types of dominants: those who enjoy the pain of others and those who enjoy control. I've always been the second type. It turns me on to see a submissive yielding to me, how they tremble when I get closer, how they groan when I mark them as mine. But there is a very fine line between control and abuse, and after seeing what happened at work, I knew we needed to talk.

But here I am, sitting on my sofa at eleven at night, with Alex next to me trying to maintain an "adult conversation" about limits and expectations. As if I hadn't made my boundaries clear by fucking his throat until he was hoarse. As if his expectations weren't obvious every time he blushes and says "yes, sir" in that little voice of his.

The problem is that I have too many maxims that are going to hell because of him. "Don't fall for a submissive before they fall for you" - too late. Just watching him bite his lip while reviewing code was enough to send that one to hell. "Always maintain control" - just seeing him bow his head while listening is enough to lose all the control I thought I had.

The third is my favorite: "Start hard and ease up slowly." The problem is that with Alex, I started being a bastard, and now I find myself wanting to hug him when he seems worried. Pathetic.

And well, what can I say about the fifth: "Don't mix business and pleasure" - no words are needed.

Alex, who blushes when I shout but works better under pressure. Who constantly seeks my approval but has the guts to contradict me when he knows he’s right. Who trembles when I touch him but stands firm when he has to defend his code. Are we really ready to push forward a relationship like this?

"Do you want... do you want a tea?" Alex asks, and I realize I have been silent for five minutes, lost in my thoughts like a teenage girl imagining she’s with a K-Pop star.

"I'd prefer a gin and tonic," I respond dryly. "How about you?"

"No, thank you, sir," he says, looking down, and damn, that whispered "sir" turns me on more than if he had asked me to fuck him right there. We sit on the sofa, maintaining a prudent distance. Alex looked small and vulnerable, and I had to resist the urge to pull him towards me and protect him. Or fuck him. Or both.

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"Alex," I start, watching how he moves uncomfortably on the sofa. "About last night... how are you?"

"I'm fine," he murmurs, but I notice how he unconsciously brings his hand to his neck.

"Alex," I repeat more firmly. "I need to know if I hurt you. If it was too much."

He blushes and avoids my gaze. "No... well, yes, but... I liked it. A lot."

I suppress a growl. "Even so, we need to establish some limits. And a safe word."

"A safe word...?"

"Something you can say if I go too far," I explain. "And when you say it, everything stops. Immediately. No questions."

"Like in Fifty Shades of Grey...