How I met my submissive 11: True Detective

People believe that in BDSM, the power lies with the dominant. That's not nonsense. It's reasonable to think that. But perhaps it's not true. Perhaps the submissives let you believe you control the system while subtly guiding you exactly where they want you to go. They make you think you are making the decisions when in reality, you are just choosing from the options they have carefully preselected. And the worst part is that when you realize it, it's already too late - you've invested too much emotionally to back out.

And when you think about it, why the hell wouldn't they be able to do that? After all, in a D/s relationship, the one who has the most to lose is the submissive. It's them who relinquish control, who expose themselves, who make themselves vulnerable. The dominant only has to... dominate. Maintain the control that has been given to them.

So yes, it makes perfect sense that a submissive would "go hunting." That they would actively seek someone who can give them what they need. That they would cultivate the characteristics they desire in a dominant. It's not manipulation - it's requirement management. Emotional user stories, if you will. "As a submissive, I want a dominant who is protective but firm, so that I feel safe while submitting."

The problem arises when the dominant is a proud jerk like me, who spends months believing they're "training" a newbie when in reality, they're being subtly molded into exactly what the "newbie" needed. It's like when a junior points out a critical problem in your work - your ego wants to deny it, but deep down you know they are right.

Deep down, dominants are just the instrument that submissives use to get what they really want. They leave us the illusion of control while they pull the strings from the shadows. And if you are foolish enough to develop protective instincts, you're in trouble. And if you ever consider breaking the first rule, and getting attached to a submissive... well, then you're screwed.

And speaking of being screwed...

Alex was still trembling before me, his perfect composure completely shattered. His hands, always so controlled, were wringing in his lap. His eyes, normally so expressive, were fixed on the floor, glimmering with unshed tears.

"I'm sorry," Alex whispers, and his voice trembles with so much fear and hope that I feel something break within me. "Please don't push me away..."

And there it is. The moment my protective side, the one I hate to admit I have, wins the battle without firing a single shot. Because I can endure many things, but seeing Alex scared of losing me is not one of them.

"Look at me," I ordered, and when he raised his gaze, the panic in his eyes made something twist in my chest. "What exactly are you sorry for? For lying? Or for being found out?"

"For disappointing you," he replied, and the sincerity in his voice hit me harder than any manipulation. His voice broke. "And now you'll think it’s all been a performance, that I..."

"Shh," I interrupted, and before I knew it, my hand was on his cheek, wiping away a tear that had escaped. "Breathe."

He took a shaky breath, subconsciously leaning into my touch as he always did. And that small gesture, so natural, so genuine, made something inside me surrender.

"Come here," I murmured, pulling him until he was in my lap. He curled against my chest as if he wanted to disappear inside me.

"I've messed everything up. You must be very disappointed," he whispered against my shirt.

"I'm... impressed," I admitted, because if we're going to be honest, we might as well be completely honest. "You've executed a complex long-term plan with a precision that many project managers would envy." The question is... what do we do now?

"Whatever you want, sir," he responded automatically, and I almost smiled at how, even emotionally shattered, his submission was instinctive.

"And what if what I want is for you to stop pretending?" I asked softly. "What if I want to see who you really are?"

"This is who I really am," he answered without hesitation. "My submission is real. My need for you is real. It's just... maybe I'm less inexperienced than I appeared."

"Maybe?" I repeated with an arched eyebrow, and the small blush that covered his cheeks felt so familiar, so genuine, that I felt something relax in my chest.

I kissed him. It wasn't a dominant kiss, it wasn't a display of power. It was a kiss that said "I have you" and "you're safe" and "I'm not going to let you go."

When we parted, his eyes were no longer glassy, and he even let out a soft laugh against my neck. "I just wanted it to be you," he confesses in a whisper. "From the first day, I knew it had to be you."

And that... that does things to my chest that I prefer not to analyze too much. Because one thing is for someone to choose you as their dominant, and another is for someone to choose you as... something more.

"Why me?" I ask, although part of me fears the answer.

He squirms in my lap, lifting his head to look at me with those eyes that always disarm me. "Because you're the only one who has made me feel safe being vulnerable," he replies simply. "The only one who protects me even when being tough on me."

"Shit, Alex," I grunt, because what am I supposed to say to that? "Do you have any idea what you're doing to me?"

"Functioning as I expected?" he asks with a shy smile, and I can't help but laugh.

"You're a fucking evil genius," I murmur against his hair.

He shivers as my lips brush against his ear, and suddenly the atmosphere changes. It’s no longer a moment of vulnerability and confessions - it’s something more primal, more intense.

"Show me," I command, and my voice comes out rougher than I intended. "Show me everything you've been holding back."

He slides off my lap with a grace he no longer tries to hide, kneeling between my legs. His hands go to my belt and, for the first time, he doesn’t fake clumsiness or doubt.

"Please, sir," he whispers, and there’s something in his voice that makes me shudder. "Please let me show you that I can be good for you."

I grab his hair, tilting his head back to look him in the eye. "You’re already good for me," I growl, this, at least, is completely genuine.

What follows is a symphony of moans and pleas. His mouth does things that make me see stars. He takes me to the edge again and again, holding me there until I’m shaking, grunting, begging.

"Alex," I warn when I feel I can't take any more. "Alex, I'm going to..."

But he doesn’t pull away. On the contrary - he takes me deeper, moaning around my cock. I have to grab him by the hair and pull him away as if separating a cat from a bag of food because after this, I don't intend to come simply from a blowjob.

I grab him by the neck and pull him toward me, kissing him with all the intensity I feel. When we part, his eyes are clouded with desire.

"Turn around," I order. "On your hands and knees."

He obeys instantly, presenting himself to me in a way that makes me grunt. I position myself behind him, admiring how he trembles with anticipation.

"Color?" I ask, more out of habit than need.

"Green, sir," he responds without hesitation. "Please..."

I enter cleanly, with no memory of how impossible it was the first time, and his body receives me as if it were created for this. For me. He moves with me in perfect synchrony, every moan in synesthesia with the friction of his insides.

I fuck him hard, marking each thrust with a slap to his already reddened ass. His moans are music to my ears, especially now that I know they are completely genuine. No more layers, no more masks - just Alex, surrendering completely.

When I finally let him come, it's with my name on his lips and my marks all over his body. He collapses beneath me, trembling and gasping.

I lie down next to him, pulling him against my chest. He curls up immediately, as he always does, and for the first time, I allow myself to fully enjoy this moment of shared vulnerability.

"Shit," I think as I catch my breath. "This is a make-up fuck."

His soft laugh against my chest is all the response I need. For now.

Tomorrow we'll deal with everything else - with work, with boundaries, with this new dynamic we’re building. For now, I just want to enjoy having my submissive (my Alex, a voice in my head whispers that I choose to ignore) safe in my arms.

And if my protective side is practically purring with satisfaction... well, I guess some battles are destined to be lost.