Submissive for a smile. (Intro)

Being submissive, the idea that there are people who are superior is not foreign. Men, women, trans, passive, active, whatever it is, it's not a matter of gender; it feels like something much deeper and primitive.

Is that person more attractive? More charismatic? More self-assured? The reasons don't matter. As always in the animal kingdom, what matters are the sensations.

Even online, you can get an idea, supposed dominants who seem to be just active with anger issues. As soon as they start sending messages like "I'm going to violate you like you like," a submissive knows deep down that this is not a dominant, maybe a good fuck with their corresponding dose of physical and perhaps verbal abuse (if you’re lucky), but not a session with a master.

I suppose that for a true dominant, recognizing a slave is just as simple or even simpler. In my case, I have always thought that I am quite obvious, always insecure, always with furtive glances, shrinking in the presence of others, and too nervous to step forward. And maybe it was just that which provoked everything.

I was on my way to university, sitting alone in a combi in Mexico City (a kind of van used as public transport) when a boy got on and everything started to spiral out of control. The boy, I estimate no older than 25, was tall, probably 1.80; he had light skin slightly tanned by the sun, although the skin on his abdomen that peeked out for a moment when he sat down looked a few tones lighter; black, straight hair not too long in a popular cut; and most notably, a white, neat smile full of confidence.

Was he, then, the hottest guy I had ever seen? Not at all, I already knew a couple who were much hotter in my faculty. Was he someone with a lot of style? Neither, at least not particularly; his black jeans, oversized brown hoodie, and sunglasses made him look good, but nothing out of the ordinary. The real question was why my body immediately knew that, had he asked me, I would have knelt right there, without even knowing his name.

He sat near the door, almost on the opposite side from where I was, and stretched out with calm and confidence uncharacteristic of public transport. He placed his feet on the seat and took out his phone without giving me much attention, or at least that's what I thought.

Assuming that I could never have the attention of someone like him, I dedicated myself to "discreetly" looking at him from time to time while pretending to look at something on my phone. It probably wasn’t exactly as I imagined; maybe he saw me looking too much, or maybe it was how tense I appeared, but however it was, the boy let out a small laugh, smiled to the point of making me tremble, and, as casually as he had sat down, moved right to my side, resting his foot next to me and enjoying seeing me there, curled up as much as possible with my gaze fixed on the floor.

—Hey! —I looked up at hearing his voice and tried to focus on what he was saying and not on the overwhelming nature of his presence— Do you have the time?

Even now my mind is confused about what happened at that moment; his image occupies everything in my memory and prevents me from remembering properly. The time? Sure, I had my cell phone in hand, but he had just put his away moments before. I remember my mind filling with unnecessary thoughts and my mouth just managed to produce something like an "oh! Of course" amidst stuttering and nervousness.

I'm almost sure I didn't respond to him completely. Another suppressed laugh and a glance at his abdomen with that classic movement to "ventilate" as he pulled up his hoodie made me lose the little concentration I had left.

The boy only shook his head slightly amused, looked out the window, and shouted to the driver.

—Get off! —he turned to look at me, still struggling to process what was happening. He stood up as the vehicle stopped and the door opened— Are you coming?

He adjusted himself in his pants and turned around without caring whether I followed him. I hesitated for a second, deciding: another day of classes or follow a complete stranger to do God knows what. We both knew what my answer would be.

I thanked the driver and a moment later I was jumping through the door, following the boy's figure who had not stopped or even looked back at any moment. When I reached his side, that laugh, halfway between fun and the certainty of being right, was the only signal I received that I had been noticed.

We walked for a while without talking, without him looking at me or me having the courage to ask if it was all in my imagination or if something more was going to happen. Just when I mustered the courage to speak, he stopped in front of a black door and pulled out his keys to open it.

—Do you have a problem with kisses? —his gaze didn’t leave his keychain as he spoke— Don't expect a romantic kiss, but I like to test the waters from time to time.

He opened the door and walked in, again without waiting for a response. I was left confused and not knowing exactly what to do. He turned to look at me slightly puzzled and stepped further into his house.

—Close the door, whether you come in or not—The sound of his voice reached me slightly muffled by the distance. A moment later, only the sound of the lock was heard— and leave your clothes by the door.

My body trembled, my mind screamed that I shouldn’t be there, and my erection was so strong it was starting to hurt.

Another laugh, a glance at that smile that made me tremble and a "good job, dog" indicated to me that I had made a good decision by getting down on all fours.

I was going to have a long day ahead.