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“The Dom pays high dollar for a sex slave for a month, and the Sub gets to live out her fantasy of being dominated. Sometimes, they might even forge a relationship outside of the club’s perimeters if they decide they like each other enough,
Years after my traumatic experience, I’d grown up with the desire to be dominated. Which is ironic, because my uncle was never harsh or rough. He held me down, but then I gave up. The things I need to get off are highly specific.
I’m broken. I know I am. No matter how many times my therapist says otherwise, I know I’m broken. I don’t want to live like this, but I don’t have a choice.
The rose color of the Submissive indicates her preferences, so please take note.
“You’re beautiful, Dahlia.” I turn to face the woman behind me. “These men know what real women look like.”
This guy sounds like he really wanted you. It’s been awhile since a chick commanded that kind of price.” She scowls. “I’m jealous.”
“Just remember to relax and enjoy yourself,” she advises.
“A good Dom will make you feel safe in surrendering to him.”
I start to worry as she doesn’t say it. She doesn’t give me any indication that she’s close to her limit. She wants this, she’s enjoying the pleasure and pain blending into one, but I’m nearing my own limits. She isn’t a red girl. There was no indication that she preferred pain in the meeting or the pamphlet.
Every time I fuck you until you can’t breathe, it’s because I know you need it.
I sink into my chair, hating that I had to let her leave, but knowing I’ll have her back. She can’t leave me. I know she loves me. I fucking love her, too. I’ll give her whatever she wants. I just need her back.
