The Rarest Dom

My last dom made the kind of demand that is seldom spoken about on Fetlife: He wanted me. He wanted to be exposed to the odd, sex-crazed, hysterical laugher and deep thinker that is SpanishRed. We met on that rare planet that is seldom used to start D/s romances: the boring vanilla world. I caught his attention in that rare way that is seldom mentioned here: by being myself. He didn’t want the sub in me. He just wanted me. He didn’t even limit his desires to the bright, pretty parts of me. He wanted me when I was sleepy enough to speak gibberish. He said when I was barely coherent and my eyes were half shut, he got to see a part of me that nobody else did—the real. Because he loved the real, I gave him more authenticity than I’d given anyone before him.

My last dom made the kind of demand that is seldom spoken about on Fetlife: He wanted to be himself. He wanted to show me all his dark and vulnerable corners. He wanted me to see the depraved parts, but first he wanted to show me his vanilla. I knew he was my kind so I knew our power exchange would also be my kind, even when it didn’t seem as though it might be. He always proved me right. That’s why he got a hundred first times out of me.

My last dom asked me for something odd: Say ‘no’. Say ‘stop’. Say ‘never’. Say ‘I want and need.’ He wanted me to have a full life, and he asked that I never allow power exchange to take priority over my values and health. He wanted me to put my autonomous life first because he wasn’t arrogant enough to think he could do that for me.


My last dom made the kind of demand that is scarce around these parts: He wanted to earn my submission through tears and vulnerability. He wanted me to submit to him because I loved him and knew he was trustworthy. For that reason, power exchange always meant connection. Submitting to vulnerability is far more rewarding than submitting to power. It is one of the many things that made him a dom rather than a top. He caused me to follow his lead in all things.

My last dom had a rare desire: He didn’t want me to obey him. He wanted me to fulfil his base needs and wants because I felt compelled to, not because he told me to. For that reason, he always knew that I took profound meaning from our power exchange. He loved my brand of submission because he knew it wasn’t easily earned. He would not have had it any other way.

My last dom was an odd one: He wanted submission that was difficult to win because he wanted absolute control. He knew that kind of power is only won from someone who is fully engaged in the dynamic, that a sub cannot follow the twisted desires of a shadowed person if she easily submits to his least deviant cravings—at least not unless she has the same twisted desires. He wanted me to feel compelled to do things I had never wanted to do before, and hard-earned submission was profound enough to make those wishes true.

My last dom said a scarce thing: “I made a mistake.” Because he wanted compulsion, not obedience, he took responsibility for his desires. He apologised when they put me in positions that were unsafe because he believed the dynamic we had made him responsible for setting limits.

My last dom wanted obsession. He wanted the exquisite indulgence of a satisfied sub, one who had her eyes on him even when he wasn’t with her. That is what he received because he earned it through his weaknesses instead of his strengths. Submission won that way wants to fulfil corrupt desires. It wants to fulfil them regardless of how far away he is. It calls at 6am because that is when he likes to hear from her. It wears that sheer red dress because he wants her to. It responds in all the ways he loves without him having to try, to focus, to consciously demand it. It waits for every tiny lust, it watches for every want, no matter how small.

A dom who earns submission needn’t try to dominate. He simply cherishes because that is what drives his control.

My last dom wanted something rare: Submission won through respect.

He wanted something I’d not given before. He wanted me to be his sub every hour of every day. I told him it would never happen, but it did because he compelled me.

That was not enough. He wanted more of what I’d never given. He wanted me to constantly slave over his satisfaction, to remember his position in the relationship from the second I woke up. He wanted what I then considered a stained, despicable thing—to own me. I told him it would never happen, but it did, and no matter how much time passes between the present moment and the last time I saw him, he always will. He will always own that ‘me’ he earned because it was rare and unique to him. Others will win a different kind of ‘me’, a different part. He will always own his part.


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