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“Tiffany, I would love nothing more than to be your Dom, but let’s level set. What I need to hear from you is if you consent to obey me in all things. Not just in the bedroom. Not just for one day —one scene—at a time, but until such time as you remove your consent completely. I don’t want to keep asking you to trust me every day—there won’t be constant reminders that you’re the one in control or that you can just say no if you get spooked. I need to hear that you’ll submit to me; my commands, my discipline. That you’ll let me protect you, cherish you.”
Her racing mind tried to rally a dissenting argument, but her body was melting. Her brain put up one final fight.
“Before I say yes, I need to know I do still get a safeword, right?” She was asking what she assumed was a rhetorical question. Of course, she got a safeword. Everyone knew BDSM relationships revolved around the sanctity of the safeword and consent. She understood that what he was asking for was carte blanche consent, without the need to check in with her constantly as he had been. That was fine, but she still needed to know she had an emergency stop button.
So why didn’t Lukus answer her? He simply stared into her eyes, their silence getting more strained by the moment. When he spoke, it was with authority.
“Yes, you will always have a safeword, but here’s the thing. When we’re playing, using your safeword is fine, although I honestly will feel it’s a personal failure on my part if I miss picking up your cues that you were in distress and wanted the play to stop. Regardless, I expect you to use either ‘yellow/red’ or ‘snowball’ during play.”
Lukus hesitated dramatically before finishing his thoughts on the subject. “But I’m asking to be more than your Dom, Tiff. This isn’t just some sexual scene to me. I want to play a more important role I’ve never played before. We may not live together—yet—but I’d be honored if you’d consider me the head of your household—your HoH. I’d set important rules for our relationship, your safety… our lives together. Rules that may or may not have anything to do with sex. I’m greedy. I want all of you. To know you’ll submit to me as your HoH, and as such, when you do things that break rules I’ve set, there will be consequences… and simply safewording will not get you out of those consequences.”
Her pulse was racing faster with each sentence he spoke. “Wait. So, if I safeword when you’re spanking me, you aren’t going to stop?” Her voice quavered, sure she was misunderstanding.
“Not if it’s a punishment spanking. Fun spankings, sure.”
“But what if it hurts too much?” she squeaked.
“Baby, punishments are supposed to hurt too much. Let me be clear. Every single true punishment you receive from me, you will be begging for me to stop before I do. Every single one will make you cry. Every single one will be something you’re going to hate by the time it’s over. But know this. Every single one is going to hurt me, too. That may sound like a bunch of bullshit to you, but it’s the truth. I’ve punished hundreds of submissives here at The Pit, and I’ll be honest; I get off on it. But…” He looked nervous. “For the first time, I find myself dreading punishing a sub, because I swear to you, Tiff, I hate to hear you cry. I’m going to hate disciplining you.”
She was just about to ask him why he would do it, but then realized she didn’t need to. She knew why he’d punish her, because it was exactly the same reason she was going to say yes to his being her Dom. While her brain knew with a certainty, she would hate the pain of a true Lukus Mitchel punishment, it was her heart—and other body parts—making the important decision.
I’ve craved this kind of intimacy. I’ve waited my whole life to find a man who wouldn’t let me walk all over him. A trustworthy man strong enough to lead me, protect me, take care of me. My submission is part of the package.
His unwavering glare of domination had her wiggling in his lap. His promises of strict guidance and discipline in her life had her creaming her skimpy undies. Like it or not, the submissive undercurrent flowing through her at the basest level already recognized his authority over her and was reacting.
He broke their long silence. “What’s it going to be, Tiff? Do you accept me as not only your Dom, but your HoH as well?”
Tiffany paused, unable to neglect a final objection on repeat in her brain. “On one condition.”
“Always the negotiator.” The corners of his mouth twitched up as he tried not to smile.
“Negotiator is too strong of a word. How about compromiser?”
“Most BDSM relationships aren’t high on the compromising scale, baby,” he said.
“Maybe, but we just established ours is more than a BDSM relationship.”
“What’s your condition?”
“You’ll still listen to me, and not make me afraid to share my feelings or concerns. I get that you’ll have the final decision, but I don’t want to be afraid to speak my mind with you, Lukus.”
He paused, reflecting on her request before answering. “I like this request. Yes, as long as you bring things up respectfully and we talk through them together calmly, and then you agree to abide by my final decision, I’m happy to know how you feel.”
His agreement chased away her final objection of the moment, allowing her to start sinking into the right frame of mind; a mindset she already knew she was going to struggle with some days. But not tonight. Tonight, submission was easy. After all she’d seen and heard, she was ready.
“Thank you, Sir. Thank you for being my Dom, both in and out of the bedroom.”
Lukus stood, lifting her in his arms and moving towards the bedroom. “Time for our celebratory fuck.”
His arms holding her tight made her feel safe and loved. He may have never used the word “love,” but he made her feel it, regardless.
“Yes, Sir.”
