Desperate to Be Dominated (Gay, BDSM, Degradation, Denial)

Mitchell has been meeting his dom irregularly for the better part of 3 months. He has never experienced anything as powerful, fulfilling, or seductive as his submission to the mysterious Mr. A. But their meetings are sporadic and he is desperate for more. Tormented by needs he never knew he had and which only Mr. A can satisfy, he searches the nearby residential areas until he glimpses Mr. A through an open window. He approaches the house, prepared to beg for more, only to uncover an unwelcome surprise and reap the penalties and pleasures of his disobedient arrival.

Excerpt

" Mitchell, Mitchell, Mitchell. What am I going to do with you?"

A lump caught in my throat. How I wanted this man for my own. How I wanted to give myself to him every minute of every day, totally, absolutely, and without reservation. If we were together, if we shared a home, he could bring anyone he wanted into it. I would never complain. But life was not so kind.

"Whatever you want, sir," I said quietly, feeling a little sorry for myself.

He snorted in amusement and turned and seated himself on the couch. The room smelled of him. I breathed it in and savored it.

"Come here," he instructed, patting the base of the couch where he sat.

I hurried forward and sank to the ground at his feet. I curled myself around his strong calves and laid my cheek against his knee. A shiver of pleasure ran through me as he stroked my hair fondly. My own hand returned to the outside of my pants.

"You knew I wouldn't want you to come here, didn't you?" he asked.

I knew it was a dangerous question, no matter how sympathetic his tone might sound, but I could not lie to him. "Yes, sir."

"I see." He continued to stroke my head thoughtfully. "And how long have you been looking for me like this. Driving around, I mean."

"I don't set out to, sir," I explained in a rush. "I just, I am going somewhere and I get distracted and before I know it I am driving slowly through block after block. I almost don't admit to myself what I'm doing, but I - I mean, it just happens, sir."

"How long has it just been happening?"

"A month, maybe. Maybe a little longer."

His fingers grasped my neck and bent my head around, forcing my head into a painful angle so that I was looking up at him. That was how he was with me. Sometimes it would not occur to him to ask me to do something. He would just make my body do what he wanted it to. I looked up into his eyes, fearful but accepting of whatever punishment he gave me.

"Things can't continue like this," he said, holding my face close to his. "Do you understand why?"

With difficulty, I nodded.

"If I can't trust you with this simple boundary, then what trust is there at all? We might as well not know each other."

Through my eyes alone I tried to communicate how sorry I felt and how desolate the idea of not knowing him sounded. I wanted him to know that I understood why he was unhappy and that I was a thousand times unhappier for being the one who had caused this. And yet, I had not meant to. I could not help it.

"So this is what we're going to do, Mitchell. I'm going to show you how bad an idea it is for you to come here, and if you are good and if you learn your lesson - if I see you really trying to learn your lesson - then I will give you something to help you make it until the next time I can see you. Does that sound reasonable?"

I nodded gratefully. Everything felt so much better when he established a direction for us. He was going to punish me, and then he was going to help me. The guilt and shame at having come here was lessened by the knowledge that I would pay for the transgression. It was a mistake, but he would address it and we would move on. That was all that needed to happen. I knew that whatever he did would be the right thing.