I'd always been submissive, for as long as I could remember. Habitually walking two steps behind, making it seem like it was convenient on narrow streets, letting others make decisions. It's fairly easy to pretend to be a shy, nerdy introvert and let that be a convenient cover for being submissive.
What made it more interesting was when someone saw me for who I was. When my mistress first noticed me. First noticed that my behaviours weren't all just the typical introversion, then that I had some tendencies to be a little bit brattish and playful, but always tempered with warmth, care, kindness. Not necessarily typical guy traits, though ones usually good for having an interesting human connection.
And that was what we had, an interesting human connection. Anyone can have sex; anyone can pay for an experience of being dominant or submissive - it's not like I hadn't found a variety of places that seemed like they might have been what I would have wanted, but I'd never been bold enough. I guess I just wanted that moment when I finally submitted - not out of habit, but to give myself to someone completely - to be a meaningful connection, not a financial one.
And she was the one. The flirting online, the late night conversations, even sexting, before the first night where she made me hers. The kneeling on the bed, being bound, feeling the first time application of clover clamps - and the shock being enough to put off a hard-on, at least at first. Making love in a hotel while clamped, while holding back, holding until given permission. Things that were new, and yet somehow so familiar, or at least, not unfamiliar.
Our relationship flourished over time as we moved to a new city with new jobs, new place. And a new bed, which came with four very solid posts. The first time she tied me to it, she'd done something unexpected, just climbing on top of me and pushing herself down on me, filling herself with me. It wasn't her usual style of playing - but I guess she wanted to try out the bed to its fullest, and was surprised I'd had rope marks where I'd been pulling against the restraints.
She'd do many more creative things to me in that bed over the coming months, pushing me further in terms of how much of a painslut I'd actually turn out to be. About how big she could get my cock to swell up, how needy I'd get, how much of a good boy I'd be not letting go until she let me.
One late night, after a particularly intense session, she was snuggled up next to me, one arm under my head, the other around my side, just a hand laid gently on my back.
"Hmmm... I wonder..." That tone I knew well. It was melodic and floating, two parts playful to one part seductress. I started to wonder what idea had crossed her mind and exactly what I'd be in for the next day.
"You ever think of tying me up?"
How do I respond to that? I wasn't going to lie, the idea had crossed my mind once or twice. But never for the purposes of just having my way with her; I'd never thought about just tying her up, having her and that'd be that, because that wasn't how I worked. Good submissive boys, even in their weird moments, don't think about leaving their mistresses unsatisfied.
