My Collared Sub

Part III

Sep 1 · 3 min read

Tonight, I sit in downtown Los Angeles on an artsy, architecturally-ambitious park bench. I imagine someone was once proud of their craftsmanship upon building it, not quite realizing at the time that I was going to use it to become comfortable, all so that I can say what I’m about to say.

Just a short walk from Staples Center, I’m like a fly on the wall to life’s love on display in front of me. I find myself a witness to passionate couples passing by, as they leave the resort bar at the overpriced hotel I checked myself into for the evening.

I am at peace with the world around me.

Another couple passes by, then another, likely full of red wine and IPAs, ready to go upstairs and fuck the night away like the rest of the world wishes we were doing right now.

A romantic night, for certain. It feels like the setting for a love story, with a dark twist. A large cup of Peet’s to keep me warm, though let go to waste because I really don’t need it.

It’s 72 degrees, dead even.

Why wouldn’t it be?

Everything else seems perfect.

Right now, a brunette is sleeping away in her own personal zen, exhausted from the week in which I gave my best to her.

Sometimes I feel the need to pinch myself, to try and maybe wake myself up from the reality I now know. To awaken, and come back down to earth from heaven, since the first moment she stepped into my world.

I just never knew I could ever love a woman this much.

I’ve written a lot, over a long time now, since I first met you, My Love. You’ve become the muse behind it all for so long and for so much of what I’ve done. But the writing is just a small hobby; it’s not what matters to me in the least. It’s a tool, to show you what I mean. How I feel. Sometimes, like tonight, I like to use it, I just sit back, think of you, and smile inside.

Never considering myself a hopeless romantic, hope was always present, even in bleakest of times.

You are the love of my life; the light to my darkness. In every single way I slice it up, you are the perfect piece that fits the puzzle of me.

The sweet soft soul to my sarcastic hardened shell, you carve your way right through me without even wanting to do it.

I’m just really, really in love with you. I always have been; if there is a God, I always will be.

As the pretty face sleeps tonight with my collar on her wrist, the dominance within me feels whole again.

This conundrum we now know so well, as two educated and rational adults, trying to make sense of the poetic romance we melt over like teenagers. This intensely pure romance, juxtaposed the very fact that you crave for me to pin you down and fuck you, in the least romantic way possible.

The ache that consumes you to give to me your all; to give to me, your gift of submission.

This fucking resounding drumbeat inside of me that won’t go away no matter how hard I’d try, telling me I can only find peace by being your Dom. All so I that I lift you up, take control, and walk as one with you.

And those moments I have your body. Those moments, when my mouth engulfs your cunt and moans sound as rich and pure as the New York Philharmonic to me. Something akin grace exiting your vocal chords, as my fingers slide inside you and your thighs begin to spasm yet again for me.

The lips of your kitty, wrapped around my hard cock when I thrust myself inside you. The warmth of you; the feeling of your wetness. The brown eyes that stare back at me, telling me you are in blissed yet afraid.

There is no happier home than this one.

I love you, my sweet love.

Forever Yours.

The Romantic Dominant

Written by

Passion. Love. D/s and erotica from a male perspective. Middle-aged American Dominant. Read-Enjoy-Touch. Very taken, by an Orange Sky.

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