My boyfriend and I had been together for almost two years. It started off great, but as time went on, he got more and more dominant. And I got sick of it. I wasn’t the sub type, and I was tired of being treated like one. I had talked to him about it a few times, but he always ignored it. It’s like he wasn’t even listening. So I knew I had no choice but to break up with him.
I waited for him to get home from work, nervous about finally breaking it off. I still had feelings for him, but I’d run out of hope for us. He walked in, his posture suggesting dominance and the sneer on his face suggesting he thought he owned the world. That was it. I stood and walked toward him.
“Hey, Brett. Can we talk?” I asked.
The sneer on his face grew, his mocking smile pissing me off. “I knew you’d do this eventually. We’re not breaking up.”
This caught me off guard. I hadn’t even started explaining myself, and he already knew what it was about. Though it didn’t surprised me that he was cocky enough to think it wasn’t happening.
“Sorry, I can’t do this anymore. I—”
“Shh,” he said, his hand tugging on his shirt’s collar.
He pulled down his shirt to reveal a pendant. I stopped talking out of confusion, and that confusion grew when the pendant began to glow a bright yellow, like a small sun radiating off his chest. And then his eyes reflected that brilliant glow, and I was too confused to speak.
“There we go. Just let the glow take over,” he said.
It was so bright; it felt like it was shining through my eyes and straight into my mind. I tried to gather my thoughts, to remember what I wanted to talk to him about.
“We… we have to break up,” I managed to say.
“Oh? And why is that?” he asked, that beautiful smirk on his face.
“I don’t… want to be treated,” I stammered. “I don’t want to be treated…”
“Like what, boy?”
“Like… like a sub,” I said.
The words were so heavy on my tongue, I barely managed to get them out. I could barely take my focus off the pendant, off his Adonis body. He was so perfectly, built. His face was chiseled, and fuck, I loved his smirk.
“You want to be treated like a sub?” he said. “That can be arranged, boy.”
I almost nodded, but then my mind screamed. No, I said I didn’t want to be treated like a sub.
“You’re such a good sub. You’ve always been my good, obedient sub. And you love it. Isn’t that right, boy?”
Even though I knew it was wrong, I just felt so strange. My knees suddenly felt magnetized to the ground. I wanted to kneel. I wanted to be a sub. But hadn’t I hated that idea a minute ago? Wasn’t I sick of being treated like he owned me?
“Good slaves don’t need clothes, do they, boy?”
My mind said to resist, but my body automatically began stripping. I tore off my clothes with an eagerness I didn’t recognize. And as soon as I was naked, the magnetic attraction between my knees and the ground grew stronger. My legs buckled, and I found myself kneeling before my master… no, before Brett.
“That’s right, boy. Kneel for your master. You belong at my feet.”
I felt so foggy. The part of me that was resisting felt weaker and weaker. I felt weaker and weaker. And this weakness started to feel familiar, like it was part of me.
“You’re nothing more than an obedient sub slave. You do nothing but obey.”
Back in my mind, part of me wanted to get up and run. But I couldn’t do anything but obey.
“You belong to me, slave. Say it.”
“I belong to you, master,” I said, and he smirked, and I loved it.
“Good slaves suck their master’s cocks. Don’t they, boy?”
I nodded eagerly, my eyes no longer locked onto his pendant or his eyes, but the cock tenting in his pants.
“Good boy. Get to work.”
I licked my lips, ready to please my master. Ready to be his perfect sub.
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