If I had waited for rain to come to Me, kneeling in submission, it never would have happened. Even though I knew he was submissive and suspected he had fantasized about being Mine since our first encounter online- at heart, he was just a boy.
Our first phone call, our first step back into this intoxicating world of Power and submission, was gentle and deliberate. I proposed a single phone call, nothing more than a taste. Just the barest dip of his toe into the vast, uncharted ocean that is Me. Because I knew, instinctively, that the moment he felt My pull, the slightest tug on his soul, there would be no escape. He would be Mine.
And by the end of that call, after My sultry voice wrapped around him, after My Dominance took root in the unguarded corners of his mind, he wanted more. But even I hadn’t realized just how quickly the suggestion of My Power would unfurl within us both.
But I’m getting ahead of Myself.
When rain and I first crossed paths, we were both adrift in relationships that were failing us. Relationships that had, at times, held the promise of D/s but had become empty. Lacking both emotional and intimate connection.
Our first exchanges- through nothing more than words on a screen- were electric, charged with an eroticism that was almost overwhelming. But in those early days, the Power I held over him was… artificial. A shadow of what it would become. He surrendered not because he was drawn to Me, not because he felt the irresistible gravity of My presence, but because he needed surrender… to anyone.
We both struggled with guilt, tethered as we were to our respective entanglements. And so, as quickly as our D/s dynamic had ignited, we extinguished it. Or so we thought.
But I told rain he would remain close to Me. That the openness I had demanded from the start—the rule that he be an open book, pages laid bare for Me—did not simply vanish because the play had been set aside. And that openness was mutual.
Over the next year, as we navigated our own paths, we stayed tethered. We shared our lives intimately and honestly. Though we had never met, we felt the weight of each other’s presence. Curiously, we rarely spoke of D/s again. Not in any direct way. And yet, I felt it. It was in the way he offered himself so freely, in his vulnerability, his honesty. It was in the way he answered when I reached for him… immediately, completely. Not overtly submissive, but more than just a friend.
It was there. Always.
It had been a year since our first charged, erotic encounters… a year of building trust, learning each other, solidifying a foundation of genuine friendship. Through it all, rain remained steadfast, unwavering in his support, even as we both navigated the turbulence of our lives.
And then, as the inevitable end of our respective relationships struck, rain confided in Me. He was thinking about stepping back into the D/s community… perhaps attending a munch, perhaps seeking something… someone.
At first, I felt a sting. A sharp, unexpected ache. If he was ready, if he was finally free, why wasn’t he coming to Me? Why wasn’t he kneeling at My feet, offering himself the way I had always known he should?
And then—like a bolt of lightning, it hit Me. I am the Domme. I am the Queen. Submission is not given to Me. I take it. If I wanted rain, if I wanted him beneath Me, bound to Me, I needed to claim him. And so, I began weaving My web.
I knew My power. I have always known it. I know how irresistible I can be. And so, with the certainty of a woman who never doubts her own gravity, I made a decision. I would take rain. He just didn’t know it yet.
That first phone call was electric. The way his breath hitched, the way he gently moaned as My Power wrapped around him- threading through his mind, sinking into his bones. Even from hundreds of miles away, I felt him yielding. I sensed the way his walls began to crumble beneath the weight of My presence.
But still, he hesitated. He was cautious, wary of the depths he already felt himself slipping into. He had been here before, drawn into the intoxicating pull of submission, only to find himself drowning too quickly. He feared losing himself too fast, feared the intensity of My grip.
So, we made an agreement. We would tread lightly. A soft, playful exploration. D/s-lite. Just a taste. Nothing too deep. Nothing too serious. But I knew better.
I could already feel the shift, the way his soul stretched toward Mine, the roots of submission, of surrender, taking hold. He might have told himself we were just playing, but I knew the truth. I knew that by the time I ended that call, he was already Mine.
Fully. Completely. Even if he didn’t realize it yet.
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